Around Britain

I left my hotel in Preston near the main railway station at 9 a.m. It had rained heavily overnight and the sky remained overcast. By midday it was sunny but cold and so it continued for the rest of the day. With hardly a rustle of wind these were superb walking conditions.

I soon crossed the bridge over the Ribble and walked alongside a massive playing field filled with small boys assembled for football accompanied by supporting adults. In Middleforth Green I turned off the B5254 into a large residential area emerging at last onto the A582. I crossed this into an area of farmland mixed with some housing. At New Longton I joined an unmade road over open country. This crossed a railway and took me near a Vehicle Test Track. I joined the B5248 in a densely populated area called Moss Side to the west of Leyland. Walking westwards I was soon able to leave this road on a wet grassy track just after the road crossed a railway. When I returned to the B5248 I was on the outskirts of Bretherton. There was a small Bakery there so I bought a cheese and tomato roll for my lunch. I sat down to eat it on a bench near the War Memorial.

I was soon joined by a cyclist who, ignoring an empty bench nearby, sat at the other end of my bench. I assumed he wanted a chat but he remained silent as he faffed around with various items of kit. I recommended the Bakery if he wanted something to eat. He turned out to be a local man and he knew about the Bakery. We had a conversation of sorts about what each of us was doing that day. Our exchanges hardly took flight but it's always pleasant to meet someone on the road.

I now entered an almost empty flat landscape. The narrow road was raised slightly above the level of large fields of black soil. I crossed the River Douglas and the Leeds & Liverpool Canal in quick succession. After that I walked along Green Lane, the continuation of a cycle route I'd been following since Bretherton. Between Bretherton and the next village, Mere Brow, I saw only a couple of cars, one motorbike and several cyclists. As I approached Mere Brow I passed a large area of glasshouses around Holmes, a village off to the north.

As I came into Mere Brow, a cyclist came alongside and asked me what I was doing. He was a South African in his thirties called Etienne. He'd visited England 15 years ago, stayed on and got married here. When I explained that I was walking around the U.K. coastline he became really interested. Solitude tends to make one verbose so, egged on by Etienne, I gave him thumb nail sketches of several of my adventures. We talked our way to a pub, the Leigh Arms, where I needed to turn off onto a track. Etienne asked me whether I was on Facebook which I'm not. I gave him my email address. He wanted to meet up for a coffee that evening but I told him I normally wanted to rest up after a full day's walking.

I was headed towards an Adventure Activities Centre near two lakes, collectively called the Mere. I was looking for a bridge over the Sluice, a waterway beyond the Mere. This took some finding as I took the wrong turning at a fork and I had to retrace my steps. Shortly after the bridge I passed Meanygate Farm and turned right onto a wide farm road not marked as a public right of way. No one challenged me so I passed Winacre Farm and continued on a public road towards Southport. My hotel was in the centre of a major resort with a lively town centre.

Distance today 20.39. Total 2,698.66

I left my hotel just after 9.30 and made for the seafront. I was aiming to join the Trans Pennine Trail although the seafront seemed an odd place for it to be. The map suggests that Southport sands stretch out two miles to the west of the high tide mark. Above that mark there are dunes that have become covered in vegetation. I took a path through these dunes between the coastal road and the beach. Strangely, along the whole length of this path, I saw neither the road nor the sea. I'm sure I heard the odd distant car and I may also have heard the sound of surf borne on the breeze. A notice forbade any closer approach to a breeding pond for natterjack toads. Shortly after that I came onto a beach with people walking about. I was close to Ainsdale-on-Sea.

A large crowd, all with greyhounds, had congregated on a ramp above the beach. “Is there going to be a race,” I asked a bystander. “No, it's to raise money for a charity,” I was told. A large building just beyond the beach had all its windows boarded up. It looked like a failed hotel. The Trans Pennine Trail headed inland along a busy road with a cycle track for which I was grateful, narrow though it was. I left that Trail at a railway for another which led me away from the road. This Trail followed the railway south on the edge of a Nature Reserve. Woodvale Airfield was on the far side of the railway and I saw a small plane take off. A notice board informed me that almost a fifth of the native natterjack toad population resided here, thriving in the water that collected between the sand dunes. The path was much used by walkers, runners and cyclists. I saw neither the toads nor the red squirrels that also inhabited the Reserve.

