Brock Mill

The road up to Beacon Fell from the Brock Bottoms picnic site car park, was quite a long uphill trek. The sun was in hiding thankfully.

On reaching the tee junction at the top of the hill, we cross a stile, to enter a field of long wet grass. Part way up Beacon Fell we enter a small but very dark wood.

        Paddy looks like he's seen a ghost in there👻, but perhaps it's just breathlessness.

                                        The path gets steeper as we carry on up.

Arriving at the picnic area, Mike offers to reward us by buying us all a drink from the cafe.

By ech Mike! That's brought a smile to their faces 😊. Martin has joined us for our sojourn. A large party of primary school children from Blackpool, liven up our stay with their excited chatter.

One of several sculptures we passed on our way up to the summit. If summit is not too extravagant a word.

Martin has walked up to the trig point with us. After a group photograph, we leave him chatting to a couple from Garstang, while the rest of us follow a path down the opposite side of the fell towards Bleasdale.

                                 More sculptures present themselves on our way down.

                            Continuing down on a broad disabled friendly path.

                        A house at the bottom of the fell has a charming duck pond.

           Wild foxgloves in full bloom are to be seen in several places along the wayside.

Anthony has discovered a short cut to Wadacre scout camp, but the path has been little used of late, evident by the long wet grass we had to wade through.

  Having entered a wood, a more well used path leads us downhill to the river Brock. Here's Mike hiding ostrich like behind his mobile.

Tummies are rumbling as we cross the bridge, to follow the river downstream to Wadacre for a belated dinner stop.

                              Masses of buttercups were a feature of today's walk.

As we enter the camp we pass through the large activities area where the scouts indulge in archery and shooting etc. We then come to two long flights of steps that lead up to the camp proper, where Martin is waiting to join us for dinner.

           A few tents are pitched on the field, but there doesn't appear to be anyone around.

There must be someone around, as the door to this building is wide open, but if there is anyone here, they are not making themselves known. Vic, being Vic goes into the building to have a look round, but doesn't find anyone??!

Off on our way again, we do a detour through a farm, which avoids a notoriously swampy area, that Anthony remembers from his scouting days, when he used to camp at Wadacre.

The path alongside the river was well made, any muddy or unstable parts having been boarded over.

Arriving back at Brock Mill, and the picnic site, the sun is just starting to break through.
And so back to our cars and the short journey home. Thanks for another good walk Anthony.
DK