While we are out walking we pick up the obvious litter, plastic bottles, chocolate bar wrappers and cans. We never pick up cigarette ends, although it is said they make up a huge portion of the country’s litter. We also never pick up those small plastic bags that are tied in a knot and are full of dog faeces, although we see them almost everywhere. We do pick up items of clothing that earlier walkers have dropped or left behind. I wrote about our lost property box a few years ago that now has multiple odd gloves in it waiting for a match. Some of these gloves are in use; for example my winter cycling gloves were both found. They don’t match but being black it’s hard for anyone to tell as I flash by. Neither of us will never need to buy a hat again.
While we were in Ullapool on our recent Scotland trip we had a litter misunderstanding. We took a walk up the hill above the town. The path is surrounded by sweet smelling gorse and rewards your effort with a panoramic view over the prettily positioned Ullapool and Loch Broom; I am always happy here. Near the start of the path we found an almost full roll of unused dog poo bags on a bench. We looked around, there was no dog or person in sight. It wasn’t clear how long they had been there but in our experience people rarely come back for small items and they become litter so we stuffed then in the side pocket of the rucksack.
On the top of the hill we were enjoying the amazing view when a couple with a dog joined us. We both had the same thought at the same moment, maybe they could use our find. Smiling kindly at the dog-owning couple we said hello and then asked, ‘Do you use dog poo bags?’ They immediately became defensive, no doubt expecting us to launch into a tirade about dog fouling [I can do this] and clearly feared that we would soon be accusing them of fouling the paths of Scotland. We had to hurriedly explain that we had found some bags, had no need of them and wondered if they could use them. They immediately looked relieved and, once the misunderstanding was cleared up we laughed and chatted amiably. They went on their way with our find of the day and will put it to the appropriate use.
Sometimes litter finds are so bizarre I make up stories about the people who have dropped the litter and why. On a walk near Port Logan in Galloway we started counting the cans of Red Bull we saw flattened and scattered down an otherwise gorgeous grassy lane lined with wild flowers and between fields of sheep. When we reached 20 cans we gave up counting! The track was clearly used by a farmer and I imagined him to be over-worked and sleep deprived during lambing and getting through in a haze of energy drinks. I can’t even guess why he didn’t have the energy to take the cans back to the farm! Of course the Red Bull cans could be from a regular local walker too but we saw no other hikers the day we were there.
In Morecambe we pick up an empty half bottle of cheap vodka from a ginnel near our local Co-op most times we are out, sometimes even two. We pop them in our recycling bin and the bin men must think we have quite a habit! We assume this is young people drinking outdoors at night but have never knowingly met the drinkers. I really hope they’re not drinking alone.
It seems there will always be litter for us to pick up, some of it useful and some of it just rubbish. I’m waiting eagerly for the deposit scheme on plastic bottles to start and then I can get rich from my pickings!
I mostly close my eyes and ears to the news while we are on the road but the Friends reunion did catch my eye. When we travel we carry every episode from every series of Friends with us on a flash drive and have watched them over and over. I know they are corny and sentimental but each time I am swept along and involved in the lives of those six close friends, laughing and crying at their ups and downs. I really hope that any update sees the characters staying friends. I love my own few close friends, each one is precious and a gift. I missed being able to meet up with them during lock downs so the second part of our Scotland trip was particularly special for the reunions.
From Morvich we travelled further north to Ullapool where we had a date with two old friends [we have known one of them since our murky school days!] They were staying in a self-catering cottage in the town. We managed to get a front row seat at the Ullapool campsite and the temptation is to sit looking over the loch and watch the boats, the wildlife and the stunning sunsets. Instead we scrubbed up, shook out some half-decent cleanish clothes and turned up at their cottage with a chilled bottle of prosecco. We were all heading for a night out in a restaurant, something that used to be almost routine for the four of us but that we hadn’t done together for over 15 months and I was giddy with excitement [Friends fans can imagine what Phoebe would be like].
The prosecco bubbles fitted the mood perfectly and we were on a high as we walked the short distance to The Ceilidh Place. We first discovered this Ullapool institution in the early 1980s, it is marvellous that it is still going strong and it was perfect for our reunion as three of us had been there on that first visit. The Ceilidh Place is a cafe, restaurant, bookshop, arts venue and accommodation. Three delicious courses and lots of laughing later I waddled back to the ‘van in time for the last vivid colours of a west coast of Scotland sunset. This was one of those memorable evenings.
