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A HEARTY WALK By Andrew Ellis

Chapter 1 – A Wake-up Call

The twenty third of September, twenty fifteen, began just like any other working day. Not unusual in Stockport, it was overcast and showery and, after visiting a client, I made my way back to the office, all alone in a basement. I ate my sandwiches and thought about what needed doing that afternoon. The client meeting had gone well and there seemed nothing to make me feel the way I did but I had a strange tightness in my chest, nothing much, just a weird sensation. I wrote it off as indigestion. I must have eaten my sandwiches too quickly. But the feeling wouldn’t go. It didn’t get worse but I then had an ache in my neck. Never really gave that a thought except I must have slept awkwardly last night. Then that

ache seemed to start pushing up through my jaw into my gums. “Don’t tell me I’m getting a toothache,” I thought. Why I did what I did next I’ll never know but I entered my symptoms into google. I couldn’t believe what came up: Symptoms of a heart attack Dial 999 immediately if you suspect that you or someone you know is having a heart attack. Symptoms can include:

• chest pain – a sensation of pressure, tightness or squeezing in the centre of your chest

• pain in other parts of the body – it can feel as if the pain is travelling from your chest to your arms (usually the left arm is affected, but it can affect both arms), jaw, neck, back and abdomen

• feeling lightheaded or dizzy • sweating • shortness of breath • feeling sick (nausea) or being sick (vomiting) • an overwhelming sense of anxiety (similar to having a panic attack) • coughing or wheezing

Although the chest pain is often severe, some people may only experience minor pain, similar to indigestion. I was all on my own in my office. I felt sick. I felt scared. Surely I was not having a heart attack. I dialled 999. A week later, after undergoing angioplasty, I was discharged from hospital with lots of medication and loads of booklets about what to do next, diet and exercise etc. I followed the advice and, next day, I walked down the garden and back. I can’t begin to explain how such a simple thing as that was such a nerve wracking experience and, a couple of days later, when I pushed myself further to walk to the post box and back, I had a panic attack. I felt life would never be the same again. Weeks went by and, with the help of the Rehabilitation Clinic at the local hospital, my confidence grew and I began walking further and further every day until I could do the recommended two miles a day. The hospital referred me to a local gym and I began exercising more and more and, in that time from my heart attack, I had managed to shed almost three stone. I began feeling a lot better and was walking more and more each day, four, five and six miles, mostly on the local path by the River Mersey, part of the Trans Pennine Trail.

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I can’t remember how exactly it came about but at some point I found out more about this Trans Pennine Trail and then had this brilliant idea of walking from Southport to Hornsea to raise money for the British Heart Foundation and to prove to myself there is life after a heart attack. Could a sixty-two year old do it? Chapter 2 – The Planning I was very excited when the pack I sent for arrived. There was information about the TPT, a T-shirt and, most importantly for me, maps! I love maps. I studied these very carefully and worked out that I could split this walk into twelve sections of between fifteen and twenty miles a day. I had completed a twenty file mile sponsored walk in my youth, so I convinced myself I could manage up to twenty miles a day, with training. I’m one of those people who find planning fun. It was now March 2016 and the first thing was to decide when to do it. The climate in this country is so unpredictable that it was almost impossible to decide on a suitable time. What I really wanted was a fortnight with no rain, not too cold and not too hot. Was that too much to ask? In the end I plumped for the first two weeks of September, my reasoning being that late summer can sometimes be quite good for weather and daylight still lasted into the evening, giving me plenty of time to complete that day’s walk. I had no intention to hurry. I wanted to take in everything as I walked, noticing the subtle changes as I crossed England from coast to coast. Preparation was paramount. Having divided the walk into sections I then had to find suitable accommodation for the night close to each finishing point. That was not too difficult to start with but became harder between Penistone and Selby and Selby and Hull. I was not restricted to a budget, so there was no problem using hotels and taxis where necessary. With the accommodation all booked, it was time to start my training program, a couple of months before the start. Reading about long walks on the internet, I decided that the best way to train would be to walk between three and five miles every day and then complete one long walk each weekend.

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To begin with I walked without a backpack but then added a small rucksack. I then sat down and worked out exactly what I would need to take with me (see picture above) and purchased the right sized rucksack, using this on my training walks fully laden. Because I would be spending the fourth night back at home, I only needed to carry enough to last eight days. I wore a T-shirt, Rab underwear, to prevent chafing, hiking trousers, trailblazer socks and hiking boots. A light cagoule was either worn or tied round my waist.

In my pack I carried: • Trainers for use in the evenings or as an emergency backup should anything go wrong with

the boots • Two pairs of trailblazer socks • One pair of underpants • Three T-shirts • One light jumper • Spare pair of hiking trousers • Washing and shaving items • Sun cream, Vaseline, medication, tissues, wetwipes and plasters • Charging adaptors for phone and camera • Maps • Two heavy duty dustbin bags to sit on in wet places • Food for the day • Bottle of water.

And so the training walks began eight miles, ten miles, twelve miles, gradually increasing until I could do eighteen miles. And I could do eighteen miles without developing blisters but could I do two long walks on consecutive days? To try this out, I took a train to Buxton and walked about eighteen miles down the Tissington Trail – a former railway line and, therefore, similar to the TPT. I stayed the night in a hotel and returned the next day with an unplanned detour making it at least nineteen miles! Yes, I could do two long walks on consecutive days. Training was going well and I was feeling confident. Preparation did not end there. I further dissected my sections into stages, working out places to have a morning break, lunch and an afternoon break. I then used google maps to see if I could find benches or places to sit at these various break points or, even better, if there were any cafes close by. This was not possible in all cases but I envisaged what I would do at each stopping point. Of course, how I would cope in the pouring rain would be something I would have to find out when it happened! I now felt ready. Then, two weeks before the start, disaster, a trapped nerve in my neck was causing me terrific pain across my shoulder and down my arm. It was most uncomfortable to walk. Even painkillers didn’t really take the edge off the pain. I was not going to enjoy a two hundred mile walk like this but I was still determined to do it. I had told so many people and I already had lots of sponsorship for The British Heart Foundation. I phoned a chiropractor but couldn’t get an appointment until the end of the week. That first session made very little difference. Then came the August Bank Holiday weekend and I was due to start the walk on the Thursday. I fitted in another chiropractor appointment on Tuesday but only a marginal improvement. Would I still be able to do it?

