A wander around Sale Water Park

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I’d been stuck in the house for a few days so yesterday I was keen go out. The weather wasn’t so great so I decided to go into Manchester. There was something I needed that at one time I could have bought in the town centre, a 15 minute walk away. However, with many main retailers either going bust or moving to out of town centres I would now have to either drive to an out of town shopping centre or go into one of the bigger city centres to make a purchase* . I hate the former so taking the train into Manchester was my preferred option. There was only one shop I needed to go to so I decided to extend the day by exploring Sale Water Park, which is a popular place for easy walks not far from the city centre.

My train arrived at Victoria train where I was able to hop onto a tram on the airport line. It trundled slowly through the city centre, speeding up after Deansgate, so took about half an hour or so to reach the stop for the Water Park.

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Metrolink tram – picture from Wikipedia

The water park, with a lake, woodland and meadows, lies between Stretford and Sale, south of the River Mersey, which, before 1974, formed the boundary between Lancashire and Cheshire. The land used to belong to Sale Hall, which was demolished in 1920. The lake was formed in the 1970s by the flooding of a gravel pit excavated to provide material for the construction of an embankment for the M63, which is now part of the M60. The Motorway forms the southern boundary of the park. The lake is popular with water sports enthusiasts – but there were none to be seen on a cold grey winter’s day.

I didn’t have a definite route I wanted to follow but wandered around, in some cases retracing my steps. The map below gives a rough indication of my route around the lake and along the river bank but my meandering increased the distance by another mile or so. Rather than return to the Water Park tram stop I decided to cross the motorway and head over to the Bridgewater canal and walk down the towpath to Sale. I used to go here very frequently in the 1980’s (for reasons I won’t go into), but haven’t been there for quite some time, so I had a brief mooch around the centre before catching the tram back to the City Centre. Sale tram station is on the line between Altrincham and Manchester. Before converted for trams it used to be a normal commuting rail line along which I frequently travelled to Altrincham for a number of years (you’ll have to guess why 😉).

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As well as being a leisure resource, the lake is used as part of the flood defence system for this part of the Mersey basin. The land is a flood plain – that’s why the height of the motorway had to be raised 30 feet above ground level here. The river level is monitored by the Environment Agency and if it rises to a dangerous level, a sluice gate can be opened allowing water to flow from the river into the water park. Access for walkers is then restricted.

There were plenty of other people walking around the lake and along the river, including what was clearly a walking group. It’s popular as a green space in the midst of the conurbation. The downside is the M60 – 10 lanes wide along this stretch. It’s very busy and so close that the roar of the traffic is inescapable. Being a saddo occupational hygienist (albeit now retired) I used an app on my phone to measure the noise level**. I found the noise distracting and intruding and it spoiled the walk to some extent. I doubt I’d choose to return soon.

This noticeboard provided some information about the park
One of the wooded areas in the park
Looking across the lake
It was a grey day, although the sun broke out later during the walk
The lake attracts water fowl including swans, geese, mallards, coots and tufted ducks. I also saw a grebe diving for fish in one of the quieter parts of the lake.
The Mersey. Quite different to how it looks at Liverpool
A turbulent stretch of the Mersey
The Bridgewater canal near Dane Road
Street art alongside the canal towpath
Looking into the sun on the towpath near Sale
Sale Town Hall. The Registry Office is inside. I know someone who got married here 😉 (actually I know a few more people who had their weddings here as well)

*I could rant on about this, but decided against it !

** On the side of of the lake closest to the motorway I measured an Leq of almost 70 dB(A) and it was 75 dB(A) on the path alongside road in the park on the south side. Obviously I wasn’t using a proper, calibrated meter, but the results should provide a reasonable estimate.

Stoodley Pike from Todmorden

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Now I have more free time I keep an eye on the weather forecast and look out for a decent day for a longer walk. There’s not been so many of those lately (well, it is January) but Thursday looked promising, so I decided to catch the train to Todmorden.

I left home under a gloomy sky but by the time I arrived the cloud had burned off and I was greeted with a blue sky and sunshine, albeit with some cloud hanging around. I’d originally planned on going up the moors to the north west of the town, up to the Bride Stones, but looking north east I could see the monument atop of Stoodley Pike and was tempted to change my route and head up there. Although I’ve climbed this hill quite a few times now, I’ve mainly been up from Hebden Bridge and only once from Todmorden. Then I’d gone up via the Calderdale Way but this time I decided on a different route, following the canal before climbing up to the small village / hamlet of Mankinholes and then onwards up onto the moors. There were several options for the return journey.