I can walk up mountains but as soon as I hit the steep sections I slow down and plod, breathing heavily. My partner meanwhile is more machine than human and doesn’t seem to notice the gradient. Consequently I spend a lot of time walking on my own, watching him disappearing into the distance. It was, therefore, more than joyful to have two wonderful days walking on some of the hills around Ullapool with our friends. Their pace matches mine when the contour lines get closer together and in between gasping for breath we chatted and laughed, catching up on news and making more memories.
Unexpected and spontaneous socialising is fun too. When a fellow MMM and Campervan Mag writer and Twitter friend said she was also in Ullapool I jumped at the chance for a face-to-face meet up. Felicity and her partner Andrew arrived with a generous bottle of red and, once we’d found the spare glasses at the back of a cupboard. we settled down to get to know each other better.
Next stop was Gairloch and Sands campsite on our slow journey south. This large rambling site has pitches among the sand dunes and looking over the bay; you are free to choose the spot that suits. We practiced tai chi on the soft and warm sand under a blue sky and paddled through the gentle waves. In Gairloch we had great tasting coffee and delicious cakes from Mountain Coffee, a cafe with a cool vibe. Browsing their bookshop a couple of books caught my eye, one for me and one as a gift. Gairloch’s museum is worth a visit too.
Kinlochewe will always be a special place. Firstly because the scenery is superb and secondly because it was the last place we stayed in before Lock Down One. Returning to this highland village was emotional and a pleasure and to be there on hot sunny days was a bonus. We thought we might take the Blue Bus out for the day but instead found walks from the site, climbing the Pony Path up to Meall a’ Ghiubhais through a landscape of grey rocks and lochans and paddling in the river in the sheltered glen at the Heights of Kinlochewe.
At Spey Bay we had another reunion and a pre-arranged meet on a pretty section of the Speyside Way. Our friend lives in Fochabers, just a few miles along the River Spey from Spey Bay where we were camping. Together we pottered through the woodland and by the river for hours with no sign of a red squirrel. Later that evening he sent a photo of one he had seen just minutes after we left him! The next morning an osprey circled over the van, much to the consternation of the common gulls nesting nearby, so we didn’t feel too hard done by.
In the good weather the hills were popular but not crowded. We climbed a Munro above Newtonmore and had a lovely day on Meall a’ Bhuachaille above Glenmore. We spent a day walking through the varied woodland of Rothiemuchus Forest but still didn’t see a red squirrel. We were gradually heading south and our time in Scotland was nearing an end. Our last nights in Scotland were spent cooled by a fresh breeze at New England Bay near Stranraer in Galloway. Being back on the road, exploring new and familiar places and reconnecting with old friends and making new ones has helped me make small steps on the way to recovering from those lock downs.
Cuckoos are probably the easiest bird to identify by their call but I’ve never seen one in the feather and a sighting has been on my wish list for a few years. My bird-watching partner doesn’t hear too well and they have to be close before he can catch the gentle sound of a cuckoo’s call, even with his hearing aids in. I tell him when one is around but it is sad that he often misses this distinctive sound of spring.
We pack everything for trips to Scotland. The shorts are mixed in with long trousers and t-shirts squeeze in with jumpers. It’s just as well really as May in Scotland can give you three seasons in one day! There is little certainty about what weather will greet us each morning with temperatures ranging from freezing to balmy. Campers need to come to Scotland prepared.
In the before Covid-19 world we would usually travel to Europe in May and June but with that off the agenda Scotland is our next favourite destination. Travelling through a UK that is now trying to find a way to live with Covid-19 [as we realise that a world without Covid-19 isn’t an option in the short and medium term] is interesting. So along with our three season clothing we packed reusable masks and hand sanitiser. Below are some highlights from our first couple of weeks touring this wonderful country.
Moffat is normally just a quick halt on our way further north for us. We visit our favourite cafe, Cafe Ariete and buy some delicious pancakes from the bakery. On this trip we decided to take things slowly and spend a couple of days here and it turns out there is more to the town, although we did visit the cafe and bakery! We had a great walk up a hill for views over the town, explored it’s pretty streets and treated ourselves to excellent takeaway wood-fired oven pizza from a business handily placed by the campsite.
The walk along the old railway line and onto the shores of Loch Tay from Killin is full of surprises. From the bright-pink blossom in the cemetery to the ruined castle; the evidence of beavers in the wetlands to the banks of bluebells under the trees and the open views to the mountains across Loch Tay, there is so much to enjoy. I blushed with embarrassment when the Killin campsite warden recognised me [and the Blue Bus] as an MMM writer. We had a riverside pitch and sat by the ‘van watching a pair of oystercatchers on a nest and sandpipers flying by. While we were here we took the ‘van out to the Ben Lawers car park. Ben Lawers is a great walk but my walking partner wanted to bag a couple of brutal big Munros nearby. The highlight of the day for me happened back at the car park, not because all the exhausting walking was over, but because a cuckoo flew in front of us and obligingly sat on a signpost waiting to be identified. Although I had heard cuckoos every day on this trip, this was the first time ever I had seen one!
