The Meanderthals: DIRTY DOZEN

FRECKLETON MARSH - 7 Miles

WALKERS :- James, Jim, Dave, Anthony, Martin, Danny,
John R, John W, Mick, Mike, Paddy, Vic.

So follow me follow

Down to the Hollow

And there let us Wallow

In Glorious Mud.
(Flanders and Swann)

Height profile

After many warnings about the deep and difficult mud we would encounter on our walk we half expected to be confronted by a herd of hippopotami.

Mud there most certainly was...............

........ but with skill and careful placing of feet we successfully negotiated it.

The publican at the "Coach and Horses" very kindly allowed us the use of his/her car park for the day and once all twelve of us were togged up we were soon leaving the rather appealing village of Freckleton behind and beginning to follow the edge of Freckleton brook towards the "Naze" .

Leaving Freckleton.

The footpath followed the steep edge of the brook sometimes bridging some remarkably deep gullies and at other times becoming almost tunnel like.

Once again the sides of our paths was burdened with copious amounts of blackberries. I think just about everyone succumbed to the temptation to pick and eat them as we walked. At last, however, the path broke free of the brambles and opened out into a large field edging the banks of the Ribble at a point where the River Douglas entered from the other side. Our progress (blackberry impeded) had been slow so coffee time was upon us.

We sat with our coffees as the tide flooded up the Ribble.

For the next couple of miles our walk would follow a rough path along the edge of the marsh. Alternating between short stretches of decking pathway and considerably longer stretches of cow churned muddy grassland.

Decking !

Mud !

To our left the swirling, silver surface of the Ribble blended itself into the grey horizon beyond whilst small boats either battled against the tide to go downriver or sailed serenely upriver towards Preston.

Mike watches as sailing boat takes advantage of the tide to carry it up the river.

At about this point a herd of young cows came charging around a distant corner. " What do they want ? " we thought. Well... they wanted us ! Or at least they wanted to check us out and their headlong charge continued unabated. As they got nearer it became obvious that they were in a frisky mood. They almost certainly had no evil intentions towards us but half a ton (and more) of beef bouncing around was best avoided. Some of us slipped through the fence into the adjoining field whilst the more intrepid amongst us continued on the path and edged around them. (Unfortunately dear reader there is no photographic record of this incident as the writer was busy keeping an eye on the "Ebullient Beefies".)

There is, however, a record of those Meanderthals who took to the field and are here slipping back into the marsh path.

We'd recognise that rear view anywhere.

Ducks, waders, and seagulls filled the air and swallows and martins skimmed all around us but with twelve walkers in a group very few came near enough for definite identification. Later in the walk the white egrets were easy to identify even at a distance. Some wildlife did come near. At least one shore crab scuttled into the nearest pool as we passed by and a small frog stayed long enough for a photo.

High above us a kestrel hung in the sky above also long enough for a photograph to be taken. A stiff breeze helped to reaffirm it's colloquial name. "Windhover".

One poor creature sadly gave us ample time to take a photograph.

With the river and the marsh being the boundary to our left, a formidable man-made boundary followed us to the right. The high wire fence of the British Aerospace works. Firm warnings were attached to the fence at frequent intervals. Indeed Harry, who used to work here and is at the moment incapacitated told us NOT to climb the fence.... SO WE DID !! (no we didn't !)

The fence was to keep us company for quite a long way from here. Lunch time was arriving ( you will know dear reader that Meanderthals have a close working relationship with lunchtime.)

With the aerospace works still on our right we came to an open section of the marsh which offered a much dryer and more solid ground underfoot. Ahead of us was a quite substantial and seemingly over-engineered bridge but before reaching this, some dramatic driftwood briefly held our attention,

With such a magnificent footbridge to cross we of course had to take the ubiquitous "Bridge" photo.

From both sides of course but what is JW wearing in his hat ?

The careful observer will have noticed that the bridge is sagging slightly. One can attach no blame of course.

And then it was lunchtime. As quite a chill breeze was blowing we first had to find a sheltered spot. There was a decided paucity of such things but eventually................

It was at this point that Mick felt it necessary to raise the tone of the groups mental cogitations by bringing out the "Telegraph"(?) crossword. The Meanderthals immediately provided answers to the clues Mick read out ...... most of them WRONG !

"Twelve letters. Starts with "M" and ends with "S" Wandering elderly group of limited intellect................?"

Off again now following fields for a while instead of the ankle twisting marsh. Still also following the BAe fence.

We even at one point encountered a freshwater pond so close to the salt marsh.

It wasn't long before the marshland path turned sharply inland and we arrived at the main road from Lytham to Preston. We had planned to leave the road almost immediately and do a second "Loop" through the marshes but draining work along the footpaths meant it had been closed so a tramp along the road had to be done. It seemed that the works were actually at the end of the loop where we would have joined the road for the second time.

Nearly at the end of our journey now, just another short loop through scrubby land and past a boatyard before we would regain the road close to Lytham green and the promenade.

As we approached the road again a deep gully appeared before us and a rather dramatic building dominated the skyline... What is it ?

Just a last "Gasp" as we turned off the road and flopped down on the seats inside a seaside shelter.

"Who let the dog in ?"
(An enthusiastic lady who was vehemently anti-fracking.)

A final stroll along the promenade past Lytham's famous windmill. Across the road and soon we were on the bus taking us back to Freckleton, the "Coach & Horses" and Home,

We felt it to be inappropriate to consume our own shandy in a pub car park, especially as they had been so kind as to allow us to park so Martin said he would save it for next time.

THE END

Unused Photos :-