17. Grange Over Sands to Cark

I was looking forward to this section of the adventure since last weekend. I knew it started right next to the coast which is a big plus… it’s surprising and slightly depressing how much coastal walking isn’t. Even better, though this walk is nearly twelve miles, the cycle ride from the end to the start is only four… that suits me fine – I still hate bikes!

So, starting at The Commodore Inn car park, and ducking under the railway line, I’m back on Grange-over-Sands’ promenade again. It’s a lovely day, not too hot, and the views out over the River Kent estuary are great.

The promenade is really nice. Gardens planted by the side of the path attract lots of little birds who buzz around in the bushes, cleaning up the crumbs from the passers-by.

Grange-Over-Sands promenade

Towards the west end of town lies the sad old Grange Lido….

Grange Lido, as it looks now

This one has its own “Save the Lido” organisation, as have most of them. I understand the nostalgia, but I wonder if they could ever be commercially successful in the 21st century. More stringent health and safety rules must make them more expensive to operate, and at the end of the day, how many of us want to strip our clothes off outside and jump into unheated water, for any but a few days in the year? Maybe quite a lot, who knows? I’ve not got any great desire to! Certainly back in the past plenty of people wanted to, as evidenced by this old photo….

Grange Over Sands Lido in its heyday

The promenade shortly comes to an end, and I have a choice to make. The route my app suggested takes me inland along the roads, but there appears to be a path just below the seawall, so I decide to take the path, which keeps me as close to the sea as possible.

Across the bay, the familiar site of Heysham nuclear power station looms above the marsh grasses…

Heysham Nuclear Power Station

Very quickly it feels very isolated along here. There are no other people in sight in any direction.

I’ve suffered quite badly from loneliness during this lockdown. Living on my own for the first time in 30 years is such a shock to my system, and day after day, night after night, not seeing another human face is not something that my mind can cope with. But right now, it’s so peaceful here that I’m happy, even enjoying the isolation.

The path enters a patch of what looks like maize, I don’t know if it is maize, wouldn’t it be a bit weird, maize growing in a salt marsh? It’s really tall, towering over my head as I enter the thicket. For some reason I think about adders. I’ve never seen an adder and I’d love to, but not one with its fangs round my ankle. I’ve got no fear of snakes, but I think it would piss me off if I got bitten by one, especially a poisonous one.

Is that maize?

Anyway, I don’t see any snakes, and none bite me, and the path soon arrives at Kents Bank station. Here I’ve got another decision to make. Again the route goes inland along roads, but the path continues along the marsh. On the map it’s hard to see where the path might go, and with the railway line running along that way I could get stuck the wrong side of the line. I ask a dog walker passing by if I can go that way. She’s not sure but says it’s pretty marshy.

Now I don’t mind some tough going terrain, and I know it’ll make the blog more entertaining for you lot if I get stuck in a marsh up to my neck and have to be rescued by the Bay Search And Rescue team, and I’d dearly love to please you all, but I’ve only just started this walk, and I don’t want to tramp the remaining 10 miles in wet shoes even, let alone wet clothes too.

But I’m so tempted, I really want to stick by the coast, and after the last section’s depressing long lane trudges the last thing I want is to do is more road miles. Eventually I accept defeat, and cross the railway line at the pretty little station, and onto the road.

Kents Bank station

The road leads up a steep hill, and in just a few minutes my surroundings have transitioned from coastal isolation to quintessential suburbia. People are mowing their lawns, washing their cars, painting their porches. Following the modern trend, gardens have been razed and capped by concrete, the patterns in the paving a lamentable attempt to retain some small trace of attractiveness…

…and I’m walking directly away from the sea that constantly entices and enthrals me, the singular purpose of my coastal walk. My mood drops. To top it off this hill is bloody steep!

Thankfully, it doesn’t last long, and I soon turn onto a footpath through a farm. Perched on top of the hill I’ve just vanquished, I zoom in on Kirkhead Tower. It looks for all the world like a medieval hilltop church or castle, but is actually an early 19th-Century summerhouse “folly“.