Glencoe was as stunning as it always is and the weather was fine enough for a walk. The only other person on Beinn Odhar was a charming and chatty man from Scotland’s central belt. He had worked for a travel firm for over 20 years and, after six months of furlough due to Covid-19, had been made redundant. The country is packed with tales of people who have unexpectedly become job seekers in the last 12 months and the plight of each one breaks a tiny chip off my heart.
In Fort William we hit the shops before heading up to Morvich. It is many years since we’d last been on the shores of Loch Duich. We had driven up to the area in an old Vauxhall Viva that got us north but couldn’t quite make the trip home and we came back in an AA breakdown lorry with the Viva riding in shame on the back. Fortunately the Blue Bus is made of tougher stuff than an old Vauxhall!
In nearby Ardelve we found Manuela’s Wee Bakery, a treasure trove of bread, cakes and other goodies. If I lived near here I would quickly get very fat! Manuela’s has a cafe too and a garden with a collection of human-size wooden houses straight out of a fairystory. Make sure you visit when you’re in the area.
From the campsite we climbed A’ Glas Bheinn, a steep craggy mountain above Morvich which gave us views across to Skye. On another day we drove to Letterfearn and walked by the Loch, stopping often to admire the view to Eilean Donan Castle. In the woodland we walked through bluebells and marsh marigolds to a ruined broch. The stones were mostly still in place to a height above the door, including the heavy triangular lintel. Inside we climbed between the walls up the steps for a higher vantage point across the loch.
On this trip we have stayed on club sites, independent sites and overnight car parks. The campsites all had a different take on Covid-19 restrictions. Some promoted common sense, some haven’t opened their facilities at all and the Caravan and Motorhome Club continue with their band system. Every day on their sites I meet a baffled camper outside the toilets wondering what to do with a band! It is certainly a great conversation starter and maybe the club has a secret mission to bring us all together via friendship bands.
We only had two nights at Roxton but quickly settled into this peaceful and welcoming Caravan and Motorhome Club Certified Location. It was such a stunning spot and idyllic site it was really too good to keep to myself. Near to the small town of Barton-upon-Humber and by the hamlet of Barrow Haven, this campsite offers fantastic walking and wildlife.
We were warmly welcomed by the couple that own and run Roxton and they were around if we needed them but were never intrusive. This lovely site is in a large enclosed garden and is a credit to them with level and tidy grass and squirrels and birds in the trees. There is a caravan storage area that is accessed through the campsite but the comings and goings were minimal and never disturbed us. We couldn’t believe we were lucky enough to have this wonderful site to ourselves.
Just a few minutes walk from the campsite is Barrow Haven nature reserve managed by Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust. The reserve is mostly disused flooded clay pits that now have reed beds and an abundance of wildlife. Walk between the pools to the banks of the River Humber and the Humber Bridge stretches across the wide river to your left. The sunset across these pools with the Humber Bridge as a backdrop is a beautiful sight.
We walked along the Humber towards Barton-upon-Humber. The sky was blue and in the sunshine the Humber Bridge dominated our view. The River Humber was to our right and numerous flooded clay pits to our left. There was lots of bird song, particularly reed warblers and the world felt spacious under the big skies. There are also occasional remnants of the industry here and a still working red-clay tile manufacturer. There used to be many more.
In Barton upon Humber there is a visitor’s centre, an old tile works and The Ropewalk arts centre. Due to Covid-19 restrictions none of these were open on our visit, surely an excuse to return! We found somewhere for coffee in the twn and then continued along the Humber by Far Ings National Nature Reserve another area of pools. We turned inland back to Barton upon Humber and picked up a footpath across fields towards Barrow Haven.
As we reached the lane to the campsite, the weather was looking more unsettled but was still dry so we decided to by-pass the campsite and carry on to Barrow Haven and The Haven Inn for a swift half. We had obviously pushed our luck as a short shower caught us as we hurried back along the Humber path.
That evening was a spectacular sunset and we walked back out to the River Humber. This time we were certain that the low fog horn sound we could hear from the reeds was a bittern. The first time we had ever heard one! The bittern and the deep orange sun setting behind the Humber Bridge were a magical end to our stay.
A bank holiday fell during our four week tour around England in April and May and we needed somewhere where we wouldn’t get in the way of the working population who wanted to relax and enjoy the long weekend and where we could find a hint of tranquility. An adult-only, no facilities campsite on the south shores of Rutland Water fitted the bill perfectly.
