Weather: Foggy, turning sunny and warm. No wind until later. Two slight showers.
Location: Ulverston, via Grange-over-Sands, to Arnside.
Distance: 2½ + 11½ + 2 miles.
Total
distance: 3232 miles.
Terrain: Some
roads. A lot of boggy paths. One field was a marsh and we got water in our
boots. Promenade for the last couple of
miles.
Tide: In, going
out.
Rivers: No.389,
Ulverston Channel. No.390, Mill
Race. No.391, River Winster. No.392, Kent Channel.
Ferries: None.
(We pretended a byway across the sands was a ferry at the beginning of
the Walk, and that a railway viaduct was one at the end.)
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: Nos.394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399 and 400 at
various points along the Walk.
Pubs: The Pheasant Inn at Allithwaite which we
visited the next day because we were in no fit state to enter a pub after
paddling through a bog! Colin drank
Cumbrian Legendary ‘Loweswater Gold’ and Coniston ‘Bluebird Bitter’ while I
sipped from his glasses because I had taken lots of painkillers for my bad
back.
‘English Heritage’
properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: No.67, a very short one where the sea bank
had been repaired and reseeded.
How we got there and
back: We were staying in our caravan at
Grange-over-Sands. This morning we
walked two and a half miles to Grange-over-Sands station where we caught a
train to Cark. There we walked through
this very pretty village to the point where a byway across the sands from
Ulverston was supposed to end.
At the end we
finished the Walk where the railway went across the sands to Arnside. We walked a couple of miles up to our caravan
site. We didn’t use the car at all. Two days later we went home because I was in
dreadful pain from my back problem and couldn’t walk.
We decided not to walk across the treacherous Cartmel Sands from Ulverston at the start of this Walk in the interests of safety. Nor did we want to walk miles inland to the first crossing point of the river because this is a coastal trek after all. So we began today’s Walk in the village of Cark where the BOAT (Byway Open to All Vehicles) from Ulverston comes back on to dry land. At this end there is still a good track across the marshes, and we wondered if it is used by locals for cockling on Morecambe Sands.
Our little granddaughter, Natalie, is five years old today — how time
flies! When she was born in 2007, eight
weeks early and weighing a tiny 2lbs 12oz, she gave us many worrying
moments. Especially when she caught an
infection, and when it was discovered that she also had a cleft palate. But she was strong, and with the devotion of
her loving parents, the unsurpassed care of the staff at Addenbrooke’s Hospital
and several procedures and operations on her mouth and ears, she is now a
pretty, bright, healthy and happy five-year-old.
She started school a month ago, loves it and
is coming on in leaps and bounds with her reading. She is a very special little girl.
We decided not to walk across the treacherous Cartmel Sands from Ulverston at the start of this Walk in the interests of safety. Nor did we want to walk miles inland to the first crossing point of the river because this is a coastal trek after all. So we began today’s Walk in the village of Cark where the BOAT (Byway Open to All Vehicles) from Ulverston comes back on to dry land. At this end there is still a good track across the marshes, and we wondered if it is used by locals for cockling on Morecambe Sands.
My camera is packing
up! It is a ‘bridge’ digital camera
which I bought four and a half years ago.
It takes fantastic pictures both near and far, and I am very fond of
it. I must have taken thousands of shots
with it, and not a few videos. This
morning the shutter was very sticky, and I found it almost impossible to
work. I had to put my thumb underneath
the camera body while I pressed with my finger from the top, and then it didn’t
always take. This made photography very
difficult throughout the Walk, and I didn’t take nearly as many photos as I
wanted.
A footbridge across a
stream was blocked by a locked gate.
Colin wanted to go that route because it was shorter, but it is not a
right of way. He swung round the end of the
gate and said it was “easy”. I didn’t
follow for two reasons: my balance is
none too good these days, and we didn’t know if we could get out the other end.
So we walked into the
pretty village of
Cark where the stream was
running high after all the rain we have had in recent weeks. We crossed this rivulet on a little stone
bridge and followed the track which went under the railway.
The path then seemed to go alongside the railway though, according to the map, it turned at right angles and followed a wall. We came out on a byway where there was a Cumbrian Coastal Way signpost — a rare sight — so we knew we were in the correct place. We sat on a wall to eat our pies.