Kirkhead Tower

The path heads back towards the coast, through several fields, over styles, through pastures sprinkled with wild flowers, over little bridges, through little gates….

Along the way I encounter the narrowest style ever.

I’m not sure the picture really shows just how ridiculously tight this is! I’m not the thinnest of guys admittedly, but not overweight. OK, by this point of the walk I’ve got through a couple of nutty bars which might have widened me a little, but this is a real challenge. Oh, and perhaps a Kellogg’s Nutrigrain. Well, two of them. And a Tunnocks Caramel Wafer. And maybe one or two other things I’m struggling to remember, but I’m not fat, OK! It’s not like I’m getting a bit self-conscious about this, honestly. That was a really narrow gap. Really, really narrow. Believe me.

My little rucksack isn’t helping so I take that off and try to squeeze through, but my camera starts to get squashed. In the end, me and my rucksack, camera, nutty bars, Nutrigrains, Tunnocks Caramel Wafer and several other things give up and I just climb over the wall instead.

The path runs through a lovely shady glade, where I stop for some more refreshment, with the gnarled trunk of a hawthorn tree as my slightly creepy dinner guest. Now I’m through that gap I should be able to eat my own body weight with no more problems.

I realise I’ve lost yet another pair of reading glasses. I’m getting terrible for dropping my glasses on these walks. That’s one pair on each of the last three walks. Luckily they’re only cheap things, but I do worry that I’m doing my bit to litter Cumbria…

I drag my now considerable weight up onto my feet, and follow the path which ducks under the railway line. I wonder how many times I’ve crossed over or under this line now.

The path emerges into a pristine field, separated from the marsh by a low stone wall, and leads up to a farmhouse… Wyke Farm. I almost think the path is going to lead right through their open front door, but it takes a sharp left just before the house and drops down into the marshes again. Finally, I’m back on the coast.

Wyke Farm
Wyke Farm’s lovely little style

I say hello to a cow, who shrugs her head to tell me to shove off…. charming.

Rude cow

The path doesn’t stay in the marsh for long, quickly turning and twisting over a little hill. Constrained within the narrow path, the heady perfume from the abundant elderflower saturates the still air….

The path arrives on Holy Well Lane, which leads towards the coast along the side of Humphrey Head, but I take a left towards an Outdoor Adventure Centre, and then follow the footpath along the crest of the head. I wonder who Humphrey was? He had a very big head.

The trees, exposed to the ravages of wind, or salt, or perhaps both, attempt to hide from the onslaught, stretching out hopelessly for a calmer place to live….

I meet a couple with binoculars pointed to the cliffs on the west side of the head, and ask what they are looking at. They tell me there’s a peregrine falcon nesting there with chicks. She nests there every year. I’ve never seen a peregrine falcon, and would like to add it to my “animals I’ve seen” page, so I stare out in the same direction… and see nothing but rocks and treetops.

“In that tree there” says the woman, pointing to the exact spot I’ve been looking at. After half a minute or so, their enthusiasm to involve me in the spectacle is rapidly diminishing, so I shout out “Oh yeah! Wow!”, hoping I might be accepted into the inner circle. A few more seconds of uncomfortable silence causes me to attempt to justify my deceit further – “Aww, aren’t the chicks beautiful!”, I exclaim.

“We were just remarking on how ugly they were”, the man tells me in a slightly suspicious tone.

“Hmmm, well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and all that…” I counter weakly, and realising I’m on sinking ground rapidly follow with “Well, I’d better get on, I want to get round this head and continue before dusk”, and make a quick exit. I’ve still never seen a peregrine falcon.

The higher I climb up Humphrey Head (I chuckle privately every time I say that name), the more the vista expands, and once I reach the trig point at the top, the sea covers perhaps 270° of the panorama, as this Pano shot shows….

