I leave my car in Tarleton and start road-walking to join the busy A59 and reach the first crossing point over the River Asland (or River Douglas – you have a choice of names!). Thank goodness there is a footpath.
A short time later a signpost tells me I’m entering West Lancashire. It seems an important transition. I’m definitely ‘oop north’ now.
Other walkers say they walked into Preston by following the A59, but I have other plans… which are nearly foiled because the footpath I want to use is hard to spot. The stile is hidden in a hedge, while the signpost leans drunkenly against a wall with its footpath symbol obliterated. Looks like it’s been deliberately scratched off.
After my thwarted attempt to walk down the other side of this river yesterday, I wonder if the damaged sign is a bad omen. The path is overgrown, but passable.
I soon reach the river, where the path turns to run along the raised bank. On the other side I can see Tarleton Lock, a fairly new housing development, and after that there is nothing but grassy banks and trees.
Ahead is a metal bridge and I wonder why it doesn’t feature on my OS map. (If I’d know about it yesterday, perhaps I could have crossed over and missed out some boring road walking.) But as I get nearer, I realise it’s not a proper bridge, just a conduit for a pipeline of some sort, rusty and possibly disused now.
Two young boys are perched on the precarious structure. I wonder if their mums know what they’re up to!
I meet a couple of dog walkers, but otherwise my path is deserted. I’m soon opposite the place where the cattle were standing yesterday. They’re not there today – of course. Is there a way through that fence? I can’t see one. Perhaps it’s just as well I turned back.
Further along and I’m opposite the boatyard. The tide is high now, and the ships are floating properly, no longer marooned in mud as they were yesterday.
It’s a brilliant day. Not a cloud in the sky. Beyond the boatyard I spot some walkers on the far bank, a man and a young boy, but nobody on my side. I’m always surprised to find paths deserted on beautiful days like this one.
Further along, and the other bank becomes congested with a great flock of sheep, although I’m sad to see some of them are limping badly. We used to keep a few sheep, and they don’t like wet pastures. Foot rot, I guess.
On my side of the bank are a couple of dopey cows. Luckily they seem too hot to stand up and they stay sitting – chewing the cud – as I slink past.
Then my pleasant walk beside the river is interrupted by fences which surround a grassy knoll. The footpath turns inland and skirts around the slope of the mound, where I come across a large set of gates and a sign. This is Much Hoole Closed Landfill Site.
The diversion is well signed and pleasant, although punctuated by occasional pipes sticking up through the ground. Is their purpose to release gases from the covered landfill site? And I come across more dopey cows. They’re on the other side of a fence, thank goodness.
A screen of trees has been built around the landfill site. Good in principle. But it presents two competing problems. Firstly, the path will shortly be horribly overgrown, as the trees overshadow the route. Secondly, the planting is predominately ash trees, and these may not live long enough to obstruct the path anyway. (Sadly, ash die back disease has already been confirmed in this area.)
I finish circumnavigating the landfill site, and am back on the bank again. Now the river is some distance away and so it’s a marsh bank, not a river bank. I follow its route as it curves further away from the river, passing through farmland.
Ahead I spot a bench. I’m anticipating a sit down, but two women – an old lady and a younger one – come up to the bank via another footpath and get there before me. They settle down for a picnic. Drat!
The older woman offers to share the bench with me. I politely decline and explain I’m going to eat in the pub.
‘Do you mean the Ship?’ asks the younger woman.
‘I think it’s called the Dolphin.’
She shakes her head as though I’m mad and I wonder if I’ve got the name of the pub wrong, but she doesn’t say anything else, and to make conversation I point to the nearby signpost.
‘Ah, so this is the beginning of the Ribble Way,’ I say.
‘No it’s not,’ says the younger woman.
‘Well, maybe it’s the end then,’ I offer, ‘depending on which way you go.’
But she continues shaking her head at me, despite the fact the nearby signpost clearly says ‘Ribble Way’.
It’s a weird exchange and silly confrontations like this shouldn’t upset me – in fact, it was hardly a confrontation – but I feel oddly unsettled.
Anyway, I head inland along a short footpath towards some nearby houses and end up at the Dolphin Inn, where I enjoy an excellent lunch. (And conduct a telephone interview with a young reporter from the Southport Visitor – who is interested in my coastal walking project.)
Technically, the younger woman was right of course. The Ribble Way actually starts at the Dolphin Inn, not on the bank! Onwards. I soon come to another signpost warning me about wildfowling.
