Miles 61 - Dallam and Marsh Lane

John Townsend

Mile 61 takes me along Marsh Lane from Dallam Bridge near to the confluence of the rivers Bela and the more dominant river Kent forming the Kent estuary, a major water source into Morecambe Bay. This walk starts to go inland along very flat marshland on one side and rich fertile grazing land on the other loosely following the river Kent upstream. I enjoy this area as it is set with a panorama of hills and Lakeland fells to the west and north, farm land to the east, and the open aspect of the estuary.  It is a quiet place with only the sound of the abundant bird life and bleating sheep. A popular place for cyclists and dog walkers, the road mainly used by locals in this small and sparsely populated area.                           

Although this mile is on the outer most limits of Morecambe Bay, it takes whatever Mother Nature throws at it. The dramatic influence of the spring tides coming in from the bay can leave it flooded, looking like a giant lake, the flood banks unable to cope. It is open to the bitter winter north easterly winds which can be bone chillingly cold, and the fog, so dense that you cannot see a yard in front of you.       

               
However, this section, in the warmer climate gives rise to big beautiful skies and glorious sunsets. Throughout the calendar year I see every aspect of the natural surroundings of this mile. It is diverse and needs to be treated with respect, the local community work hard to manage this land which I appreciate.                 
My hope is that it can continue into the future and be preserved for future generations.

Mile 62 - Marsh Lane

Patricia Townsend

Mile 62 marks the point at which the River Kent turns tidal and widens into the estuary of Morecambe Bay. The Kent is the fastest flowing river in England, cascading from its source in Kentmere, through Kendal, out into the Bay .

The landscape along this mile has been heavily influenced over many centuries by sea and weather condition which still play their part today. Embankments are present along the coast, protecting agricultural reclaimed land from flood.

Farming is a key industry in this area, evidenced by the hundreds of grazing sheep who flourish on the salt marsh flora and fauna.
Wind blown trees are dotted along the road and stand like sentinels, marking the path of The Cumbria Coastal Way.
The hedgerows are rich in wildlife, with birds dancing alongside you,to keep you company as you walk .

Looking forward, plans are in place to upgrade the sea defences in the years ahead to help this area and its ecosystem adapt to the coastal changes which will be brought about by rising sea levels and climate change.

Miles 65 to 67 - Whitbarrow Scar to the Kent Viaduct

Tina Codling, Walks Leader

On Mile 65 the verges are brimming with cow parsley, which is almost obscuring the view of Whitbarrow Scar, a limestone escarpment whose southern end overlooks the Kent Estuary.

The walking group, on the other hand, have only had a few tantalising glimpses of the River Kent as it meanders towards the sea since we left Levens.

There is no right of way along the riverbank here and we are missing the coast and the Bay. As we negotiate a short stretch along the A590 we cross over the Gilpin which rises near Bowness-on-Windermere and joins the Kent before it flows into the estuary.

Tina Codling

On Mile 66 we meet a farmer who asks about the flags we are carrying and, after hearing where we have been, informs me that the Crown does not own all of the foreshore at Silverdale, he does. Shortly after that we pass a fingerpost indicating that we are on the route of the Cumbria Coastal Way, which doesn't officially exist anymore. We are now close to the river but we cannot see it because it is hidden behind a fenced off embankment.

The Cumbria Coastal Way was opened in the early 1990s. It starts at Silverdale, continuing on from the Lancashire Coastal Way, and, after it leaves the Bay, heads up the coast towards the Scottish border.

In 2010, Cumbria County Council told Ordnance Survey it no longer endorsed the route. This was due to it using permissive footpaths which no longer existed. While access rights do exist below the high water mark under the Crown Estate's general permissive consent, the Crown only actually owns around half of the foreshore around England, Wales and Northern Ireland.

And anyway, if there are no rights of way to the foreshore you cannot walk along that stretch of coast.

The new King Charles III England Coast Path is scheduled to be fully open in 2025 but Silverdale is one of the sections affected by these issues. Will they be resolved in time?

Tina Codling

On Mile 67 we are able to climb onto the embankment to see the Kent widen and flow across Milnthorpe Sands towards Arnside.

Over on the east bank we can see Sandside and Storth, where our walk ended yesterday, and ahead we have views of the Kent Viaduct and Arnside Knott.

We are returning to the Bay but we still have several miles to go before we get to Grange-over-Sands.

One day it may be possible to walk or cycle across the Kent Viaduct, adjacent to the railway line, between Arnside and Grange-over-Sands.

A feasibility study and public consultation have been carried out but it is still early days for the project. For now, the only way to continue the walk is to go inland and away from the Bay, as we have done, or walk across the Bay with the King's Guide.

Mile 68 Beth Pipe

We chose this mile because we’re fond of visiting the wreck of the old prawner just below Crag Wood, plus the views from this stretch take in the Arnside Viaduct and Arnside Knott.

The mile itself runs from the road below Ulpha Fell and around to Birkswood Point. It’s rare to bump into anyone else along this part of the route so it’s perfect when you need to escape the crowds.

