Well it’s wet! Rain hit the air mid morning as I sat eating a biscuit, looking across endless marshes back towards Fleetwood. The raindrops were few for a while, but accelerated by a brisk wind they kind of clacked into my hood.
Then the phone rang. It was my best old mate, Wayne. “Fancy lunch?” He’d competed in an open-water swim in Coniston yesterday, winning the 9km over-50-something, hard-case no-wetsuit class. Brilliant. So heading south, he rocked up just ten minutes before me at a cafe in Glasson Dock. Great happenstance!
Of course, I grabbed sausage, egg and chips and a coffee whilst we chatted away an hour.
Nothing else to report really. Except that I was about to rant another campsite being closed, only to find out that the bloke who ran it had died. So it’s thanks to Cath, who let me pitch up at her nearby caravan site.
Inland to Lancaster in the morning, then round towards Heysham and Morecambe.
The sound of rain on the tent is soothing …