Shunning the expensive carparks we eventually find a spot on the seafront, in front of a row of billboards – one of which is very familiar. My father loved Morecambe and Wise and so did I, although sometimes I suspect it was his laughter that made me giggle rather than what was happening on the screen.

We set off down the promenade – it is a grey day and the endless sands of Morecambe Bay stretch out before us prompting memories of Chinese cockle pickers lost to the fast moving tides.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morecambe_Bay_cockling_disaster

At one point we walk past a memorial to record-breaking long distance swimmer Commander Charles Gerald Forsberg OBE who, as well as breaking the England-France cross Channel record in 1957 at the age of 45, was the first person to make a two-way crossing of Morecambe Bay the following year. His love of open water swimming and the area saw him swim across the bay 29 times. Respect…….

The promenade is full of interesting facts ………..great for Trivial Pursuits.

…..and a cheerful nod to the more lighthearted aspects of the bay.

After a couple of miles we walk into a pretty well kept village called Lower Heysham where we’re hoping to find coffee. The church cafe is very busy so we carry on down around Half Moon Bay only to discover that the cafe there only takes cash and like the majority of people nowadays we have none. Never mind…..

From the village we follow the coast, through what is marked as a Nature Reserve until we come to a dead end in front of Heysham Nuclear Power Station.

Outside the power station stands a metal sculpture of a boat with two figures perched one on each end, staring out to sea. They look like they’re expecting something/somebody – I find the hollowed out chests a little disturbing.

Walking quickly past the insistent hum of the power station we come to a junction of two busy roads. We now have a choice which involves either walking down a quiet country lane to a holiday park, with no guarantee of a way back to the route, or a trudge along a noisy main road – we go for the former.

Braving the families of screaming children and tense parents in the site cafe, we finally get a cup of coffee before heading off to investigate the feasibility of our escape route. Looking back at the site I realise that the holiday camp has been placed bang smack next to the outlaying buildings of the nuclear power station. Not sure I would want to bring my children here.

Checking the fences as we walk round the site we are just about to give up, when right at the bottom of the field, behind the last caravan, I spy an opening which thank goodness leads on to a narrow fenced path going in the right direction – hooray!

We share our relief with a hedgehog……

The path now leads us on to a minor road called Carr Lane which we follow for about a mile back to the coast and yet another caravan site at Potts Corner.

We are now back on the coast so turning left we walk along the edge of a wide area of marshland stretching out to sea. Sunderland Point is marked on the map ahead but there are no access paths so we are directed left along a track known simply as The Lane. Almost immediately I come to a halt not really believing what I am reading on the sign – surely not? In this day and age?

But yes……..through a lovely driftwood gate we walk up the path to pay a visit to the grave.

Apparently Sambo (Samboo) arrived at Sunderland Point around 1736 from the West Indies as a servant to the captain of an unnamed ship. This is his story…………

After she had discharged her cargo, he was placed at the inn…with the intention of remaining there on board wages till the vessel was ready to sail; but supposing himself to be deserted by the master, without being able, probably from his ignorance of the language, to ascertain the cause, he fell into a complete state of stupefaction, even to such a degree that he secreted himself in the loft on the brewhouses and stretching himself out at full length on the bare boards refused all sustenance. He continued in this state only a few days, when death terminated the sufferings of poor Samboo. As soon as Samboo’s exit was known to the sailors who happened to be there, they excavated him in a grave in a lonely dell in a rabbit warren behind the village, within twenty yards of the sea shore, whither they conveyed his remains without either coffin or bier, being covered only with the clothes in which he died.

— Lonsdale Magazine, 1822

…and the story doesn’t end there………………………………

and many have come to pay their respects……………………….

Not far from the grave of the “faithful negro” stands an intriguing dry stone building which houses what I later find out is a Horizon Line Chamber – the master bricklayer is Andrew Mason, the artist Chris Drury.

Wonderful in theory but nothing happened for us………………….

We continue walking down the Lane to the village of Sunderland – a collection of houses on a windswept peninsula, facing the marshes, and well prepared for freak high tides. Sunderland is apparently unique in the United Kingdom as being the only community to be on the mainland and yet dependent upon tidal access.

The only vehicular access to the village is via a single-track road from Overton 1.5 miles away crossing a tidal marsh.

And that’s where we have to walk – with some trepidation.

Fortunately there are workmen up ahead who surely must have consulted the tide table.

After a while we leave the sticky mud behind and walk up a minor road into the village of Overton. The only pub is closed so after locating the bus stop we have no choice but to sit and wait for the bus back to Lancaster. It has been a long day and we haven’t covered as much ground as we thought we would. Ah well – just have to come back another time.

Distance: 10 miles