THE THIRLMERE WAY & THE FINAL WALKS TO GRETNA
Manchester to Thirlmere & Thirlmere to Gretna Green
THE THIRLMERE WAY
In 1894, the people of Manchester started receiving water from a new source: Thirlmere in the Lake District. Water is conveyed to the city through a 96 mile long aqueduct that just uses gravity, the water travelling at 4mph and taking a day to reach Heaton Park in Manchester. As my wife Sue and I, plus friends H and A, were heading northwards on our journey to the Scottish border, and as someone had helpfully planned a long distance walk that followed the route of the aqueduct, we set off one bright morning to walk the Thirlmere Way.
The first part of our journey took us through endless suburbs of Manchester with frequent crossing and re-crossing of motorways. Just when we thought we’d escaped urban sprawl, we were greeted by the Reebok Stadium, home of Bolton Wanderers FC. Having called at the Etihad Stadium on a previous walk for coffee and cake, we added the Reebok to our list of ‘football stadiums we have snacked in’. Fortunately, the walk skirted Bolton. Housing estates, allotments and industrial parks were replaced with fields and streams and impressive hills. We stayed in Blackburn for our walk from the Reebok to Chorley and here we encountered the worst fish and chips any of us could remember. This was strange, as a drunk in the fish and chip shop had assured me that, “These are the best fish and chips in the whole world.” Perhaps when they were cooked they were, but ours turned out to be almost raw.
We walked the length of Lancashire and what a fantastic county it is. The places we walked through had a Tolkienesque feel that matched the dramatic scenery: Salmesbury Bottoms, Goosnargh, Oakenclough, Dolphinholme – we expected to encounter a hobbit at any moment. It was on this stretch of the walk that a very unfortunate incident occurred. We’d parked at a pub where we intended to end the day’s walk and I’d rushed inside through the pouring rain to enquire whether we could park the car there. On my return, I was informed that the rain was too much and nobody was going walking that day – mutiny! The rain caused another rumpus a day later when our friends discovered they’d only brought one waterproof between them. What started out as a considerate, “No you have it dear,” soon became a battle of wills that ended up with them leaving the waterproof abandoned on the road and both of them getting completely soaked. We visited Preston whilst we were in the area and encountered the worst curry any of us could remember!
The walk took us through the treeless Forest of Bowland, with views of Blackpool Tower in the distance, alongside the picturesque River Lune and up onto some sparsely inhabited moors south of Kendal. Then, as mountains began to rise all around us, we entered the Lake District, through Windermere, Ambleside, Grassmere and finally to a monument, erected by Manchester City Council, at the northern end of Thirlmere. With the Thirlmere Way completed, the Scottish border was beckoning. We could almost hear the bagpipes.
THE FINAL WALKS TO GRETNA
A pleasant walk in Gloucestershire had morphed into the Cotswold Way which in turn had led us to walk the Heart of England Way, parts of the Macmillan and Staffordshire Ways and finally the Thirlmere Way, taking us to a monument at the far end of Thirlmere in the Lake District. From here, we would follow no set pathway but a jumble of public footpaths that would take us to Gretna Green, about 60 miles to the north. The first walk followed a disused railway line alongside the river Greta down into the town of Keswick. Here we made the mistake of going for a coffee at a hotel under new, very keen management. All we wanted was to collapse into some comfortable chairs after our perambulations but the owner had other ideas and engaged us in energetic conversation until we managed to escape.
We followed a route on the east bank of Bassenthwaite Lake (the only ‘lake’ in the Lake District), skirting Skiddaw through a coniferous forest. My friend A wore his Leicester City top, and as it was only two weeks since we’d witnessed the premier league trophy being held aloft at the King Power Stadium, it was inevitable that a short coffee stop became a full on discussion with a passing Nottingham Forest supporter on the wondrous season we’d just experienced. The Ravenstone Hotel, provided us with yet more coffee and then we left civilization (and coffee shops) behind as we took to the moors that lie on the northern edge of the lakes. Here, the scenery was just as beautiful as in the Lake District but without the lakes and mountains. Eventually we arrived in a small town called Caldbeck where, you will be surprised to learn, we found a wonderful little café.
It is an oft repeated saying that after you retire, you don’t know how you found the time to work. My wife, Sue, and I were certainly finding this and so eighteen months had elapsed before we had the opportunity to travel up north again for the remaining four walks. These took us into Carlisle, following another river, the Caldew, and then across some fairly flat and uninteresting territory to the border. The final walk was fairly dire as the only way to get across the river Esk, which forms the border, was on a service road right next to the M6. The noise was deafening, the view boring, the fumes disgusting – and then it started to pour with rain! We arrived wet and bedraggled and after a couple of selfies by the Welcome to Scotland sign, we bustled into the Old Blacksmith’s Shop, the destination of many elopers, and after a quick cup of coffee, what else, got a taxi back to Carlisle. We had completed our journey in 73 walks, covering 494 miles, stopping overnight at nine hotels and six holiday cottages, crossing eight different motorways, completing one national trail, passing through one National Park and three Areas of Natural Beauty. With a great sense of satisfaction, we congratulated ourselves and I suggested we might like to start the Norfolk Coast Path. That it could be the first stage of another trek from one side of the country to the other, I kept to myself, for the time being.