I’d been a little late getting up so took a later train than planned, which, given the early sunset (about half four) , meant I had to keep an eye on the time so that I didn’t end up being on the moors in the dark. However, I reckoned I’d be able to make it back in time.

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Walking along the towpath I was soon out of the town and starting to walk in more open countryside. An easy walk of about 5 miles would have taken me to Hebden Bridge but my route would leave the canal after a couple of miles.
In the Calderdale there’s plenty of reminders of its industrial past and heritage. This old mill looked like it had been converted into flats.
As I was late setting off, I hadn’t made up a flask of coffee and, on a sunny, but still chilly day, was beginning to regret that. However, I’d spotted a couple of people walking towards me on the towpath clutching takeaway coffee cups and, sure enough soon came across the Moonbean Coffee Boat, moored up on the canal. So, of course, I had to stop to give myself a caffeine boost! I bought an Americano and sat down to drink it, taking the opportunity to eat one of my sandwiches while I chatted with Molly, the barista, and one of her customers. The boat travels up and down the Rochdale canal, mooring up for a few days at different locations, which Molly (who lives on a narrowboat) publicises via Instagram and Facebook. (It was good coffee too).
Just after the coffee boat, I left the canal at the next bridge and started the climb up the hill out of the valley. After a stretch of steep tarmac, there was a clear path through the fields and woodland. Inevitably it was a little muddy underfoot, but not too bad. This is the view looking back down to the canal, from part way up the hill.
At the top of the hill the path levelled off, proceeding in a fenced passage between fields along a paved causey . The paving stones were in the centre of the passage what, in Cumbria, they would call a lonning. This was clearly an old, established route. It was possibly part of a packhorse or maybe just the way locals made their way across what would have been boggy ground, going to and from their work in the mills or otherwise travelling up and down the countryside. The paving was deteriorating, with some of the paving stones dislodged or missing. The ground to either side was broken up and muddy due to the passage of farm animals, and most of the paving stones were covered in mud, so care was needed to keep my eyes on the ground so as not to slip. However, I couldn’t resist casting my eyes over to the moors.

The route reached a farm and a small hamlet and then joined the narrow road towards mankinholes.

In a field to the right of the road I spotted what looked like an ancient cross, probably medieval. However, I haven’t been able to find any information about it. It wasn’t accessible by a right of way so I couldn’t get close up to it.
After a mile or so I reached Mankinholes, passing the Youth Hostel.
The hamlet is an old settlement, probably with originns in the 13th Century. Today it consists of a small number of 17 and 18th century buildings, nicely restored, once occupied by agricultrural workers and hand loom weavers.
The houses have the typical rows of mullioned windows that allowed maximum light into the first floor work rooms for hand loom weavers and home spinners.
An old, very long, trough, still fed by a stream, which would have been used to slake the thirst of packhorses passing through the hamlet and also for cooling milk churns.
Unusual sheep!
I took a broad path between the fields until I reached another causey that climbs up towards the moor. At one time this was a major route and stone flags had been laid down to make the going easier for the pack horses and ponies. The flags were well worn indicating their age and the number of feet – human as well as animal – that had made their way up and down the hill. Now it was my turn!
The causey took me most of the way up the moor, although I turned off it towards the top onto a well defined path for the last stretch. I then started towards the monument. There was a broad path (the Pennine Way crosses along here) but at first this was very muddy so I dodged between rocks and muddy patches to keep my boots relatively dry. After a while, the condition of the main path improved, the surface covered by grit that had probably been worn away by the weather from the millstone grit rocks and boulders that litter the ground along the moor. There was a cold wind blowing from the south, behind me, but I was well wrapped up. Reaching the monument I stopped for a while to take in the views and re-fuel, the monument providing some relief from the cold wind (a flask of coffee would have been nice!)
This was the view west towards Bridestones Moor and with Todmorden to the far left.
The view north across the moor towards Hebden Bridge with Heptonstal and Chiserley visible on the higher ground. I now had a decision to make regarding my route back. I thought about carrying on to Hebden Bridge, but having walked to the Pike to and from the town a number of times I fancied something different. One option was to drop down Pikeand then take the Pennine Bridleway route that passes southwards along the foot of the hill. However, I knew from previous experience that the track can be very muddy with deep puddles in winter. So, given the time restriction to avoid having to walk back across country in the dark, I decided to retrace my tracks back along the ridge and descend down the causey, heading towards Lumbutts.
At the bottom of the hill I joined the road across from the double decker chapel. It was only constructed in 1911, replacing an earlier building. The ground floor was used for the Sunday School with the main chapel above it.
I carried on along the road towards Lumbutts village passing the site of the old textile mill. Most of the mill buildings except for this unusual tower The mill was water powered and the tower contained three water wheels, one on top of the other, powered from lodges (small reservoirs) on the hills above.
Following the route of the Calderdale Way, I carried on along the road through the village then joining paths through the fields that would take me back to Todmorden. I passed a number of old, traditional houses which are now expensive, desirable residences
Looking back, as sunset was approaching, Stoodley Pike was lit up by the low sun.
I carried on along the Calderdale way through fields and along a country lane, eventually arriving at the small former textile town down in the bottom of the narrow valley.
Crossing over the Rochdale canal, I popped down onto the towpath
to take a look at the mural
and some of the narrowboats moored up along the canal side.
Returning to street level, I headed towards the station. Historically, although now part of West Yorkshire, Todmorden used to be split by the border between Lancashire and Yorkshire which ran along the Calder river. The neo-Classical Town Hall actually straddles the border.
There are two direct trains to Wigan from Todmorden, so I didn’t have long to wait for one on the platform. The sun set soon after.
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A cultural day in Manchester

