280 Baycliff to Barrow-in-Furness

I catch the morning bus to Baycliff and walk down to the beach, where a flock of noisy seagulls is chattering on the sands. Visibility is poor, and I can barely see across to the other side of Morecambe bay.


Although there is no public footpath marked on my map, I’m hoping to be able to stick to the shore today. I’ll see how far I can get, anyway.

The October sun is low and shining in my eyes, making photography difficult if I look ahead, so I turn around to take a photo of the grasses and shingle bank behind me. Large trees, mainly oaks, cling precariously to the rocky slope above me.


I meet nobody else, but I pass a spot where a tyre swing has been hung from a huge branch, so people must come here for fun and recreation.


Further along I pass a spooky looking shack. A man cave, maybe. This one seems to have an outhouse attached, probably a toilet cabin. It seems an unusually sophisticated arrangement for what is, basically, a garden shed.


[I’ve recently published a little booklet of short stories, called The Shed: a collection, and had to take a suitable photograph for the cover, so my eyes are more attuned to sheds than normal at the moment!]

And a little further are some more – well, not exactly sheds, more like upmarket and rather large beach huts. I wonder if people live here permanently?


At this point the foreshore seems to disappear into a mess of stones and marsh around a little headland (Maskel Point). So I leave the shore and follow a tiny lane for a short distance, before arriving back at the coast.

Tractors are parked on the beach. For what purpose? I don’t know. And, looking ahead, I’m not sure if I can continue along the shore. The tide is high and the water is right up against the stretch of rocks at the top of the beach. But the alternative route involves a longish detour around by the road, so I decide to carry on and see if I can get through.


Progress is slow. Large boulders have to be climbed over, while shifting shingle underfoot makes every step a balancing act. But I make it to the next little headland…


… and to Aldingham. Here I meet the first person out walking this morning. A man with a dog. Turns out to be his daughter’s dog and he isn’t local, so he doesn’t know how far I can get along the shore.

I can tell from the colour of the rocks – now with a dark, wet line showing above the water’s edge – that the tide had turned and is going out. So I’m now more optimistic I can find a way through.

Aldingham is a tiny hamlet, even smaller than Baycliff, but it has a pretty impressive looking church. I don’t go inside – just admire it from over the beach wall.


At the other end of this little bay are a couple of diggers. They’re working furiously, dredging up sand and mud from the waterline and heaping it into piles at the top of the beach. I’m amazed by the skill of the operators, who seem able to scoop with their mechanical arms while keeping their machines continually on the move. Like a dance.


I have to keep well above the high tide line to get around the trench they’re digging. It’s only after I’ve passed them that I begin to worry… what if I can’t get around by the shore? Will I be able to return this way? Or are they digging some enormous and impassable drainage ditch?

Oh, well. I’ll worry about that later if I need to. Onwards.

The going is rough, and I make slow but steady progress, across slippery rocks and treacherous shingle. This is Elbow Scar. Somewhere to my right is the coast road, invisible behind a crumbling bank shored up by concrete barricades. I can hear the noise of traffic. But down here, on the shore, there is nobody in sight.

A great flock of oyster catchers rise and scream in annoyance at my intrusion into their private world.


The shingle sounds crunchier than normal. I look down. Among the stones are thousands of tiny shells.


I love the names of these shingle banks – Maskel Scar, Aldingham Scar and Elbow Scar.

(Once I thought ‘scar’ was an ugly name for a coastal feature. Now I understand it simply means a rocky outcrop, although it more usually seems to refer to a messy reef of stones and shingle exposed at low tide.)

I’m rounding Moat Scar. Oh, and now my isolation has ended. There are buildings ahead.


This is Newbiggin. I find a bench overlooking the bay, and sit down for a snack and a drink. I’ve only travelled 3 miles, but it’s been difficult underfoot.


As I ‘m sitting there, a bus slows down. I realise I’m sitting near a bus stop! I smile and wave the driver on. It’s an example of Sod’s Law. Yesterday, when I desperately needed the coast bus, it was nowhere in sight. Today, it appears out of nowhere when I don’t need it at all!

Onwards. I walk along the grass verge of the road for a while and then down on the shore again. I’m walking around a shallow bay where an impressive sea wall is both holding back erosion and preventing further marsh from forming.


I run out of beach at a rocky outcrop with an intriguing name – Point of Comfort Scar. Climbing back up to the road, I’m delighted to find a proper walkway stretching ahead, running alongside the road, but separated from traffic by a wall.


