Knott End to Glasson Dock – 23rd October 2021

This is our final day of cycling, as tomorrow we drive home to the comfort of more than one room, a larger bed and a proper shower.  Being on the road has its benefits, but after a week or two of being with the same person in a caravan, I sometimes feel like asking the prison guards if I could do a stint of solitary, where any decision either of you make doesn’t have to have direct bearing on the actions of the other.  More than this though, I think it’s a desire to continue with the life you are familiar with and the places also.  One thing I’m certain, within days of returning home I’ll be hankering for another adventure.

The only missing piece of the Lancashire coast jigsaw is the aborted bit between Fleetwood and Glasson Dock.  You will recall that the ferry across the River Wyre stopped operating when we were intending taking it to Knott End on the far bank, a mere 100 metres away.  Perhaps if we had waited till low tide, we could have waded across – but I think not.

So at long last we are on the Knott End side, looking back at Fleetwood.  I can’t resist a rude gesticulation in that direction before growing-up and focussing on more important things – like our route.

I pause to take a few photos from the jetty and pretend that I have just alighted from the ferry, to assess the landscape – in much the same way that L.S. Lowry might have done in the 1950s.  This was his special place in the post-war years

Fleetwood and the River Wyre from the Knott End side

Knott End Ferry – Lowry:  L.S. Lowry’s impressions of the Knott End Ferry in the 1950’s

To either side of the jetty the seashore is mostly river-bourne silt and mud, with a few tufts of cord grass poking through.  We pause to look at his ‘matchstick’ man and dog memorial piece, before mounting our bikes, though not before Frances anoints an area of the seashore whilst hidden behind the promenade wall.

Knott End is overcast and almost devoid of human life as we cycle along the promenade.  Perhaps the town or village was more inspiring in the 1950s, but to me it is just collection of 20th and 21st Century houses.  I suspect many of the locals work in Fleetwood or Blackpool, although timekeeping must be an issues for those who rely upon the erratic Knott End Ferry.

Shortly the road gives way to a tarmacked path protected on its seaward side by a low bank of angular boulders.  I suspect this token sea defence does little to protect the adjacent land, judging by drift wood thrown up onto it.  They may need something more substantial soon, although I am pleased to see that several metres of salt marsh are doing their bit to reduce wave action.

Modern buildings line the promenade at Knott End

A low mound of rip-rap boulders, drift wood and salt marsh protect the sea front

We pass a large caravan park packed with static caravans, cycling along a well-surfaced path which actually bears a sign saying “No Cycling”.  We ignore it, confident that The Lancashire Coast Path would not want to show favouritism towards walkers at the expense of a couple of harmless cyclists.  There are a number of walkers, sometimes two-abreast, so we dismount and march past them as a courtesy, before remounting.  Perhaps “Cyclists welcome, but please dismount when passing walkers” would be a more appropriate sign.

I’m fascinated by the pasture adjacent to the salt marsh being virtually the same height above sea-level.  Anyone following this path in another 50 years may well find the coast much further inland.

We pause to photograph some local ‘wildlife’ – a couple of emu and two alpaca.  Who knows, one day they may be as common as sheep and cows and found grazing the salt marsh alongside them and the natural avian grazers – geese.  

In the distance the sound of children playing in a school playground drifts on the wind.  If schools were a naturally occurring phenomenon, behavioural ecologists would be fascinated by the increased intensity of calls emitted by juvenile humans at certain times of the day.  Closer study would reveal a peak at about 11am, 12.30pm and 2pm.  You can set your watch by school playtime if you live within 200 metres of a school. 

A brisk wind is blowing, but thankfully at our backs, as white-horses are whipped-up on the advancing tide.  Across Morecambe Bay the brooding presence of Heysham nuclear power station marks where we were only a couple of days earlier.  I’m glad we don’t intend to cycle back to Knott End against this wind, choosing to catch a bus back instead.  We’ll lock our bikes at Glasson Dock and return with the car later – pity you cant load them onto a bus the way you can on a train.

We come across an intriguing structure built into the sea wall.  It is a World War Two pillbox.  Nothing unusual about such coastal defences around the UK, but it is striking that it has been incorporated into the embankment of the sea wall.  If this were a geological examination of the landscape we might look at the pill box and the sea wall and decide which came first.  To me it is obvious – the sea wall must have been built after the pill box, otherwise it would have been placed on top of the sea wall to improve the field of view.  This ‘fossil’ pill box therefore helps us date the sea wall to somewhere between 1945 and the modern day.  This suggests that coastal flooding was not a significant event before this date.  We came across a similar arrangement in Norfolk last year, with a WW2 pillbox incorporated into the sea wall near Sea Palling.