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Last Tuesday we took the train over to Manchester to visit the Whitworth Gallery. The excellent exhibition by the self taught indigenous Peruvian artist Santiago Yahuarcani recently and the main gallery is being prepared for a new exhibition devoted to the work of Delaine Le Bas that opens in February. However, a couple of new exhibitions had opened that we hadn’t seen.

Rethinking Abstract Art was devoted to a relatively small number of works from the Whitworth’s own collection.

From the early 20th century to today, artists around the world have re-defined abstraction, using colour, form and gesture to express ideas, emotions and cultural connections. Rethinking Abstract Art presents rarely seen and recently acquired works from the Whitworth collection, that celebrates the bold, imaginative possibilities of abstract art.

I took some snaps of works I found particularly interesting, especially where I didn’t know the artist. One such work was a painting by Mali Morris. A god Welsh name for someone born in and grew up in North Wales.

Black Iris II (1990) by Mali Morris

This large canvas is by John McLean, a self-taught painter, born in Liverpool, raised in Arbroath but spent most of his life in London.

Sweet Briar (1980) by John McLean

Looking at these two artists’ websites, there seems to be quite a lot of similarities between their works – abstract paintings, usually using bold colours, with some paintings reminding me a little of the paper cut out works by Matisse.

Gillian Ayres (along with Peter Lanyon who had a paining on display) was probably one of the better known artists featured in the exhibition, having shortlisted for the Turner Prize in 1989. She had two paintings in the exhibition. This one produced using thick layers of paint (impasto), which is characterisitc of her later work.

Galatea (1981-2) by Gillian Ayres

The other more well known artist was Peter Lanyon, associated with the St Ives School – he was born in the town. He was a keen glider and many of his paintings, including Glider Path, were inspired by the landscape viewed from his cockpit during flights. Unfortunately his enthusiasm for flight led to his death at a relatively early age during a gliding accident in 1964

Glide Path (1944) by Peter lanyon.

One aspect of the exhibition I found interesting was the display of textiles with abstract patterns designed by artists including Ban Nicholson and Barbara Hepworth.

The other new exhibition Turner in Time featured watercolours by Joseph Mallord William Turner, as part of the Gallery’s programme marking the 250th anniversary since his birth. The Whitworth is fortunate to own the largest publicly held collection of his watercolours outside London, and the exhibition was curated to trace Turner’s development and innovation over his career. 