Unfortunately, it seems a favourite spot for dog walkers to use as a doggy toilet. Here is just a single example of one of the many deposits I had to avoid.


All this mess is, of course, alongside a series of warning notices about dog fouling.


Why do dog owners do this? There is a beach below, for goodness sake, which is washed clean with each high tide. I guess the wall alongside the walkway acts as a screen, hiding their dog from view, and so they do it because they can get away with it.

Yuck. It spoils what should have been an enjoyable walk. You can’t look at the view if you’re constantly having to look at your feet.

I’m glad to leave the concrete and walk along sand again. Ahead is Cunninger Scar (weird name and sounds slightly obscene) and Back House Close Scar, and the village of Rampside is just around the corner. But what’s that strange tower. A lighthouse?


At this point the coast road veers away from the shore. Now the sand runs out and I’m walking on mud next to an area of marsh. The coast curves and it’s not clear if I can get through. Should I go back and follow the road around to Rampside instead?

Ah, I see some footprints in the mud. They look recent, and are heading only in one direction. No return prints. Good. That means someone else has walked this way and must have got through. Or – an alternative thought strikes me – they’ve disappeared into sinking sands, never to be seen again!


It’s a bit of a scramble to get around Back House Close Scar – wellies would have been helpful – but I make it through without getting stuck in mud or sinking sand.

There’s the tower ahead.  I check my map. Yes, it seems to be a lighthouse.


I continue along the edge of the marsh and take photographs of the tower.

It’s made of brick and is very tall and thin, with a square base, not rounded like most lighthouses. It’s clearly disused now, but still pretty impressive. I’ve seen lots of weird lighthouses and daymarkers around the coast, but I’ve not seen anything like this before.


The next bit of the shore is very marshy and difficult to walk along. There is a sort of path between the reeds and the bank, but it’s only just visible.


I’m relieved to climb out of the marsh and onto the road again. Time for a quick pub stop at the Concle Inn. Concle? What a weird name.

Just off Rampside village is Roa Island, which is linked to the mainland by a causeway. In the summer, you can get a ferry across from Roa Island to Piel (or Peel) Island. From there, as other coastal walkers have told me, when the tide is low you can walk across from Piel Island to Walney Island. But the ferry stops running at the end of September, and so the only way to get to Walney Island now is via the bridge from Barrow.

I hesitate, because I had been planning to walk along the road to Roa Island and back again. But, to be honest, the long straight road doesn’t look very inviting…


… and I’m already behind schedule, so I decide to give the island a miss and carry on my way to Barrow-in-Furness.


I’m following a cycle track. I meet a few bird watchers and dog walkers, but no cyclists.


To my left is a view across mud flats towards Roa Island. Piel Island (with a castle) is immediately behind Roa Island. And the low lying land beyond is the southern end of Walney Island.


To my right is farmland, with a series of bright yellow markers that indicate where gas pipes run underground. It’s the first indication that I’m approaching an industrial area.


Round a bend, and there is Barrow-in-Furness ahead, across a bay of mud and sand, called Roosecote Sands.


As I head along the edge of the bay, tall tanks, chimneys and other industrial structures appear above a screen of bushes and trees.


And, occasionally, a cyclist appears, leaping down from pathways through the bushes, slinging rucksacks over their shoulders, and heading off towards Barrow at a pace. Going home from work?


The sun comes out and lights up the industrial unit above me. The metal gleams silver and gold, streaked with rusty bronze. It looks like an alien spaceship. I love these structures – the sheen and curve of metal tanks, and the haphazard filigree of gantries and walkways, and so, as usual, I slow down and take far too many photographs.


I reach the end of the bay where a power station is marked on my map, but it looks as though it’s in the process of being demolished. I like the sign – particularly the font used for ‘Demolition Project’. But what is really striking about the sign is the number of flies that have gathered on its surface. Why? Perhaps they like the bright lilac colour?


Here the cycle way takes a right-angled turn, around a pill box. I wonder why we take time and spend money demolishing power stations, while our pill boxes are simply left to fall into ruin?


Actually, I’m pleased the pill boxes weren’t systematically destroyed after WWII, because I think they’re achieving a new status as part of our cultural heritage. I love to see them punctuating our coast, and am reminded of the brave men and women of my parents’ generation who defended our shores against the threat of invasion.

I wonder how long before we start classifying them as historic monuments? Perhaps we already have?

Onwards. The sun has disappeared behind thick layers of haze and the light is dim. So this final part of my walk is remarkably uninspiring from a visual point of view. To my left is the marsh…


… while to my right are more industrial structures, including some giant pipes running across wasteland close to the path.