The prawner is a great example of the boats that used to come in and out of Arnside when it was a busy port, and it’s a tangible example of how the sea, and time, change things.

Over the years that we’ve visited it we’ve seen it decay and break down – it used to have a lot more colour and structure, but now only a few flecks of paint remain and even the iron fittings are rusting away.

Gradually the bay is reclaiming the boat that once relied on it.

Crag Wood is wonderfully unspoilt and a haven for wildlife, even if a visit during the summer months can result in the odd bite or too – even horseflies need to eat, I guess. There’s a path that winds from the gate all the way around the wood, with the size of the views depending on the time of the year and how leafy the trees are

I hope nothing changes in the future, and I hope that by nothing changing, lots of things change. I know that doesn’t make sense. What I mean is that I hope that this corner is left alone and that any changes are down to the natural scheme of things, and not our interference.

Mile 69 and 70 - BOOM

Heather Marples, University of Cumbria

Meathop Moss has been chosen by the Back On Our Map project (BOOM), to showcase the reintroduction of the oblong-leaved sundew (Drosera intermedia).

The moss itself is a Cumbria Wildlife Trust nature reserve and forms part of the Witherslack Mosses Special Area of Conservation.

In the past it has suffered from increased drainage of the surrounding land, which has resulted in many areas of the bog drying out. CWT have been carrying out restoration work, including ditch blocking and cell bunding, to raise the water table again. However, certain species that were lost, have not yet made a reappearance, and that is where BOOM has stepped in.

BOOM is a 4-year Heritage Lottery funded project hosted by the University of Cumbria in partnership with Morecambe Bay Partnership. It aims to reintroduce native species back into south Cumbria with the help of the local community.

The oblong-leaved sundew is one of the plant species included in the project. It is a small, carnivorous plant that has evolved to derive most of its nutrient requirement from captured insects. It requires wet, bare peat next to small bog pools to thrive. It was lost from Meathop when the moss was drier, but after restoration, this habitat is ready for their reintroduction. As this sundew is a poor coloniser, with the nearest donor site over 1 mile away, BOOM had to propagate sundews from the donor population. They were reintroduced into Meathop in August 2022 and within the first month they were successfully catching flies and growing new leaves.

Following a long dormancy over winter, 80% of the population survived and now many of the plants have come into flower! This is exciting news as they will be able to cross pollinate and spread further across the moss in the future.

Alex McCartney

Alex is on a work placement with Cumbria Wildlife Trust and explains more about the project BOOM

"Nature is easily one of the most profitable things for human health, whether it's mental health or the fact that we actually rely on nature to bring us oxygen, water and security in terms of food, and so on. So caring about nature from something as small as a sundew to anything as exciting as an osprey is all part and parcel of the same thing.

These are the Great Sundew and Oblong Sundew.
 
These are part of a volunteer sided project of Boom called Bog in a Box where we would go to mosses where there is healthy and happy populations of both of these species and harvest two leaves from a precise number of plants. So we'd go round a bog count how many there are, and then take only a small fraction of leaves from a small fraction of those plants.

We then collect some bog water with permission from Natural England, and in that bog water you're able to propagate these leaves. So say if we were to harvest this plant, you could take two of these from it, and then those leaves in water would start to grow smaller versions of themselves along it. Follow that forward a few weeks you get volunteers in and you get them to plant in boxes similar to this or like small propagation boxes.

You get them to plant these tiny little leaves on the top of some peat and then those will grow into plants just like this. So these would have all been at the stage that I just described, and those volunteers are able to take those peat boxes home and hence the Bog in a Box, and then they're encouraged to only allow it to be watered with rainwater and that should be enough for them.

Then they'll be returned to Boom. And then we come back and count them year on year to see how the population is doing."

Mile 73 - Grange-over-Sands Promenade

Aerial View of Grange Lido

Mile 74 - The Sands Beyond Grange

Mark Ravenhall

A mile from shore the wind is horizontal
making wave ridges in the channel
as the tide turns—

— and turning inland
you see the town rise in tiers
of cream and stone and slate:

bungalows, villas, spa hotels,
the ‘pink palace’, a park, the prom,
tea room, bandstand, tennis courts

a lido where hi-vis jackets swim,
the railway embankment
that ‘created’ this coast

(according to Tourist Information)
brought coal and steel and visitors
to hire ‘bicycle machines’--

all gone under the sand.


But first at your feet:
footprints of those who’ve gone before:
walkers following laurel ‘brobs’

planted along the cross-bay route:
boots, shoes, paws, horses’ hooves—
all printed, all embossed.

This dry month: the creeks dried up,
sandbanks carved by long-forgotten tides,
each designed by water’s action

like sap following a tree’s branch
out to the estuary.
And beyond it, the other side

that always makes a ‘bay’.
Some coasts look out on oceans
but here are hills and trees

and winking lights at nightfall:
caravan parks, luxury lodges, villages,
towns, a city, Heysham B

crouching at the bay’s edge,
a utilitarian shed
less lignum than the sort of shape

the mind airbrushes
while reminding you this is it:
the age in which you live.


