Pilgrims :- Vic, John W, Martin, Danny, Anthony, Dave.
A lovely walk during which we hear the tale of a very naughty Cleric.
Cars parked in a corner of Barton Grange's Garden Centre car park and off we go for a sun filled day in a most attractive part of our "Home Turf".
Across the busy A6 and through the large parking area of a second hand car dealership.
Then up a steep flight of steps taking us over the railway lines.
From here the continuous rumbling hum of the M6 Motorway was combined with the roaring passages of trains along the West Coast Mainline. A less than encouraging overture to a peaceful walk in the country.
To the left Mainline Railway to the right M6 Motorway.
The path then took us quite quickly to the motorway bridge.
Passing as it did evidence of natures sometimes harsher aspects.
"Nature red in tooth and claw" as the saying goes. The work of a Sparrow Hawk perhaps ?
Once past the Motorway the peace and tranquillity of the countryside began to reassert itself. A narrow but sturdy metal bridge took us to the other side of the river. (Brock)
With coffee time looming we quickly strode along this section till we arrived at "New Bridge" which has over time become a favourite stopping place on our walks.
John R was not with us on this occasion but the foaming pool below the weir was where he swam as a boy many (many... many... many ?) years ago.
Refreshed and ready again we crossed the small but tractor filled country lane to squeeze through a wall and follow the tidy footpath upstream.
Growing along the riverbank at this point were several Butterfly Bushes (Buddleia) each alive with a variety of butterflies.
The butterflies kept fluttering by. Each steadfastly refusing to pose long enough for a decent photo.
Our exit from the "Manicured" area came with a warning. After which we kept a close eye on Vic....an accountant.
Now a steady plod through sparkling green fields, with an increasingly warm sun shining down upon us, took us to Walmsley Bridge.
"Danny ! It's very nice over there but it's the wrong way. Come Back. "
John R was not with us on this occasion but the foaming pool below the weir was where he swam as a boy many (many... many... many ?) years ago.
Refreshed and ready again we crossed the small but tractor filled country lane to squeeze through a wall and follow the tidy footpath upstream.
Growing along the riverbank at this point were several Butterfly Bushes (Buddleia) each alive with a variety of butterflies.
The butterflies kept fluttering by. Each steadfastly refusing to pose long enough for a decent photo.
Our exit from the "Manicured" area came with a warning. After which we kept a close eye on Vic....an accountant.
Now a steady plod through sparkling green fields, with an increasingly warm sun shining down upon us, took us to Walmsley Bridge.
At Walmsley Bridge we crossed to the other side of the river to where a rather sadly denuded tree marked the continuation of the footpath.
We were immediately off the road and back into the fields.
The path followed closely and sometimes precariously alongside the river bank.
Then we were back into open fields and grazing cattle. Aberdeen Angus bullocks we thought.
Here Dave has found a "Bouncy" branch to play with. Meanderthals it seems never grow up.
Ignore the two gentlemen posing front of picture and look beyond them to a ……….
Heavily berried and beautiful Rowan Tree. (Mountain Ash)
Only a short distance now to the further most point of our walk. Leaning into the field from the edge of the river a large fallen tree offered a wonderful lunch site with copious seating opportunities.
Meanderthals always like a comfortable spot to rest their b**s. Especially when it is also soaking up the sunshine, So.…..
Meanderthals always like a comfortable spot to rest their b**s. Especially when it is also soaking up the sunshine, So.…..
And there's always one of course...…….
Danny... The lunchtime arborealist.
Vic was convinced that he had come across this tree years ago ….. 54 years ago to be precise.
But is it the same tree ? what do you think. ? Does the root mass cause doubts ?
Lunch over and just a short plod through the lush grass of the field till we arrived at the gate to a stony track.
Half-way across the field Danny had cause to look back at a little stream where some very nifty dance steps had avoided a damp fall as the stones rolled beneath his feet.
Out of the field and up the rough track to a recent barn conversion and out onto the road near Claughton (Clye--ton) School.
Just beyond this barn conversion we came to Claughton and a rather unusual piece of art work.
Can you see the other strange creature in this second photo ?
Here we also came across an amusingly spelled sign.
As we chuckled about this sign the tenant of this "COITAGE" came to chat to us and tell us the fantastical tale of the cottage's origins.
"The Parable of the Prodigal Priest"
Many years ago the parish priest of the village church persuaded Sir Fitzherbert Brockholes to give him the money to build a wall around the extensive cemetery. The wall was never built but a very nice comfortable house was built to accommodate the priest. Once the house was built the priest took himself off to the continent to spend the rest of the money on an extended tour/holiday. The parishioners were enraged (so too, I imagine was Sir Fitzherbert Brockholes.) The priest , however, was far from contrite but on his return "Canonised" himself and moved into SAINT Robert's (his name) Cottage.
How true this tale is your writer cannot tell but it's certainly a good tale.
Once again we had arrived at a spot we had used before. In so far as it could be this was a pleasant and strangely welcoming graveyard. A warm comfortable place to have lunch.
As well as being a comfortable place to be the graveyard had many fascinating headstones and we lingered a while as we moved amongst them.
Out of the graveyard next where a notice on the gate told us that even in the afterlife you were welcome as long as you paid £5000 to be buried here..... Ouch !
A brief stretch on the highway before once again taking to the fields.
It was quite a coincident that Anthony had been telling us about the word "Aftermath" which meant the second growth after the first "math" had been cropped...…. and here we are in a field being cropped a second time !!!
There were very few stiles on this walk. Mostly farm gates and "Kissing" gates but this one was particularly awkward.
The field led us down to Walmsley Bridge passing a group of strangely silent geese.
From here we would retrace our steps back to the cars at Barton Grange. As we passed by, a group of contented cows (Ayrshires) , sat or lay on the brow of a field chewing their cud in the late afternoon sunshine
The steamy heat of the day had left us all with dry mouths and feeling remarkably thirsty. John W found a small but sweet apple on a wayside tree that went some way to moistening his parched throat. (A bit over the top that Mr writer ?)
And so back over the railway and through the car dealer's yard
Martin's ice cold shandy was even more welcome today and made a very welcome end piece to an excellent walk on a sun-shiny summer's day.
Once again we had arrived at a spot we had used before. In so far as it could be this was a pleasant and strangely welcoming graveyard. A warm comfortable place to have lunch.
As well as being a comfortable place to be the graveyard had many fascinating headstones and we lingered a while as we moved amongst them.
Out of the graveyard next where a notice on the gate told us that even in the afterlife you were welcome as long as you paid £5000 to be buried here..... Ouch !
A brief stretch on the highway before once again taking to the fields.
It was quite a coincident that Anthony had been telling us about the word "Aftermath" which meant the second growth after the first "math" had been cropped...…. and here we are in a field being cropped a second time !!!
There were very few stiles on this walk. Mostly farm gates and "Kissing" gates but this one was particularly awkward.
The field led us down to Walmsley Bridge passing a group of strangely silent geese.
From here we would retrace our steps back to the cars at Barton Grange. As we passed by, a group of contented cows (Ayrshires) , sat or lay on the brow of a field chewing their cud in the late afternoon sunshine
The steamy heat of the day had left us all with dry mouths and feeling remarkably thirsty. John W found a small but sweet apple on a wayside tree that went some way to moistening his parched throat. (A bit over the top that Mr writer ?)
And so back over the railway and through the car dealer's yard
Martin's ice cold shandy was even more welcome today and made a very welcome end piece to an excellent walk on a sun-shiny summer's day.
THE END
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