At this point, the footpath (aka the Ribble Way) dives off the bank towards the right. Basically it goes through a hedge and over a ditch and through another hedge. Two rickety stiles to cross…
… and now I’m in a huge grassy meadow, where I make the mistake of striking off across the field. I’ve walked several hundred yards before I realise I’ve lost the path, and head back. I pace around for a while before, hidden in the hedge, I spot another stile. And a footpath sign.
I climb over this stile (number 3), but I’m not done with stiles yet. After walking through a sheep pen, I must cross three more stiles (numbers 4, 5 and 6)…
… before arriving back almost where I started. There’s the wildfowling sign ahead.
Now the path leads back to the bank – the one I’ve just left – and another stile (number 7), as the path continues beside a field where a harvester is busy at work.
And then a right-angle turn, at the corner of the field, and another stile (number 8) to climb, until I’m walking along the edge of the field itself.
Eight stiles! And I’ve taken a tortuous route to travel maybe a hundred yards, maybe less, as the bird flies. Crazy! I decide the Ribble Way really must get its act together. This is not a good introduction to a 73-mile footpath.
Coming towards me, in a hurry, is a father and his teenage sons. They look hot and bothered and ask if it’s a long way to the pub. Not far, I tell them, but don’t bother crossing the stiles. Stick to the bank instead.
Onwards, and I leave the field behind and join another river bank. This is the River Ribble. The real River Ribble. Only a few more miles and I’ll reach Preston. I pass a graffiti covered building. A storage tank of some sort? Or a sewage plant? In ruins now.
The sun is blistering hot and there is no shade. With nobody about, I slip off my T-shirt and pull on my long-sleeved cycle top, to prevent sunburn.
The bank is wide and the walking is easy, because the grass is cropped short…
… which means either sheep of cows. Oh. Cows! They are interested in my progress, but I stick to the side of the bank and they leave me alone.
I meet a walker coming towards me, complete with rucksack and also wearing a long-sleeved top. He looks like a proper hiker.
I notice how the edges of the river are littered with a tumble of branches and other debris. Presumable the river has flooded in the past, and left this flotsam behind. It looks calm enough today. Peaceful. Ahead – in the far distance – are pylons and houses. Preston?
Then the peace is shattered by revving noises. On the opposite bank I see a huddle of vans, and I realise I’m walking past the spot labelled ‘KARTING’ on my map. Scramble bikes or quad bikes? I’m not sure which because I never get a good view of the actual course.
A hawthorn bush, with its undersides nibbled by cattle, provides a shady umbrella under which I can shelter from the sun and take a break. Time for a drink and a snack. I apply more sun screen, before deciding to wet a tissue and drape it across the back of my neck, which feels wonderful.
While I’m doing all this, the hiker I met previously returns, walking briskly past me. ‘I saw the cows and decided to turn back,’ he says. ‘I managed to make it past without any trouble,’ I tell him. ‘Thought it better not to take risks,’ he says. ‘You hear stories.’ And I nod in complete agreement.
The problem with cows is they are scary and they do injure and even kill people every year. But you can’t avoid them altogether if you are a long-distance walker.
Onwards. Preston is growing closer.
My path becomes narrower and overgrown – no cows here! And I walk under lines of pylons. To my right are fields. To my left the River Ribble.
I walk past the things you often find on the edge of towns. A pumping station, a golf course, a sewage plant (possibly). Then I pass under a road bridge.
I was expecting to find myself in a built up area, knowing I’m on the outskirts of Preston, but instead I’m in a lovely strip of parkland. A wide avenue of trees. I’m grateful for the shade, and meet families with children, a jogger, dog walkers.
At the end of the avenue is a small car park (I make a note of this for my walk tomorrow) and then I hit the A59. It takes me over a bridge and into the heart of Preston. What a change!
I pop into a convenience store to buy a cold drink, and take it drink in the shade of the bus shelter.
My interview is written up here in the Southport Visitor. The spelling of my name is wrong, as is the spelling of my husband’s name – and name of the book. But it was good of the paper to give me a mention.