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Chapter 3 – The Journey to the Start The next day, Wednesday 31st August 2016, slightly anxious, I packed my bag, checked everything and caught the train to Southport. I couldn’t even sit comfortably on the train, my arm ached so much. I tried to forget about it and watched the countryside pass by, thinking of our visits to Martin Mere, until the train pulled in to Southport station bang on time. On went my bag and off I trotted into the centre, stopping off for lunch and then finding the tourist information office to obtain the first stamp on my ‘stamping card’. And there it was, the first stamp, it was the official start of the walk, dated the next day. There was no going back now. At least, at the moment, the weather was quite sunny and I had a good view from my hotel over towards Blackpool. Once settled into my room, after a short rest, I decided to have a little explore. I wandered through King’s Gardens and Princes Park, past Pleasureland and found the start of the walk. I have to admit it was quite exciting but I was disappointed how much pain I was in. All I could really think of was ‘fifteen miles of agony tomorrow’ but I was not going to let that ruin my enjoyment. I treated this day as a holiday. I was excited but also anxious. I had a really tasty Thai meal in the evening and then settled back in my room, watching TV. It was an early night for me. How would I fare tomorrow? Chapter 4 – Day 1: Southport to Aintree

The first of September dawned rather cloudy but with some blue sky showing. After a good breakfast and checking and re-checking I had everything, I excitedly made my way to the start, an extra half mile added to my day’s walk. I wasn’t sure if the painkillers were working or that the neck was a little better but the ache was definitely bearable. No one was about at the start but there was the sign telling me it was 194 miles to Hull! The weather felt quite cool with a strong breeze and more grey clouds were appearing but rain was not forecast. After taking a few

photographs, I told myself this was it, I picked up a pebble, placed it in my pocket and began walking along the coast path. It was about 9:15a.m. My aim was to reach Ainsdale for my first refreshment break. It was about three and a half miles away. It was a pleasant enough stroll. There were a few runners and cyclists about but, other than that, quite

peaceful until I reached the stretch by the road. I was surprised how much traffic there was but soon I was able to get away from the road on the Sefton Coastal Path. The scenery wasn’t particularly exciting, typical grassy, sand dunes but the thrill of an adventure was spurring me on and my shoulder and arm didn’t feel too bad at all. I made good progress and arrived at the bench in Ainsdale, I had seen on Google, around the time I

expected. It was good to have a seat, contemplate on things and snack on a Nakd Bar. I checked the map and reminded myself of the next section ahead.

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The trail turned inland at this point and, for walkers, the path led through some attractive woods of silver birch and pine, as well as some sandy dunes before reaching a built up area. Crossing a railway line and a busy road, I continued my journey through a housing estate on to a most peaceful country lane – Plex Moss Lane. I was pretty sure I could just make out Ormskirk church tower. By now, away from the sea, it was much warmer and the sun was shining brightly. One downside of September though is that birds don’t sing as much and, to be honest, I hadn’t noticed much birdlife at all so far.

Not far down Plex Moss Lane I reached the start of the Cheshire Lines Path, a path that would take me almost all the way to Aintree. It was a most attractive route, especially bathed in sunlight. Quite often it was tree lined but in other places you could see wide open fields being harvested, with combine harvesters throwing up so much dust. My aim was to reach Moss Lane Bridge for lunch, though I wasn’t sure there was a place to sit. I made it on time and found a suitable piece of concrete to rest and eat

my sandwiches. How lovely it was to be out in the open air, in the warm sunshine, I didn’t even feel tired after walking over seven miles but I did take some painkillers as a precaution although my arm was not causing me too much grief. I was in no hurry and gave myself time for my lunch to go down, lapping up the atmosphere. Apart from a few dog walkers, I had not yet encountered any long distance walkers, just cyclists.

Standing up after lunch was a struggle, I was more tired than I thought. My feet hurt and my muscles ached, yet, once I started walking, things soon got better and I was happily making progress along that old railway towards Green Lane, my next planned stop. The scenery was of a similar vein and it was on this section that a young man passed me, a ‘real’ walker and we briefly discussed our walks before he moved on, walking faster than I was.

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The problem I found with a lot of these old railway trails is that they often have long straight sections and, when you are tired, they seem never ending! The closing section of the Cheshire Lines Path was a bit like this but I plodded on and eventually reached the main road of Sefton Lane at Maghull. Crossing the road, the route followed a road through a housing estate, which ended in a confusing junction of roads that were not exactly as shown on the map and there was no sign showing which direction to take. The map showed a fork right but there was no fork right only an actual turning right. I guessed that way and was proved correct as it ended in a footpath with a TPT sign. The path went through a small wood then over some waste ground to Chapel Lane, where it crossed the River Alt, to the suburban town of Netherton. The busy Northern Perimeter Road had a pedestrian crossing and then it was a short walk up a quieter road to the Leeds Liverpool Canal.

This was a surprisingly pretty section although I did meet a couple of locals who were slightly the worse for wear and not the sort of characters I really wanted to meet but all was well and, not long after, I arrived at what turned out to be the rather ordinary ‘Wally’s Steps’ and climbed up to the main dual carriageway through Aintree. Here I left the official TPT, crossing over to the retail park to buy my lunch for the next day’s section before arriving at my destination, Aintree Racecourse’s Premier Inn. My first day was complete. I had really enjoyed it. My shoulder and arm had not caused me as much pain as I had expected and certainly hadn’t spoilt the walk. I had seen places I hadn’t seen before. The weather had been good to me and I went to bed tired but a very happy man.

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Chapter 5 – Day 2: Aintree to Hale I awoke early that Friday morning, wide awake and raring to go, until I actually got out of bed! You guessed it, I felt quite stiff. But I waddled to the bathroom and freshened up and soon noticed the stiffness had worn off. The shoulder was still the same though, which was a bit disappointing. That particular Premier Inn did not serve breakfast. I could have gone over to the Toby Carvery opposite but I had been there the previous night and felt I didn’t fancy a greasy breakfast so I had Fruesli bar, clementine and coffee in my room. By nine o’clock I was packed and ready for day two. I strode out to boldly go where I had not been before. The walk started by the main road through Aintree but soon turned left down a side road, then right to a bridge where there was a path up to an old railway line. I then went back on myself, crossing the bridge I had just gone under and crossing the main road I had just left until I reached another old railway track, the Liverpool Loop Line and it was this I would follow for most of the day, all the way to Halewood.