Panoramic shot from the top of Humphrey Head

The path then dips downhill towards the tip of Humphrey Head Point, finally petering out amongst the rocks…

Humphrey Head Point

On the way down I was hoping to find a route around the west coast of Humphrey Head to join up with Holy Well Lane. Now I’m down here I realise that’s unlikely…

I don’t fancy wading through that

I’m going to get wet feet at the very least, if not sink up to my neck in mud. Oh well, I’ll have to retrace my steps, but it has been well worth coming down here anyway, it’s a lovely place.

On the way back up I balance my camera on a rock to take a selfie. I feel the need to prove to you lot that it was a very narrow gap. Very narrow. No normal human over the age of 9 would have fitted through that gap.

I climb back up to the trig point, and pass the ornithologist couple. Just my luck they’re still there. They’re eating a packed lunch, and she kindly asks if I’d like an egg and cress sandwich. I’m sure she’s feeling sorry for me, for having to humiliate myself in front of them earlier. Her partner just looks grumpy.

“No thanks, I answer, I’ve already eaten a couple of nutty bars…. and a Kellogg’s Nutrigrain. Two of them. And a Tunnocks Caramel Wafer, and a couple of other things I can’t remember.” They say that adding excessive detail is the sign of a liar, but this was the first time I’d actually told this couple something that was true. I made another quick exit.

The next couple of miles of the walk was along lanes unfortunately. Last week the lane walking really got me down, but I’m in a good mood today. I think it’s because I’ve already done a decent amount next to the coast, so I’ve built up a reservoir of good-feeling.

I pass a pretty stone wall covered in moss, the front entrance to Wyke Farm (I passed their back door earlier). It has a lovely welcoming watering can of flowers.

Further along the lane are the remains of Wraysholme Tower, a 15th century three storey fortified house.

Wraysholme Tower

Beyond the tower, a stand of trees gracefully caps off the delightfully named Appleberry Hill…

Appleberry Hill

I find there’s something very evocative about small clusters of trees at the top of a hill. Perhaps it reminds me of another instance in West Devon, shortly before you arrive in Cornwall, at a place called Cookworthy Knapp near Lifton. Whenever I return to Cornwall, and I see that stand of trees, I know I’m nearly at the end of my long journey. I’ll shameless steal Dom Haughton’s picture of it because it’s so spectacular…

Cookworthy Knapp by Dom Haughton

The hedgerows are full of flowers, which keeps me happy trudging along the road.

Dog rose, I think

Towards the end of the lane, I pass a house with some sort of bunker in the garden. I’m intrigued as to what it might be for. I take a photo.

Nuclear bunker in the garden?

Is the owner one of those strange survivalists like you get in America. I wonder? Those guys with hundreds of guns. Machine guns, and heavy calibre sniper rifles, rocket-propelled grenades and anti-tank missiles? As I’m considering this I realise I’ve still got my camera pointing at his property, and shift off hastily down the lane before I’m taken captive and tortured for information about the Illuminati and the global conspiracy.

A left turn finally takes me onto a road heading straight for the sea. I’d stop for a sticky toffee pudding, but I’ve already had a couple of nutty bars, two Kellogg’s Nutrigrains, a Tunnocks Caramel Wafer…. you get the idea.

Cartmel sticky toffee pudding is meant to be the best

At the end of the road, I pass the Bay Search And Rescue Headquarters, which luckily I haven’t made the acquaintance of today, through a gate and suddenly the world opens up again…

West Plain

This is called the “West Plain” according to the OS map. A raised bank stretches off to my right, and I follow it along the edge of the marsh. My spirits lift, I’m back by the coast again. I’m starting to feel a bit tired, but I’m enjoying this stretch so much and I don’t care.

In the far distance a tractor silently trundles out onto the mudflats, perhaps harvesting shrimps or cockles or something to serve the little packing plant down by the sticky toffee pudding factory. It seems customary for me to include a picture of a tractor now in my blogs, so here it is…

A tractor, unfortunately not red this time

A beautifully formed thistle lines the path, and for some reason appeals to me enough for me to take its portrait. Thank-you thistle.


The path curves gently around to the right at Cowpren Point, tracked at every turn by a dry stone wall, whitewashed by a thin covering of lichen….