To appreciate Turner’s decision to fully embrace watercolour, it is important to consider how the medium was viewed early in his career. The artist began exhibiting watercolours at the Royal Academy’s (RA) Annual Exhibition in 1790, six years before his first oil painting was shown. For artists of this period, the RA provided a vital outlet to display work and attract commissions and patrons. Yet those who worked exclusively in watercolours were often overlooked by the Academy and critics. For Turner, however, watercolour presented new possibilities and markets. 

Exhibition website

Unsurprisingly, there were a large number of paintings to view. I snapped just a few of my favourites (reflections didn’t make it easy to take phots, though).

The first couple are of sights I know very well. This one a view of Conway Castle from south side of the fortress perched high on its rock. There have been quite a few changes since he painted it – no railway bridge or car park of course, and the castle looks a little more intact than today. However, like many artists of his time (and today!) he would often modify the scene to emphasise its “picturesque” or “sublime” aspect.

Conway Castle, Caernarvonshire (c 1801-2) by JMW Turner

This painting of a view over Ullswater from Gowbarrow Fell is one I know well. Again, Turner has interpreted the view, exaggerating the height of some of the mountains.

Ullswater Lake from Gowbarrow Park, Cumberland (1815) by JMW Turner

During a holiday on the Northumberland coast several years ago we visited Dunstanborough castle, so this looks familiar. I think it’s viewed from Caster

Dunstanborough castle, Nothumberland (c1828) by JMW Turner

The next two I selected for their drama and abstract qualities. If you didn’t know better it would be easy to mistake them for works by Monet or one of the other Impressionist painters, who were surely inspired and influenced by Turner.

A Conflagration, Regensburg, Germany; the Neupfarrikirche from an upper floor of Drei Helmen Hotel (1840) by JMW Turner
Sunset on Wet Sand (1845) by JMW Turner

We also revisited the other exhibitions, Performing Trees, Recoverist Curators and Everyday Art School, all worth a look around. I didn’t take any photos, except for one of this little watercolour, “Celestial Body above the Cabin”, (also known, “Moon Over the Cottage“),  by a favourite artist, Paul Klee.

Before leaving the Gallery we had a closer look at a rather spooky sculpture outside the Gallery in the park

Afterwards we caught the bus up Oxford Road and then made our way by foot across to Home (which I always think is a daft name for an Arts venue) where we had tickets to see a film. After a gloomy, wet stat to the day it was turning into a bright afternoon and I snapped a few shots of the renovated Dunlop factory, contrasting with the modern (and more anonymous and uninteresting) modern tall steel and glass buildings that keep springing up in Manchester, as we passed.

I visited this building, probably 30 odd years ago, when it was a working rubber factory. No longer. Today it’s being converted into fancy pants flats.

The film we’d booked to see was Hamnet, which is getting a lot of plaudits for the performances of the two principal actors, particularly Jessie Buckley who played Agnes Hathaway, and who is one of the favourites for the Oscar for leading actress. Her performance was certainly very powerful as was that of Paul Mescal as William Shakespeare. I enjoyed the film although I thought the plot, and Jessie Buckley’s role, was rather one dimensional, concentrating on the grief of the parents, neglecting other aspects of the story. I’d been to Home to see Sentimental Value, the Norwegian film directed by Joachim Trier, which is also a favourite for an Oscar as is its main actress, Renate Reinsve. Personally, I thought that was a better film and the performance by Renate, who I felt was very good, was much more rounded. But each to their own and I don’t have vote. (Anyway I’m sure the Orange Clown will have a tantrum and claim he should be given the Oscar for his highly emotional performances. He seems to want all the other trophies)

Before leaving Home to catch the train to our home we had a quick look around the exhibition in the main Gallery; Roots in the Sky, which shows works by works by ten contemporary artists curated by British-Nigerian artist Tunji Adeniyi-Jones. This three piece of impressionistic sunsets over the Caribbean Sea was my favourite

Father Stretch My Arms (2025) by Alvaro Barrington

Ramblers’ walk from Lytham to Blackpool

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The first Saturday of 2026 I was out with the Ramblers for a walk along the coast from Lytham to Blackpool. We had a good day for it; cold and sunny with a bright blue sky, but walking along the beach there was a head wind, a northerly blasting us with sand (well, blasting is something of an exaggeration). It seems that it’s become a tradition for the Wigan and District Ramblers to walk along this section of coast for the first walk of the year, varying the route and direction from year to year.