The Paddock is run by a friendly family who keep the site exceptionally neat and tidy. The grass is cut short on the pitches and these are marked out clearly and are spacious. The owners welcome all visitors and provide brochures about the local area. They also own a country pub in the nearby village of North Luffenham that is about three miles away. The campsite has a view over Rutland Water but the owners have even built a raised viewing platform so that the view is even better!
For us this campsite ticked two boxes. Just a short walk away is a Wildlife Trust nature reserve which has a hide overlooking an osprey nest used by a breeding pair of ospreys. The second attraction is the round Rutland Water cycle route which passes the campsite gates.
On our first day we walked down to the nature reserve and paid £5 each as concessions to enter [adult admission is £6]. It isn’t far to walk along the paths to the osprey hides and there are four hides in total. In the third hide a Wildlife Trust warden gave us plenty of interesting background about the ospreys and Rutland Water. It was a treat to have great views of the two ospreys; they were close enough to see with the naked eye and clear in the binoculars. When we arrived the male was sitting on the eggs on the huge nest that sits on a platform in the water and the female was on a nearby post. Boats are kept out of this corner of Rutland Water and this helps keep the ospreys safe. This isn’t the only osprey nest on Rutland Water but it is the easiest to see. The Wildlife Trust have cameras on the ospreys and you can watch them online. While we were there the two birds swapped positions and I watched on the TV screen in the hide to get a look at the eggs as they made the change over.
Of course ospreys are hard to beat but we also saw gadwall and teal and sedge warblers were noisily calling around the third hide. Swallows and our first swifts of the year were here too and at the campsite white throats hung around the hedges.
There is another nature reserve beyond Manton at Egleton. This larger reserve has lagoons and meadows and lots of hides. Your day ticket will get you into this reserve too.
In the afternoon we walked to the oddly named village of Wing across the fields and up and down the valley. In this picturesque village we found the turf maze before walking onto Manton and beyond to a field where there was once a medieval village. There is little to see today, except for a handsome private house that has been renovated but we could make out the furrows and ridges in the ground. Back at Manton we had two halves of Osprey beer [of course] sitting outside The Horse and Jockey before heading back.
It was a glorious sunny morning when we cycled the 17 miles anti-clockwise around Rutland Water. You can make your ride about six miles further by cycling to the end of the peninsular and back. This cycle ride is mostly on easy to follow shared-use paths that, on such a fine day, were busy with walkers and other cyclists of all ages and abilities. The first undulating section to the stunning Normanton Church, over the dam and to Barnsdale, where the woods were carpeted with sweet smelling bluebells, was particular popular. There are plenty of cafes to stop at for drinks and food and Oakham isn’t far off the route on the northern shore if you want more choice. On the north side of Rutland Water the cycle way is near to the road in places and is less popular with other walkers. As we came into the village of Manton and neared the end of our ride, grey clouds descended and we were lucky to get back without getting drenched.
Rutland Water was the perfect spot for a quiet bank holiday for us and The Paddock was a lovely base that allowed us to make the most of what the area has to offer.
In Lock Down One we explored our local area and discovered a bonanza of fantastic walks around Morecambe. Lock Down Two was mostly spent watching our new kitchen being installed so we didn’t go far. In the cold winter months of Lock Down Three we once again set off on some local walks. I crave new places and sights and so, as well as the familiar, we searched out new places to walk, finding variety and interest as we mixed up the coast with woodland and canal walking. Here is a flavour of what we found.
On the Fringe of Morecambe Bay from Carnforth to Morecambe
This walk has been on my list of things to do for some time and a sunny and frosty day in February was the ideal opportunity. We took the bus to Carnforth, walking back along the coastal path. This is a level walk, the navigation fairly straightforward and is about seven miles.
From Carnforth you are soon out on the salt marshes at the River Keer estuary. I enjoy this green coastal landscape and it was fun on a sunny morning to meander around the pools and channels. Across Morecambe Bay we could see Cumbria and the Lake District and behind us was Warton Crag. This is a wild landscape that feels cut off and we didn’t meet many people until we were near Red Bank Farm and the parking area there. After Red Bank Farm, if you follow the rocky shore you can climb up to the white stone memorial to the 21 [at least] cockle pickers who died in Morecambe Bay on 5 February 2004. If the tide is high, or you find walking along the rocky shore tricky, then the path over the fields of sheep from Red Bank is lovely and you can see the memorial over the fence.
Walking by Hest Bank you might spot the big house that featured in The Bay series two on ITV before you reach the car park and Jo ‘n’ Lees By the Sea cafe, a good refreshment stop. You are now on the Morecambe Promenade and for us it is an easy walk back home.