This section of cycle route isn’t marked on my map, so I’m expecting to come to a dead-end at any moment. But so far, so good. I pass through some yellow gates that are decorated with a graceful fish design.


The cycle route is long and straight with some weird-looking umbrella structures, which appear to be shelters for cyclists and walkers if it rains. Ahead is Barrow Island and the docks. To my right is a large expanse of water. Square and uncompromising. Cavendish Dock.


Cavendish Dock? I think my middle daughter mentioned the name when she worked for the MoD and was involved with our nuclear submarines.

I look at the water with more interest. I see the line of a pier in the distance. And cormorants. But no submarines.


The above photo is the last decent one I take today. The rest of the walk involves a rather boring slog around the perimeter of Cavendish Dock to reach the streets of Barrow-in-Furness, and then a pleasant walk through the town to the railway station.

My train back to Ulverston leaves the station dead on time. If only the buses were so reliable!

I discovered the meaning of the name ‘Concle’ on the My Dad’s a Communist Blog site. It’s a deep hole where ships can lie at anchor.

Walked today = 11 miles
Total distance so far = 2,841 miles


About Ruth Livingstone

Walker, writer, photographer, blogger, doctor, woman, etc.
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39 Responses to 280 Baycliff to Barrow-in-Furness

  1. Eunice says:

    A very interesting-looking walk Ruth and great pics as always – I love the second one. I’m with you on the dog mess, why do dog owners leave it like that?? The light house tower looks very unusual, I’ve never seen a square one before.

  2. jcombe says:

    I was puzzled by that tower too. I wondered if you might have found out what it was but it sounds like it’s a mystrey to you too. I’m glad I’m not the only one that does that with footprints if I am not sure if I can get through – look to see if i can see any and look to see if I can see whether they come back or not!

    “In the summer, you can get a ferry across from Roa Island to Piel (or Peel) Island”. Hmm I think I’d have to add an “allegedly” to that! Twice I came out to Roa Island when the ferry was supposed to be running. Neither time it was and neither was the telephone number on the sign answered. A shame I was hoping to visit the island (there are ruins of a castle on it, it looks quite interesting) but if I do decide to do it I will have to make further enquiries to avoid a further wasted journey. I was interested to hear you can walk there from Walney Island though I am not sure how it easy it is. Perhaps that is another option to get there.

    Are you going to walk around Walney Island too (I did)? You’ve probably done it already but the walk north out of Barrow is not great. Thankfully the Cumbria coast soon gets better, it becomes very beautiful once past Barrow.

    • jcombe says:

      Just to add – I do wonder if I am becoming a bit of an island obsessive! A couple of books I found interesting. “Tiny Islands” by Dixe Wills where the author visits lots of tiny islands around the British coast (and some on lakes too). Another is “No Boat Required” by Peter Caton. I have no connection with either author, just thought you might find them interesting (I know Peter got to Roa Island and also one of the other islands in part of Morecambe Bay, I think he may also have gone to Piel Island, certainly on of them did).

      • Hi Jon, and yes I did decide to walk around Walney Island, as you’ve discovered by now.. When I first started my coastal walk I was quite strict about NOT walking around islands – unless I used them as a way of getting down the coast, as I did with some of the islands in Essex. But now I visit them if they look interesting. I have Peter Caton’s book, No Boat Required, although I haven’t read all of it, because I just dip in and out when I want to. Now I must go and read which islands he visited in this area… thanks for reminding me.

  3. owdjockey says:

    Hi Ruth, You may well ask that of dog owners. But I what find absoluelty baffling are those those dog owners who 1) While shopping buy plastic doggy pooh bags 2) Remember to take them when they take their dog walkies 3) Diligently pick up their dogs mess and put it into the pooh bag 4) Then throw the bag on the floor, throw into a tree, place it on a park bench………………WHY?? They have gone through hard work in purchasing and using the bags then then to just dump it anywhere!! Not only have they not removed the dog mess, they have preserved it for many many years to come within the plastic bag and created litter, in the form of plastic bags. I’ve seen blue ones , pink ones, black ones all swinging in the hedgerows, all because some people are too selfish or stupid to dispose of the pooh+bag responsibly. You know, they would do better to just leave the dog mess as it is, at least it will break down in time. RANT over. Answers appreciated.lol

    BTW Ruth, the Lighthouse is called The Needle

    • pedalboats says:

      Oy, owdjockey, that’s MY RANT, (almost word-for-word), hands off

      • owdjockey says:

        oopps sorry pedalboats, my plagiarism holds no bounds!