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The coach dropped the “long walk” group off near the Lytham windmill while those planning to walk the shorter route stayed on for a few more miles.

Initially, we turned inland to walk through Witch Wood that runs along the railway line for a mile or so. It’s obviously popular with locals, especially dog walkers as, on a fine day, there were plenty of people walking along the path in both directions, blowing away the cobwebs after the Christmas festivities.

Heather, one of the group, was keen to find the Witch’s grave – she’d been here a couple of times before and was unsuccessful, but this time managed to locate it. So this is where the witch was buried. The headstone doesn’t give anything away.

The Witch, was actually a horse, a favourite of the local big wigs, the Cliftons of nearby Lytham Hall, which fell and died in the wood on 5 January 1888.

Leaving the wood we made our way back to the coast by the boating lake. Nobody out on the water today!

We walked around the lake and a little further on along the prom we stopped for a break by the full sized Spitfire monument.

We had a considerably longer stop than planned as one of the group, wo really wasn’t up to the longer walk was well off the pace and was in danger of getting left behind. The group leader went back to talk to him and persuaded him to take a taxi to the end of the route. I think that was definitely the right decision.

We carried on now joining the route through the sandhills and along the beach to St Annes Pier.

It was busy with walkers.

On the Prom, just after the pier the Sunken Gardens, (also known as the Les Dawson Garden due to his statue located in the middle of the square) surrounded by sheltered benches, was the ideal spot to stop for our dinner out of the wind (and a quick visit to the loos on the pier – 20 p’s needed).

After a break we resumed our walk along the beach, head on into the wind, carrying on until we reached the Prom at Blackpool South Shore. The headwind made it a tougher walk than you’d think looking at the map and the fairly large group started to spread out. A couple of the group were starting to lag behind, and I hung back acting as an unofficial back marker to make sure they made it to rejoin the everyone else who waited at the start of the prom.

After regrouping, we carried on along the prom as far as the South Pier (Blackpool still has three of them) where we crossed the road to the facing pub where the short walk group had already just arrived.

We stayed in the pub for an hour or so before reboarding the coach which was parked up on the road nearby.

I’m not a great fan of Blackpool (unlike when I was young) which I find rather brassy and somewhat tacky. However Lytham and Saint Annes were always much more genteel and the coast along her (alongside the Ribble estuary at Lytham) is very pleasant and I enjoyed the walk. Relatively easy as it was essentially flat terrain, although the headwind and, in places, the loose sand underfoot, meant it waw a little more difficult than might first appear.

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Ashurst Beacon from Appley Bridge

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On the 2nd January I caught the train to Appley Bridge – a short ride of only 2 stops from Wigan – for a walk up to Ashurst Beacon. It wasn’t my first walk of the year as I’d been for a shortish wander in the Plantations on New Year’s Day. My walk took me from the village up to the top of the hill and then down to the canal for an easy stroll back to the station. It was a potentially muddy route but it was a cold, clear day so, higher up at least, the ground was hard underfoot, although it was muddy lower down for the final stretch to the canal, so I didn’t manage to avoid getting my boots dirty as well as the bottom of my trouser legs. I should have worn my gaiters to save some washing!

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I crossed over the canal bridge and set off down the road.

Shortly after the bridge I could have taken the path through the fields but as that tends to be muddy even during fairly dry spells I carried on along the road, turning down Lees Lane before leaving the tarmac as I climbed up the hill.

Looking back across the fields as I climbed there were good views across to the West Lancashire Moors

I varied my route slightly from the other times I’d been up to the Beacon, and passed Stone Hall, a Grade 2 listed building, from the early 18th Century.

I carried on along the lane and turned off onto a path climbing along the edge of the fields that took me to Long Heys Lane, a narrow tarmacked road. A short walk on the tarmac, passing behind the now derelict Prince William. I used to bring visitors up to this former pub and restaurant when I had an office in Orrell, 2 or 3 miles away so I was sad to see it in such a poor condition. It was shut by the brewery (Robinsons) back in 2020. Another victim of the Covid lockdown, perhaps.

Turning of the road it was a short walk along to the Beacon.

The tower, a Grade 2 Listed Building, was built in 1798 for Sir William Ashurst as a watch tower to warn of a French invasion in the lead up to the Napoleonic War. before the trees were planted and grown there was a good view all around including to the coast at Liverpool and Southport. It’s likely that this was also the site of an earlier relay beacon from the Elizabethan period when there was a threat of invasion by an earlier enemy, the Spanish.

