The Meanderthals: HIGHER WALTON

CUERDALE 6 Miles.

WALKERS Vic, Dave, Anthony, Martin
John W, James, Frank.

Kathleen Ferrier deserves more than the rather scruffily incongruous memorial in the village of Higher Walton. Nevertheless, it was from here that we started our walk heading North towards Cuerdale.

John W. NOT unusually forgot something - THE MAP !

"No worries" he said "I know where we're going." and then immediately took a wrong turn. (He realised straight away of course.)

At this point we came across a strange construction partly hidden at the side of the road.

A lady passing by said it, and a pathway, had been constructed by an eccentric resident called "The Major" who had a troop of soldiers. She had no idea why.

Through an area of relatively new housing before following a farm road upwards and out of the village.

The church on the horizon is "All Saints" where John W got married many years ago

On entering the farmyard we were confronted by a truly massive heap of silage.

The next building explained why it was so big.

All the cattle (200 + ) were indoors except one young escapee whom the farmer was rounding up.

Once the runaway had been corralled the farmer asked "Are ye lost ?"

All eyes turned towards John W . " Er.....Um... "

"Go back to that oak tree and follow the hedge round th'edge o't field till you come to a stile."

"Thank you" we said and did so.

Once over the stile a narrow overgrown path followed the course of a deep ditch before arriving at the gates of some kind of gas works.

From here we crossed the road and clambered over another stile before crossing a couple of fields and arriving at a surprisingly busy Cuerdale Lane.

Our highly trained and experienced trackers immediately spot that something has passed along here recently.

Out onto Cuerdale Lane, across the M6 and back into the fields.

For the next half hour or more the thunderous roar of the Motorway was to be our constant companion.

Eleven o'clock had passed and in spite of the noisy motorway we settled beneath a wonderfully picturesque sycamore tree to have our coffees.

The view from our coffee spot was of the approach to junction 31 where the overhead signs warned of trouble ahead.

In spite of the noise it was a pleasant spot to rest with our beverages but quite soon we began the scramble down the steep bank that led away from the motorway.

Can you spot all six in this photo ?

Once out of this rough area the ground quickly began to level out as we walked towards the River Ribble. There was no obvious path visible but the G.P.S. told us to follow the edge of the field. As we did so we passed a rather ruinous barn. James suggested that a "lick of paint" would sort it out. Others disagreed !

Just at the feet of the photographer was a rather "cute" rabbit hole. Almost a scene from a Disney presentation.

Across the next field we could see the large group of buildings which comprised "Cuerdale Hall Farm".

As we approached it we in turn were approached by a group of curious but friendly Aberdeen Angus (Angi ?) cows all with rather fetching "Earrings".

"Hello Girls"

The walk was planned to enable us to visit the site of the Cuerdale Hoard. The largest find of Anglo Saxon (Viking ?) silver and gold ever found in England. However, the wet fields and the lack of a footpath to it rather discouraged us. We passed by.

We continued across the fields and eventually arrived once again on the river bank where lunch was to be taken. As we approached the water someone whose name shall remain secret (sh...... starts with A and ends in Y...) kicked an old football into it. A fishermen, whom we had not seen, was not pleased.. oops..... sorry !

It is always pleasant to sit by water chatting but who is that over there ? Perhaps it's a Roy Orbison moment.

" Only the Lonely"😢

The detritus scattered all across this field (mostly plastic bottles) showed how high the river's waters had risen in recent times. Truly astonishing.

A short walk from here took us to Ribbleside Farm.

The track now led upwards till we were back on Cuerdale Lane. Here we stopped briefly to look back to where we had been walking.

Once again we crossed this busy lane and headed towards St Leonard's Church. As we went we were intrigued to see a gentleman hard at work in his garage. When asked, he explained that he was making a part for his model boats. He then invited us into his house to see the models he had already made.

Beautiful and detailed models.

A hundred yards further on and we arrived at St Leonard's church.

On entering we discovered another gentleman who was constructing an area for wheelchair access. As we chatted he told us he was a Vicar in Chorley who was also a craftsman carpenter and worked in the diocesan churches.

We left the church and went down through the churchyard where there was a rather grisly tale to tell. In 1560 Dr Kelly, a "Necromancer", along with a friend John Dee, reputedly dug up and brought a man back from the dead trying to discover the man's secret........the whereabouts of a large object of great value.

(The Cuerdale Hoard ???) This Dr Kelly was later knighted in Germany as a great "Magician" Ignominiously, he fell out of a window and killed himself. Unlike "McDougals" He wasn't "Self Raising".

Looking down through St. Leonard's graveyard to St. Patrick's Church.

Out of one graveyard and into another as we descend through St Patrick's graveyard towards the road and the school.

As we pass St Patrick's school, were John W started his teaching career half a century ago, we crossed over the road

where our well educated bunch ( don't tell them I said that ) immediately spot a grammatical howler.

No not the winter pansy. The Violas.

Leaving the road once again we come to "Blue Bridge" which takes us across the River Darwen.

"Did you take a bridge photo ?"

"Need you ask ? Of course we did,"

After chatting to a lady who was walking several dogs we discovered that the path ahead was officially closed. Ignoring this warning we continued along it between the edge of the river and a field of mature corn.

It was too late to tell the others that the path was reported as closed as they were already well ahead.

Ever optimistic we ploughed on up through the woods climbing the locally famous. "Forty Steps".

At the top of the steps there were indeed signs saying path closed but we edged past the crumbling cause of the closure and continued on our way.

By now the rain, which had started some while before, was getting heavier and heavier. The walk was coming to an end and was becoming a bit of a "Soggy" plod.

As we recrossed the motorway it looked quite different to the way it had appeared earlier in the day.

A steep drop down into Higher Walton and back to the cars was all that was left to accomplish. John W, however, was wiled away from the homeward trek by a gentleman living in this, quite frankly weird house, the roofs of which he had recovered from the chapel of Lancaster Moor Mental Hospital,.

Noticing that John W was taking a photo the owner invited him inside to take a look. SPEECHLESS !

The heating was a HUGE copper boiler and the rest of the room was even more bizarre.

After this very odd "House viewing" John hurried through the rain to catch up with his companions who were by now in the cars waiting for him. Off home in heavy rain and equally heavy traffic.

THE END