Introduction


When we started walking the coast of England we had no intention that this would become a major lifetime project. Having to make a last-minute arrangement for our summer holiday in 1987, we said "Let's go to the nearest piece of coast and see how far we can walk along it." It turned out well and we started adding further stretches of coast, initially once every two years, but soon annually, or even twice a year.

We had always enjoyed the coast - there is something refreshingly "edgy" about having the sea always at our side, and one of us was into marine molluscs. We also enjoyed long-distance walking and had long been involved in general natural history recording. This project enabled us to combine all three interests.

You soon discover when embarking on a project like this that you need a few rules, which evolve from the first experiences. Our main rule was that we should walk as close to the coast as possible, which meant beach-walking whenever we could (unlike the official coast paths that largely remain above shore, recognising that at high tides the beach may be inaccessible). The route should also be capable of being a continuous walk, so that when we came to an unfordable river we walked inland along its banks to the first place at which we could cross, whether a bridge or a ferry.

We only carried light packs, so that at the end of each day's walk we had the problem of getting back to our car where we started. Initially we walked back, but soon realised we would be walking the coast twice this way! We used public transport whenever this was available - buses or trains, sometimes adjusting our start and finish points to make this easier. Failing this - and it was often not possible - we would phone for a taxi (an increasingly costly option over the years). Having our car with us gave us more freedom as to where we could stay at night - and after a day walking and only light food we were usually ready for being spoiled by a good meal and a comfortable bed! Even so, we stayed on the coast itself whenever there was a decent option.

Each walk was made for enjoyment, it was not a route-march to see how quickly we could get it finished. We therefore took it gently at times when passing through pleasant scenery or where there were many plants or creatures to record.

In terms of biological recording, we systematically noted every bird, butterfly, creature or sea-shell that we came across, sometimes spending time searching for the shells. We could not record every plant in the same way - there are too many common ones - so we were more selective, noting all coastal plants and any others that were not run-of-the-mill.

In our daily posts, edited from our original diaries, we include a star-rating from no star to **** according to our subjective estimate as to how special that day was from the point of view of natural history. This score (and our daily records) will, however, have been affected by the weather - it is difficult to appreciate the environment fully, for instance, in torrential rain, and there are many more butterflies and other insects to be seen in warm sunshine!

A summary of all our natural history records on the walk can be found using this link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1LLGD55lKRHYXd1SGU1QndrcUU/edit?usp=sharing





Friday, 24 January 2014

Cumbria: Barrow-in-Furness to Askham 13/6/2005*


 
Having completed Walney Island we parked at Barrow station for the last time and set out north along the main coast in a cold northern breeze and drizzle, but the dark sky was threatening worse and by the middle of the day we were in driving rain and completely soaked.  The first part was uphill through the streets of Barrow and then down again to the A-road along the coast, having to walk a mile (fortunately on a pavement) with continual traffic right beside us.  We passed a blue fleabane flowering on top of a brick wall and even northern marsh orchids on an office lawn.  There were the usual commercial/industrial complexes and scrap-yards, and beside the coast beyond the factories was a large slag-heap, the relic of old iron, steel and shipbuilding industries that had been the foundation of Barrow.  (This was presumably the heap we had seen from North Walney several days ago.)  We missed our path off to the left because it was unsigned, but when we reached a small road in the same direction we were able to use it to regain the path.  It continued to be unsigned, unfortunately, round a farm where we had to force a way through several fences to get to the track along the shore at the head of the saltmarsh, strewn with the usual bricks and other rubble.  We followed this round Scarth Blight and just before the caravans and huts on Lowsy Point we took a track through the dunes behind, hoping vainly to find more shelter.  This was Sandscale Haws nature reserve, but heavy rain made plant-spotting difficult as we trudged past sorry-looking meadow pipits through a series of dune-slacks with northern and early marsh orchids – no sign of coralroot orchid at its major English site, but perhaps we were too early.  We circled this whole headland and at the NE corner found a pool with the tadpoles of natterjack toads.  We then continued along the shore, a mix of sand, stones and marsh all the way to Askam.  The beach here was good for shells, including pelican’s foot, although it was again difficult to appreciate when rain still hampered our vision.  Near the centre of Askam we had to go under a railway arch, the remains of an industrial line delivering iron-ore slag to create a long pile reaching out to sea and termed “Askam Pier”!  The remaining path through north Askam was very muddy which made it difficult to ascend the clay cliff to get to the street leading to the station and a welcome train back to Barrow.  Where we left the coast a notional path crosses the Duddon Estuary to Millom, where we shall resume the walk when weather allows.  This was our last night at Bay Horse and we shall miss the panorama of estuary, sands, hills and sky from its rooms.  To get the full coastal experience it is not sufficient just to walk through but we needed the chance to sit quietly and appreciate the subtle changes in the water-level, the quality of the light at different times, and the shifting flocks of birds.
 
Sandscale Haws in the rain
 
 
Natterjack toad

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