9th January, The Trans Pennine Trail

….well bits of it

It was Rick’s fault. We’d pencilled-in a walk from Stockport for the day but Rick’s bits were causing him aches and pains so it was agreed to postpone the expedition.
An email popped into my inbox suggesting a walk with the Blackshaws of Timperley. They had this plan, to travel by bus from Altrincham to Warrington and then, using part of the Trans Pennine Trail, walking back to Timperley . 14 miles she said.
Recent experience has led me to come to the conclusion that I’m really quite gullible and easily duped….so I didn’t question the distance and I agreed to tag along.
At 09.30 the No38 bus set off westwards, the talkative driver regaling us with tales of his days in the army. By the time we arrived in Warrington we knew the ins and outs of accurately firing machine guns, long distance yomping and it’s effect on knees and all manner of other stuff.
Suitable educated, we set off westwards (which isn’t eastwards). The first half mile was spent walking in a sort of spiral route….our leader was in search of a loo and she wasn’t about to spend a penny in order to spend a penny. It’s being careful with money she says.
It was well past 11am when we eventually left Warrington. West at first, passing the very ornate gates to Bank Hall that dates from 1750. The building now houses the Town Hall.

Bank Hall – now Warrington Town Hall

Then passing this war memorial to those who lost their lives in two world wars:

The Joseph Crosfield & Sons war memorial  

Joseph Crosfield was a Quaker and a successful local business man. His business manufactured soap and chemicals.

Onwards and westwards,,,,then southwards, crossing a railway line at Monks Siding. The line links Liverpool with Manchester and seems to be used mainly for freight. This area was once very heavily industrialised and the line was much busier in earlier times.

Following the River Mersey in the misty murk didn’t afford any decent views:

It wasn’t raining although it was damp and cold and I was glad to be wrapped in my Velez, I didn’t take it off until I arrived home.

Arpley Meadows sign gives an idea of how far we’ve got to walk. .

A rather damp wooden bench seat appeared as we walked through Arpley Meadows – we didn’t need to ask. A pleasant stop for coffee and cake was most welcome, we came across one of the very few walkers of the trip – a Lymm man who had dropped his car off for a service and was using the time to explore the area.

Passing Morley Common and heading towards Wilderspool we came across the disused Runcorn & Latchford Canal. Bits and pieces of machinery in remarkably good condition are still in evidence here although the old lock gates have seen better days.

Maritime mangles?

Lock gates

Builders at the pretentiously named Stockton Pointe construction site didn’t want cylclists cylcling close to their site. The cylclists may well have fallen off their bicylcles when they saw this sign:

Heading in a very definite easterly direction along the banks of the Manchester Ship Canal.

Crossing the canal by the old swing bridge at Knutsford Road (the A50) marked a change in flavour of our route.

The Blackshaws, desperately trying to shake me off.

We were now walking on tarmac for the next mile or so, passing a fine example of Victorian construction:  the now disused railway bridge at Latchford:

Next came Latchford Locks – although they looked to be in good condition I can’t imagine them being used much these days.

Latchford Locks

A relic from busier times

Onwards and most definitely eastwards we left the Manchester Ship Canal behind and joined a disused railway line that ran between Liverpool and Altrincham. This section of the T.P.T. runs through Thelwall (famous for it’s wall of thells) and  Lymm (famous for Sooty & Sweep) before crossing the River Bollin (famous for, er, something).

We didn’t follow the T.P.T. as far as Lymm, preferring to divert to the Bridgewater Canal towpath for the short stretch into Lymm….and to show Steve where Sooty & Sweep live. Steve’s led a sheltered life.

Once Steve had been suitably educated and we’d enjoyed a quick butty & coffee stop, we rejoined the T.P.T. disused railway line to walk through Heatley. Hats were doffed as we passed the site of the the much-missed Railway Hotel (a listed building) that mysteriously burned down in 2011. It was so fortunate that there was a JCB parked very locally at the time of the fire. The site is now fenced-off, no doubt awaiting the arrival of a new housing estate.

Around here the T.P.T. passes through farmland – much of which was suffering from the recent high levels of rainfall – heaven knows how high the water table is.

     

Wet Gate Lane Farm. Famous for being wet.

Steve’s plan was to once again leave the T.P.T., this time just before Dunham. We followed footpaths that crossed muddily slippy fields, eventually delivering us to The Vine in Dunham (Sam Smith’s). Light was fading so we deemed it prudent to pass the pub and continue to Dunham Park. En-route to the park we spotted an interesting variation on environmentally friendly transport….perhaps as green as it gets:
Dunham Park was emptying as we arrived, just before 4pm. The convenient conveniences and convenient bench seats made for a convenient last coffee stop on our little walk.