Local rabbits reveal the subsoil to be sandy, derived from wind-blown sand from Morcambe Bay when the tide is out.  I suspect their burrows collapse very easily though, requiring continuous re-excavation.  The rabbit evidently feed well on the local vegetation, being impressively chunky beasts.

With Knot End a mile or so behind us, there are few walkers and certainly no cyclists.  This is the kind of people-free travelling we crave.  A large fenced enclosure has been created to our right, suggesting that some form of livestock was held here.  The height of the fence, with overhanging barbed wire on the inside, suggests it was a very ‘springy’ sort of animal – deer, or even the alpacas and emus we saw earlier. The corrugated tin sheeting at the base suggests a desire to perhaps keep out digging predators such as foxes.  Stubble suggests that wheat was probably grown here this year.

A concrete World War Two pill box incorporated into the more recent sea wall

Mysterious high-fenced animal enclosure – guess the livestock?

The Lancashire Coast Path now turns inland and joins Fluke Hall Lane to Pilling.  The England Coast Path project was started in time for the London Olympics in 2012 – with the Dorset Coast being the first to be opened, to enable spectators to watch the regatta based at Portland.  Ideally it strove to follow the coast as closely as possible.  I suspect obstructive land ownership caused it to take this less than ideal route (a recurrent problem beset by the project), as we quickly find that the stretch along the A588 is more of a drag strip for speeding cars than a leisurely walk along the coast.  We do have the option of going across the salt marsh, but there is no obvious hard surface to cycle on.

Inland of Fluke Hall Lane is a continuous embankment – perhaps an earlier sea wall before the current farmland was reclaimed from the sea?  Or perhaps a more modern one built in anticipation of the sea eventually claiming back what is rightfully hers?

A Broadfleet Bridge we follow the road past its impressive stone parapet before we encounter the A588.  We now have the choice of  risking life and limb along this road, or following the detoured Lancashire Coast Path further inland.  I wonder if the new course is in fact good planning and anticipates the sea advancing this far in years to come.  We decide upon a cyclists hybrid course involving half a mile of A588 before turning down Gulf Lane and rejoining the coast path to Cocker Bridge.

An earth embankment inland of the current sea wall.  Why?

Broadfleet Bridge

The A588 drag strip.  A Neighbourhood Watch sign incongruously guards open fields.  Note that the earth embankment continues further inland.

The inland road option is a good one, for walkers and cyclists alike.  I am even more cheered when we encounter a colourfully decorated building offering “Farm Yard Ales”.  Alas the establishment is closed.  Probably too early in the day anyway!

Farm Yard Ales – closed (perhaps the most disappointing sign of the day!)

A couple of miles along this pleasant country lane brings us to Cocker Bridge, where the River Cocker empties into Morecambe Bay.  The Cocker is less of a river and more of a man-made drain, collecting a large proportion of the surface run-off of the Wyre District.  This water is held back between high tides, by a large sluice at Cocker Bridge.  

A quick check of the OS map reveals that most of the area to the south of us is below 10m.  At one time the whole area was probably covered in glacial till left by retreating glaciers at the end of the last Ice Age.  Upon this low-lying, poorly drained land sphagnum moss would have grown over the last several thousands of years.  The accumulating water of the area would have encouraged more and more moss growth giving what is now termed a ‘raised bog’.  The bog has been known to ‘burst’ in centuries past, as water, peat and living moss were scattered across the area, when this ‘bog bubble’ eventually burst.  Now that is something I would love to see – from a safe distance of course.

In recent centuries the bog has been drained to give the incredibly fertile land hereabouts.  Alas much of the natural vegetation and wildlife has disappeared. The Lancashire Wildlife Trust has acquired a large chunk, which it is busily preventing from drying out.  We currently have agriculture trying to drain its fields, whilst at the same time conservationists are adding water to their land.  I think we need some joined-up thinking from the government!

Peat Bogs have been found to be fantastic carbon sinks, preventing carbon dioxide accumulation in the atmosphere and of course climate change.  I can see the whole area one day being returned to peatland as we wrestle with the CO2 problem.  If we don’t, then I suspect nature will take it all back once civilization declines and our overpopulated planet readjusts itself.  You can guarantee that nature will win-out unless we work closely with it – sustainably!

