Cressington to Formby Wednesday 15th September 2021

After Mondays perambulations along the Wirral coastline we visit friends at Cressington, Liverpool on the east bank of the Mersey, for a couple of nights.  They are busy with other matters in the day time, so we decide to use Wednesday as an opportunity to cycle up the coast through Liverpool and on to Crosby and Formby

From Cressington it is but a short cycle ride to the Esplanade where on a windless, sunlit morning the Mersey lies calm and blue before us, gleaming like a newly polished ballroom dance floor.  To the south there is still a little low cloud, which the sun is labouring hard to burn off.  Splitting the silence, a large plane launches itself off the runway at John Lennon Airport and quickly gets lost in the cloud as it rises over The Wirral and off to who knows where.  Within a minute all is tranquil again, except for the cries of a few herring gulls, as turnstones and black-tailed godwits search the exposed mud for tasty morsels.

The Mersey Gleams Like a Polished Ballroom Dance Floor

As we progress northward towards the city centre, so the number of walkers and fellow cyclist increases until we reach Albert Dock.  By now the city is coming alive.  A busker sits against one of the lock gates playing a trumpet, accompanied by a whole jazz band on his portable sound system.  Brass instruments more than any other create an incredible ambiance, especially around water, which carries the sound of brass so effectively.

We don’t dwell to listen, as we are intent on progressing north.  At The Pier Head our path is blocked and those two mugs of tea we had at breakfast time have found their way into our bladders.  One major advantage of cycling away from towns and cities is that you can always find a place for a surreptitious ‘wild-wee’, but not so in Liverpool.  Detouring to avoid the road block and in search of a lavatory we end up outside The Tate.  I decide to avail myself of their facilities, but Betty is less sold on it.  Instead we find our way to John Lewis, who not only offer appropriate facilities for the discerning Betty, but provide me with a chance to purchase a new cable for my mobile.

Liverpool Central Docks Area: Brunswick Dock

Queens Dock with the Anglican Cathedral beyond, The Pier Head with Mersey Ferries jetty and Canning Dock

Cycling affords us the opportunity of detouring when an interesting distraction presents itself.  I suspect most visitors to Liverpool have been to the Cavern Club at least once and I am keen to add my name to the list.  Mr Google very helpfully guides us to our destination, where a quick photo of the front of the building satisfies my curiosity and we return to the water front by the Liver Buildings.  At Princes Wharf there appears to be no sign of the Princess Cruises luxury liner we saw from Wallasey on Monday, so it has either sailed, or magician David Copperfield has been busy in Liverpool.

The Cavern Club

The Liver Building

As we continue our own cruise north from the Liver Buildings we approach the seedier side of the city where vast bonded warehouses were once filled with imports from all over the world.  Around each was built a 5 metre high wall, still visible today, to ensure no-one cheated Her Majesty of her excise duty.  Some are still standing, but I suspect many will either be demolished, or converted into blocks of luxury flats overlooking the waterfront.  One of the larger empty spaces between warehouses, currently used as a scrap yard, is to be the new home of Everton Football Club.

Princes Dock with Liver Building behind, Waterloo Docks with bonded warehouses and Liverpool Docks (artists impression)

Eventually the modern Port of Liverpool and all its piled-high containers blocks our way.  Mr Google says we can cycle through, but the man on the gate is quite clear that only authorised people can enter.

“Can’t you authorise me.” I jest.

“You’ll need to speak to the Chief Constable.”  He joshes back.

Satisfied that this is the end of the road for now, we resign ourselves to 45 minutes of busy road cycling as the only option available.  At least we pass a Go Outdoors, where Betty is able to purchase a new pair of sunglasses.

45 minutes later and we are relieved to turn off the main road and down to the quiet Marine Lake waterside area.   Marine Lake was created in 2008 and is set to develop as a watersports and entertainment focus.  Wild swimming is permitted in the lake, although this might be restricted a little as the facilities develop.

Just beyond the Marine Lake is Crosby Sands where scores of facsimiles of Angel of the North Sculptor Anthony Gormley are to be found looking longingly across the Irish Sea.  Originally created in 1997 and made of cast iron, they have survived here since 2005.  Over the last 16 years they have become encrusted with barnacles, covered in gull droppings and decorated by the locals at times of celebration.  Gormley used his own naked body as the model.  I wonder if he worked-out a bit, or applied any form of cosmetic enhancement prior to modelling and casting?

Another Place

Further along the beach, wind blown sand has accumulated into sand dunes, where in this other place more bodies are to be seen gazing longingly out to sea – or just checking their mobile phones for gossip.  The dunes are dominated by Sea Holly here, a plant well suited to the salty and xerophytic conditions that prevail.  Behind the dunes modern housing hides in hope that this thin and frail barrier will protect them from the Irish Sea.

Yet another place for enjoying the beach

Sea Holly

Dunes covered in Sea Holly and Sea Plantain.

We are able to cycle some distance along the beach, but it quickly becomes too dry and deep for cycle wheels, so pushing becomes the order of the day.  Fortunately it is not long before a promenade appears for us to return to our preferred mode of transport.  It may be an illusion, but the Marine Lake looks lower than High Tide and I wonder what sea level change mitigation measures have been put in place.

A large car park at the northern end is protected by a mix of debris, including old bricks and lumps of concrete. 

Brick debris covers the upper beach

Concrete debris

North of the car park we have the option of following the Sefton Coastal Footpath or taking a tarmacked path through the dunes to High Town.  The way-marking for the former is poor and the lure of the latter is irresistible.  The sound of gunfire ahead clinches the deal.  

Sand dune plants-Wild Asparagus, looking for all the world like a defoliated Christmas Tree complete with wassailing balls, Evening Primrose, Harebell and Vipers Bugloss

Beyond High Town the cycle route takes us alongside the railway line to Formby Station where we intend to catch a train back to Cressington.  Alas it is 4pm and the station is full of school children.  In the midst of a covid pandemic we think it unwise to confine ourselves in a train carriage full of unvaccinated, non-socially distancing teenagers, so elect to cycle to Freshfields and catch the 5pm train.

Once again the Sefton Coastal Footpath is not clearly marked and according to the map takes us through sand dunes by way of footpaths rather than tracks suited to cycling.  This is a pity, since I’m sure we would come across some interesting plants on this important nature reserve.  However, the cycling along more suitable tracks is most enjoyable, if a little confusing at times.  In the end we find our way to the car park adjacent to Formby Golf Club and the 5pm train back to Liverpool.

The journey back is not exactly as we might have preferred, with large numbers of un-masked football fans going to Anfield in a train where too many people are packed together like sardines.  We decide to get off at the next station and kill 20 minutes before another, longer train appears, which offers the bonus of seating.  Holidaying during the pandemic is not a problem until we need to join the general public when returning to our start point.  Other than this issue, the Lancashire Coast offers excellent rail connections to enable return to base, something that the more rural parts of the UK often don’t have.