        Yes this is rather a tough conundrum as to why people do this. I don’t suppose they realise they could be prosecuted TWICE, once for not clearing after their dog, but also for dropping litter.

        • I absolutely agree with the rant above. Why????!!!! My daughter (a dog owner) says its because people intend to pick up the bags on their way back from their walks. I find that hard to believe, given the bizarre places you find them.
          Most walkers must be familiar with that unpleasant sensation underfoot – slightly slippery and squelchy at the same time – when you realise you’ve just trodden on a poo-filled bag. Ugh.

  4. tonyhunt2016 says:

    I think a lot of the dog fouling is a result of owners not monitoring their dogs while off the lead. In Holland it is illegal to let your dog off the lead at least in some places, so (being Dutch) they all do it, and the fouling is a very contentious issue. One Dutchman suggested putting phosphorescent additives in the dog food so that you could spot the poo at night!

    The poo-bags left in trees have been a mystery rivalling that of crop circles so far as I’m concerned, but there are couple of plausible explanations here: http://forums.digitalspy.co.uk/showthread.php?t=1949577

    On the subject of pill boxes, our sailing club uses one as a base for the race management box; you’d have walked past it on the beach on your way into Rochester!
    It was one many in the GHQ Line, stretching from The Wash to Bath; so far as I can establish, they were manned only once by the Home Guard during an exercise! The threat of invasion was soon past, but a real boost for the building trade….

    • Thanks for the link to the dog poo bag thread, Tony. A few plausible (although not acceptable) reasons, but the comments on the thread had me chuckling 😀
      And, yes, I did walk past that sailing club – I remember it! Sadly, I didn’t notice the pill box. I do remember seeing another one, a little further down the shore, which was in the process of sliding into the river.

  5. As Owd Jockey has pointed out, that beacon is known as the Needle although it’s also called Rampside Lighthouse despite being a beacon not a lighthouse (lighthouses were built to be manned, though they’ve all been long-since automated). It’s one of thirteen, erected in 1875 to guide vessels down the safe channel into port. The other twelve are long gone though.

    I walked from Ulverston to Barrow in constant driving rain and, though I started in high spirits, it quickly sucked most of the enjoyment out of it. You had a much nicer time of it by the look of things.

    • Ah-ha. So now I know the difference between a beacon and a lighthouse. Always assumed they were interchangeable words. Thank you, Ju. What a shame the other 12 have disappeared. Glad this one remains.
      I try not to walk in the rain. Incidentally, it was raining when another coastal walker (Andy Phillips) walked through this section and he didn’t even notice the Needle. Must have had his head well and truly down!

  6. Jean says:

    I agree with you Ruth that it would be a pity if pillboxes and other defences were allowed to crumble – they should be a lasting memorial to the past. Did you know there is a Pillbox Study Group? I didn’t until now! They have a website: http://www.pillbox-study-group.org.uk/

    • Thank you Jean. Should have known that somewhere on the Internet there would be a group dedicated to pill boxes. 😀 Have just spent a happy half hour over there looking at their photos.

    • Mike Taylor says:

      As a child a long long time ago my parents told me that the Pill Boxes are being left for all time, to remind us to be forever on our guard against invasion. The phase that was used was “lest we forget”.

      • Absolutely agree, Mike. And I wonder if anybody has slapped a preservation order on one yet? Although I quite like seeing them in various stages of decay, if we aren’t careful we will lose them.

  7. Dawn Morley says:

    I’ve just discovered you when I was looking up the distance from Clacton to Walton. I see you did that stretch in 2010, and you are still walking! Though I realise you’ve had breaks in between, but the fact you are walkibg the coast now has left me very excited. I’m going to have to find some time to read up on the last 6 years. I will think of you tomorrow when I do my little walk.

    • Hi Dawn. Yes, can’t believe it’s 6 years since I started. And I’m probably only half way round. Hope you enjoy your walk. I remember being surprised by how rural and isolated much of Essex’s coast seemed to be.

  8. Hi Ruth,
    All I can think of whenever anyone mentions Barrow-In-Furness, are the Chewits adverts from the 1980’s! ‘Even Chewier than Barrow-In-Furness Bus Depot’…which has probably been demolished by now…I guess most people in their 40’s upwards would remember (or is it just me?)
    Just a light hearted post…

    Youtube link:

    • Ha ha, no wonder I couldn’t find the Barrow-in-Furness bus depot. The monster ate it!
      Rather sadly, I don’t remember those adverts. At the time was working as a junior doc, 80-100 hour weeks, and no time for TV. I’ve clearly missed a treat. They need reviving!