The path then seemed to go alongside the railway though, according to the map, it turned at right angles and followed a wall. We came out on a byway where there was a Cumbrian Coastal Way signpost — a rare sight — so we knew we were in the correct place. We sat on a wall to eat our pies.
We followed this byway to
a lane which took us down through a farm.
We passed the other end of the ‘illegal’ path, and the track came out
through an open gate — so we could have come that way after all. Oh well…..
The path continued round the edge of the marsh. It was boggy in places but we always managed
to find our way through without getting too muddy.
One time we climbed a hill by a fence next to a field because it looked the way to go, then we saw a stile down below! I came down straight away but Colin stayed up there until he got to the fence, then he had to come down the steep way to the stile. We met a man coming towards us who told us we’d need wellingtons to get through further on — he’d obviously got water in his boots. When we got to the place he mentioned, we edged our way in a wider sweep through the marsh. It was squidgy but not deep, so we got through unscathed.
One time we climbed a hill by a fence next to a field because it looked the way to go, then we saw a stile down below! I came down straight away but Colin stayed up there until he got to the fence, then he had to come down the steep way to the stile. We met a man coming towards us who told us we’d need wellingtons to get through further on — he’d obviously got water in his boots. When we got to the place he mentioned, we edged our way in a wider sweep through the marsh. It was squidgy but not deep, so we got through unscathed.
The early morning fog
cleared, the sun came out and it got hot.
So we peeled off the layers.
Colin faffed in his usual way, and I went on until I came across part of
a plastic chair amongst the beach rubbish.
There I sat in relative comfort until he caught me up.
After a boggy bit, the
path led us up on to a grass embankment.
This was a vast improvement — it was a lovely even surface, and dry! We passed a herd of cows who tried to stand
it out for a while, then they suddenly jumped and scattered.
There was a short diversion where the bank had been reseeded. We wondered whether there had been a breach in this grass seabank which had been recently repaired. At the end we saw what we thought was a wall, but as we approached we found it was actually a man-made rocky sea defence. We sat on the rocks to eat our sarnies while several groups of dog-walkers passed us. It was almost too hot in the sun — lovely weather for a change.
There was a short diversion where the bank had been reseeded. We wondered whether there had been a breach in this grass seabank which had been recently repaired. At the end we saw what we thought was a wall, but as we approached we found it was actually a man-made rocky sea defence. We sat on the rocks to eat our sarnies while several groups of dog-walkers passed us. It was almost too hot in the sun — lovely weather for a change.
We turned into a road
which took us along two sides of a disused airfield. We had considered trying to cut across it as
a short cut, but were very glad we didn’t when we saw how impossible it was to
get out the other end.
We passed a farm with strange underground shelters under grassy mounds. We wondered what they were, and put forward two theories — growing mushrooms? An ‘earth-house’ built mainly underground? We were probably wrong on both counts!
We passed a farm with strange underground shelters under grassy mounds. We wondered what they were, and put forward two theories — growing mushrooms? An ‘earth-house’ built mainly underground? We were probably wrong on both counts!
It started to rain partway
along the road. Colin took ages faffing about donning his
wet-weather gear……and then it stopped! I
was watching a triple rainbow and he got very tetchy about photographing it —
which we didn’t because my camera is on the blink and he wouldn’t get his
out. He was very tired, and so was I. On the one bend in the road we met the only
bit of traffic — a huge articulated lorry came belting round at great speed,
filling the lane and we had to leap into the hedge to save our lives!
We passed a number of flooded
fields on the way. We turned down a lane
towards Humphrey Head and found it was flooded from edge to edge. Colin immediately got up on the grass verge
expecting me to meekly follow. But I had
a theory that the flood wouldn’t be quite so deep in the middle of the road
because of the camber. I put my theory
into practice, and found that I was right.
At the edges the floodwater would have soaked into my boots, but in the
middle it was shallow enough to stay below the tops. Colin admitted he was amazed — quite
something for him! He had to turn back
because even on his grass verge the water got too deep. He then followed me along the middle of the
road, and when he caught up with me he gave me a kiss — things were looking up!
