September 23
Carlisle to Lancaster
A terrible night. Crossing through four (or possibly six) counties must have given me jet lag. It should be said that both bed and room were extra comfortable so the hotel was blameless. It did mean that I was awake to listen to the demise of Thomas Cook. Not a happy scenario.
I walked about 100 yards down the road to a small café, not too far from last night’s restaurant. The lady sold me a bacon & sausage sandwich and a black coffee – not much better than the one I had on the train. The lady was very friendly and, as it was early, the coffee was free. Just as well as it wasn’t worth much! I’m sure, however, that it was more interesting than eating in the hotel.
I returned to my room, collected my belongings and checked out. The lady at reception was friendly and we had a good chat before I left. Travelodge done good.
Outside it was bright and the sun was starting to appear. The town was very quiet at 08.30 as I made the five minute walk to the station. I bought a healthy pear at the station florist, took some photos and crossed the footbridge to platform 2, where my train was waiting. It was newer and cleaner than yesterday’s so I hope it runs as well.
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We left on time, passed an interesting building that I had spotted on the way in, and entered the countryside and arrived at Dalston, a small station with a large owl. We rattled along, keeping roughly to the timetable, passing through lots of small stations and ignoring lots of wind turbines. The area is big in both nuclear and wind power.
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The sea appeared shortly after Maryport and we followed the coast through the conurbations of Workington and Whitehaven. I took photos at St Bees – the school –at Sellafield – the factory – and at Seascale – Jane & John’s roof (gable end). There was a strong police presence in much of the area but I felt it politic not to photograph any of the officers.
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The line followed the coast, then turned inland, then followed the coast again. There were more wind turbines but not much wind to make them go round.
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We reached Barrow about three minutes early at about 11.30. Another good mark for Northern Rail. I left the new and not very exciting station and immediately encountered a large statue of Emlyn Hughes. I hadn’t realised that he was born here, although I did know that he came from a rugby league background. I later found another large statue, a memorial to the town’s industrial heritage, in the middle of the shops.
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The Salvation Army citadel was quite grand and there an interesting old cigar business almost opposite. The remainder of the main street was quiet and not exciting. I suspect that there was much more of interest much further from the station but, with a heavy backpack, I had decided to catch the first train out so only had an hour to explore and have lunch. The weather by now was warm and sunny. A good day for a holiday. |
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I selected a café and ordered a soup, half a sandwich and a coffee. All were excellent, the mushroom soup being obviously home made and the sandwich having lots of fresh salad. Not cheap at £10.95 but worth every penny. I dropped the 5p change, was putting my foot down hard to stop it rolling across the floor and then realised that the waitress had beaten me to it and was picking it up. I stopped my foot and a nasty accident was narrowly avoided.
I walked back to the station and awaited the train, which arrived on schedule. Like the last one, it was in good order. The first half hour of the journey was pretty but not exciting. We then reached the sandbanks of Morecombe Bay, including views of the Heysham nuclear power station in the distance. Grange over Sands, where I lunched a few months ago, has a fine station.
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The coastline continued almost as far as Lancaster, where we arrived about one minute late – major cause for complaint. I disembarked and exited the station through a rather boring building. The more magnificent side appeared to function as an entrance to the offices. I could get a better view by standing on tip toe and peering over the edge of the road bridge.
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I had only walked a couple of minutes towards town when I realised that I was outside my hotel, a rather grand old building. When I got to know it better, I realised that it was definitely a case of faded grandeur!
I entered and the very young lady who was cleaning the reception area apologised that she couldn’t check me in as they had no electricity and nothing worked. I abandoned my back pack and wandered off into town.
The tourist office was 50 yards away, up the hill. I collected some leaflets, got a weather forecast from the man at the desk, nasty (the weather not the man), and then had a coffee in a café on an umbrella lined street.
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From there, I wandered aimlessly around the city centre. I eventually found some postcards and also a birthday present – not that I was looking for one. I even found an Inca playing pan pipes or similar The Museum was closed until tomorrow so I mentally reserved it for hiding from the forecast rain.
The Maritime Museum was a half mile walk along the river bank, passing the splendid Millennium Bridge en route. I took lots of photos and continued on my way.The Museum is in the old customs house. It was not far short of closing but I rushed in and found a good collection of stuff relating to the nautical and fishing activities of Morecambe Bay. There was even a substantial collection covering the gas fields, including some excellent models. With there being a large amount of material on the fishing industry, I asked one of the staff for suggestions on where to find a good fish restaurant. |
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This caused some confusion as they assumed I meant fish & chips. When I explained that I wanted something posher, they directed me towards the place opposite the hotel. As it later proved, this was not a good suggestion!
I got lost on the way back but eventually found the Kings Arms with lots of lights ablaze. The lady at reception said it had been a city wide problem but that all was now working. She warned me about the lift, an old fashioned one with manual doors. It definitely was but I managed to make it upstairs, where I found a comfortable but old & slightly decrepit room. Quite a change from last night.
I had a rest then went downstairs for an acceptable unoaked Chardonnay in the bar.
Another rest and a shower followed and I emerged at about 18.30 to discover that there had been some rain while I was indoors. I crossed the road to Merchants, an underground restaurant, almost as dark as last night’s.The ambience was fine but the service wasn’t. Very pleasant but slow and inaccurate. My Chardonnay turned out to be a sauvignon blanc and when I mentioned it, the waiter went to change the glass of red which I had ordered to accompany my lamb. At that stage, I gave up and hung on to what I had been given. |
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When it finally arrived, the food was adequate but no more. A marked contrast to the excellent meal last night.
When I had finished, I paid a gratifyingly low bill and returned to the hotel via a post box in which to get rid of my cards.