A Dunham resident

The light was fading fast now and the temperature was falling. Leaving the park we crossed over Charcoal Lane to scoot across the rather posh golf course. We’ve walked across this golf course many times before (there ARE public footpaths across it) but the gathering darkness had us quite confused. I’m easily confused.

Eventually we escaped to cross the A56 to walk through the Devisdale and past Denzell House. We couldn’t resist a quick smirk as we passed the offices with people still beavering away at their desks.

Denzell House 

The Devisdale in the dark is a completley different place to it’s daytime companion – but somehow we managed to navigate our way across. Exiting in Altrincham it was then just a couple of miles of tarmac to home.
The ‘fourteen miles’ ended up being 19 miles when the walk from home to the bus station was taken into account. I did tell you that I’m gullible. Ask anyone.

…and this is where we went.

It was a good day – if a little longer than I expected, although it certainly wasn’t an excessive distance. The ascent was negligible….around 200ft. Not a lot.

More piccies are here.

6th January, Lengthening Days….just

Sale at 4pm this afternoon…and it’s not raining.
Looking south down the Bridgewater Canal towards Timperley. Where else?

5th January, 12th Night in Lymm

The end of Christmas and we leave the Winter Solstice behind.


The next big day will be Plough Monday, the traditional start to the agricultural year. This year it falls on 7th January.

3rd January 2013, The Belvedere, Liverpool

Yvonne is one of my bestest mates, we go back a long way. She has perhaps the finest singing voice I’ve ever heard. When she mentioned that a weekly afternoon singaround at a pub in Liverpool might be up my street I didn’t need any persuasion.
Getting the train to Liverpool was favourite, so at around 1.20pm I left Liverpool Lime Street in search of The Belvedere….which isn’t this pub:
A rather strikingly attractive pub across the road from Liverpool Lime Street. A Cain’s Brewery van is in the foreground.
The Walkers brewery is sadly no more. It was bought out by Tetley (in the 1960s or 1970s?) and continued brewing, but as Tetley-Walker. Tetley’s then decided to shut the Walkers brewery and concentrate on their Leeds brewery. There beer wasn’t a patch on Walkers.  

A wet Thursday afternoon in Liverpool

Anyway, to the main reason for this expedition, The Belvedere singaround.
I had the address of the pub, I even had a street map. Liverpool Highways have decided that it would be a real wheeze if they removed many of the street signs in this part of the city. Hilarious it was.

Half an hour later I found the pub, and what a fine establishment it is.

That half hour wasn’t wasted. I wandered around the city and marvelled at the wealth that built this city. Although Liverpool has been through hard times, this part of the city has a wonderfully regal feel to it. Many of the buildings are graceful and serene. Street names (where the signs existed!) echoed the city’s connections with the sea. Liverpool was a very important sea port, sadly much of the trade was human: the slave trade.

I’ll be returning with more time to spare, this city has to be explored at a more leisurely pace.

Anyroadup. The Belvedere sing. And beer.

Both very excellent indeed. The beer I chose was Liverpool Organic Brewery’s Cascade Bitter, 3.7% abv, excellent session beer. I knew there was a reason to travel by train.

The pub is an unspoilt haven: good beer, pickled eggs, good company. Proper, if you know what I mean. 

The singing was as good as it gets, a dozen or so singers in attendance - eleven were very good......well I had a sing too.
Colin, who instigated this singaround, has much to be proud of with his weekly get-together. It attracts some of the very best....apart from me of course. There are no airs and graces to this event, it's just a very enjoyable singaround. There’s not much more to say – other than I’ll be back sooner rather than later.

     

At 4pm I had to leg it back to the station to catch my train home – I wasn’t in too much of a hurry though:

I shouldn’t REALLY have gone today, I couldn’t really spare the time - I’ve got loads of stuff to do. But I'm very glad I did make the effort, Yvonne's introduced me to something really special.

Anyway, a break is good for a chap.

Isn’t it?

The Sandstone Trail

 
A couple of years ago, not long after my L knee operation, I felt in need (kneed?) of a short trip to try out my repaired knee. The Sandstone Trail was to be the test bed.
Wikipedia describes the route as “a 55-kilometre long-distance walkers' path, following sandstone ridges running north–south from Frodsham in central Cheshire to Whitchurch just over the Shropshire border.” It sounded just the job!
The official start of the route is from outside the Bear’s Paw in Frodsham where an attractive obelisky-thing marks the spot. The sun shone brightly, I was looking forward to a pleasant trip in good weather.

