Friday 28 December 2012 - Silverdale

We chose to venture out on this walk despite a dire weather forecast.  We had planned it, so we were going.  The short itinerary enabled a lie in before we struggled up the M6 motorway with R and J in driving rain.

Leighton Moss RSPB reserve was our starting point, and after taking advantage of their café we managed to delay the start of our exercise until after 11 o’clock. 

We were soon loitering on Silverdale Golf Course, somewhat puzzled by the fact that our waterproofs were superfluous due to the rain having ceased just as we had set out.  Perhaps that was because of Richards energetic ‘Canute’ impersonations, though they had at first seemed more like futile efforts to chase ducks.

A good path beside Hawes Water on well wired boarding helped preserve our clean looks, and it wasn’t until we reached Arnside Tower, pictured above, that we hit the expected mud.

Low cloud hung over the village of Silverdale as we descended to Elmslack, where Richard and Sue vied for favours.

“Mine’s bigger than yours!” bragged Richard, producing one of his stock phrases.

 

The tide was in at the Cove.  Sue went to check and confirmed it wasn’t a mirage, whilst I wrestled with a wobbly horizon.

We hastened on to the Silverdale Hotel in a bid for sustenance.  This was a good move and we enjoyed the warm atmosphere and hot food for a good hour before stumbling along the path to Woodwell on the now gloomy afternoon.

But at least it wasn’t raining!

We admired the well that used to provide Silverdale with its water supply.  The water looked excellent.

Parked outside Gibraltar Farm was a purring beast, vibrating slightly but running with an odourless clear exhaust, unlike some of our absent friends.

A little further on we passed the renovated lime kiln at Jack Scout.  Apparently they tried to get it going after its renovation in 1985, but it obstinately refused to withdraw from retirement (I can empathise with that!).

Sue then headed relentlessly towards the beach and splodged through puddles whilst the rest of us slithered over some decidedly awkward rocks.

Eventually we reconvened by the chimney at Jenny Brown's Point.

"We need to be back by dusk" the others muttered, glancing at the soggy path alongside the salt marshes beside Morecambe Bay.  And off they strode, returning to Leighton Moss in plenty of time to purchase provisions for the ravenous tits and blackbirds that seem to rely on our garden scatterings version of a ‘soup’ kitchen.

Here’s our route: about 13km, with 200 metres ascent, taking 4½ hours including that long adjournment for lunch.

There’s a slide show with a few more images – here.