It was cold in the wind but I sheltered behind the structure for a bite to eat and a drink of hot Vimto from my flask. I got chatting with the father of a family, who used to come up as a boy.

The tower and it’s surroundings was left to Wigan Corporation in 1962 “for the enjoyment of the people of Wigan“. although it’s now in West Lancashire District (although one of the people of Wigan was there to enjoy it!). The plaque commemorating this, however, disappeared from the side of the tower some time ago.

Moving on, I descended down quiet lanes and paths towards the canal

with views across to the West Pennines (with Pendle Hill just visible)

and Parbold Hill across the Douglas Valley.

At the bottom of the hill there was a short walk along Lees Lane which I’d turned off to climb the hill, before I took a path towards the canal, part of it being rather slutchy.

The path crossed the River Douglas

just before I reached the Leeds Liverpool canal at Bridge 40.

I had a few options here but decided to take the easy route along the canal towpath back to Appley Bridge

I made my way back to the train station where I had a wait of about 20 minutes for my train.

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Wallace & Gromit in A Case at the Museum

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2025-12-31 17:11:03

New Years Eve we took the train into Preston. Reading a post by Bowland Climber reminded me that we wanted to see the exhibition of models, sets and drawings from the Wallace and Gromit films at the Harris Museum, and it was due to finish on the 4th January, so we thought we’d better get our skates on or we’d miss it.

In my teenage years I regularly travelled the 9 miles to Preston on the bus or train to see concerts at the Guild Hall, visit a model shop on Friargate and, occasionally, attend a political meeting. Since then, however, I’ve only passed through on the way to somewhere else. So it was interesting to reacquaint myself with the part of the town centre and see how it had changed on our way from the station to the Harris, a fine Victorian Neo-Classical building. The Museum had only re-opened in September after a 4 year renovation and revamp.

We caught the first off-peak train as I’d been alerted by BC’s post that he’d had to queue for an hour and arriving at the Harris there was a long line on the flags which continued into the building. Forewarned is forearmed, so we knew what to expect, and yes, it took us about an hour before we were allowed to enter the gallery with the exhibits. Would it be worth it?

It was!

This wasn’t the first time we’d been to an exhibition of Aardman Animations’ work – we’d seen one when visiting Paris in 2015. The Preston one wasn’t as big, but it had a good selection of exhibits.

Nick Park was, born in Preston and grew up a few miles away (like someone else born the year before), and his work is reflects his upbringing with many northern references. He also often includes references to well known films.

On entering, the first exhibit we saw, below a plan of the exhibition, was a street sign for the fictional street where the plasticine duo live at No. 62.

In a number of the films (including The Wrong Trousers) there are clear references to it being in Wigan.

It was fantastic being able to see the models and sets covering the series from the first film – A Grand Day Out – to the most recent – Vengeance Most Fowl. The detail in them is incredible – obsessive really as much of it hardly appears on screen, if at all, in the films.

The Lunar Robot from A Grand Day Out
The space rocket from A Grand Day Out
One of the sets from The Curse of the Were Rabbit
Another set from The Curse of the Were Rabbit
A set from Vengeance Most Fowl
Feathers McGraw
Lady Tottington
Sean the sheep with Preston (!!!) the robot dog from A Close Shave
Top Bun a reference to the film Top Gun?
The Accrington Queen – a clear reference to the Bogart and Hepburn Film, The African Queen. Look closely and you can see the number 1952 – the year the film was released

It was also interesting to be able to see the selection of concept drawings, which show how the characters evolved and developed from conception to screen, and examples of film storyboards.

Early conceptual drawings
Storyboard from A Close Shave

Some exhibits shoed some of the technical aspects of making the films

This exhibit showed the interchangeable mouths for Wallace, used to represent different sounds.

This exhibit shows how the models are structured on a metal skeleton, allowing movement.

We spent over an about looking around. Afterwards we wanted to take a look at the other exhibits in the Museum, but having been on our feet for 2 hours we decided to go for a sit down and a bite to eat. We found a cafe in the Market Hall. Just outside there was a statue.