The Sea, a Park, a Canal & Woodland all in a Few Miles
This walk is only a few hours but in that short time packs in plenty of variety with a walk along Morecambe Bay, a wander through Happy Mount Park, a stroll along the canal and even a turn around the woodland off Barley Cop Lane. We walk it in either direction to add a bit of variety to those hard-to-tell-apart lock down days.
Is there ever a better name for a park than Happy Mount? From home, we will walk to the sea and the Promenade and walk around Morecambe Bay to Happy Mount Park on the edge of town. As we follow our noses through the park, which is usually busy with families on a fine day, we pass the cafe on our right, the train on our left, the Japanese Garden on our right and into the play area. From here you can find a route through the hedge onto the woodland path, turn left and skirt around the golf course then go firstly over the railway line and then underneath [it can be muddy here]. You are now on a track that crosses the canal.
Join the canal towpath and walk towards Lancaster. This is an idyllic rural stretch of the canal and we have spotted a kingfisher here but, even if you are not that lucky, you will certainly see some ducks. Leaving the canal at Folly Lane we walk by the farm, around the fields and under the Bay Gateway turning right onto Barley Cop Lane. If we have time we will take a turn around the earthy woodland at the junction, particularly now the paths have been resurfaced. Then we head home through Torrisholme.
Looking for Seals along Heysham Harbour Wall & South Jetty
Although we have walked to Heysham Head and Half Moon Bay many times, we had never explored the other side of the port, near the two Heysham nuclear power stations. We walked along Money Close Lane from the junction to the port, turning right into the car park and then left onto the gravel path through the Heysham Nature Reserve that skirts around the two nuclear power stations. This is a grassy area with trees and ponds that is popular with local dog walkers. We crossed a lane and picked up paths towards the sea, emerging between the power stations and the Ocean Edge Holiday Park. This holiday park certainly is on the edge of the Irish Sea and has unrivalled sea views but its publicity doesn’t mention the EDF nuclear power stations that hum gently alongside the park.
We had timed our arrival here for around an hour before high tide as we were hoping one of the seals that are occasionally spotted in the sea here would be around. The sea hadn’t quite covered the rocks below us and oystercatchers and redshanks perched among the surf and a group of wigeon dabbled in the shallow water. Turning to the right, ahead of us was an impressive wide concrete sea wall leading to the mouth of Heysham Harbour. The wall makes a dramatic sight under a blue sky with the power station to one side and the sea to the other. We set off walking the over half a mile along the wall to the squat lighthouse and the wooden remains of the South Jetty.
At the lighthouse we sat and had our flask of coffee looking out, unsuccessfully, for seals. We could see the ships in the harbour and we watched cormorants and gulls on the top level of the wooden frame of the old South Jetty. On the lower levels were a group of tiny knot and we watched with fascination as the sea level rose and the small birds had to flutter up to higher struts. In the distance we spotted the bulk of a ship from the Isle of Man which powered across the sea and was soon dominating our view as it came through the narrow harbour entrance.
The only option is to walk back the same way, no hardship as this is such an unusual and exhilerating spot, with or without seals.
Around the History of Sunderland Point
It was a frosty day when we took the bus to Middleton and walked down Carr Lane to the coast and the sandy Potts’ Corner car park. This is really the obvious starting point for car drivers planning a walk around Sunderland Point and we had merely added 1.5 miles by taking the bus.
Where you can walk will constantly depend on the tides around Sunderland Point so take care, don’t put yourself in danger and check the tide times. The tide was on the ebb while we were walking and we could follow the shore of salt marsh and pebbles, strewn with trees and branches. Eventually you will pass the turning onto The Lane that would take you straight to the village. Carry on by the coast and just beyond here is what is known as Sambo’s Grave, a poignant reminder of Lancashire’s part in the slave trade. The grave is a memorial to a young man from Africa who is thought to have arrived as a slave in 1736. Becoming ill he died and was buried in an unmarked grave. In 1795 a local schoolteacher raised money to erect a memorial to the young man. Before carrying on, stop and pay your respects, read the elegy and admire the painted stones and maybe even flowers that decorate the memorial.
Walking around Sunderland Point, where the River Lune flows into the Irish Sea, is to be somewhere that feels as remote as it is possible to be on the Lancashire coast. Walking at sea level, the view across the river to Glasson Dock stretches away into the distance and you will catch any breeze on your back. My sense of isolation disappeared as we reached the handsome Georgian houses of Sunderland but this is no usual village. The road to this sleepy village of around 30 houses is cut off twice a day by the high tide. It was once a busy place for ships to unload or wait for the tide into the port of Lancaster.