The whole of today’s walk was through urban areas, so I was not expecting too much but it was not without interest. Most of the walk was tree lined, hiding a lot of the buildings either side and, I think, all of it was on a raised embankment. It had some quite pretty sections and even some old Victorian iron bridges added their own character. There was, however, one straight, but long tunnel with no lights. You could see the other end all the way but in the middle it was very dark and you couldn’t see the ground below you, yet you knew you were in a litter strewn, graffiti decorated tunnel!

After about four miles, I left the path at Broad Lane and found the café I knew was there. Since I had not had a full breakfast, it was time for a coffee and muffin – yummy.

Retracing my steps, I returned to the track and carried on the fairly straight path down the old track. In one break in the trees I was able to see Anfield Stadium in the distance, over the rooftops, but most of the time I was walking through a virtual tunnel of trees.

My lunch stop was on a bench, looking through the trees into John Alderman Memorial Gardens, between Childwall and Gateacre. It surprised me how few people were using the path but I suppose it was an ordinary work day for most folk. After suitable refreshment and rest, my aching legs and sore feet began trudging South once more and I soon got back into my stride. The walk continued on the Liverpool Loop with very little change until it reached Halewood Triangle and I had my first non-urban view between the trees at the start of a very pretty nature area. But it was all change after that. The Loop Line ended near Hunts Cross and it was the beginning of a built-up area part of the route. I crossed Higher Road and walked up to a recreation ground. It wasn’t obvious where to go here so I asked somebody and was directed to an unseen exit diagonally across from the entrance. This led across the railway line to the Halewood motor works, well known to people

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of my age as the place of industrial disputes in the seventies. The next part of the walk was not particularly exciting. It started with a long, straight walk down Renaissance Way, through the Boulevard Industrial Park to the busy A561, Speke Boulevard. I’m not sure if walkers can follow the same route as cyclists here, so I took the alternative walkers’ route, which meant a dreary, quarter of a mile walk the wrong way,

alongside a dual carriageway, waiting ages to cross at a very busy junction and then walking back the way I had just come, on the council estate, Clough Road (or a path on the landscaped verge). The only advantage of this route was that it brought me to Morrisons for a coffee break and to purchase my lunch for the next day!

The route continued along Clough Road and wound its way all round a huge council estate in Speke, close to Liverpool Airport, though there were views outwards over a local nature reserve with a glimpse of the Runcorn Bridge in the distance. Eventually a whole semi-circle brought me round to the road to Hale Village, my destination for that day. Hale is a very picturesque village, though planes fly very low over it, famous for the nine feet three giant, John Middleton, ‘the Childe of Hale’. Hale has a couple of pubs serving meals and I visited ‘The Wellington’ where I had my card stamped. Later, settling into my B&B accommodation, I thought about my day. It had been hard at times and not the best of scenery but there had been points of interest and, though very weary, I was now thirty miles into my walk. Chapter 6 – Day 3: Hale to Lymm Day three dawned dull and grey. The forecast was for heavy rain and rain for most of the day, not a pleasant prospect. Looking at the map, I noticed I would be passing four chemical works, two water treatment plants and a power station. Oh well, I was prepared for this. I knew the whole way would not be spectacularly beautiful. My attitude was that these were places I had not been to before and it’s always interesting to see new places and obtain a fuller picture of the country you live in. A full breakfast fuelled my body to set out on another adventure. This time in the rain!

The walk began on ordinary roads, with pavements, though parts of the pavements were somewhat narrowed by overgrown hedges, forcing me closer to the traffic than I would have liked. It was about a mile up Town Lane before I could turn off onto a track, which eventually led to ‘Pickering’s Pasture’, a nature reserve by the River Mersey, overlooking industrial Runcorn. By now the rain had set in and there was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

The walk continued to follow the Mersey all the way to Widnes. I had planned to stop at Spike Island for my morning break, so was extremely disappointed to find the footpath closed at this point and a long diversion through a Widnes industrial estate. By now I was soaked through and I can’t tell you

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what a relief it was to find a Brewers Fare Restaurant serving coffee and, after getting warm and a bit drier, I set off again, completing the diversion to reach the Sankey Canal.

The Sankey Canal was not visible but full of tall plants. The path by it went straight – on and on. The pouring rain went on and on and wet, cold, weary me had no choice but to

go on and on. Past the power station I trudged, dodging puddles. I had hoped for another break at the pub at Fiddler’s Ferry but my hopes were dashed as it was closed for a private function, so on and on I went feeling more and more miserable. The rain continued and got heavier for a short while and I got colder and colder. My original plan was to reach Sankey Park for lunch but all I could wonder now is how do you have a picnic in the rain?

Well, I suppose I have to say I had a little bit of luck. I did eventually arrive in Sankey Park, probably about an hour behind time, and the rain did ease very slightly and I found a bench under some trees, giving some shelter. My heavy duty plastic bin bag was perfect to sit on and there I sat, alone, munching damp sandwiches and soggy crisps. The rain did ease a bit after lunch and I continued my weary way along a now muddy path, zig-zagging round puddles, through some pretty woods and on to Wilderspool and Stockton Heath, where I

encountered my second diversion of the day. However, this was not as bad as expected because I soon realised this was a diversion I had planned anyway, as it went to Warrington’s Morrisons, where I could have a nice warm in their café, with coffee and cake and then buy the next day’s lunch. The rain had stopped by the time I was walking alongside the Manchester Ship Canal in Stockton Heath, a pleasant enough walk and was pleased to see how quickly my clothes were drying. As the path was so muddy, I came off at Knutsford Road, went over the canal and crossed the road at the lights, continuing down Thelwall New Road to Latchford Locks to re-join the main path at the start of the old Warrington to Broadheath railway.