Anyway, that’s enough of the lecture.  WE pause at Cocker Bridge for a few minutes only as the tide rises.  Time they closed the sluice gates I think, otherwise flooding will occur.

The landward side of Cocker Bridge Sluice

The seaward side – the proper functioning of the sluice is essential for local farming, but may become redundant if nature is allowed to reclaim the local wetland.

The rising waters suggest that perhaps we should be getting a move on, since everything to our left is covered with salt marsh vegetation.  This is likely to be inundated by the sea within the next hour.  In that time we need to try to make it to Bank End, beyond which the path is more elevated.  Despite the path being grass covered, it is no problem to cycle along and we soon arrive at Pattys Farm.

Sea wall to our right, salt-marsh to our left

Geese flying overhead at Pattys Farm

Beyond Pattys Farm we are in luck as we pick up a tarmac road.  Unfortunately this is offset by the rising tide which is already several inches deep across it.  With some haste we cycle through the rising flood water and make it to Bank End.  However, not without getting a wet foot!

The rising tide presents a small, if moist, cycling challenge 

Looking back 4 minutes later from Bank End

2 minutes later and the whole salt marsh is under water

We can either follow the road of the coast path.  We are not here to follow roads!

We decide to follow the rough path created by the many feet that have gone before us.  I don’t think many of the feet were applied to pedals, judging by the unevenness of the terrain.  Perhaps one day the Lancashire Coast Path will become a cycle-friendly route.  In the meantime we have to address the repeating problem of negotiating kissing gates with a bicycle.

Betty demonstrates how to negotiate a kissing gate with a bike

At Cockersand Abbey we consider pausing for lunch.  This is soon put on hold when we realise that the wind-chill is significant and cow pats are even-more-so.  We reckon we are not missing much though, since all that is left of this 12th Century abbey is its chapter house, repurposed as a mausoleum – once the abbey had been ransacked during The Reformation.

The source of the cow pats becomes obvious as we attempt to negotiate the next kissing gate, being guarded by a herd of cows and a very stern looking bull and they don’t look as though they intend moving for us!  It is possible to wriggle under the barbed wire onto a concrete revetment before returning on the far side of the herd.  The obstacles you have to negotiate on these trips!

Kissing gate guarded by a friesian heifer

The cow-free alternative route

Soon the footpath gives way to a farm track at Crook Farm, making cycling a little easier.  Out in the Irish Sea a ferry makes its weary way between Heysham and The Isle of Man.

The Heysham to Douglas ferry disappears over the horizon

The rest of the cycling is a breeze and 45 minutes later we arrive at our destination with half an hour to spare.  This gives us a little time to lock-up our bikes and look around the marina and settlement at Glasson Dock.  The sight of a long narrow-boat intrigues me, until I realise that Glasson Dock is at the end of an arm of the Lancaster Canal.  At one time narrow-boats would have taken seabourn goods from coastal shipping and transferred it inland along the canal, or vice-versa.  A large set of lock gates still allows vessels to move from the tideway to the marina, although these most probably belong to hobby-sailors, rather than the ‘old salts’ who would at one time have called in here and doubtless filled the two pubs at Glasson.

Glasson provides an interesting end to our Lancashire Coast Path journey and we take the time to photograph some of it.  Much of the docks area is out-of-bounds to us, but it is evident that it is now a quiet backwater.  One of the pubs has a permanent closed look to it, whilst few cars or people are to be seen.  Perhaps it is Covid, or just September, but it feels as though it has known more prosperous times.

Much to our relief the bus turns up on-time and takes us back more-or-less the way we came, to Knot End.  Collecting the car we return an hour later, load up our bikes and make the final trip back to our caravan.  When we get back to Ormskirk we are surprised to see lots of cars queueing-up outside petrol stations.  A quick check of the news informs us that people are panic-buying petrol and we have a 300 mile journey home tomorrow, with a caravan.  But that’s another adventure!

Glasson Marina provides moorings for a variety of craft – yachts, a Dutch-barge, a narrow boat and a fibreglass Broads cruiser.

The double lock at Glasson is designed for use at any state of the tide

Glasson Docks – its busy years behind it

Betty somehow manages to defy the space-time continuum, appearing in two places at the same time (or perhaps there are two of her?  Surely not!)