Post It from Blackpool South Caravan Club campsite, Lancashire, England. Tuesday 19th April, 2016.

We had thought for some time now that we would save touring in the UK for the time when we no longer wanted to drive all those miles on the Continent so this short tour for 2 weeks was an unplanned departure from the norm for us. We were keen to get away in ‘Bessie’ again after the winter break and since we had chosen not to go to the Italian Lakes for May and June so we could say Adios to our son and his partner, who were moving further afield, it seemed like a good idea. I was also keen to see how we felt touring now without our beloved Smokee, who passed away in January.

I fancied visiting the Maritime museum in Liverpool to catch up on my previous life as an officer in the Merchant Navy because I believed it contained many references to my shipping company, not least the Titanic display housed there.

So we chose to spend some time visiting Blackpool, Southport, Chester and Buxton on our way home. Public transport would enable us to get around and into the city of Liverpool easily from two destinations.

After preparing ‘Bessie’ for habitation again, which included freeing a seized toilet flush pump impeller; we set off across the backbone of England, the Pennines, on an East Coast to West Coast journey. Thankfully the normally wet weather in Lancashire had changed to a dry long range forecast despite it being quite cold for this time of year. We set off on the Sunday morning and as we crossed England’s, if not the UK’s, highest point on a motorway at Saddleworth Moor we saw the remnants of the snow from two nights previous. I always feel quite sad when I pass this part of the country knowing those dead children are lying out there somewhere from the infamous Brady and Hindley’s murderous actions. In 1987 I drove backwards and forwards on this same journey to Preston for 10 weeks.

We had only visited Blackpool twice before, once in 1976 for a day trip by bus and the second time was when Jason was very young and we were running in a new car, probably around 1990. On that occasion we stayed in an up market B & B in the rather posh Lytham St. Annes and drove the golden mile to see the famous Blackpool illuminations.

We arrived at the campsite in good time and found it very easily just off the M55. It is a pleasant site with all the usual high standards you expect from a Club site but the proximity of the main roads do make it a little noisy from road traffic. There were no footpaths or cycle paths to go anywhere on so it had been a good decision to leave the bikes at home. The bus service from the nearby new DWP premises had been excellent but due to withdrawal of funding from that organisation it meant there were now only 4 busses early in the morning and 4 again the late afternoon to bring and take their employees to work. It meant we had to be up early to catch the last morning bus at 0921! The good bit was that we could buy for £5 a 24 hour bus ticket with unlimited local ‘Blackpool Transport’ travel, including their trams. We could have walked the mile or so to the Tesco to catch regular busses all day but the lack of footpaths put us off doing this.

On the Monday we had no problems getting up earlier than normal and we were the only passengers to get on the bus from the DWP. You can see why they withdrew funding due to no passengers. The journey into the centre of Blackpool took us through housing estates and first impressions were that the place was down on its luck. This was reinforced once we were wandering the streets of the centre of the town which had clearly seen more prosperous times. The prom and beach were fantastic though, even though it was deserted in the very strong westerly winds that were present throughout the day.

We could not resist getting some of the Blackpool famous sweet stuff, which George Formby sang about, to send to our Spanish children Ruben & Rebeca. I won’t mention the name and perhaps their father, Fulgencio, can get his children and pupils to have a go at finding out what it may be. It will not arrive in Spain for some weeks, once I have decided how best to get it there without breaking it, so they may be successful by the time it arrives.

After spotting all the sites and names that we recognised such as the Blackpool Tower and Ballroom, the Winter Gardens, Grand Theatre and seeing the very old heritage trams we had Lancashire Hot Pot for lunch in the Winter Garden before riding the modern tram south to the terminus at Starr Gate. The seafront accommodation was one mass of cheap hotels and B & B’s interspersed with Blackpool’s 3 piers, Pleasure Beach, Madame Tussauds and Sea Life Centre.

Before leaving that day I returned to the Abingdon Street covered market to buy some Blackpool Black topped bread cakes for tea. They looked burnt on top, hence the name, but the lady at the small bakery stall assured me they did not taste so and they were very light inside. An elderly chap by the stall in his mobility scooter said for me to eat them with lashings of butter! I can confirm they were excellent, despite the slightly burned aroma, and I enjoyed them enough to return the next day and buy two more for the lunch when we arrived at Southport on the Wednesday.

On the Tuesday we took advantage of the £5 unlimited travel again and caught the bus into Blackpool before catching the tram for the 41 minute journey north all the way to Fleetwood. We had been recommended lunching at the North Euston Hotel, which served a carvery lunch, so on our foot expedition of Fleetwood we found it on the very peninsular overlooking Morecambe Bay. From here you could actually catch a small antiquated ferry across the River Wyre to Knott End from the pier where the RNLI Lifeboat also launches and the view across the bay that has claimed many lives due to the fast incoming tide was spectacular.

A nearby café served up the finest coffee whilst we enjoyed the morning sun sat outside in view of Fleetwood’s first lighthouse, now only a heritage site, strangely named Pharos Lighthouse and not painted white.

We enjoyed a good long walk along Fleetwood’s promenade in the now blistering sun, albeit still a little cool on the face with the wind chill, before returning to the North Euston Hotel for lunch. The hotel was commissioned by the founder of the new town Fleetwood, which bears his name, as a hotel for rail travellers from London heading for Scotland in 1841. The idea was they would continue north on their journey by ship to Glasgow. You may ask why the trains could not go there direct but I am reliably informed that the engineers of the day, including the renowned George Stephenson, believed the trains could not climb the steep hills north of Lancaster. The trains did not get to cross the border until 1848

The once grandeur of the hotel was evident and whilst the carvery was only served on a Sunday we treat ourselves to the freshest Fleetwood fish, gourmet chips and mushy peas washed down with a perfect pint of Lancashire’s finest cask ale. You cannot after all come to the coast and not have fish & chips, can you?

We thoroughly enjoyed our 3 night stay here and were glad to be settling in to life in Bessie again. Southport tomorrow, just around the corner along the coastal route taking in St. Annes, Lytham and Preston. The few campers we have had a chance of speaking to here have all said we shall enjoy it there.

Regards, Roy

PS. I cannot add the campsite location on the map for some strange reason using the Club wi-fi sysytem. The post code is FY4 5LB for anyone who wants to find it themselves