I was getting pretty tired by now. Today was the longest so far. The first two days were about fifteen miles each, today was nearer eighteen, perhaps even longer because of the diversions. The walk itself was very similar to the other old railway paths I had travelled on and, because I knew the area, everything seemed much further than expected. “I’ll see Thelwall Viaduct in a minute,” I kept telling myself but it seemed an eternity before it came into view and that meant I still had a mile and a half to go! A mile and a half that seemed to on and on and on but eventually I arrived at The Lymm Hotel, a rather posh place for a rather bedraggled old man like me. Was I glad of a hot bath and a change of clothes! This was followed by a tasty meal and then a long relax watching Saturday night television. The overwhelming feeling of sheer tiredness and achiness is actually quite wonderful and extremely blissful when you can just relax and contemplate on the day’s achievement. Chapter 7 – Day 4: Lymm to Home Sunday morning skies were still rather grey but it was not raining as I sauntered down to breakfast, feeling very stiff and achy. I had mixed feelings about today. I certainly was not relishing the prospect of another eighteen mile walk and it was all over very familiar territory, so nothing much to look

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forward to. And when you know exactly where you are and how far you have to go, it somehow seems to make the journey longer. BUT, and it’s a big but, by the end of the walk I would be home. Home to my own chair. Home to my own bed. Home with the people I love. I guessed that my son would pop round to see how things were going and I was not wrong but, until then, I had a lot of walking to do.

The first four miles followed the old railway to Broadheath, most of it straight. It was quite an attractive area through the Cheshire countryside though I’m not sure I really wanted to be confronted by a sign telling me I still had 166 miles to go! I crossed the River Bollin and could see Beetham Tower in Manchester and the hills beyond from Dunham. I plodded on and soon reached Broadheath, where I stopped by the roadside for a little break.

Dairyhouse Lane turned out to be more scary than it sounded. I couldn’t believe the amount of traffic on it. It was basically no more than a country lane with no footpath and the road was barely wide enough for two cars to pass let alone two cars and a walker! Why so many cars on a Sunday morning? Well, after about two miles on this hazardous route I reached the rubbish tip and realised where everyone was going. Once past the tip the road turned into a hardly used narrow lane, which then narrowed further into a Himalayan Balsam lined footpath through a little wood.

The path widened into a track over some picturesque countryside around Dainewell Woods, continuing north towards Urmston. On the map the path followed the Carrington Spur Motorway but here I encountered yet another diversion and had to wind my way around lanes and tracks, which I must admit were not unattractive, to meet up with the River Mersey again. It was time for lunch and, though windy, the sun was shining and I sat on the peaceful banks of the Mersey and ate my sandwiches.

Having unintentionally almost frightened a horse that had silently appeared behind me, I moved on towards Stretford following the Mersey for a short while before bearing left on a track taking me to the bridge across the M60. To me, Stretford is a built up suburb of Manchester and I was surprised to find that the trail found some pleasant scenery in such a place. You could almost feel you were in the country.

Once I had passed under the Bridgewater Canal, I was on very familiar territory. A number of my training walks were around this area. I have to admit that the winding path, following the meandering Mersey, does feel as if it goes on and on, especially if you are tired like I was but I wearily plodded on up Hawthorn Road, alongside Chorlton Brook and through a pretty wood to the Mersey at Jackson’s Boat, where I stopped and had a very refreshing and much needed coke. I still had over six miles to go.

By now, late afternoon, it was very warm and the pub was crowded and loads of families were out walking. I wished I felt as fresh as they looked but, somehow, my legs carried me still further. What I had noticed was that my shoulder and arm was much less painful, more of a dull ache. The path continued alongside the Mersey for a few miles, with a little detour around Chorlton Water Park but, when I reached Princess Parkway, I decided to follow the cycle route through Northenden

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as it looked interesting, following roads I remember being built and was not aware it was possible to walk on. This made a pleasant change and it wasn’t long before I came to Simon’s Bridge, the place I knew I had to leave the Mersey and follow Ford Lane into Didsbury Village. From here I could picture every step of the way and knew I had at least another hour of walking to go. The walk from Didsbury Village tram stop to East Didsbury

seemed never ending but I got there eventually. Then it was a case of going under the main road, crossing a small housing estate and following a lane down to the Mersey again. At the Mersey, the TPT goes left but I turned right as far as the road, then on to Abney Park and through the park to my house. This turned out to be the longest day of walking. I had started about nine and ended up at home around half past six. Chapter 8 – Day 5: Home to Hadfield You could argue that the danger of spending a night at home a third of the way through the walk might have made me feel like staying there and not carrying on but with over £2,000 raised so far for the British Heart Foundation and actually wanting to complete the challenge I set off that Monday morning on the fifth day of my marathon walk. It was cloudy but not cold or raining. I made my way down Stockport Road, walking parallel to the TPT on the opposite bank of the Mersey until I reached the bridge at Gorsey Bank to join the trail once

more. This was a section I knew very well. The Gorsey Bank footbridge often featured on my daily walks around the local area leading to a path that follows the River into the centre of Stockport. For a change, I did actually follow the TPT through the centre, skirting the bus station and wandering down Great Underbank, passing the Stockport Air Raid Shelters and two lovely old buildings. On reaching Merseyway, I decided to make a little detour because I knew that just down the road was

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the point where the Rivers Goyt and Tame meet to form the beginning of the Mersey and, I thought, as I had followed this river most of the way from its estuary near Speke, it was fitting to see where it started. Here the Rivers Goyt and Tame become the Mersey flowing clear from Stockport to the sea.

The TPT now follows the River Tame through some wasteland at the back of Stockport centre to Tiviot Way and the start of Reddish Vale. There are various footpath signs around here, so make sure you cross the River and take the path out of the small car park, the path that takes you up and offers you some stunning views across the vale. It is a very pleasant walk for such a short distance from a town centre and, bearing left just before the old railway cutting, it carries on for about a couple of miles to the Reddish Vale Visitor Centre – an excellent place to stop for refreshment and the stamping of your card. From the Centre, the trail continues on a picturesque track, over the M60 and through a housing estate to the main Stockport Road near Denton. For a local, like me, it felt odd to have to follow this road south for about a quarter of mile. I seemed to be going in the wrong direction but it soon turns left and meets the River Tame again at Hulmes Wood and there is a lovely section along Haughton Dale all the way to Apethorn. Near Apethorn I went under a sweet little bridge below the Peak Forest Canal and then came up and back on myself to eat my lunch by that pretty canal.

After lunch, I returned to the route, an old railway passing Hyde and going on as far as Godley. It was at Godley I had my first full view of the distant Pennines, the hills I would cross the next day. The route followed Green Lane, a particularly badly-surfaced track with crumbling, loose stones and brick, deep potholes and huge puddles, as far as the main A560 road, looking over to Werneth Low. This busy road, with a pavement I should add, forms the next couple of miles of the trail but the scenery changes and becomes more interesting at the border of the Peak District. The route does go through the rather depressing huge housing estate of Hattersley and is not well sign posted in this area. I did, however, find the path leading down Hurst Clough and on to the Broadbottom Road. The road sweeps down and round into the charming town of Broadbottom where there is a welcoming pub ready to serve you a refreshing drink and give you the opportunity to rest those weary limbs, and mine were certainly weary by now.

