278 Cark to Greenodd

I catch the train from Ulverston station to Cark, where my walk today will begin.


The train takes a direct route to Cark and the journey is amazing. As the train crosses the Leven viaduct it seems to be gliding above a gleaming expanse of sand and water.

Unfortunately there is no pedestrian access back across the viaduct, and from Cark I must make a lengthy detour up the Leven estuary to reach the nearest footbridge. It appears you can’t walk along the bank of the estuary either – at least there are no public footpaths shown on the map and I don’t have the chutzpah today to try to find a way over private land.

And so the first part of my walk is along the B5278, which is the public route running closest to the shore. But the pavement soon disappears and the traffic hares along at great speed.

I decide it’s too dangerous to continue on the road and, just past the Holker Hall estate, I turn off up a bridleway to the right.A little signpost by the turn bears the letters C C W. Oh, good! That must be the Cumbria Coastal Way.


[The Cumbria Coastal Way has disappeared from my latest OS map. This is because the Cumbria County Council no longer endorse or support the route. However, you can still find the route marked on older maps and on the Long Distance Walker’s Association website.]

The signs on nearby fences and gates aren’t exactly welcoming. 03a-incorrect03b-adders

Adders? Crikey.

The bridleway climbs steadily uphill, and starts off as a proper tarmac road…


… before later becoming a gravel track through sheep fields.


I pass a few dog walkers, but then the track turns to footpath and I meet nobody else for several hours. Old signposts reassure me this really is the Cumbria Coastal Way.


From a high point I look down towards the coast. The light is too bright for decent photography in this direction, but that gleaming mass of whiteness in the distance is the mouth of the Leven estuary.


Onwards and upwards. I’m now following a well-defined track, probably an ancient roadway, that takes me up through woodland…


… before emerging onto open grassland. Signposts point me along the Cumbria Coastal Way. And below the view over the River Leven becomes clearer as the sun climbs higher in the sky.


The hill I’m climbing is called How Barrow. It forms part of a high ridge of land that runs from Cark nearly all the way to Haverthwaite. There are sheep up here, but no cattle. Good. I like sheep.


I climb higher. The views on my left are wonderful. Over the river is Ulverston, where I’m staying in a hotel. And there’s the splendid white tower on the hill above the town – the tower that looks like a lighthouse but isn’t. Below, the Leven viaduct stretches like a thin, black millipede across the water.


Near the top of How Barrow the path forks. For some unknown reason, the official Cumbria Coastal Way takes a lower bridleway route that runs roughly parallel to, but some distance below, the top of the ridge. But I decide to continue along the footpath that hugs the top of the ridge. Not only is this path closer to the shore, but it provides much better views over the estuary.

There is nothing much up here: grassland, areas of woodland, the odd isolated farm. It’s beautiful.


And in the distance are the peaks of the Lake District. I’m not actually in the National Park yet, although I’ll cross the boundary in an hour or so.


Leaving the footpath, I climb to the top of How Barrow. The views are even more glorious


This is one of those days when everything seems wonderful, and effortless, and you could carry on hiking for ever. It’s one of those days that every walker lives for. Perfect.

I balance my camera on a rock and take a rather shaky self-portrait.


It’s time to press on. I come down off the peak of the ridge and follow the footpath, which now runs in the shadow of an old dry-stone wall.


And I reach another viewpoint. Below me is Roudsea Wood and Mosses National Nature Reserve. Much of it looks like a swamp to me. The trees have been logged. But the colours are amazing.


[Later I will learn to be wary of a place that describes itself as a Moss. Moss can mean a green plant that grows in damp places, but up north the word moss may also mean a bog or a marsh.]

With my lens on full zoom I take a photo of the waterlogged area below.


A buzzing noise alerts me. A young lady on a quad bike comes zooming along the path. I guess she is a farmer going to check on her sheep. They all seem to use quad bikes these days.


It’s time to turn off the ridge. At this point my footpath divides into two. I can either go left and straight down the hill to rejoin the road, or I can turn right and down the other side of the ridge, before heading up again to reclaim the high ground further along.

I decide to go right, over a stile, down another ancient green lane, past oak trees, until I join a farmer’s track. This takes me to a farm called Speel Bank.


Past the farmyard I pick up another footpath and climb back up towards the ridge again, following the course of an old stone wall.


Now I’ve rejoined the Cumbria Coastal Way. I walk up through woodland…


… and am back on high ground again. Open grass. Wind-blown trees. Scattered sheep.


This area is called Stribers Allotment. That name conjures up an image of rows of vegetables and garden sheds, but here the word ‘allotment’ has a double meaning. It can also simply mean a parcel of land. Anyway, there are no vegetables in sight. Only sheep.