Further on we came to
where the Cumbrian Coastal Way
cut across Humphrey Head (it was even signposted), a path we intended to take
because all the paths to the end of this rocky peninsula are dead ends. But — a huge deep puddle barred our
way. This time there was no way a path
through the middle, or even round the edges, would keep the water out of our
boots.
There seemed to be no way round it, so we continued down the lane. We turned into an entrance on our left, then immediately turned left again down into a muddy wood where we had to skirt a pond. Colin found me a stick to help with my balance because it was extremely muddy and slippery underfoot. We came to a wall separating us from the track we needed to be on, but it had rather a lot of barbed wire along the top. So we bashed our way past nettles and brambles to where the barbed wire was missing, and climbed over the wall — me with great difficulty because my sensitive back was stiffening up. Colin had to partially rebuild the wall after I had scrambled over!
There seemed to be no way round it, so we continued down the lane. We turned into an entrance on our left, then immediately turned left again down into a muddy wood where we had to skirt a pond. Colin found me a stick to help with my balance because it was extremely muddy and slippery underfoot. We came to a wall separating us from the track we needed to be on, but it had rather a lot of barbed wire along the top. So we bashed our way past nettles and brambles to where the barbed wire was missing, and climbed over the wall — me with great difficulty because my sensitive back was stiffening up. Colin had to partially rebuild the wall after I had scrambled over!
The track led us up a hill
between two hedges, then down to the marsh with lovely views across Morecambe Bay.
The next bit of the path, alongside the marshes, is not marked as a
right of way on the map but it is signposted as the Cumbrian Coastal Way in the field. It was the last such signpost we saw on
today’s Walk despite the fact that we were following the Way all day. We got to a farm, and considered trying to
get along the edge of the marsh for about a quarter of a mile to Kents Bank
Station — it would have considerably shortened our Walk. But we couldn’t even get the few yards to the
corner, the ground was soft and sank in too deep for our boots. (Later we were to regret this decision, did
we try hard enough?)
So we took the legal way
by climbing over some ‘granny’s teeth’ on to a track which took us under the
railway. It was a very low bridge with
awkward gates, and we were glad a train didn’t go over when we were underneath
— too close to our heads!
The first two fields were
OK to walk through, the third was a swamp!
There was no sign of a path through, it was supposed to go straight on
according to the map. Our feet sank
deeper and deeper as we tried jumping from clump to clump of marram-type
grass. Colin decided to go off in
completely the wrong direction as it “looks drier over there”. I carried on, it was a nightmare! I was half-standing on one of the clumps —
couldn’t get all of both boots on — when my feet slowly slipped sideways. There was nothing I could do about it,
nothing to hold on to and nowhere to go, as I sank to my ankles, boots full of
water. After that I didn’t care — I
sloshed on, my boots coming out with great sucking noises. I just hoped they would come out every
time, but sometimes they needed a lot of strength. I was hating this and quite upset.
At the far end of the
field I made over to a slightly drier part as I couldn’t see a gate or stile to
get us out of this swamp. I turned round
to see how far Colin had got and I couldn’t see him anywhere! I thought I had a view the whole field from
where I was standing, and there was no sign of him. I panicked!
I called out several times, cupping my hands and listening for an
answer. There was none. What was I to do? I didn’t know how to get out of this swamp,
and I seemed to be all on my own. Where
was Colin? Had something dreadful
happened to him?
Then he appeared round the
corner of a hedge quite near me! “Didn’t
you hear me call?” “Yes, of course I
did!” “Then why didn’t you answer?” “Because all this calling out is silly, and
you never hear me when I answer from the garden at home!” What has that got to do with our present
situation? I was very upset, and tried
to explain how I had panicked, but all he would do was berate me about a load
of totally unrelated things — he was in a foul mood and his reasoning was
erratic. He was completely impervious to
my feelings, and dismissed my upset as “being silly”. He was being totally unreasonable, and I
couldn’t cope with it.
As we were having this
almighty row, I noticed another couple paddling their way across the far side
of the field where the footpath was supposed to be. Colin had been yelling, “You’ve got the map,
where’s the gate to get out of this field?”