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Coming out of Broadbottom, I chose the alternative route for walkers and followed a very pretty lane by the River Etherow. There was a moment of confusion a short way down that lane, at the point where it turns sharp right and climbs a hill. The map showed that the trail carried on straight and did not follow the lane but I was confronted with a sign saying, “Private. Not a footpath”. However, believing the map, I did move towards the private sign and

just hidden from view from the lane, a gap appeared between two fences, which was obviously the footpath. It did not look well used, was very narrow and, at the time of year I walked, lined with tall stinging nettles, some of which arched over the path. It was on this stretch that I found that stinging nettles can sting through trousers and that dock leaves don’t always grow where there are nettles! But apart from that, the path was a peaceful climb over the foothills of the Pennines with some spectacular views in the late afternoon sun. The footpath ended at the main road at Gamesley, where I was stopped by a man who just started talking to me, asking me how far I had walked (I must have looked so weary – that’s because I was!). He was impressed that I was doing the whole of the TPT. I suppose it was nice of him to take an interest but to be honest I found that the last stage of each day’s walk my legs were on auto-pilot. They seemed to just walk. I didn’t know how they were walking, they just did but they only wanted to go one speed, not to stop or to go faster but just to plod at the same rhythm. I was worried that because this conversation made my legs stop, they might not start again but, thankfully, they did.

I walked through the Gamesley housing estate, following the signs and not seeing anything of Melandra Roman Fort, and round a very pretty swathe of green to a path that led back to the River Etherow at Woolley Bridge and on to the road that led into Hadfield, my destination for today. It was a punishing end to the walk. The last mile was all uphill, not steep but just a continual slope. After a short shop at Tesco, there was another steepish but short climb up the main street to my B&B. Hadfield is not the prettiest of places and there was little choice for eating but I had a delicious Thai meal at the New Lamp pub, even though it meant another walk downhill and back up again.

Chapter 9 – Day 6: Hadfield to Penistone Day six and by the end of today I would be halfway through the walk timewise, the second half being longer in miles. I was looking forward to this day because I would be doing exactly what the Trans Pennine Trail does, crossing the Pennines. It should be a spectacular walk through the Peak District, ending up in South Yorkshire. Unfortunately the B&B in Hadfield didn’t start serving breakfast until nine, the time I wanted to leave, so it was another Fruesli bar and fruit breakfast before I set out, proudly wearing my British Heart Foundation T-shirt. The sun was shining and the forecast good. I walked up Station Road to re-join the

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TPT at the beginning of the Longdendale Trail, the former railway line from Hadfield to Sheffield. The walk begins with some wonderful views over Bottoms Reservoir looking back towards Tintwistle. My early stiffness soon wore off and I felt quite refreshed as I strode out across the Peaks, taking in the delights of the scenery and looking and listening for birds.

The trail continued on the old railway for many miles following a valley full of reservoirs on one side and dramatic hills on the other. I had expected to hear at least one trilling call of a curlew but no, nor even a skylark. All was surprisingly quiet. At Torside, I crossed the Pennine Way, another, possibly more famous, national trail but not a trail I felt I could ever tackle. By the time I arrived at Woodhead Reservoir it was time for my morning break and, after a drink and some food, I lay back on the bench and just stared at the sky.

But couldn’t stop there too long, had to get on and off I strode again by the side of the picturesque reservoir for about a couple of miles until I reached the end, the end of the Longdendale Trail that is. The way was blocked at the Woodhead Tunnel, three miles long that used to take the trains from Manchester to Sheffield Victoria. The only way now was up! And up I went, and up and up, crossing the busy A628, continuing up over Longside Moss.

High up on the moors, the track appeared to bend round to the left with a smaller path going straight ahead. Although there were no signs, I could see from the map that I needed to carry on straight ahead. It was not an easy path to walk on, deep ridges and loose stones but it was exhilarating high up in the hills and a Peacock Butterfly was very kind and remained still long enough for me to take a picture.

The trail crossed the busy A628 a second time and then, just before the highest point, went sharply downhill over quite difficult terrain and then steeply uphill again. I was puffed out by the time I reached the A628 for a third time but crossing it this time took me on to Windle Edge and up to the highest point on the TPT, where I stopped for lunch. It was all downhill from here, and actually it was, down a much quieter road into Dunford Bridge to pick up the old railway line again where it emerged from the Woodhead Tunnel. This was now the Upper Don Trail and this took me past Thurlstone Moors to a pretty picnic area at Hazelwood just at the right time for an afternoon break.

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The last stretch of the day, always the hardest, kept to the railway, which, at least made it flat. I find hills hard at the best of times! It was a pretty walk, a tree lined path with scenic views over rolling countryside. It did seem to go on and on though, as I passed Millhouse Green and Thurlstone but, at last I came to Penistone,

where I took a short detour to Tesco before walking down to my hotel for a well-earned rest. It was there my son, from Sheffield, came to see me and we had a sumptuous meal together and a good chat in the hotel’s splendid restaurant. Chapter 10 – Day 7: Penistone to Harlington

Wednesday morning dawned and, since the hotel did not provide breakfast, I had to manage again with the food I had. It was the turn of the TPT T-shirt today and, having become adept at packing my bag, I was soon on my way again. I was pretty sure I could not get back on the trail at the top of the road, so I travelled up Wentworth Road to Penistone station to pick up the trail there. Penistone station was once an important junction but now only part of it is used yet you can still see the old platforms which formed the line running

between Sheffield and Manchester. Half of me felt sad that it was no longer a railway but the other half was glad it was now a walking trail. I followed that trail for just over a mile to Oxspring.