Beyond Stribers Allotment is a road and a few buildings. Grassgarth. I’m about to cross over the boundary and enter the Lake District National Park.


My path crosses the road and dips down into a narrow valley where there is a stream and a footbridge. Here I meet a couple of young cattle. Heifers? Or bullocks? I don’t have time to find out because they take one look at me and run away.


Now I enter High Stribers Wood. Here some rather unnecessary fences keep me confined to the proper path, but it’s very pleasant walking.


At several points along the path I’ve noticed some fluorescent yellow arrows. They’ve been a little bit of a mystery, until I take the time to read the sticker on the back of one of them.



Looks like there’s been a cycling group using this footpath. Hmm. It’s not even a bridleway. I’m not sure I approve.

I continue up, through High Stribers Wood. No sign of cyclists. Or walkers. In fact, I’ve seen nobody since I met the farmer on her quad bike.


And then I emerge into an area of open land. Bigland Heights, according to my map. A little further and I come across a pretty lake. Bigland Tarn.


Now every step I make seems to create a flurry in the bracken on either side of the path. Whirr. Whirr. Pheasants – in a panic – take off like noisy drones. But one, a beautiful male, decides to run along the top of a stone wall beside me instead. A great photo opportunity!


Next to Bigland Tarn is Bigland Hall. What a fantastic place to live, and with wonderful views. The track is rather muddy though, more like a shallow river than a path.


Unfortunately along with large tracts of private land come offensive notices. ALARM MINES. KEEP OUT. And, if the use of the word ‘mines’ isn’t bad enough, there’s a skull and crossbones to reinforce the message.


I have no problem with polite notices asking people to respect private property, but notices like this one above are just, plain, RUDE!

Luckily they haven’t been able to prevent us using the public footpath. Onwards. Down the steep hill. Through these glorious (but strictly private) woods.


Interestingly, I’ve come to the age where I prefer going uphill to going downhill. This mile of steep descent isn’t kind to my knees. And my feet don’t like it either. Give me uphill any day.

For a couple of hours I haven’t met another human being, and certainly no walkers since the dog walkers, more than three hours ago. So, when I swing my camera up for yet another photograph, it’s a surprise to see a figure in my viewfinder.


She’s a dog walker and apologises for ruining the shot. (I always find this notion of a human-free photograph a little odd. I like to have people in my photos. They add perspective and interest to the view.)

One of the rules of long-distance walking is this: when you see a dog walker, you’re probably near a road. And so it’s no surprise that 10 minutes later I reach the B5278.


Luckily I only have to follow the road for a short distance, until I reach the banks of the River Leven and the bridge at Low Wood.


But I’m not crossing the Leven here. Off to my left, 3 miles further along the bank, is a footbridge that will take me straight over to Greenodd.

So I turn off down a track, and then follow a delightful footpath along the bank of the river. Unfortunately the sky has clouded over and the light is too dull for good photography.


Perhaps it’s just as well, because I now begin to make rapid progress. After the footpath I join a cycle way. I meet a few cars, and cyclists, and dog strollers.


Signs tell me the cycle way is maintained by the Holker Estate, but it’s also a public footpath and it leads right across this area of woodland and marsh. I’m now in the Roudsea Wood and Mosses National Nature Reserve – the area of logged land and marsh that I could see from the top of the ridge earlier today.

Another information board tells me they have been felling the plantation pines which dominated this area, and allowing natural British plants and trees to reestablish themselves. Excellent. That explains the logging.

I would love to return and explore this area another day. There are plenty of permissive routes (not marked on the map) that run around the reserve.

Onwards. My path continues. Three miles of easy walking. And there’s Greenodd ahead. It seems very close…


… but first I must cross the footbridge over the Leven. It looks modern…


… and contains a poignant little memorial fixed to the railings half way across. Flowers and knitted teddies. Maybe a drowned child?


On the other side of the river I turn around. Oh dear. Dark clouds have been building behind my back, and that is definitely rain over there – and it’s heading this way.


I tuck my electronic equipment into my rucksack and hurry onwards. I had thought I might get to Ulverston today, but not in the pouring rain. Perhaps there’s a tea shop in Greenodd?

High points: Climbing up How Barrow and enjoying the wonderful views

Low points: Discovering the tea shop in Greenodd doesn’t serve tea after 3pm. (What sort of tea shop is that?!) And then getting soaking wet in pouring rain. And discovering the bus times given by Traveline are incorrect. And having to wait over an hour for the bus, which turns out to be packed with shrieking school children.

[Just reread the above rant and decided I’m turning into a grumpy old woman. Well, I probably am and I don’t care.]