Preston is less than 15 minutes from Wigan on the Avanti train (20 minutes on the northern service to Blackpool). We decided we needed to go back soon to look round the rest of the Museum.

A local walk on Boxing Day

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It’s become a personal tradition that on Boxing Day morning, when the rest of the family are still tucked up in bed, I go out for a walk. For quite a few years we’ve been away for Christmas but this year we stopped at home so I stayed on familiar territory with a walk around the Plantations, up to Haigh Hall and back through the fields, diverting into town to visit Waterstones to browse the half price books in their post Christmas sale. It was a beautiful day – clear blue skies with hardly a cloud visible and not very cold. Perfect conditions for a winter walk!

We’re lucky in Wigan with a lot of green space close to the town centre. It’s hard to believe that the quiet woods, fields and flashes (small lakes) were once dominated by noise, dirt and smoke from mining and metal working, now reclaimed by Nature (and Mankind) but look closely and there’s still evidence of the industrial past.

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Following the path along the Dougie past the flood relief dam at the bottom of Coppull Lane, I turned off into Bottling Wood, descending and crossing Yellow Brook near the Great Haigh Sough and then followed the main carriageway through the Lower Plantations towards the canal bridge.

The mature beech woodland was created in the 1860s to hide the condition of a landscape damaged by coal and iron mining and as a work creation scheme for local workers affected by the Lancashire cotton famine caused by the American Civil War. The Yellow Brook got it’s name due to the yellow colour due to the waste water contaminated with iron compounds from the Great Haigh Sough (a tunnel or adit constructed between 1653 and 1670) which drains the old mine workings under the Plantations. The sough’s outlet and two metres of the tunnel is a scheduled monument.

Today the brook isn’t yellow as the discharges from the sough are pumped to a treatment facility and cleaned in reed beds before being returned to the brook. The name remains, however!

A narrowboat sailed under the bridge as I crossed over, carrying on along the canal.

A short distance after the canal bridge I turned off the carriageway and joined a path through the woods that emerged by the lodge at the Higher Lane entrance to the Woodland Park.

The entrance gates here were installed fairly recently and include a shovel and pickaxe motif, reminding us of of the mining that took place in the area The gates were fabricated by Wigan-based metal specialists Lost Art and cast at Haigh Foundry by JT&E Castings.

I carried on through the park taking a route that took me above Haigh Hall, the former home of the Baron of Wigan, Earl of Crawford and Earl of Balcarres (that’s one person with three – at least – titles), the major land and mine owner hereabouts.

The hall is currently being restored after many years of being neglected and wasted as a resource, including, most recently, an inauspicious attempt to turn into a hotel, leasing it out to a dubious “entrepreneur” who attempted to restrict access to parts of the park. When completed it’s planned to include an art gallery, education area for children, event space for weddings and parties, rooftop terrace, restaurant and bar. Wigan has been a cultural black hole for far too long so this could be a welcome start of a change of direction.

Leaving the Woodland Park along School Lane and then turned down Pendlebury Lane, bordered by fields (and the Haigh hall golf course on one side for a while). Being on a slightly elevated position there are extensive views over the Lancashire plain. On a good day there are clear views over to the Lake District fells, but long range visibility was’t too good this time.

I passed the “two trees” that I always photograph when I’m walking along here. Consequently I have a comprehensive series of shots documenting how they change over the seasons.

The lane crosses over the canal

and then continues through more fields, the ones on the left created by draining what was once marshland.

Further along I reached the old Douglas Valley viaduct, once part of a spur on the Whelley Loop line. The path goes under the last arch at the south end of the structure. I’ve walked under it countless times but never really taken much notice of the rest of it but this time I decided to explore following a path that ran parallel to it down as far as the river.

Opened in 1882 the now derelict viaduct is 1,000 feet long and 50 feet high. There are eight brick arches at its northern end, six girder spans and five further arches to the south. It was known locally as The Twenty Arches despite there only being nineteen. It closed in the early 1970’s.

It’s quite an impressive structure, somewhat out of the way and difficult to access.

The track continues from here following the course of the River Douglas, merging with Leyland Mill Lane by the site of a former forge (now a posh gated housing estate). Further on are the remains of the Haigh Foundry, once a major undertaking producing iron fabrications including steam locomotives. It’s also reputed to have constructed the Isle of Man’s Laxey Wheel.