At Oxspring I decided to take the northern route via Worsborough and so left the railway line and followed a very pretty path out of the village, with picturesque views back over towards Penistone. The path crossed a lovely little stream over a most attractive stone footbridge and continued through some woods up to the A629 Jockey

Road. It was along this road I encountered a TPT sign telling me I was nowhere near halfway yet and still had 112 miles to go. To be honest I knew I wasn’t halfway because the halfway point is in fact the Old Moor RSPB Reserve, which I wouldn’t reach until that afternoon. I then followed a TPT walkers only sign pointing along a path across a field. This did not appear to be marked on the map but there were more signs to follow and this path soon met up with the farm track

that led towards Silkstone Common. About half a mile down the track, the trail veered off to the right on the Dove Valley Trail. This was a very pleasant section of the walk with lovely views and a superb wood to walk through. I was really enjoying this morning’s walk but progress was slower than expected because I kept stopping to take photos. I was about half an hour behind schedule when I stopped for my morning break at Silkstone Common.

Up to now, I hadn’t needed to worry about time but today I wanted to get to the RSPB Reserve for afternoon coffee before the café closed and, since I needed to catch a bus from Harlington (today’s

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destination), I needed to get there before half six (the last of the regular half-hourly service). So, I told myself to stop taking as many photos and asked myself if I could reach the M1 by twelve. The path was pretty enough but nothing particularly worthy of capturing on film and, though my feet hurt and legs ached, I made good progress and reached the M1 at five past twelve. However, progress was thwarted about a mile later when I made an unscheduled stop at Whigfield Farm Café to get my card

stamped and to have a coffee. I then walked a further mile before I found a suitable bench to have my lunch. The Dove Valley Trail continued in similar vein, a tree-lined muddy path, and I felt a lot more weary than usual but this was the longest distance day so far, with close to nineteen miles to cover. Before I met

the junction with the Wakefield/Leeds path, there was a cut off to Wombwell. I followed this up a very steep slope, through a housing estate, across a park and down into the town centre to find my planned Tesco for the next day’s lunch. I then needed to retrace my steps slightly to enable access to the old railway line skirting Wombwell. This was not an exciting section of the TPT, an urban section passing a large industrial estate but it eventually returned to countryside and I arrived at Old Moor, the half-way point, in time for refreshment. The late afternoon was very warm and it was hard to get going again. “Come on legs,” I ordered, “only another five miles to go!” and off I set, at such a pace I was half expecting octogenarians with zimmer frames to come zooming past. But the walk itself was delightful, the River Dearne, trees and colourful fields bathed in the late afternoon, September sunlight. It passed the wetlands of Bolton Ings and followed the Dearne to the road to the village of Harlington. And there, on Doncaster Road, was the

bus stop and I had just eight minutes to wait for the six o’clock bus. Well done, legs, you made it! The bus took me a couple of miles down the road to High Melton to the Stables Hotel, where all I wanted was a nice shower and a rest. I had just reached the accommodation block from reception when the fire alarm went off and I had to stand around waiting for that to be sorted. Luckily it was a false alarm and it wasn’t too long before we were allowed back into the building.

Chapter 11 – Day 8: Harlington to Braithwaite

Good morning, lovely morning. After falling asleep quite early last night I was awake bright and early on day 8. After a very nice continental breakfast with plenty of choice, I made my way back to High Melton bus stop for the 8:43 bus to Harlington,

where I had finished yesterday and where I would begin today’s nineteen mile section. I wasn’t sure what to expect. This was all new territory for me. I noticed from the map that I would be skirting Mexbrough, Conisbrough and Doncaster, which did not fill me with excitement but you never know what you’ll see.

Joining the Harlington dog-walkers, I strolled down Mill Lane to meet the River Dearne once more. It was a pretty walk by the banks of the Dearne, made more atmospheric by a distant morning haze. The path turned into what looked like part of an old railway line and, at one point, I realised I could just see High Melton church, near to where I had stayed last night.

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The trail turned out to be a lot nicer than I expected. After crossing Pastures Road, there was a pretty mere at Denaby Ings nature reserve and the scenery was most attractive past Conisbrough, with its castle in the distance. I did, however, find it quite intimidating walking below, and so close to, a huge viaduct but luckily that didn’t last for long as the path turned and followed the River Don.

The walk along the Don to Sprotbrough was amazingly pretty with Sprotbrough Flash on the left and walks through beautiful tree-lined banks of the Don. Rather than trying to describe it, I’ll let the pictures tell the story.

After crossing under the A1(M), the trail turned north onto another old railway track, which I nicknamed ‘Doncaster By-Pass’. There is not much to say about it. It was a typical walking route along the former railway and, at times, passing through suburban housing estates until, eventually, arriving at the town of Bentley. I was stuck for about ten minutes at the level crossing near Bentley station, which is obviously a very busy line and then I left the TPT and went further into the town centre to pick up the next day’s lunch and then walk round to Bentley Park to eat today’s sandwiches. Walking across the park, after lunch, I re-joined the TPT and headed north. From the map the route seemed to zig-zag all over the place in what looked like the middle of

nowhere. It was a lovely, warm, sunny afternoon. The path was nice and flat and the going was good. The scenery had its moments, though nothing special, but pleasant open countryside. There was a much prettier section at Owston Wood. I had a nice rest, watching trains, near Joan Croft Lane and then started on the final stage of my

journey, which was all on country lanes through Thorpe in Balne to Trumfleet and, finally, Braithwaite. It was half five by the time I reached Braithwaite, a village of no more than a few houses, so I was surprised to see ‘Threeways Café’ welcoming TPT walkers and cyclists. I guessed it was closed by now but the owner was in the garden and happily fetched a coke for me and let me sit at the tables, while I attempted to phone for a taxi to take me to my accommodation in Thorne. That turned out easier said than done. The signal was almost non-existent but I did get through eventually only to find no taxis available. I had no luck until

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the third company who said they could be there in an hour but it took another three phone calls for me to tell them the full address of where I was. Everything worked ok in the end and I settled in to my room in Thorne, comfortable in the knowledge that the same taxi would pick me up tomorrow and take me back to Braithwaite. And so ended day 8. Chapter 12 – Day 9: Braithwaite to Selby After a delicious full breakfast, I felt ready to face another long day of walking, over twenty miles today. With a bit of luck I should make it to Selby. The taxi came exactly when agreed and drove me back to Braithwaite, dropping me off where it had picked me up the day before. It was another nice sunny morning as I set out on today’s adventures.

I knew from the map that just a short walk would bring me to the New Junction Canal, the start of an absolutely straight three mile walk to Sykehouse. It was a pretty enough walk but all the same, though I did manage to snap a Speckled Wood Butterfly.