After a couple of miles a branch of the path left the Reserve and crossed the railway. I reached Freshfield on the north side of Formby. In Formby I stopped at a tea shop for a scone and coffee. Leaving Formby I approached the A565. This I crossed onto a minor road which passed over the River Alt. I was then back to the A565 which I crossed again before road walking to Hightown. I gambled on a minor road which led to the railway. The map indicated a track on the far side running along the shore, a short cut to Crosby. As I neared the railway I approached an isolated house. The notice outside was uncompromising: “Private: keep out.” If the owner regarded this section of the road as his property there was unlikely to be a railway crossing or a useable path beyond that. Trespassing on the railway now carries a £1,000 fine. That thought sent me back the way I'd come.

When I reached Crosby I relied on Google Maps to take me to my hotel on the A565 in the Waterloo district to the north of Liverpool.

Distance today 15.49; total 2714.15

I set off at 7.50 as this was to be the longest day on this trip. My hotel was to the east of the Container Depot in Liverpool Docks. I quickly left the A565 and joined the B road running alongside Rimrose Valley Country Park. I managed to keep to small parks and almost traffic free back roads through Bootle. Only when I was between Sandhills and Kirkdale was I forced to join the A567 and then Commercial Road which took me to the centre of Liverpool. I wandered about near the University amongst grand classical buildings. I'd have to come back another time to visit the Cathedrals, the Museums and Art Galleries. This time I rested in Lime Street Station with a coffee and the papers.

I walked to the Pier Head and caught the 12 noon ferry across the Mersey. I expected a ferry carrying locals by the shortest route. What I got was a tourist boat with a recorded commentary on some of the prominent buildings and a rendition of “Ferry across the Mersey” over the loudspeaker. One building was the Bonded Warehouse where tobacco was kept until the duty on it had been paid. It took more bricks to build than any other building in the world (we were told). Now there was a plan to convert it into flats. We eventually docked at Seacombe and I was the only person to disembark. The on shore staff hadn't even bothered to unbolt the gates that barred access to the world beyond but I was able to do this for myself.

Immediately I found myself on a wide concrete promenade heading to New Brighton 2.5 miles away to the north of the Wirral Peninsula. I passed Wallasey Town Hall, built around the time WW1 started. During that war the building was handed over by Wallasey for it to be used as a military hospital. That information was on one of two plaques outside the Hall. The other plaque dated 2017 was a tribute to those who died in the 1989 Hillsborough disaster and their families and friends who'd at last secured a proper enquiry into what happened. At New Brighton, once a major resort, I took soup and bread in a cafe. I then pressed on, following the coastline along a band of concrete. I was north of Moreton when I decided there was no hope of reaching my hotel in Heswall in daylight if I stuck to the coast through Hoylake and West Kirby. I therefore left the coast and took the A551 through Moreton and Upton and alongside Arrowe Country Park until I was able to join the B5138 through Thingwall and Pensby before reaching my hotel at around 5.30.

It was a 9.5 hour day. Over the entire three days I suffered not a drop of rain although heavy rain fell elsewhere over that period.

Distance today 19.53; total 2733.68 miles.

On leaving the Jug & Bottle Pub in Heswall, I turned towards the River Dee. I could see it in the distance with Welsh hills on the far side. The map showed a cycle track heading east. A young man overtook me and wished me a fine walk. I asked for directions to the cycle track which he supplied in the most cheerful and friendly manner.

The cycle track followed the route of a railway line, discontinued in 1956. It passed through the Wirral Country Park in the direction of Neston. It was being used by both cyclists and pedestrians. Along one stretch there was a path running parallel for the use of horse riders. Neston was too soon to stop but I did anyway as there might not be another opportunity. In the company of hordes of children and their mothers, I enjoyed a large latte and a toasted tea cake. A sizeable room at the back of the coffee shop was being used by the children as a play area.

