the new scenery – 12 sep, 2018
Day 36 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Galgate to Arnside
Distance: 31km
Cumulative distance: 919km
I had an interesting little start to the day, as I was packing my tent up in the beer garden of the pub. I’d camped on a beautiful little patch of grass, next to a deflated jumping castle and not too far from the outdoor benches. There was a bit more traffic noise than usual given I was adjacent to a major road, but that didn’t bother me too much throughout the night – such is the physical exhaustion I usually take into my sleeping bag with me each evening. I started to pull down my tent and an elderly lady poked her head out the back door of the pub, foregoing anything that resembled a good morning in favour of a sharp ‘And what is it you thinking you’re doing?’
I cheerfully responded ‘Oh I camped here last night.’
Her brow furrowed a little further, and a glint of triumph twinkled in her eye as she returned with ‘Ooooo I don’t think you’re allowed to do that.’
Unperturbed I continued packing down my tent and told her the very manager of this here pub gave me express permission yesterday evening to lodge on the patch of grass upon which I now stood. I hastened to add the manager was a female to give my story some credibility. The cleaner (I’m pretty sure she was the cleaner) disappeared for a few minutes as I finished packing up. She returned bearing a much friendlier disposition and even asked if I would like a cuppa before continuing my journey. I declined, asking instead about the availability of the bathroom which by now I needed far more urgently than any cup of coffee.
Soon after I was on my way and back beside the canal heading further north. If you ever find yourself in Galgate, stop in for a pint and some generous hospitality at the Plough Inn. A few miles down the road I came to Lancaster, a beautiful town in England’s northwest with a castle and a university and all manner of pretty stone buildings. It also harbours a Subway and I made a bee line for the place for morning tea. This was my first Subway since Glastonbury, and I tucked right into a footlong after requesting they loaded it up with all the salad they had at their disposal. After resuming my place on the canal, I came to the impressive Lune Aqueduct which takes the canal over the top of the River Lune at a height of almost 20m. What a fascinating piece of engineering.
My feet were really starting to ache at this point as a consequence of the new boots I was wearing. I was only two days into the new pair and they were exerting huge amounts of pressure at the base of my big toes. To counter that I was able to loosen them fairly substantially, which I could get away with while walking along the canal, but longer term I was just going to have to suck it up and wait until they molded themselves around the shape of my awkward, flat feet. Otherwise the boots were giving me plenty of support and keeping my feet dry, so I was more than happy with the trade off.
I continued along the canal all the way to Carnforth, where I decided to call in at the Canal Turn for a late lunch and a bit of a rest. After perching myself at the bar and ordering some cheesy garlic bread, one of the locals started imitating my Australian accent and asking me how I found myself to be in Carnforth. The bartender joined in and I told them what I was doing, before another pub employee, Danielle, came past and asked ‘Did I hear you say you were doing Land’s End to John O’Groats?’ To my surprise, as I nodded my head, she told me the landlord had informed their staff that anyone undertaking the journey, be it by foot or by bike, was entitled to a free coffee. Now THAT made my day…how was she to know that free coffee was my favourite type of coffee? As she made up my cappuccino, she asked me why I was doing it and if it was for charity and if I’d be willing to have my photo taken with a cushion bearing the pub’s name. I happily obliged and drank my coffee while resuming my chat with the bartender and the local. They were excellent craic and I stayed in there for a good 45 minutes almost before hauling myself up and onward towards Arnside which was still many miles away.
I decided to take roads out of Carnforth, at long last leaving the canals behind! I’d been on them a fair bit over this last week or so and was very much looking forward to the change of scenery. What was that over to the west? The ocean! I caught a glimpse of Morecambe Bay, the most amount of ocean I’d seen since coming into Bristol and that gave me a tremendous boost. Wales and the industrial northwest were behind me, and ahead lay the Lake District and beyond that, Scotland. With a new spring in my step I walked up a long road then skirted a wide field before strolling up into a beautiful forest full of carefully constructed dry stone walls. It was quite invigorating to be tackling a hill again, even if it wasn’t overly chunky. I came back down into Silverdale and ended up down on a jagged rocky beach where I thought the path had taken me. In hindsight, I suspect I was supposed to be up on higher ground. Instead of retracing my steps and looking for the proper route, I decided to walk along the beach front and around to the next bay. That meant almost half an hour of hopping over sharp rocks, many of which were precariously placed in the shallow water which was lapping up against the small cliffs. Further complicated the situation were the signs everywhere warning me of quicksand and the dangers of high tide. This reminded me of a walk I accidentally discovered in Sydney last year, between Dee Why and Curl Curl. The path linking those two lovely beaches is also at the top of the cliffs, but I inadvertently tackled it at the water’s edge leaving poor old Patti, patiently waiting for me at the North Curl Curl Surf Life Saving Club, to think I’d been swallowed up by the Pacific Ocean. I made it to Curl Curl eventually on that day, and can happily report I also survived the Silverdale chapter of my rocky beach bashing. I would, however, recommend to anyone walking through town that taking the high ground would be the way to go.
Arnside was drawing ever closer, and as I left Silverdale I passed a sign telling me I’d arrived in Cumbria. I’d lost count of the counties I’d walked through long ago, but this was a significant milestone given the next border I was due to cross would be that dividing England from Scotland. I climbed slowly up the road and was rewarded with more beautiful views to the north west of the ocean and the Lake District. There was one more field of cattle to walk through before going up and over the Arnside Knot, and down into town.
Soon after checking into the youth hostel I decided I’d have the next day off, so booked in for another night. I’d planned to walk another day or two and have a rest in the Lake District but quickly discovered the place was crawling with tourists and that I wouldn’t get anything even remotely resembling a bed for two nights unless I was willing to part with the princely sum of 200 plus quid. Which I wasn’t. Plus, there was plenty of rain on the way, tomorrow’s forecast included, and this was a nice hostel in a nice place so I figured this was the way to go. I shall be meeting up with Sam and Tiff over the weekend to walk some of the Cumbria Way. Exciting times!