This walk = 12 miles
Total distance = 2,675 miles
Route:
I’ve just read the newspaper article – if they’ve got your name wrong then I hope they got your age wrong as well, you look MUCH younger than that 🙂
I don’t know how far you will have got before you write your next post but if you haven’t already reached Lytham St. Annes then I can recommend a good cafe for an excellent milky coffee and a meal should you need it – The Beach Terrace Cafe at St. Annes. As you walk along the beach from Lytham it’s the first thing you come to after Fairhaven Lake but it’s set back behind the dunes – if you reach St. Annes pier you’ve gone too far. There’s a big car park there if you need somewhere to leave your car – red spaces are for cafe customers and are free though I’m sure Tony and Karen, the cafes owners, would be happy for you to park there if you tell them what you’re doing. Of course you may already have got further than that but if you haven’t then it’s just a thought. 🙂
Thank you Eunice. Flattery is always appreciated 😀 I turned 60 this year – something I find almost impossible to believe!
And thanks for the tip re refreshments in Lytham St Anne’s. Unfortunately, as you probably guessed, I’ve already gone past that point and missed the café.
Hi Ruth, cannot understand why you had that detour close to Westlands Farm? The official route on my map makes no such detour. I fortunately had no probs a couple of months back when I passed through there.
I made the mistake of following the signs, instead of following my nose!
all those stiles- keeping someone in a job, constructing them. At least you KNEW you’d been going round and round for no apparent reason. I think you have a better sense of direction than me.
Always frustrating when someone beats you to a seat, especially if you had been looking forward ot a nice rest! I was glad when I reached the Ribble Way as at least it was a proper long distance footpath. I’m interested to find out what route you took on your next walk – and whether the first part of the Lancashire Coastal Way was as boggy as I found it!
Hi Jon. It wasn’t muddy at all, due to a long, dry spell, but all the signs it could be a mud-fest in winter! Just about to write it up.
The behaviour of the ‘younger woman’ sounds hardly normal, or at least impolite. Understandable that you were disconcerted when 99% of people one meets are agreeable. Maybe you could diagnose a syndrome she is suffering from, or maybe she is just very jaded, perhaps from looking after or being kept at home by the older woman!
I think your last guess is probably the right one. I think I’d walked into a mini ‘domestic’ between daughter and her mother.
Those darn cows yet again….and what a odd encounter with the two women, aren’t some people strange?!
I guess it was a only a very minor thing and silly to get niggled by it. But, when you walk alone, the smallest encounters with other people seem to be of immense importance!
Love your blog, and the photos.
I carry a garden kneeler- from a Pound Shop and cut down to bottom-size, in my rucsac. It’s extremely light. Useful either when there’s no suitable seat or wall, but also for wet days. Of course, occasionally I get up and walk off without it, but, that’s me all over.
Heather
That’s a great idea!
Another great read Ruth. You meet some lovely people don’t you ? And then there are the odd ones aren’t there!!! 😕 At this rate you’ll be in Scotland before you know it! Really look forward to that! I’m passionate about Scotland!!
You certainly meet all sorts 🙂
I hate it when someone steals the seat I’ve got my eye on. I wi dear why those ladies were so unhelpful? The styles and the cows sound like a nightmare. I do wish some of these laths were better signposted, it doesn’t encourage walkers.
HI Marie. Always frustrating when someone beats you to a seat – and the only one on the whole walk! But at least there was a pub nearby.
Hello Ruth. I walked from Preston to Tarleton on 26th August 2016. I too am wary of cattle after being chased by a bullock. I remember speaking to a woman (who may have been you) about hearing stories about cows. I note your rules regarding your coastal walk around Britain.I walked around the Wyre estuary to Fleetwood ( you did not miss much) However at South Cumbria I broke your rules by not walking right round the Kent and Leven estuaries.As I used To be a land surveyor on the property arm of British Rail I have walked over both viaducts in the mid eighties so I am counting them. The Leven estuary looks particularly challenging regarding access & possible tresspass,When you are alone in some of these places it can be quite unnerving especially if you are not certain if you can get through without long detours or coming across unforeseen barriers (cattle, fencing, brambles etc). You are a brave and determined woman. best of luck for the rest of your walk, It will be a tremendous achievement.Regards Frank Naylor
Hi Frank. Yes, we definitely met. I remember you and our conversation about cows. It was a hot day, and I was sheltering under the hawthorn bush. Estuary walking is often a challenge – as no guarantee of rights of way on river banks, but I actually enjoyed walking around the Leven estuary, although I spent much of the time nowhere near water! There are a lot of estuaries in Lancashire / South Cumbria 😀 Thank you for your kind words of encouragement. I don’t think I’m brave, but I’m certainly determined. Best wishes.
I’ve finally found a little time to get back to your blog and enjoyed reading this post. The stiles would have finished me off for the day! I guess the fact that the interview was over the telephone might acount for the mistakes.
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