As I left Neston, an elderly man saw me consulting my map and offered his help. He was an amateur photographer and had snapped the new bridge over the Dee, built, he thought, about 15 years ago. The next village was Burton followed by Puddington. I then followed a path to Shotwick. As I started this, hail fell, bouncing off the hood of my anorak. The path was a well beaten track of bare earth bisecting an ankle-high crop. It was good to escape the asphalt and to have confidence in one's route.

Shotwick is a small village separated by the A548 from the Deeside Industrial Estate. There's a former manor house brick-built in 1622 to replace its predecessor which had been moated and fortified. The place had a period of importance as it was close to a ford which allowed crossing of the River Dee. The Dee became silted up and the ford was last used in 1796. Later the river was diverted to a new route.

In the industrial area I had great difficulty in relating my map to what I saw on the ground. This may have been due in part to the construction of new roads since the map was published. I was also a little intimidated by the lack of any directional guidance for pedestrians. I used Google Maps but, for once, it seemed as confused as I was. It would refer me to road names I couldn't see and points of the compass that I could only check by switching out of Google Maps to the compass on my phone. I developed a feeling of mental paralysis that was quite alarming as I walked back and forth, wasting time, unable to work out a route to one of the bridges over the Dee. Finally I decided to walk along the A584 as then directed by Google Maps. It wasn't comfortable walking on a narrow kerb with large trucks whizzing by a few feet away but I had to do something. Eventually I saw that I could slip away into the industrial estate onto a cycle route which headed towards Hawarden Bridge. The bridge carries the railway over the Dee and was opened in 1889. This opened up the area south of the river which had previously been just a cluster of hamlets including Shotton.

Shotton Steelworks was created by the Summers family. John Summers, born in 1822, a clogger, had attended the Great Exhibition in 1851 and bought a nail making machine. He used the machine to make the nails with which to fasten the strips of iron onto the soles of clogs. The venture prospered and led to the building of an ironworks at Stalybridge near Manchester. After John's death in 1876, the business was continued by four sons. Space for the expansion of the ironworks was exhausted so the Summers family bought 40 acres of Dee marshland in 1895. By the following year they had opened the Shotton Steelworks. Later they moved the H.Q. to Shotton. By 1909 the business was the largest manufacturer of galvanized (coated with a thin layer of zinc) steel in the country and, probably, the largest manufacturer of steel nail strips and sheets in the country. There was a massive influx of workers and the Steelworks employed 13,000 at the height of the industry. When the Steelworks was closed in 1980 6,500 workers were made redundant.

I followed the cycle route alongside the A548 to Flint. At the Ship Hotel I fell into conversation with a woman smoking a cigarette outside a side door. I asked her whether there was a room available but she told me that the hotel had “contractors in.” It was an idle enquiry as I had a room booked at the Mountain Park Hotel on the A5119 leading uphill inland from the town. I asked a couple on that road how far the hotel was and they said “Three quarters of a mile.” I walked hard for five minutes and then put the same question to another couple. “About a mile” they said so I remonstrated with them and they admitted they weren't sure. I reached a hotel called the Flint Mountain Hotel. Apparently the hotel had changed its name but many people still knew it by its old name. I double checked this as I once stayed in a hotel with a very similar name to the hotel I'd booked. The result was that I had to pay twice.

Distance today 18.2 miles; total 2751.88.

It was raining as I went to breakfast and it didn't stop for four hours. Thereafter the rain was intermittent. I descended on the A5119 towards Flint picking up a newspaper at a garage on the way. My first stop was at another garage on the A548 as I left Flint travelling north west. I didn't need a large latte that early but when would I get another chance?

There was a wide pavement to accommodate cyclists and walkers (although there was little evidence of either). It was still a relief to leave the traffic behind when I reached Bagillt. For maybe a mile and a half I followed a minor road running parallel to the main road. At Whelston I considered whether I should switch to the Wales Coast Path. It twisted and turned in the area between the railway and the sea. However, the weather was so grim that my priority was to end this ordeal as quickly as possible. That meant a hard surface on the straightest possible line to my destination. I pushed on through Greenfield and Mostyn.