The start in sunny Frodsham 

Walking through the town towards the sandstone edges it would have been very easy to tarry and enjoy the town of Frodsham. It’s a real place, full of real people, real shops – and real pubs. It was perhaps a blessing that I was starting this walk BEFORE the pubs were open, Frodsham pub exploration will have to wait for another day…and there IS a plan!
It’s a bit of a tug up the northern face of the sandstone edges, quite a rude awakening after a pleasant train journey and a quiet meander through the town. The edges are quite familiar to me, Cheshire Tally-Ho! Hare & Hounds Club run around this area every year.

A quick pose by another obelisk, the War Memorial, also marked the end of my climbing for now. Although it was dry and bright, the wind on the tops was chilling and I needed my windproof.

Helsby Hill

Following the sandstone edges in a sort of south-ish direction, there were tremendous views of the flatness of the Cheshire Plain. I had to watch where I put my feet – parts of these edges are quite exposed and it would have been easy to end up taking an unwelcome tumble.

I was looking forward to having a look around Woodhouse Hill Fort, the remains of an iron age settlement. When I’ve been here with the running club there hasn’t been time to nosey around. There’s not a great deal to see – building standards weren’t up to much in those days.
Once off the exposed edges, the wind dropped and it got rather warm. A butty stop at a conveniently situated bench took longer than I’d anticipated. Lots of people wanted to stop and chat – they all wanted to know what I was up to and where I was going. This northern section of the route was by far the busiest part.
The well signed path took me through farmland, woodland, short stretches of quiet tarmac, and eventually into the remnants of the ancient hunting forest of Mara & Mondrum – Delamere Forest.

Looking across the Mersey estuary to Liverpool in the far distance

The forest had been used for hunting by Earls of Chester and later the King. In the more remote areas of woodland it was easy to imagine hunting parties of old, out for wild boar and deer.


Cheshire is lovely but opportunities for wild camping are limited, certainly in this part of the county. Rather than scrat around trying to find a suitably concealed spot (not easy) with a water supply (all but impossible) I planned to spend my first night at the C&CC site in Delamere Forest. There were showers. And a fish & chip van. But no pub. Oh well.

 Delamere Forest campsite 

Next morning dawned bright and warm, although the BBC R4 weather forecast wasn’t as optimistic as it had been.

Delamere Old Pale

Off again, through shady woodland and then a gentle pull up Delamere Old Pale – at the heady height of 176m ASL. The views from here were lovely although the recently constructed ‘stone circle’ spoiled the ambience of the spot.
The sun still shone.

Here be urchins

I trundled on following the signed path. A map just wasn’t needed although I’d feel quite undressed without one. Lots of fungi grew in the woods, this time of the year seems to encourage growth. Perhaps due to shortening days and increased humidity? I don’t know, I’m only guessing.

This area is popular with fruit growers. The light and sandy soils are good for growing fruit, whilst the sandstone ridge protects tender plants from chilly easterly winds.
The Peckforton Hills came into view for a few minutes. Another bench seat conveniently appeared, just as my stomach started rumbling. I sat down to grab a bite but the rumbling continued – and the Peckforton Hills vanished. Thunder, lightning and heavy rain appeared from nowhere. I didn’t see the sun again for the rest of the trip.
Full waterproofs on, I continued south. The pleasant route had been transformed by the bad weather. It was now grey and dreary.
I caught up with a group of lads from Manchester who were walking the route, they were doing it over two days and spending their overnight spot at a hotel in Tarporley, a good few miles off-route. Their’s was a supported walk, they were heading for their pick-up point of  the Shady Oak pub, on the Shroppie. The pub would no doubt provide ever-so vital rehydration facilities, these lads were thirsty walkers.

Shropshire Union Canal near Beeston Castle

On reaching the Shroppie, these lads headed off west whilst I continued my muddy trudge south. Originally the Chester Canal, the Shropshire Union Canal was built in the 1770’s to link the manufacturing towns in the Midlands with the ports on the River Mersey.

Beeston Castle 

Peckforton Castle – not a REAL castle

Beeston and Peckforton Castles came and went. I just wanted to press on to my next overnight stop, the campsite at the back of the Bickerton Poacher pub.

Splashing through deepening puddles I pressed on. It was now getting cold as well as wet.
It was late afternoon when I arrived at my overnight stop, the Akto went up in double quick time. I would have chosen to eat in the pub but I was carrying food that needed eating up. A hurried meal and a couple of mugs of tea later, I was sat in the busy pub wrapped around a pint.