The sands are ‘quick’ like us:
alive to changing tides,
temporary, contingent.

Rising waters will come
and rub away our footprints.
By mid-century, they say,

there will be no railway,
no headlights in the deep lanes
over the bay, no laser shows.

Sounds are fleeting too:
the curlews’ call at dusk
the railing of the rails

like stuck pigs.
Martins high above the marsh,
a lone kestrel over the line,

a heron taking off
in loping strides of air.
Sedum in yellow and pink

colonising the limestone
laid by puddlers
in another mid-century.

Nature reclaims everything.
We are the temporary,
the dependent, contingent.

We make our mark,
our mark is rubbed away
like footsteps in the sand.

A coast is land and water both.
Makes us question
What our footprint is.

Mile 75 - Over the railway near Kent's Bank to the estuary.

Mile 77 Gemma Wren

Tales of wolves, windswept trees, ever changing views and the diversity of life clinging on to the edge all draw me to Humphrey Head.

This wild exposed, untamed headland pokes out from the bay coastline creating a prominent finger of biodiversity.

There are so many layers to Humphrey Head that showcase the wider beauty of the bay area – saltmarsh and sand shaped by the sea, limestone outcrops and trees shaped by the wind, limestone grassland full of wildflowers and butterflies nurtured by the sun. A blending of colours from brown, grey and green to orange highlighting the texture of the landscape.

Standing beneath the limestone ‘head’ it looks like you’re on the edge of an endless swamp: the distinctive smell of salt marsh, the bleating of the marsh sheep as they munch through the nutritious plants that grow there and the shrieking of the swifts and swallows as they bomb around in the air, feeding on the rich insect life that hums above the land. Discarded crabs from hungry sea birds litter the shoreline, in between sparse stands of succulent saline plants.

I love the way the view changes as the light and tides move, and the change in perspective from below and above.

The view above from the limestone headland shows the shapes and patterns of the saltmarsh forming braided channels, creating a soft edge to the landscape between sea and land. Wildflowers flow over the sides, clinging on in nooks and crannies that capture the rich sea air. The grasslands change from yellows, purples and pinks in the summer to an array of oranges and reds of the waxcap fungi in the autumn.

For me - a place of discovery, quiet contemplation and blowing away the cobwebs.

A hope that this ever changing place never changes.

Mile 78 - Saltmarsh between Humphrey Head and Flookburgh

Sarah Mason, Morecambe Bay Partnership

This mile is close to my home and I walk it regularly.

The saltmarsh in the area is vitally important to breeding shore birds and I would love to see the site protected for these creatures into the future.

Every year, disturbance from humans increases in this area, through illegal access as people do not understand the impact they can have on these fragile ecosystems.

Farming practices are not in tune with nature and there are too many sheep grazing the marshes, leading to trampling of bird nests, eggs and chicks.

The sounds of the marsh here are the most evocative in the countryside; curlew, skylark, lapwing & redshank all try to breed often with limited success.

Eider ducks can be heard calling from the deeper water of the Bay. This area is beautiful & could be so abundant with nature if we gave it space to thrive.

Mile 80 - The Leven Estuary

Linzi Buckmaster

I selected Sandgate, Mile 80 at Cark, as my mile because I spend so many hours there, watching , waiting and taking many photographs, it seemed an obvious choice. Very local to where I live I try to go there as often as possible to decompress and recharge.

The wide open spaces and huge vista of marsh, sand and sky looking around from the Coniston Fells to Piel Island it is always peaceful regardless of the weather.

Looking across the Leven Estuary to Ulverston there is a great view of Hoad and the hills beyond with ever-changing light. The sunsets here are fabulous and some evenings you have the whole place to yourself. With the sound of the wind turbine and birdsong it is vitamin sea for the soul.

Carpeted in flowers depending on the season with the salt marsh pools sometimes full , other times dry and crazy-paving cracked and the sand rippled, marble dry or treacherously slippery there is always nature to appreciate.

The old trailers loaded still with shrimping gear add to the ambience and they make great perches for the Skylarks.

My hope for the future is that channels could be free from sewage, pollution and rubbish. For the bird life to flourish and for people to continue to enjoy the views , take only photos and leave only footprints.

Mearness Point

Gina Parker Mullarkey and Zac Parker

This is a walk we regularly do as a family straight from our door.

We love the changing landscape of Mearness Point, which can become inaccessible during the spring high tides.

My son, Zac, loves running around with our dog (on a lead) exploring and finding treasures, digging in the sand, jumping channels and climbing on the rocks (which once seemed like huge cliffs to him when he was smaller).

We love a wander in particular to 'our secret beach' where there is rarely another soul to enjoy a picnic with a view across the estuary to the hoad.

Picnics in the sun are special, but splashing in wellies or even in the snow means that Mearness point gives us pleasure all year. Of course we don't venture out onto the' sinky sand'.

My eldest now enjoys strolls down here on their own with friends, so it is a place for us all to enjoy.

The fifth and final part of the journey around Morecambe Bay can be found in the Ulverston to Walney Island section.