This part of the coast seemed dedicated to the sale of mobile homes, caravans and cars. Dealers in all these items abounded. Huge mobile home parks looked lifeless. Perhaps they were just used as holiday homes. There were large estates of shoddy bungalows each one separated from its neighbours by only a few feet.

Miraculously the pavement endured. I only had to cope with verge walking for one short stretch on the approach to Gronant. I'd taken a minor road which ran past an equestrian centre. When this road rejoined the A548 the pavement had gone. Previous breaks in the pavement had always coincided with a minor road being available as an alternative.

At Prestatyn I looked for something to eat. I chose Anne's Shop. Anne brought me a mug of tea (80p) and a doorstop of a cheese and tomato sandwich (£2.20). She saw I was struggling to undo the strap on my rucksack. My hands were very cold and had lost all their strength. She helped without me needing to ask.

Thus fortified I moved into the last lap. The weather had improved sufficiently for me to leave the main road and walk along the promenade above the sands intersected by wooden breakwaters.

At Cove Guest House in Rhyl I received a warm welcome. Mark made me a mug of tea and we had a good chat. His wife, Karen, a retired nurse, joined us for a while. They had four rooms available and would have one more when one of their three daughters moved, with her family, into the house they were buying in Abergele. When they started the business they had taken in contractors at £20 a night. This was hard work as they wanted a very early breakfast. Some were “like animals.” They left their rooms in a dreadful state. The hotel sites like Booking.com and Expedia meant they were no longer dependent on contractors but they took 15% and 17.5% of the proceeds respectively.

Mileage today 19.61; total 2771.49.

This morning I shared the breakfast room with a couple that did not talk to each other. Occasionally the woman said something inaudible but the man didn't respond. Mark, our host, entered the room. He was concerned that he'd given me baked beans as part of my breakfast when I hadn't requested them. I said that I'd choked them down rather than worry him about it. Mark then told the couple that I was walking around the British coastline. This sparked some interest and the man asked me how far I'd got. “Here” I told him. “But where did you begin?” he persisted. We had a reasonable conversation after that false start.

The forecast was dreadful. It was a brilliantly sunny day but as cold as yesterday. I set off along the sea front soon crossing the River Clwyd. After a short spell on the A548 I returned to the front looking out on Kinmel Bay. I followed the North Wales Path, a concrete strip designed for cyclists and walkers. At Abergele I stopped at a sea front cafe for a warming mug of hot chocolate. By the time I emerged it was raining again.

At Llanddulas I felt the need for a change of scene so I crossed underneath the A55 to reach the A547. This climbed steadily and, as it did so, it gradually diverged from the A55 which stayed down by the sea front. Some houses had been trapped between the roads at the point where they started to split. The attractive garden of one of these houses was beset by the traffic noise coming from both sides. Soon afterwards I was directly above a quarry. There was a four foot stone wall beside the pavement and, on the far side of this wall, a sheer drop of possibly 200 feet. I'm not particularly prone to vertigo but I had to take a step back from the precipice.

The road brought me to Old Colwyn. The people there must be ( or were in past times) very religious. There were ten churches or chapels in a very small area. Just after 2 p.m. I entered a cafe but was told that they shut at 2 o'clock. At a nearby cafe the same thing happened. Did I look that awful? I made a third attempt at a Deli with a few seats for customers. They were happy to provide my lunch – vegetable soup with a plain bap, chocolate cake “made by my Nan” and a coffee. Restored by this I pressed on.

The streets were heaving with school children on their way home. At last I left the built up area and reached Mochdre. I crossed the A55 on a road bridge and took a minor road which climbed well above the main road and the railway. The traffic noise was still inescapable but I suppose the locals had learnt to put up with it. I reached Llandudno Junction and the Old Station Hotel.

Distance today 14.53 miles; total 2786.02