Leaving the car outside the pub, we stock up on what look like fabulous sandwiches in the small bakery and start walking out of the village.

Almost immediately a footpath off to the left presents itself, which takes us past the church – not sure about the solemn dictum on the tower. It may be from Matthew 24:42, when speaking to the Apostles about the return of Christ, and the end of the world as we know it – seems to me it’s heading that way anyway with or without divine help.

Through a gate in an almost blossoming hawthorn hedge we carry on following a faint line over fields – this is not a well used footpath.

Half a mile on we come to a stop, faced with walking though a PRIVATE field or sneaking through the farmyard to get us back on track – the footpath has disappeared. Heart in mouth (you never know where the farm dogs are or whether they will object to trespassers) we tip toe across the yard and almost make it to a promising lane when a slightly imperious voice is heard.

“Excuse me” the owner of the voice shouts, “Can I help you?” – no dogs but this gentleman farmer obviously does object to us walking across his hallowed land. I take an instant dislike to him, mostly because he has not bothered to maintain a public right of way, but Damian diffuses the situation. I walk off in a huff through another of his fields which is home to two very curious ponies that come trotting with intent towards us – it’s a narrow escape under some barbed wire and on to the main road, Phew!

We now have a mile of road walking on the A595 – a narrow road busy with industrial traffic. I am relieved when we reach Foxfield and very surprised when I ring the bell and a friendly railwayman pops his head out of his hut and tells us when we can cross the lines. Five minutes later and the gates open.

From the station we pick up a minor road which runs parallel to the railway line. Beside us dead trees lie prostrate on the flooded fields – uprooted by the latest storm (I lose count).

Soon the map directs us over the railway line again and inland following minor roads in a loop back to Angerton Hall . Here we cross the railway line once again (all change) and over a very strange bridge, crossing one of the tributaries of the Duddon Estuary.

It is now time for lunch and what better than delicious sandwiches and coffee on a station platform?

From Kirkby we walk south on paths sandwiched between the estuary and the railway line – in the distance the Cumbrian fells look on. One of these must be Black Combe, a fell not classed as a Wainwright but a Marilyn (I kid you not) and a very popular destination as it is relatively easy to climb and is said to offer fabulous views over sea and land.

Around Soutergate we cross the railway line again to avoid wading into marshland, only to cross it once more to follow the path down to Dunnerholme Golf Club – how many more foot crossings I wonder….?

From here it’s a straight run down on a clear path which keeps us away from the golf balls

Just outside Askam in Furness we opt for a track across a field to take us back to the station. Halfway across I look up to find Damian staring at what looks very much like a bull, who in turn is looking intently at us. We make it safely across the field and through a gate with a warning sign – – great if you’re heading out of the village!

Distance: 10 miles

The Happiness Engineers have not made me happy and cannot understand why the map is not appearing on emails. So……..if you want an interactive map please click on the “Read on Blog” link at the top of the post and all will be well again.