From the village we followed the dike to the road and walked to Overton where the bus terminates. If you are heading back to Potts’ Corner car park there are plenty of footpaths that will take you there.
Combining the Lancaster Canal & the River Lune
Eager for a walk that took us somewhere new on a sunny day, we set off on our usual route to the Lancaster Canal and headed into Lancaster, over the Lune aqueduct. So far so normal. On this occasion we carried on through Lancaster and into a lovely wooded section of canal around Aldcliffe. We walked as far as Stodday where we picked up surprisingly busy lanes around the sewage works that took us to the footpath and cycle way from Lancaster to Conder Green that follows the River Lune.
We stopped at a picnic bench for our lunch and then, as we weren’t cycling, took the riverside path along the dike, rather than the lane and cycle route, so that we could enjoy the views over the River Lune and across to the pub at Snatchems. Apparently there used to be a ferry across the river to the pub and as we walked we wished that still existed. Skirting the wetland pools we emerged into the new housing along the quay road. We crossed the River Lune by Carlisle Bridge that carries the west coast train line and has a pedestrian walkway that takes you high above the river.
From here the cycle and pedestrian path back to Morecambe is an easy walk home. For us this walk is about 12 miles.
Morecambe Prom Updated
Morecambe is dotted with paintings on walls and sculptures of birds. A new addition to the Morecambe art scene has recently made walking along the seafront in Morecambe even more interesting. Local artists have been painting panels to cover the plain blue panels that surround an area of waste ground next to the supermarkets.
The photograph above shows the first four colourful painted panels. There are now more and I find it is worth checking on every visit to the sea as another may have been added since we were last there.
Well done to all the people who are putting in considerable time and effort to brighten up this part of Morecambe.
Once again I am out enjoying the excitement of the open road with new and unexpected things around every corner. It has been a long time coming. Being out in the fresh air all day and walking with family and friends, sharing jokes and memories. These simple things have been my cure for the lock down blues.
I stood watching a moorhen with five tiny chicks pottering around a small inlet into a pond and wanted to weep with the joy of the moment. Nearby a Canada goose sat still and calm on a nest watched over by their alert mate. These and other experiences have re-wired my brain and woken up my senses, both dulled by lock down repeats.
We didn’t go far for our first few nights away once we were allowed. Burrs Country Park Caravan and Motorhome Club site in Greater Manchester is well placed to allow us to meet up with some people we’ve missed. A 30 minute walk into Bury and we were soon sitting outside Katsouris wonderful cafe eating tasty Greek food and catching up with an old friend from Salford as if the last 12 months hadn’t even happened. Later, our son and daughter-in-law drove up to Burrs Country Park and we walked through the countryside with them and enjoyed coffee and cake from the cafe as if everything was normal. Inside my heart was singing.
With a day to ourselves we cycled along the number six National Cycle Route to Salford and Clifton Country Park. The sun kept on shining and this surprisingly green and rural route turned up a reed warbler nibbling seed heads on the banks of the old canal, roe deer hiding in tall reeds, their erect pointed ears giving them away and a friendly cafe in Radcliffe that served us a delicious white chocolate and cranberry iced bun under a blue sky.
Moving on to Crowden we packed sandwiches and a flask and walked some of the Pennine Way. The weather was perfect and it was this and two other walkers who were the talk of the trail. We had wondered if anyone was walking this Long Distance Footpath at the moment and along came a young couple with a tiny baby who were spending their joint parenting leave backpacking the whole route. We admired their energy and wished them well.
After a week being back in the big wide world we had our first pint of draft beer in a sunny pub garden in Castleton. My drinking partner proclaimed that his pint of Chieftain IPA from Ireland was the best he’d ever had but that might be more to do with the months without a proper beer!
As we all emerge from Lock Down Three, we will be keen to focus on looking forward to the new world and the ‘new normal’ as it is called. I am the sort of person that looks to the future, rather than the past and I certainly don’t want to think back to the dark days between January and March this year. I have come through all the lock downs and tiers physically healthy but mentally mangled. Lock downs never got any easier and I found Lock Down Three particularly tough and lonely.
Readers might live in a friendly street where your neighbours smiled across the road as they clapped on a Thursday night in Lock Down One and continue to check in regularly via a Street WhatsApp Group. I imagine this is the sort of street that, in Before Coronavirus days, held a communal street party. I don’t know where these streets are but in all the places I have lived [just seven streets in five places so a limited sample] I have never experienced anywhere like this and mostly hear about them in the media and soap operas. Do they really exist in the real world?