Walked today = 9.5 miles
Total distance around coast = 2,815 miles

Route: (alternative Cumbria Coastal Way shown in red)

About Ruth Livingstone

Walker, writer, photographer, blogger, doctor, woman, etc.
This entry was posted in 17 North West England and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to 278 Cark to Greenodd

  1. Hi Ruth, Glad your continuing journeys are mostly pleasant, but on the School Children issue, just be thankful you don’t have to drive the little darlings! That is my daily task weekday mornings to drive the School Bus – although after seven years I will give it up at Christmas – I so need to go semi retired (at 46!) so I can get the walking in that I crave – at least your posts help me get a virtual fix! They are actually normally much more subdued in the morning with the School day ahead and a dose of double physics!

    • Oh Gemma, you have my sympathy with your bus driving! I like children, but they are so LOUD after school – must be releasing all that pent-up energy. Hope you’ll find more time for walking soon 🙂

  2. Eunice says:

    Wonderful photos again Ruth, I love those views over the Leven and the viaduct, they are gorgeous. The memorial with the teddies on the bridge – sad but very sweet.

    • Thank you Eunice. The weather makes such a difference to the quality of photographs. Oh yes, and having a good lens. I really missed mine when it got jammed with sand and so relieved I found a decent replacement,

  3. beatingthebounds says:

    It’s a lovely area for walking that and, as you discovered, so little frequented – too far away from the honeypots of Grasmere and Ambleside.

  4. Anabel Marsh says:

    Glorious! But how curmudgeonly of the council not to support the path any more – and you do seem to be finding an awful lot of aggressive signs lately. Still, the scenery makes up for it.

    • Love the word ‘curmudgeonly’, Anabel 🙂 Yes. And it seems shortsighted not to support the path, beacause they are going to have to put together a coastal path soon for the England Coast Path project.

  5. Lynn says:

    Hello Ruth, Thank you for posting such beautiful photos, gorgeous scenery and a great shot of the pheasant, amazing colour plumage. Thank you for your interesting reply regarding my posting ref Middleton Towers, great taste in music ! Kind regards and safe walking.

  6. Chris Elliott says:

    Hi Ruth – when I walked this stretch I trespassed through the Holker Estate. I met one of the estate workers who told me I was trespassing but I played the sympathy card about walking the coast and he told me he would turn his back. But he told me the game keeper would be less sympathetic…. Later I came across a sign saying ospreys were nesting…. I might be prepared to trespass but there was no way I would disturb ospreys and so I headed for the road. Thankfully it was not too bad when I walked it. (Wait until you get to the A83 and A82 in Scotland!) So you were right to follow the inland route. It’s a pity as the Holker Estate is beautiful……. By the way my latest estate for the length of the coast is 6,100 miles and my rules are similar to yours (although you walked Anglesey!). So you are nearly half way!!!! Well done. Chris

    • Hi Chris. I wondered if I should have tried walking through the Holker Estate. It was tempting to try and find a way through, but I’d already set my heart on walking over the high ridge. Shame the estate doesn’t provide a footpath. (And I wonder where the England Coast Path will run?!)
      Am I really nearly half way?! Wonderful 😀

  7. Diane iles says:

    Hi Ruth, looked a lovely walk. Great read again. As Gemma describes reading your walks is her virtual fix, I totally agree, mine too!

    • Hello Di, and yes it was one of those gorgeous days and a walk I’ll never forget. Sometimes when I’m walking on high ground, I wonder why I decided to walk the coast. Hills give such wonderful views.

      • Diane Iles says:

        That’s so true Ruth. By me on the Wirral I live near a hill. From the top I can see the whole coast of the Wirral peninsula, Liverpool and Lancashire to the north as far as Blackpool and the Welsh coast from Chester to Llandudno’s Great Orme to the south. The Clywydians range,and on a clear day The Snowdonian range are visible. All that from our humble little Thursaston Hill. Brilliant !!!

  8. Marie Keates says:

    I’ve never been to the Lake District for real but would love to go there. This post has made me want to even more, except for the landmines sign post.

    • I don’t know why SOME landowners seem to set out to be offensive. I feel I’ve missed out on the real Lake District, Marie, by sticking to the coast. Definitely worth a return visit.

  9. Karen White says:

    Wonderful views. I wonder exactly what alarm mines are, and why the need to be so aggressive in tone when asking people to keep out!

    • I wasn’t tempted to find out exactly what an alarm mine does! 🙄 I come across really nice keep-out signs sometimes, explaining why you should stay out. Other signs are just plain rude.

  10. Pingback: 18. Cark to Ulverston – A 5000 mile walk

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