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The Ribble Way-in-Parts
“Let’s do the whole lot in one go!” said Joe.
We all just stared at him.
“It’s 70 miles,” Tony pointed out.
“We’ll make an early start then,” Joe insisted.
It’s amazing the prodigious feats one can contemplate with a pint in your hand and a bright fire blazing in the lounge-bar. It was on just such an evening once when we were discussing doing the ‘Three Peaks,’ that Joe had suggested adding Pendle Hill and making a proper walk of it – and he’d done it as well, all 50 miles of it. But that had been over 20 years earlier when we were young men. We were now in-line for our free bus passes and challenge walks had lost their appeal.
“No,” said Tony, “we’ll do it in easy stages, Longton to Ribchester’s about 20 miles. That’s far enough for one day.”
Gordon and I nodded emphatically. In the event 20 miles proved to be a grave underestimate.
The idea of a Ribble Way walk was first suggested back in 1967 at the inaugural meeting of the Preston and Fylde branch of the Ramblers’ Association. It was enthusiastically taken up and possible routes were surveyed. Stiff opposition was encountered from farmers and landowners. It was soon clear that the ideal - an interrupted route along the river bank - was not going to be achieved. How many times have the people of this county been embroiled in struggles to gain access to their birthright – Lancashire’s areas of outstanding beauty? It took almost 20 years of work on the part of the Ramblers Association, local authorities, and the Countryside Commission before the Ribble Way was officially opened on June 1st 1985. It was only a Ribble Way in parts though, as some landowners refused to budge and like snarling dogs lying on a bone, barred the way, forcing walkers to detour far from the river.
Our Longton to Ribchester walk started in Ribchester. The four of us: Joe, Gordon, Tony and me, met on the car-park there and Tony drove us to Longton. At the end of the walk one of us would drive Tony back to pick up his car. Morning rush hour traffic delayed us on the clogged arteries south of Preston, but we were not bound for office desks and shop floors, so could afford to be patient. It was all quiet on the marsh roads out at Longton however, apart from the clamour of black headed gulls. We parked opposite the Dolphin and donned our boots, apart from Joe who does these things in casual shoes.
It was a cool spring morning. There was a faraway grey sky with a hint of blue. We walked down to the marsh bank and turned right. The way ahead couldn’t be clearer, but we got in a muddle among the stiles and hedges at Longton Brook. It was a foretaste of what was to come: nobody was taking the lead, and although we had a map, nobody was looking at it – how could you go wrong on a footpath that just follows the river?
We gained the bank of the Ribble at last. The tide brought tall ships this way once bound for the Albert Edward Dock. They brought produce to the Port of Preston and took Lancashire’s manufactured goods all over the world . There’s international comings and goings still at the British Aerospsace complex at Warton aerodrome over the river, but it seems a sinister traffic compared to the ships that once brought tea and coffee, fruit and spices, destined for the counters of local grocer E H Booth. The silting up of the river bed finished the Port of Preston. The mooring posts for the dredgers can still be seen, but they were engaged in a losing battle.
It’s not pretty – the detritus of former industry litters this first stretch of the way. The birds don’t seem to mind though – the water hens and coots, the mallard and oyster catchers. Tony was soon busy with his binoculars, drawing our listless attention to rareties. It strikes a note of triumph, being able to name things: birds, plants, trees, but whether it celebrates the specimen, or somehow diminishes it, I’m not quite sure. Gordon for one had other things on his mind. His hip had been playing up for the last few months and as we approached Penwortham he’d developed a distinct list to starboard.
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