I said, “Watch them!” As they
disappeared into the far corner, the realisation hit him that we would have to
walk back over the bog. So far he had
managed to escape getting water in his boots — not any more!
At the gate was a pond, a deep
pond, and there was no getting round it.
Water was halfway to my knees as I paddled over there and leapt up on to
the gate. On the other side of the gate
was a simple wooden plank bridge over a ditch, but this ditch was so full the
plank was actually under water and it was difficult to see it’s exact
location. I tried to work my way round
without treading on the ground, and failed.
Then I had to negotiate another pond which was even deeper than the
first. I squidged out into the muddy
field and waited for Colin. He was ages
trying to find another way round, but there wasn’t one. Both of us ended up with boots full of
water. The stile leading out of this
next field was also in a pond, but we saw a gate further up which wasn’t so we
used that. At last we were on a
half-decent track.
We soon came to a woodpile and I sat down and removed my boots, tipping the water out. I didn’t remove my socks because I thought I
would never get them on again. When I
put my boots back on my feet were still sloshing in pools of water. And so we continued for the next five miles —
Slish! Slosh! Slish! Slosh! Slish!
Slosh!....... Colin refused to take his
boots off, but he had calmed down to his usual complaining level and was no
longer being so totally unreasonable. We
ate our apples, didn’t feed the horses as requested and moved on.
We came to the village of Allithwaite where there was a ‘real ale’
pub which Colin was anxious to visit.
But in our muddy state with squelching boots there was no way we could
enter such an establishment, so we passed it by. We visited it the next day and had a pub
lunch there. The food and drink were
fine, but the waitress was overbearing and we were overcharged.
About a mile up the road
was Cartmel Priory which we also visited the next day.
Cartmel
Priory
Cartmel Priory was founded in 1190 by the first Earl of Pembroke. It was occupied by the Augustinian Canons and dedicated to St Mary the Virgin and St Michael.
Like most of these 12th century priories it was added to and embellished in the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries until it was dissolved in 1536. Difficult and dangerous times — because four of the monks were hanged along with ten of the villagers who had supported them.
However the church was not destroyed because it was the only place of worship for the village of Cartmel, and despite the lead being stripped from the roof, despite it being used as a stable, a prison and a grammar school in subsequent centuries, it is still used as their parish church today.
We were most interested in the twenty-five misericords which date from 1440 and depict life in rural England 15th century style. They also feature the Green Man, a pagan symbol of fertility.
We turned on to a narrow
lane to bypass the village, but it wasn’t evident from the map that it was such
a steep hill. The first car coming down
towards us, driven by a young man (of course) was going so fast on that steep
and narrow road that I yelled after him, “Slow down!” We seemed to be going up for ages, then we
had to walk all the way down again to Kents Bank Station. There are rights of way across the sands of Morecambe Bay,
but like the Broomway off Foulness Island in Essex,
they are far too dangerous to be followed by anybody without an intimate
knowledge of the local tides, channels and quicksands. There were notices all along warning us about
dangerous
footpaths and advising us to seek local advice.
Kents Bank is where the
official walks across Morecambe
Bay usually end. Cedric Robinson, the Queen’s official guide,
has been leading groups of people — usually charity fund-raisers these days —
from Arnside to Kents Bank for more than fifty years. Now in his eighties, he has no intention of
giving up and leads approximately thirty walks a year across the treacherous
sands. The route can vary from day to
day, depending on the shifting sands, and can only take place at low tide, of
course. The walk is between seven and
eight miles long, starts on the stony foreshore at Arnside, proceeds across the
channels of the River Kent which can be up to thigh-deep, and ends by crossing
wide and slippery gullies on the saltmarsh.
We had tinkered with the idea of doing it as part of our
Round-Britain-Trek, but decided against it in the end. I don’t think we would have enjoyed being
exposed on the sands for several hours on what must be extremely difficult terrain. Besides, the walk is always from Arnside to
Kents Bank, the wrong way for us!
We didn’t cross the
railway. The road we were on ran
parallel to the track until we turned on to a concrete footpath which also ran
parallel. Further on we passed a large
area which was being dug up to lay new sewers — fortunately the footpath had
been left open.