Sykehouse is a rather sleepy village with no real facilities. There is a pub but that wasn’t open at the time I was there but I found a nice bench and had my own refreshments before moving on, via country lanes and farm tracks, across flat open countryside full of wild flowers and harvested fields, winding

its way to Crow Croft Bridge. It was here I made a bad decision. I decided to follow the alternative walkers’ route by turning right alongside the Aire & Calder Navigation. It looked so simply on the map! By now it had clouded over and become very windy, but I cheerfully set out alongside the canal thinking it’s only about a mile down here, then a left turn to follow a footpath to West Cowick. Then, after only half a mile, there was a post with a TPT little circular sign with an arrow pointing North West. It appeared to be directing me through an opening to a field and across that field but there was no obvious path across that field and it did not concur with the map. I was puzzled. The map said go on straight and I very nearly did that but, at the last minute, I noticed a very deep ditch on my left. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I need to cross this ditch while I could and carry on straight but on the other side of the ditch – wrong decision – I came to a dead end after about half a mile. I didn’t fancy walking all the way back, so pondered whether I could scramble back across the ditch on the proper path. I decided I couldn’t and started to walk back but, thankfully, within a few hundred yards, there was a place I could cross. I was back on the intended path but, shortly after that the path forked right and left and there was a TPT sign telling me to go straight on! I picked the left fork, which was correct but there was no sign at the left turn about a quarter of a mile further on, so I missed that and walked another half mile before hitting signs saying, “Clay Pigeon Shooting – KEEP OUT”. I had to walk

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that half mile back until I found the path I needed, thanks to Google maps! My twenty mile journey would now be at least twenty-one miles. The footpath kept to the edge of fields and, somehow, I felt most unwelcome. It was if signs were missing to discourage people using this path but, despite all that, I did eventually reach West Cowick and, there on the green, I sat and had my lunch, forty-five minutes behind schedule and not at Snaith, as planned.

Snaith was not far, a rather attractive small town with an impressive abbey. The trail follows the main road out of Snaith, crossing the River Aire. Soon after, a path to the left is signposted for walkers to use. This avoids carrying on the busy road and taking a longer route via Carlton. It was a fairly short walk across a field, however I did encounter cows with a bull! I have to admit I am not totally happy to be amongst cows on my own but I’m pleased to report I had no problems with these. Of course, the cows just stared glaringly but the bull carried on eating and so I safely reached the minor road leading to Hirst Courtney.

I remember feeling particularly weary on this stretch. It was a bit of a winding route on minor roads with quite worn and crumbling edges, along farm tracks and country lanes as far as Burn Airfield. I would imagine this is a former WW2 airfield, now used by a gliding club. I sat myself down on a lump of concrete on the airfield’s perimeter, hot, tired and thirsty – and I still had five miles to go! After finishing my water and the longest rest I felt I could give myself, I looked along the straight perimeter path and said to myself, “Come on Andrew, time to move.” I moved slowly at first but soon got into my stride. At the end of the perimeter, another minor road, though quite a number of cars, led me to the Selby Canal and the path followed that for nearly three miles into Selby itself. Was I glad to see Selby? When I reached the main road into Selby, I half hoped a bus would come along but one didn’t and I made it into the centre of Selby, bought enough food to last two days from Morrisons and walked to my hotel adjacent to the Abbey. I certainly slept well that night. Chapter 13 – Day 10: Selby to Blacktoft The forecast seemed good but Saturday morning started out quite dull. I had a rather tasteless breakfast, carried out my now normal routine of preparation and packing and off I set on day 10. I had estimated that today would be a couple of miles shorter journey than yesterday but still at least eighteen and a half! There was just a hint of drizzle in the air as I passed Selby Abbey and made my way out of town across the River Ouse. The trail followed the northern bank of the Ouse, along an industrial part of the river until it reached open country, using a flood bank by the river for miles along the water’s edge, with views over flat

marshes and fields. It would be unfair to say it was boring but there was a lot of the same scenery for miles and miles and the going was not easy on top of that bank. I had planned to stop for a morning break somewhere around Newhay but found nothing suitable and so carried on to the tidal barrage near Barmby on the Marsh. This was probably the prettiest stretch of this stage so far, even though it had started to rain.

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Luckily, it didn’t rain for long but the walk returned to a flood bank by the river with similar views as before and on and on it went. I suppose the overcast skies added to the rather emptiness of the surroundings. I met very few people, just some sheep! But I plodded on quite happily and was so pleased when the landlord at the Ferryboat Inn, Boothferry let me eat my sandwiches in the warm, in his pub. The rest of the walk was of a similar vein, walking along the flood bank of the Ouse, apart from Moorfield Lane to Saltmarshe, which cut out a very long meander of the river. Saltmarshe is a very

attractive village and I sat there for a nice rest and afternoon refreshment, overlooking the river. I was getting slightly worried about the section ahead. There were signs giving notice that the footpath would be closed until later in September unless the work finished early and a map showing the long diversion. I couldn’t face the diversion and, as there was nothing to prevent walkers going through the gate onto the footpath, I decided to risk it.

I’m glad I did because, somewhere near Yokefleet Hall, I heard a loud bleating and I could see down on the other side of the bank a sheep had its head stuck in a wire fence. There was no one else to be seen, so I went to investigate further. The sheep was terrified of me and tried the impossible by attempting to run away through the fence. I did my best to calm it down and managed, not without difficulty, to stretch the wires where its neck was trapped. Gradually, I persuaded to sheep to walk backwards and was able to fit one of its ears through the wire and suddenly the head became

free and the sheep ran off. Just then a couple came walking along the bank and, after I had told them my story, they informed me they had walked from Blacktoft and were on their way back. That was a relief to me. Blacktoft was my destination for the day and they now had confirmed that the footpath was passable all the way. Everything worked out as planned. I reached the Hope and Anchor at Blacktoft, had a lovely meal, phoned for a taxi and, with the sun setting over the Ouse, I was chauffeured to my hotel for the night. I, of course, arranged for the taxi to take me back to Blacktoft the next day.

Chapter 14 – Day 11: Blacktoft to Hessle Sunday morning, day 11, the sun was shining, the water sparkling and a steady breeze was blowing off the river. There was not a soul to be seen as I set off along the flood bank from the Hope and Anchor, Blacktoft. Refreshed from a good night’s rest, exhilarated by the morning air and more relaxed, knowing this will be a slightly shorter walk than the last two days, only about sixteen miles, I strode out looking for my destination, knowing that I was likely to see it long before I reached it, the Humber Bridge.