Cowpren Point

As the path heads north, the marsh retreats and the water comes up to meet me on the path. The setting western sun is framed by dark clouds, punctured by pinholes where shafts of the dying sunlight pierce through onto the hills of the opposite bank…

That’s Ulverston Sands over there

A forlorn empty fence wends its way down into the water, separating only pebbles from pebbles, sand from sand, water from water…

Pointless fence

As the light is dying, so years ago did this tree. Now a stark memorial sat destitute on its grassy bank, supported by its low stone wall, its pallor flaunting its death.

Dead tree

On the path in front of me, a little bird sips from a puddle. As I approach he flies off to the next puddle a few yards further on. Before he has a chance to take a drink, I’m too close and he flies off to the next one. This happens at least six times before he gets the right idea and flies back behind me to drink in peace. Stupid bird. I don’t know what it is, looking up on the RSPB website, maybe a Blackcap, but I’ve really no idea [it’s a Pied Wagtail apparently].

Stupid bird, striking a silly pose

The marsh again separates me from the water on my left, while a row of lovely foxgloves decorates the dry stone wall on my right.

The track passes under the railway line, it must be my tenth crossing of this railway at least!

…and follows a tiny stream until it arrives in the village of Cark, where I cross over the little stone bridge, and arrive back at my car.


This walk was completed on 7th June 2020, and was about 11.6 miles long. Here’s the map:

Here’s the real-time recorded map of my actual route, which you can pan and zoom around…:

21 thoughts on “17. Grange Over Sands to Cark

  1. Another fantastic write up. I remember I struggled through marshes and tall grasses after Grange-Over-Sands, and did a lot of lane walking too. Loved Humphrey Head. First piece of high land on the coast for some time and great views. It’s a shame you can’t make use of the trains for this section, but well done for persevering with the bike. You’re making great progress.

    1. Thanks Ruth? I used your blog and Jon’s as guidance as ever – you are my heroes!??

      Humphrey Head (?) is beautiful isn’t it? Yeah you can’t avoid the lanes without some serious trespassing! I was happy so didn’t bother risking getting shot at! It even started raining along the lanes, forgot to mention that, but I had a lightweight brolly, and was strolling along like Gene Kelly I was so happy!???

      I so hope that you can start again in July, as that link Jon shared implied. It must be awful for you and Jon stuck at home, having to read about me having a analog a time! I’m sorry, it almost feels like I’m winding you two up!

      All the best??

  2. Yes, we have all been to the end of Humphrey Head and had to climb back over the headland because the tide was in. Shame because there is a well below and an adventurous through cave to explore. Another time.
    Think your bird is a wagtail.
    A good write up which I can see you enjoyed.

    1. Hiya BC!? It was my first time there, never been to Grange-over-Sands. The next place I’ll get to that I’ve visited before is Ravenglass, so a while yet!

      Humphrey Head (?) is lovely, and I seriously considered doing a bit more wading on the return journey from the point, but it looked a lot more muddy and soggy than the River Kent, which was mostly fine sand and easy to wade across. Glad I didn’t now!??
      Thanks for the bird ID! He wasn’t wagging his tail, so clearly trying to confuse me!?
      Keep up the trespassing mate!? … it’s all for a good cause, our enjoyment of your blog, which I love!?

      1. If you are in the know you can semi rocktraverse/ wade that lower bit back under Humphrey.
        Probably better you are still alive and ready to give us your next outing.
        I wondered if you are back at work or working from home.
        Were you ever able to get an antigen blood test when you were donating plasma?

        1. I don’t think I’m up for rock traversing – after seeing that pic you posted of you scaling your house walls, I’d fear for my life!??
          Imm irking from home pretty much 100% at the moment. I still haven’t heard back from the Convalescent Plasma trial people, so still no test results. Tried to phone them the other day but I guess they’re really busy. I’ll keep everyone updated anyway when I know more??

  3. Sounds like you had a good day despite all the marshes. Grange-over-Mud would be more appropriate I think. I too went out to Humphrey Head and thought it was worth the diversion.

