There’s usually a saviour somewhere to even the dullest of plods. When the cement lid is firmly on and the Lune estuary stretches for miles of misty bleak, it was the birdsounds today. A few loons on the Lune would have good, but the lapwings and canada geese and curlews filled the grey.
The diversion inland to Lancaster proved to be among the most pleasant (or, for the coastal walker, least irritating).
With an incoming tide, I was unable to use the tidal road to Sunderland, so shortcut the industrials at Heysham to be much earlier than planned in Morecambe.
The sea was there when I turned the corner. By the time I had paid my homage to Eric and chatted with the RNLI people, it had gone. Now there was a vast expanse of sand and mud.
The RNLI boat is actually a hovercraft,which makes perfect sense. There’s an IRB too, so both bases are covered, sea or no sea.
I am actually half a day ahead of plan now, which you’ll know from previously might not help me much. There’s a forecast for heavy rain tomorrow so who knows how far I’ll get.
Another campsite pitch donated generously and I’m all showered and sweet. I can now turn my thoughts to how to cook the fishcakes I bought for tea. One pan and a pocket rocket to cook on … The joys of backpacking.