After that the path led
under the railway, and immediately we were on the promenade. But no ordinary seaside promenade this. Grange-over-Sands should be renamed
Grange-over-Marsh for it is a long time since the sea came anywhere near this
prom. Instead of a sandy beach, green
marsh-grass stretches as far as the eye can see. No sea-bathing at this resort.
We passed a children’s
playground. I didn’t know what the first
piece of apparatus was, and as I approached it a disembodied voice said,
“Hey! You! Yes, you over there! Do you want to play?” I was quite startled, looked around and then
realised the apparatus was talking to me! It told me to press a button, which I did but
nothing happened. It didn’t work! (Perhaps I’m too old.) We were pleased to see a BMX bike course
being well used — by lots of kids on scooters.
How fashions change!
We passed a derelict lido
— a sad sight, particularly here where it is impossible to swim in the
sea. We sat on a seat to eat our
chocolate near an empty paddling pool and a rather nice sculpture of a
bird. Our feet were still wet and
squelching.
We continued past the
restored railway station, painted up in all its Victorian glory. (Very nice, but not nearly so ornate as our
restored Victorian station at home in Great Malvern.) The railway was opened in 1857, an event
which revolutionised the Cumbrian coast.
Coke could now be transported from the Durham coalfields to support the heavy
industries of Ulverston, Askham, Millom and Barrow. The effect on Grange was to turn a scattering
of fishermen’s cottages lining a tidal inlet into a genteel seaside resort with
nice hotels, a promenade, bathing machines on the beach and even a small wooden
pier so steamers could bring day-trippers over from Morecambe and
Fleetwood. It all looked a bit decayed
today with marsh instead of beach, though we found the town centre to be lively
enough when we shopped there. We caught
a train from this delightful station this morning when we set up this Walk.
We crossed the railway at
the end of the prom using a footbridge.
We walked along the road, then turned into a lane which led us past a
golf course. The lane was partially
under water with wonderful reflections of the trees in the puddles. When we arrived in the area three days ago
this lane was completely flooded, but today it was passable.
We passed the track to Holme Island which we investigated a few days ago. It crosses the railway and follows a short causeway out to a rock on which stands a big house surrounded by trees. (It is private, so we didn’t get any further than the gate on which was the name Mr Richard Scholes.) The island was once owned by the Brogden family — John Brogden was responsible for building the railway and used to live on Holme Island.
We passed the track to Holme Island which we investigated a few days ago. It crosses the railway and follows a short causeway out to a rock on which stands a big house surrounded by trees. (It is private, so we didn’t get any further than the gate on which was the name Mr Richard Scholes.) The island was once owned by the Brogden family — John Brogden was responsible for building the railway and used to live on Holme Island.
We reached the bridge over
the River Winster — the water was still high but a little lower than it was the
other day. We could see the problem, why
the lane flooded three days ago. The
river in spate failed to flow under the railway because the arches are too
low. The water built up causing the
ditch to overflow and flood the lane.
And there we had to leave
the shore and the railway, we had no choice because there was a big cliff in
the way. The railway makes its way across
the Kent Channel to Arnside on a viaduct which is nearly two miles long. It would have been about a ten mile detour
inland to cross the river at the first road bridge, so we put into practice
additional rule no.20, and pretended our two mile walk from that point to our
caravan site at Meathop was the two miles we would have walked to Arnside had
we been able to.
That ended Walk no.316, we shall pick up Walk no.317
in Arnside, at the other end of the railway viaduct. It was ten to six, so the Walk had taken us
seven hours and fifty minutes.
The next morning I could hardly move due to back pain. I reckoned that a week sleeping on a bad
mattress in the Peak District coupled with all the jerky movements I made
crossing that swampy field, seriously put my back out. There was no way I could walk any further, so
we decided to pack up and come home. Our
goal had been to get to Blackpool in time for
the illuminations — that is why we had come up in October — but that was out of
the question now. I was somewhat
disappointed, and I felt quite miserable.
(Perhaps I should say “I’m gu’’ed!”, that’s the modern phrase!) After visiting the pub in Allithwaite and
Cartmel Priory the next day, the following day we towed our caravan home and
put it away for the winter.
We’ll be back in the Spring!
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