    The coast of Cumbria is rather tortuous with all those estuaries, most of which the railway crosses near the coast but us walkers have to go the longer way around! You’ll be crossing the line a few more times yet!

    I think looking at the map, we followed the same route though I ended up walking as far as Haverthwaite, but that was when we were allowed to use public transport, so I didn’t have a bike ride to contend with. I remember it being a real root-march at the end (in fact I ran the last bit) because it was a Sunday with limited public transport and I was staying in Lancaster. So I remember I was really hurrying to catch the last steam train of the day from Haverthwaite (which I literally made with 10 seconds to spare) to the south shore of Lake Windermere. Then I took a steamer across the lake to Bowness-on-Windermere a bus from there to Windermere station and finally a train back to Lancaster. I thought it was the only way other than a taxi to get back to Lancaster and in fact it would probably have been cheaper to just pay for a taxi – but it was a fun trip anyway. It was only later I discovered there was in fact a bus but it was a different number bus on a Sunday which is why I hadn’t found it!

    1. ????
      I just love your return journey from Haverthwaite to Lancaster Jon!… sounds more like a day out than public transport!
      I didn’t mind this particular estuary cos it “felt” like the sea still… do you know what I mean? Way better then the Ribble and Lune estuaries in Lancashire. Right please don’t tell me that they get worse from here!??

  4. The weather looks lovely when you set off, I really like the first photo 🙂 I believe you about the very narrow stile, there’s one like that by the riverside in Hornby village and I can only just about squeeze through – not easy with a dog in tow 🙂 I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the mud, just think about getting back into your nice CLEAN car 🙂 I agree with bowlandclimber that the bird was a wagtail, it certainly looks like one. I like the moss covered wall too 🙂

    1. Hey Eunice, I know you’d have loved me to get stuck in that mud, for entertainment value alone!???
      I was clean again by the time I hit back in my pristinely clean car so no probs there!???

        1. Not in the least – I suppose all the walking cancels out the calories from the Tunnocks Caramel Wafers etc 🙂 I’m thinking (slowly) about braving the train to Manchester tomorrow, last Saturday’s ‘tour’ was so interesting I really need to see some more, especially the Express building, also I’ve found a map of street art and it looks like there’s loads more to see 🙂

          1. Give us a shout if you do? I realised I didn’t take you the site of the annual street art festival where there’s some paintings left from last year. I was going to take you there after the marina but if course it started raining!?

  5. An excellent write up and all the more so to get somebody else’s take on territory that I have walked myself, and I am looking forward to more. Because you are seeing all this for the first time it comes even more alive. Finding and discovering for yourself without prior knowledge is the essence of long walks and for that reason I refrain from making any comment on what lies ahead. I am sure you will have been re-stocking with munchy bars. I have just read a post from my friends Alan and Sheila who have done a photographic record of Manchester central in Lockdown which may interest you. Alan confesses to being a Vimto addict and with your affection for Manchester and Vimto’s association there I wondered if you may also carry a bottle with you?


    1. Thanks for that link Conrad – really enjoyed that little blog. It struck me with all the recent arguing over statues that many of Manchester’s statues are of radical progressive people, Abraham Lincoln, Cobden, Emmeline Pankhurst, and of course Alan Turing in a way… shows it’s always been a radical city, fighting against injustice rather than glorifying it like London and other cities. I’m proud to be an adopted son!?

  6. A friend of mine told me he spent one of his favourite summers in the 70s staying at his sisters and swimming in the lido. Apparently there was a big klaxon when the tide came in.

  7. So that’s the Lido where I got my terribly sunburn! It looks very sad now. I remember when Ruth did this part of the walk commenting that I didn’t remember so much marsh in my youth, but I couldn’t find pictures to prove it. It probably has grown quite a lot in the last (ahem) 50 years though. I agree that gap is impossibly narrow and you do look perfectly slimline! A very enjoyable write up.

    1. I think the marshes must be growing on the west coast. When I was in Southport someone told me that north of the pier used to be a sandy beach, but now grasses have grown there. It shows Geography isn’t a static thing I guess!

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