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The route followed the river for the first three miles over similar terrain to yesterday. However, the grass was very dewy and wet and, at times, I used the parallel lane instead of the bank. At Faxfleet the River Ouse and the River Trent come together to form the River Humber. The scenery gradually changed from marshes to arable fields with distant views of the Yorkshire Wolds. Just after Weighton Lock the track left the river and headed inland to the pretty village of Broomfleet and near the level crossing on the far side of the village I found a nice bench to sit and have my morning rest and refreshment, plus watch the trains! Did you know that Trans Pennine Trains are faster than Trans Pennine Trails?

The walk continued using minor roads following Ings Lane and Crabley Lane until it reached the river once more. I happily wandered along the waterside for a couple of miles or so, as far as Brough marina, where there was a very pleasant place to sit in the sun, watch estuary birds and eat my lunch.

From Brough there were some more worrying notices about the footpath being closed but, it was a Sunday and lots of people seemed to be using it, so I followed suit. It was a very windy stretch of the river past the BAe works as

far as the pretty Welton Water. Here the trail turned inland through an attractive wooded section to the working area of North Ferriby and on to the town itself, where a Co-op awaited my custom, as did the Duke of Cumberland pub. After a refreshing drink and rest in the pub, I made my way down the main street, past the church to reach the Humber again on

the Yorkshire Wolds Way and here I had my first full view of today’s destination, the Humber Bridge. I had seen the towers earlier and, to be honest, the bridge didn’t seem any closer! But I plodded on, on this busy stretch of the path, full of Sunday afternoon walkers and cyclists, which made a pleasant change to the loneliness of the long distance walker. Gradually, and I mean very gradually, the Humber Bridge appeared closer and closer, until, at last, I was standing under it. The footpath was officially closed at this point but everyone was stepping over the barrier, so I did likewise and made my way to my B&B in Hessle.

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At this point, I feel I should inform readers that between 1972 and 1974, I studied at Hull College of Commerce (now the Centre for Business & Enterprise) and I hadn’t been back to this area since. My memory of Hessle was the smell of fish when the fishing boats came in but how things have changed. The area around the Humber Bridge was now an attractive area for views, walks, refreshments and relaxation and the centre of Hessle seemed much better than I remembered.

Chapter 15 – Day 12 – Hessle to Hornsea Monday morning dawned bright and sunny and I awoke early. This was my last day. If all went to plan, that evening I would be in Hornsea, just twenty one miles away, and would have completed the TPT. I tweaked the words of a famous song to put on Facebook: And now, the end is near And so I face the final section My friends, I’ll make it clear I’ll walk North East, in that direction I’ve lived a time of fun I’ve travelled each and every by-way But more, much more than this, I did it my way.

I felt excited. Not only was it the final stretch, I would also be passing my old haunts in Hull. I left the Humber Bridge behind and set out to follow the river to Hull. The start was less than exciting. It followed a pavement by an industrial estate road right next to the extremely busy A63 dual

carriageway but soon, a path cutting through the industrial estate brought me back to the river. The route then followed the river all the way to the centre of Hull and, although there were some picturesque views over the water, on the other side was the busy road, followed by a very, slightly

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intimidating, derelict old port area and then a huge retail park, where a humped zebra crossed, before reaching the Albert Dock and the intriguing note on the map, “Steps over warehouse roofs”.

It was a bit of a maze through the Albert Dock area but well sign posted and I soon arrived at the city area, stopping at the Humber Dock Marina for a coffee and then diverting slightly from the TPT via the cobbled High Street to Queens Gardens and my old college, joining the TPT again at the bridge over the River Hull.

The trail from this point became less interesting, working its way through the industrial estates of Hull and depressing me further with a sign telling me I still had fourteen miles to go. But, hey-ho, fourteen miles is better than twenty-one and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. The route soon reaches the Hornsea Rail Trail and this old railway track is followed all the way to Hornsea old station. Just be careful soon after an old railway bridge, when leaving Hull. The path divides, one straight on and

one bearing right. The only sign is a small sticker on a lamppost saying NCN66 straight on and NCN65 right. There is no mention of the TPT and the map does not show this junction. The map looks as though you should carry on straight but it also says that it’s NCN65. I asked a local who confirmed I should take the right hand path, NCN65.

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My trusty boots plodded on. The route was unremarkable. To start with, it goes through the Hull suburb of Sutton and then into fairly flat agricultural land with a few villages dotted around. I found a bench in the shade, at a park near Robson Way, for lunch and then trudged wearily on to the old platforms of New Ellerby station for an afternoon break before the final section. There’s not a lot to say about the walk and it is probably best described by pictures.

The last mile or so, from the sign for the Hornsea Mere Loop, felt never ending. I knew I was close but the path kept going on and on and, when I eventually reached the town of Hornsea and crossed the road, another path, taking me uphill, informed me that I still had half a mile to go and, as yet, I had seen nothing of the sea. After another what felt like a mile, I passed the quarter of a mile post and very wearily plodded on to the old station, where, at last, I could see the sea

and there, at the bottom of the avenue was the TPT seamark, I had made it all the way and ceremoniously cast my pebble from Southport on Hornsea beach.

The walking was not over, however. I wandered over to the Leisure Centre to receive the final stamp on my card

and then had another gruelling, half mile walk back through the town, past the very attractive parish church, to my hotel. But I did treat myself to a celebration drink on arrival!

I’m not sure how I felt that night. I had achieved what I had set out to achieve. I had enjoyed the whole walk, even the rain and the weariness both added to the adventure but I was glad I only had one day of rain. I had learnt that nettles can sting through trousers; sheep get their heads stuck in fences and you can never find a bench when you want one. It was so interesting to see so many changing aspects of England as I travelled from coast to coast and I felt quite proud that I have managed to raise £2,717.25 for the British Heart Foundation.

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The next morning I caught the 9:18 bus to Hull and, with three nettle stings and three insect bites and a lot more tanned than when I started, I took the train back to Stockport. Would I do it again? Possibly not. I might do a similar walk one day but it does take careful preparation and planning, lots of time and lots of money. I estimate that the total cost of the twelve day walk amounted to £1,100. Thank you all at the TPT, with your maps and signs I made it from the Irish Sea to the North Sea, crossing the Pennines.