Thursday nights at 20.00 during Lock Down One were quiet here on our Morecambe road. No one shamed us into going into our front garden to clap for the NHS. We were therefore taken by surprise when a Zoom call with two friends in a wealthy part of Greater Manchester had to be cut short so that they could join in the clapping. They risked being socially shunned by the neighbourhood if they didn’t show their faces!
Wherever we have lived we have always got to know our neighbours but we had only lived in our Morecambe home for four months when we were confined to its four walls. We had met some people at tai chi classes and were on chatting terms with the residents either side of our house but there was still some way to go to feeling a part of the community. Although the sunny weather during Lock Down One meant we did meet a couple more neighbours from across the street while we were out in the front garden I certainly wouldn’t say that it was a chance to settle into a community. Most people around us are retired and the majority of our neighbours are single households so we are surrounded by a generation who are terrified of catching Covid-19 and who kept themselves to themselves. Any chances to get to know them were fleeting and superficial. The only positive in the first lock down was spending time with our immediate next door neighbour. We saw him pretty much everyday and with all the time in the world we enjoyed long chats over the fence.
Lock Down Three has been a totally different scenario. Even our chatty neighbour was curled up on his sofa in the dark winter months of January and February and we have hardly seen anyone. Thank goodness in January our tai chi teacher eventually got to grips with Zoom and for the last three months our weeks have revolved around his entertaining Wednesday classes.
When we moved to Morecambe we thought we would meet people in our new town by joining some clubs or groups, attending some events and seeking out like-minded folk. The steps we had made towards this before Lock Down One kicked in were small. It isn’t that I want to be part of a community WhatsApp group but Covid-19 has certainly made settling into a new town more difficult.
We know we are lucky to have each other, lock downs have been very lonely for single people. But life has been so different for everyone. For the most part, and for the first time in our lives, geography has determined our social life. Most, but not all of our good friends are in the north west of England but as lock downs and tiers came and went we were constantly cancelling plans. In Lock Down Three we couldn’t even see two long-standing and close friends who live locally. In normal times we would meet as a foursome for a walk but the rules only allowed two people, not two households, to even take a stroll in the open air.
Lock Downs have been lonely experiences for me and they must have been miserable for others. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post I always look forward, rather than back. This can be positive and also a cause of anxiety. Even as we take the small steps to a restriction-free life, in a corner of my mind is a dread that another lock down will come out of the blue! And so, I am seizing the day and can’t wait to be back on the road again on Monday 12 April.
As Lock Down Three restrictions eased on Monday 29 March 2021, our priorities were to meet our son and daughter-in-law and visit the Lake District. I was impatient to see them but made myself wait until Tuesday 30th and a better weather forecast for the four of us to meet up and hike up some of the 214 Wainwrights. The day’s three Wainwrights were ones we had climbed before but both our son and daughter-in-law have taken up Wainwright Bagging and the walk included two new fells for them to tick off. I didn’t care where we were, I was just so happy to be with them both again. I was grateful that they were prepared to spend their first day back in the hills waiting for me as I huffed and puffed up the slopes and gingerly straggled behind on the steep rocky descents. We walked up Heron Pike, Great Rigg and Fairfield, chasing the low cloud that magically rose before us as we ascended, making it a glorious and unforgettable walk. There was a lot to catch up on and we talked about all manner of nonsense, about hydrogen cars, shared friends, Line of Duty [of course], plans for the rest of the year and recommended books and I couldn’t stop smiling the whole day!
Being able to meet our son and daughter-in-law and take a walk with them, catching up, laughing at familiar jokes, sharing memories and making new ones, sitting by a tarn having a picnic lunch together and trying to name the surrounding mountains are all things we used to take for granted. It has been a long three months since we have been able to do these simple things. For three dark months it has been just the two of us walking locally and so I was keen to make the most of the next step forward from Lock Down Three and start to feel as if I was living again.
Not content with one day of walking in company, the next we met two long-standing friends. My aching legs, after the steep descent from Fairfield, were happy to have an easier walk around the gorgeous Silverdale coast and through Eaves Wood. I was pleased to find that my ability to chatter hadn’t been lost in lock down and I barely drew breath for the whole four hours. The day wasn’t without incident and will, no doubt, become part of our collective memory, ‘Do you remember when we all nearly drowned?’ It was a high spring tide and we sat in the sunshine having our picnic lunch, looking across the sea from a low rock in The Cove near Silverdale. We were chatting as we looked over the expanse of Morecambe Bay to Grange over Sands and remarked on the speed of the incoming tide. Looking around we suddenly realised that our route back to the shore was cut off by water! While those with longer legs could traverse the cliff to return to dry land, I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my trousers and laughing had my first paddle of the year through knee-high water! It was such a warm and sunny day my feet dried naturally as we finished our lunch sprawled out on the pebbly shore.
