Brock & Claughton

A Tale of Bridges and Butties on Brock

Walkers :- James Vic, Anthony, Paddy, Martin, John R, John W.

7/8 miles (?)

After a tyre scorching arrival by Paddy and some confusion about parking, compounded by the arrival of the refuse truck, we eventually left Anthony's and set off. Cars discretely parked in a quiet corner of Barton Grange car park and our walk was begun. Across the busy A6 and then through several million (?) poundsworth of  Landrover vehicles parked between the A6 and the West Coast Main Line railway. Up and over the rails on a steeply stepped footbridge whilst a Virgin express train thundered beneath us.  

 Soon we were leaving the hustle and bustle of  rail and road only to have the M6 motorway cross our path. As we passed under the M6 where the river Brock was bridged, we met up with an amateur ornithologist.  He was hoping to see "Dippers" and "Kingfishers" and although he bore a remarkable resemblance to Wurzel Gummidge he was certainly no mug and showed us some of the excellent  photos he had taken of a wide variety of birds. Right on cue a dipper flew past and sat "dipping" on a rock a short distance upstream.

It was not long before we arrived at the first of the bridges in the title, passing as we did "Trout Cottage "( which was to be of interest later. )  Although it was not yet our normal coffee time the bridge offered such an appealingly attractive spot we decided to "Take Coffee" early.

It was here that the first of our "Bridge Tales" was told. John R explained how as a boy of ten he used to come here with a group of friends. As he gazed nostalgically into the swirling pool beneath the weir he pointed out the tree which grew on the spot where he and his companions dived into the deep pool and  swam across to the other side where they climbed the stepped wall up to where you see him sitting in the photo, only to cross the river and dive in again. This was a real "Blue Remembered Hills" moment.

It was with some reluctance that we left this idyllic spot - but leave it we had to. Over the road and down a narrow footpath between the river and a rather "Swish" residence. There's money about for some folks !! Once past this the open fields lay before us but before we continued we were

"WARNED" about adders.  There was some discussion as to whether we should continue with our resident "Bean Counter" (Vic) or should we take note of the wise advice and leave him behind. We decided to take him with us but keep a close eye on 'im. So...onwards to the next tale-telling bridge.

We rambled slowly on through the sun-blessed spring fields encountering several dog walkers as we made our way to "Walmsley Bridge" where we came to a halt.  Here we stood recalling our last visit to this bridge when a speeding "White Van" driver came hurtling round the corner and narrowly avoided ploughing into us. He also narrowly avoided suffering an early death at the hands of an irrate Paddy. 

The road led us gently upwards for several hundred yards before we again took to the fields. A little confusion at this point before we eventually found the stile. I say "stile" but the bits of broken wood we had to clamber over should have felt ashamed to call itself a stile. 

Although the picture shows Vic helping James, (We all needed help) it doesn't properly show the bad angle of the woodwork and the overgrown nature of the thorn hedge which tugged and pulled at our clothes and back packs.

Lunchtime was approaching and this is an important part of the day - ask the lads.  ( Stop laughing dear reader.  Septogenarians and
Octogenarians can still bear the title "Lads")  After a short stop at St Mary's Primary School to chat to the head and an assistant we walked just a little further to St Thomas' church. A brief look around the church and out into the sunshine again for lunch in the quiet order of the graveyard. It occurs to me that we spend rather too much time visiting graveyards. Is there a message here ? 

 Here you see us all seated on the memorial dedicated to the Fitzherbert family (Fitzherbert-Brockholes) whose graves where close by.  

But a drama was to unfold before we departed. A tale of lost butties. " I can't find mi butties." wailed John R. "Oh dear" came the response as we surreptitiously increased our munching speeds.  I LIE !   John was offered a share in everyone's lunch. "Panic over" he declared, "I've found 'em" ........... "Somebody kick 'im !"

Off again and our path led us along tracks and fields and down to the river Brock once more. We turned downstream and followed the banks of the river back to "Walmsley Bridge"  arriving from the opposite direction than  we had arrived earlier.  We now simply had to trace our steps back to the "Swimming Pool" and so down to the A6 and our cars but "A MIRACLE" occurred. "Shall we go straight back or take a detour ?" said our leader, (Anthony, if I haven't mentioned it before..) A bold decision was taken by JOHN R !!!!!!!. "Take the detour" he said NO HE DIDN'T "The first option " he actually demanded. JW took some time to recover from the shock. But this proved a good choice as it took us across a varied landscape 

and past  a delightful old barn complete with owl pellets.  A few more fields to cross and we found ourselves back at the first bridge and John R's swimming pool. Again we were wiled by its' charms and stopped here again to finish our flasks of coffee or tea. 

Do you remember the Trout Cottage we encountered earlier in this match report ?  As we passed it again A gentleman was talking at the door. "Hello Michael" Martin greeted him. It was an old friend,  Michael  Goodier, and as the ensuing conversation progressed it turned out that half our party either knew him or had social or professional contacts with him and his sister who owned the cottage.  Was she the " Old Trout "  residing in the cottage we had the temerity to ask ? She had the good grace to take this with a courteous smile.  During the conversation we also discovered that Vic had, many years previously, worked with John W's Uncle Billy Winder. It's a small world. 

 

And so back along the riverside track. Under the motorway. Over the railway. Across the A6 and back to the cars.

A good walk full of personal and general interest A day long saga starring John Russel - whom we had acquired regardless of the cost. (there was no cost so we didn't regard it !)

 Well done Anthony.

P.S. We couldn't visit Brock without some contact with the pied gentleman himself so here's a picture of his front door which we spotted as we passed by.