I turned off up Hall lane passing a number of old dwellings including Rose Cottage

Shortly after this I turned down a track toward the Receptacle, former Alms Houses built in 1772, now converted into three modern dwellings.

A path took me back into he plantations and I made my way along an embankment. I’d always thought this had been constructed as part of the Haigh hall estate as a recreational path however, I recently discovered that it was actually a railway embankment built to take trains to and from the Haigh foundry. To one side there is a distinct ditch which I now understand was once a canal, again serving the foundry (most likely pre-dating the rail track).

I carried on through the woods but rather than head straight back home I exited at Haigh View at the end of Springfield Street and then joined Wigan Lane, heading into town and the delights of a genuine sale at Waterstones. There’s several notable structures on the Lane on the way into the town centre, including Monument mansions, one of the few Modernist buildings in Wigan. I haven’t been able to find out much about this block of flats other than it was designed by a local architect John White Tate 

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A walk around Astley Park

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A few days before Christmas I travelled over to Chorley to visit family and pick up a few bits and bobs from the Supermarket. I wasn’t in a rush so for a change I took the bus rather than have to cope with the Christmas traffic and struggle for parking.

On the way back to the bus station I passed the main entrance to Astley Park. It was a nice day, so decided to go for a wander. I spent many an hour here in my youth, as it was the local park, and with my secondary school and its playing fields on the southern boundary, we were sent cross country running around it. No running for me this time though! Instead I walked along the main carriageway towards the focal point of the grounds, the Tudor Astley Hall which was built by the local Charnock family around 1575-1600. It looked quite different when it was first built – a timber-framed house, around a small courtyard. Some modifications were made just after the Restoration of Charles II, but it retains the original Elizabethan style.

The building exterior had been spruced up since I was last here.

The house wasn’t open for visitors (it’s been a while since I looked around the house so must return soon) so after taking a few snaps I carried on walking, following the path downhill towards the south western entrance, then turned off to walk through the woods.

I passed a fountain was discovered amongst the undergrowth in 2017 and then reconstructed by the Friends of Astley Park. According to them it probably dates from 18th century or earlier. Of course, it wasn’t still hidden when I used to visit the park!

I carried on along the paths in the winter woodland

passing the boundary of my old school.

I carried on along the woodland path, following the course of the River Chor, after which the town derives its name.

Emerging on the main carriageway I headed up towards the war memorial and the the Chorley Pals Roll of Honour, which lists the names of the men from the Company – incorporated as “Y” Company, of 11th (Service) Battalion Accrington, The East Lancashire Regiment, (better known as the “Accrington PALs”) – who died in action during WW1, including the Battle of the Somme.

I left the park by the Queens Road entrance and made my way back towards the bus station.

Kate Rusby at the Bridgewater Hall 2025

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The day after my walk in the Peak District we took the train to Manchester to see Kate Rusby’s concert at the Bridgewater Hall; part of her annual Christmas tour.

We go to see her most years as it’s a great way to kick start the festivities. As usual the concert was based around old traditional versions of carols as sung around the pubs in South Yorkshire, as well as some songs from Cornwall, where there is a similar tradition.

She also includes some other Christmas songs and a few self-penned compositions, all with a Christmas connection.

Kate is accompanied by a guitarist (her husband), a bouzouki player,  an accordionist, a double bassist (who also played a Moog synthesiser and an organ) and a drummer, plus a five piece brass ensemble.

The brass band gives the concert it a real northern Christmassy feel, such as this rendition of Oh Little Town of Bethlehem, which took me (and many others in the audience, I’m sure) back to school carol concerts. (The video was shot three years ago but the arrangement was the same during this year’s concert at the Bridgewater).

For the encore the band returned dressed up in costumes, which has become a traditional aspect of her show. This year the theme was Disney’s film, Frozen.

As usual, a enjoyable evening’s entertainment setting us up for the festivities.

Winter Solstice

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So, today is the Winter Solstice – the shortest day and the longest night. Very appropriately then, by chance I discovered this song when browsing Spotify (other greedy, robbing, streaming services are available).

A secular, seasonal carol celebrating the winter solstice, with music by Nigel Eaton and words by Iain Frisk. It’s named after Halsway Manor, The National Centre for Folk Arts. More details about it, including the lyrics, here.