the urban shortcut – 8 sep, 2018
Day 32 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Warrington to Abram
Distance: 16km
Cumulative distance: 813km
I mentioned a few days ago I was keen to make Preston by Monday night. That left me with about 60km to do in three days, if I was willing to take a shortcut through the centre of Warrington. If I chose to follow the canal, it would’ve been much, much nicer but would add potentially half a day to the exercise. So I cut myself a deal. I’d power through a half day on Saturday morning, charging through the heart of Warrington and picking up the canal north of the city from where I could resume tomorrow, then in the afternoon I could take Dad to a soccer match. An FA Cup first qualifying round blockbuster between Warrington Town and Burscough to be more precise, right in the heart of England rugby league territory. Bizarre behaviour but that’s just what I do.
When I woke up this morning and peeled back the curtain, I noticed a grey sky and a constant drizzle. That meant I faced roughly 10 miles through an urban landscape into the wind and rain, but it was a price I was willing to pay if it meant catching this Saturday afternoon soccer game and making it into Preston by Monday. My yearning to arrive in Preston by the 10th was linked to making sure I was in Glasgow in time for the AFL grand final, but we’ll get to that later.
After a hearty brekky, Mum and Dad dropped me back at the pub I’d made it to yesterday afternoon and I went from there. One small piece of good fortune was that our hotel was only a few miles from where I had to resume that morning, so at least it meant we didn’t have to navigate the traffic in town. Warrington is a town, not a city, despite boasting more than 200,000 residents. It sits in England’s northwest about halfway between Manchester and Liverpool, and is built around the River Mersey which runs out to the Irish Sea through the latter of those two cities. Wigan, St Helens, Widnes and Bolton are all fairly close by, and all of these places seem to run together on the map like colourful wet ink slowly expanding across the page. I was south of the centre, and abandoning the canal meant hauling myself right across town, through the industrial outskirts and past a handful of smaller villages. It was a proper head down, bum up job and there’s not too much to say about it really. I had footpaths virtually the entire way so that was a positive. I treated each intersection as a separate obstacle, be it a heaving roundabout or a set of traffic lights connecting major arterial roads. They were frustrating in the sense that it meant a lot of stopping and starting, and much noisier than some of the other obstacles I’d navigated like the cliffs on the coast path or the rolling hills of Wales. There were shopping centres, factory outlets and all manner of the garish buildings these towns tend to offer. Eventually I escaped the hustle and bustle and for a short while found myself on a much quieter road surrounded by fields before I passed through a few smaller villages (suburbs) and finally linked back up with the canal. Mum and Dad eventually found me – I managed to ring them after a few minutes of trying with me super wet phone and my freezing hands. I looked like something that had just been scooped out of the Mersey by the time they arrived, and was whisked back to the hotel for a shower.
Geez it was a good feeling once I’d dried out to know I’d managed to get through Warrington, and successfully completed the shortcut. Preston in two more days was now a realistic proposition and to celebrate we had a soccer game to get to! En route I received a call from Salvo, Joey and Patti who were having a few quiet Saturday evening beverages and it was good to talk to them. Mum dropped us off in the drizzle at the ground which was also fairly close to where we were staying, and as luck would happen the rain had just about cleared away by kickoff. We were expecting a pretty one-sided affair here given the gap of two divisions between Warrington Town and Burscough and that’s how it turned out – a 4-0 win for the Yellows in front of maybe 150-odd hearty fans. The ground was pretty run down but it had a clubhouse serving beer and a covered terrace on the main side of the ground, plus a sheltered seating area across the other side. Behind one goal there was also a small, sheltered stand where the nine or 10 die hards perched and occasionally broke into song. It was all good fun as local sport so often is, and Dad enjoyed it, although next time we’re in town we’ll head for the rugby league ground.