The sun kept shining and the Lake District fells and more Wainwright Fells were calling. The next day we drove back up the M6 and set off walking by ourselves over Hartsop Dodd and Gray Crag. After two sociable days I felt energised and on much better form that I had been for three months. It felt good to be walking with just my partner in life and hiking. It stayed dry but we had to shelter from the bitingly cold wind when we stopped for lunch and we were wearing many more layers than we had the day before. Back at the Blue Bus we enjoyed a mug of tea and a slice of cake before driving home.
Our final walk of the week was along Morecambe’s stunning promenade to Heysham with two inland Lancashire friends who had been missing the sea. The sun shone once again and the nattering never stopped. A particular delight on our walk was Glebe Garden, next to St Peter’s Church. The garden was packed with colour and buzzing with insects and butterflies in the sunshine.
We have more walking with friends days planned over the coming week during our countdown to returning to camping. I have taken a few big steps out of the mind-numbing Lock Down Three rut I was in and it is starting to feel a bit like normal!
We hadn’t lived in Morecambe many days before we noticed the horses. There are always horses around town, in the fields, occasionally cutting the grass on the play area and often on the roads. Just five minutes walk from our home are stables with horses and ponies of all shapes and sizes. I treat the large horses with the respect they deserve but I like to stop and pet the little ones when they are outdoors. Horses have become so much of our Morecambe scene that we hardly give a second glance these days when we notice a horse grazing by the roadside or see someone with a pony and sulky, a lightweight two-wheeled single-seat cart, go galloping by but just occasionally Morecambe’s horses gift me with a story worth telling.
Firstly some background. Morecambe is home to one of the UK’s largest settled Irish Traveller Communities and they own many of the horses. This community are British with Irish ancestry and are distinct to Roma and Gypsy communities. Together they are referred to as the Gypsy, Roma and Traveller [GRT] community and judgement of and prejudice against this group of people is widespread. The recent shameful story about Pontins holding a list of names to exclude travellers staying at their holiday parks is an example of how endemic prejudice of the Gypsy, Roma and Traveller community is.
I don’t know much about horses but from what I can see many of the horses in Morecambe are neither sleek race horses or large and strong shire horses; they mostly seem to be Gypsy Vanner or Irish Cobb horses. These originated in Ireland and were bred by Irish Travellers as robust and reliable horses with a good temperament suitable for pulling wagons. When ridden it is generally bareback.
The Cumbrian market town of Appleby-in-Westmorland is less than an hour’s drive from Morecambe and it is here that the annual Appleby Horse Fair is held, generally in early June each year. Living in Lancashire, you generally know when this big event is coming up as you spot members of the GRT community on the road making their way there. Said to be the largest gathering of its kind in Europe, around 10,000 people meet at Appleby-in-Westmorland to trade horses, wear their best clothes and see friends. They are joined by around 30,000 visitors keen to witness the traditions and culture. Horses are prepared for trading by being bathed in the River Eden and groomed. The fair also has stalls selling clothing and horse-related goods. The flashing lane runs through the fair and is the perfect spot for spectators to watch the horses being put through their paces as the horses are ‘flashed’ or shown off by sellers to potential buyers.
We recently had a slightly too close an encounter with just one of Morecambe’s horses. We were walking towards the canal on one of our lock down days out. It was a cold day and as we strode out along a quiet lane we saw three guys ahead. They were wrapped up against the frost and standing with their arms folded, watching a fourth man riding a horse bare back and with no riding hat. The man and horse galloped towards us and we moved onto the grass verge to give what was clearly a lively horse plenty of space as it went by. Carrying on, the demeanor of the three spectators made us aware that the horse and rider had turned around and were returning behind us. The three were shouting encouragingly and I wondered if this was a practice for the flashing lane at Appleby Horse Fair or Morecambe’s own version. Again, not wishing to spook the horse, we calmly moved to the side of the lane. The man and horse passed within a horse hair’s breadth and this time it was clear to even two people who have never ridden more than a seaside donkey that the rider was not completely in control. Just clearing us, the horse bucked and succeeded in throwing the rider onto the road. Not a man to give in, the rider clung onto the reins and we could only watch, horrified as he was dragged along the tarmac. Amazingly, he hung on and eventually calmed the horse enough so that the shaken and battered rider could leap back on, no mean feat with no stirrups. ‘Is it the rider or the horse?’ we asked as we walked by the three onlookers. ‘We’re trying to decide,’ one of them replied smiling in a knowing way, ‘But we think its a bit of both!’