The Bickerton Poacher 

It rained all that night. I discovered that a number of tents had gone from the site when I got up the following morning, their occupants had had enough of the wet and had made a run for home.
I left the campsite around 9am, walking south in light rain. The footpaths had become muddy quagmires, this wasn’t going to be a fun day for walking.
This part of Cheshire was host to dairy farmers rather than the fruit growers of the more northerly part of the route. Well fertilised, heavy soils produced rich grasslands that helped the dairy herds produce the rich milk used for producing Cheshire Cheese that this area is well known for.
Cheshire is also a very affluent, race-horsey county. I’ve not seen such a concentration of shiny Range Rovers as at this race-horse training course (track?).
I squelched my way through muddy field-edge footpaths for what seemed an age, although in reality it was only a couple of hours at most.
Old St Chad’s ‘alone in the fields’ came into view. I hadn’t been here for over 20 years when I took my then young children out for a walk in the Cheshire countryside. The church, built in 1689, is still in use. Services are held here on several occasions during the summer including Rogation Sunday, Ascension Day & Rushbearing Day. Peering through the window it’s possible to see an old horse-drawn hearse – the camera didn’t do a very good job of picking it out!

Old St Chad’s, ‘Alone in the fields’

It’s strange, but when I’m out walking I often feel that I’m in a different world – completely separated from the other ‘normal’ world. It came as something of a surprise when I got to Willeymoor Lock on the Llangollen Canal. I normally only see this place when I drive along the A49 between Tarporley and Whitchurch – it didn’t seem right that it should be here in my walking world!

Another convenient bench, this time adjacent to the locks, made for a coffee break. I had just filled my kettle and was about to light the stove when a cheery boater offered me a coffee. Half-an-hour chatting with Mr & Mrs Boater was a pleasant interlude before I continued on my way following the canal towpath to Whitchurch – passing my next ‘other world’ place, Grindley Brook.
The 3 miles or so of towpath should have taken me directly into Whitchurch. Footpath diversions, a new road and a distinct lack of signs threw me off course. I eventually found my way to the route’s end.
I’ve long-since given up on the dream of finding a fanfare to greet me at the end of a multi-day trip, but I was rather disappointed not to find a marker indicating the end of the path. It was supposed to be in the local park. Some have said it’s at the park’s bandstand, others have said that it’s a curious little arch construction thingy at the edge of the park.

Is this the end of the Sandstone Trail?

Or is this?

My disappointment was consoled when I discovered others who had just finished walking the route and were also in search of the ‘real’ end.
Isn’t it strange, I had walked around 35 miles and although I’d seen the lads from Manchester early on, this was the first time I’d laid eyes on these other finishers I’d just met. We mustn’t have been far from one another at any time over the last couple of days.
I made my rather damp way through the attractive town centre, passing the clock factory of J.B. Joyce, to the train station and the end of my little trip.

J.B. Joyce’s clock factory

Oh, the knee passed it’s test.
And the rain had stopped by the time I arrived at the railway station.

More photographs are here.

29th December, A little out of sync…

Lots of stuff has gone on of late, but yesterday evening I went over to Mark’s in Holmes Chapel to enjoy his excellent hospitality and the good company that is always guaranteed at his ‘At Home’ gatherings.

Music, singing and good conversation in the best of company, fuelled by Mark and Alison’s very competent culinary efforts, were enjoyed until late. Although Holmes Chapel is only around 18 miles from Timperley, at this time of year it’s just too far to cycle there and back in the evening. The only practical way of getting there is to drive. Ho hum.

Music in Mark’s little conservatory

I was delighted to find Emma & Jon in attendance, they’re both excellent company. Emma is the fiddler in the Midgebite Ceilidh Band that I play with, and Jon is a very experienced lightweight backpacker and is a mine of information on the subject.

I had heard from Emma that they had both taken up playing the ukelele. Judging from the sound they were making, they’re both learning fast.

Challenge and cycling matters were discussed at length with Jon, who will be on his 3rd Challenge in 2013.

 Emma and Jon

Challenge matters included discussing the possibilities of carrying musical instruments across the Scottish Highlands. Ukeleles and melodeons were deemed to be just too heavy. Whistles and harmonicas are okay, but when you’re carrying your house on your back you become very aware of every ounce in your pack.

Today has been a busy day dealing with family stuff. I was going to walk with friend John from Bramhall, he had a nice 20 miler lined up. I’m afraid to say I wimped out because of the appallingly wet weather. After such a day there was really only one way to wind down:

Riggwelter is the northern word used to describe a sheep that has fallen on it’s back and can’t get back up. The beer’s good.

The weather forecast for tomorrow isn’t too bad so I’m going for a walk. It will be local – straight from my front door, but with all the awful weather we’ve endured of late I really need to get out.