  9. pedalboats says:

    I love your blog, Ruth. You are so intrepid. I love walking in Britain, there’s just so much to see.
    By the way Wikipedia is MASSIVE on pillboxes (British hardened field defences of World War II)

  10. Joy Reynolds says:

    Currently reading Nella Last’s War (‘Housewife 49’); she wrote her diary of the war years in Barrow for Mass Observation,so this section is especially interesting. (By the way,have added one of your photos to my ‘Fawley, Hampshire FB group’ and mentioned your blog.)

  11. Mike Taylor says:

    The last photo of the day, of Cavendish Dock, shows the site of the dramatic destruction of the airship Mayfly which occurred 106 years ago. As you walk on towards Barrow you can still see remains of the work-site at the dock edge and partly in the water.

  12. Dog poo is one of the greatest contaminants of ocean water in some places (at least here in Melbourne) and so letting dogs go on the beach isn’t a great solution – but neither is leaving it on the path as it just ends up in the ocean after being a nuisance there too. I heard a podcast where a place in the US recorded the genetic information of all local dogs, then could identify the poo and fine the owner! Expensive to set up but I think it would be worth it;-) .

    • Ooh, I’ve never thought of the danger of dog poo contaminating the sea! Yuck. And intrigued by the notion of storing genetic profiles of dogs. Maybe taking it a bit too far… 😄

  13. Marie Keates says:

    Rosemary footprints and your logic about them reminded me of our time in Iceland. We followed some footprints in the snow believing, like you, the fact they only went one way must mean there was a route through. After walking some distance though, the footprints just disappeared. A little later the trail disappeared too. It was very strange and I still wonder what happened to whoever made the footprints Did they just fly away? As for the pill boxes, I love finding them too. I think they should be preserved because they are certainly part of our history and less and less people remain who remember what they are and how they were used.

  14. Karen White says:

    Dog poo left anywhere that people walk is disgusting – and leaving it on a beach would be a quick way to get dogs banned from the beach, as well as contaminating the ocean. There’s already a large number of beaches where dogs aren’t allowed! Nor do I understand the ‘hang the bag of poo up’ brigade, another disgusting practice. In the New Forest the authorities are keen for people to pick up after their dogs if they go on paths (and I quite agree with that), but they refuse to provide dog poo bins (or any other type of rubbish bins) in any of the forest car parks. It’s not really that surprising that I come across dirty nappies (unbagged), discarded portable barbecues, the remains of picnics, underwear (yes, really) and all manner of other rubbish. People rarely pick up their rubbish when there is a bin nearby, they certainly won’t bother if there isn’t.
    My rant over.

  15. 5000milewalk says:

    I’ve just done this stretch last weekend. Those miles of bouldery beaches sure were hard, weren’t they?! There are now a few cool sculptures near that shed which I really liked, I put some photos of them on my blog. I loved the look of the chemical works too – not many other people seem to, apart from me and you!!! 😄

  16. Sue says:

    I stumbled across this article whilst googling something. The green wooden beach hut at Baycliff, in one of the photos is mine! You caught it just after it had been painted by the looks of it – it sadly looks much more down at heel currently. My Mum lived in the bungalow next to the red tractors you also photographed, until she died a few years ago.
    Is the beach hut included in a book of these walks please?
    Sue McGorrigan

    • Hi Sue. Ah, so glad you got a glimpse of your beach hut looking freshly painted. Sorry to hear of your mum’s death, but pleased I caught her house in the photo. What a wonderful place to live! I’m afraid I haven’t put these walks in a book yet. Best wishes, Ruth

  17. Nick says:

    We did this walk in Sept 2021 and included the stretch down to the end of Roa Island. We sat on some benches at the end and watched the ferry (very small boat) come and go to Piel Island. There were also a number of what appeared to be modern fishing boats heading into Barrow. A local turned up after a bit and I asked him if there was a fishing port in Barrow. He looked at me rather strangely and said there wasn’t. He did though go on to say there is a pub and a few houses on Piel Island and you can drive a car from there to Walney.
    When we got to Barrow we discovered the ‘fishing boats’ were in fact service boats for the offshore wind turbines. We imagine the chap we spoke to now regales people with his story about how folk from Yorkshire think Barrow is a fishing port.

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