Slightly off Track

Have you ever been on one of those runs/walks, out in the back of beyond, where you have been following the directions indicated on the fingerposts and the yellow way markers, only to find that they suddenly disappear and your left in the middle of nowhere? This is where you quickly find out who the landowner is, 9 times out of 10 they gladly put you right and off you go.

This tends to happen, now and again, on the Thursday “Wrinkly Runs”. Why do the signs appear to vanish? Perhaps we had better ask some of the farmers and landlords, or, maybe the “Countryside Rangers” who haven’t completed the job correctly. (Sorry Charlie, I’m leaning towards the former)

It was a warm spring day one Thursday morning in May 2008; a team of around 10 runners, (led by Bossman himself), left the car park by the Sports Field in Garstang, destination the Grizedale Valley at the foot of “Nicky Nook”. Eventually after a long slow climb we arrive by the reservoir at the top of the valley.

We turn right at the far end of Res’ and are met by a mass of Bluebells and their scent, we make our way to the top road. On reaching it, we turn right to go over the cat the cattle grid and proceed up the hill. The next turn is right up the track towards the Barnacre Reservoirs and Radio Masts. The next part of the run should have been a nice easy downhill jog back to our starting point in Garstang.

This is where the contents of the first paragraph of the report comes into play, we are heading towards Burns Farm, when we reach a ‘Fingerpost’, one arm pointing the way that we intended to go, (a track that we have trod many times before), the other to the left, “Lets see where that takes us for a change.” Bossman suggests, “Why not came the reply”. You’re there before me! Two yellow way markers on and we are in the middle of a huge field, not another marker in sight. What now? Someone in the team spots a gate, which seems to lead to a farm that must be the way, so off we go.

Through the gate we go, not a marker to be seen, but there’s a track to the left of the farm. “That must be the way,” someone said, so off we go, only to finish up in the grounds of this large mansion. I cannot divulge the name, but it begins with ‘B’ and ends in Lodge. “I don’t think we should be here,” someone says. Seeing a lane to one side of the grounds we make a quick exit. “I’ve a good idea where the lane comes out” says Boss with his fingers crossed. After about ¼ mile a Land rover comes up behind us, although there is more than enough room to pass, we are forced onto the grass verge. At this stage I’m waiting for a major b***icking from the driver for straying onto private land. But he quickly drives past and disappears up a sidetrack to the left. What I didn’t know then, was that the driver had challenged two of our lady runners at the back of the group, as to why they were there.

Another ¼ mile on and the entrance gate to the drive comes into sight, it leads to where I thought, near to All Saints Church, Barnacre. As we near the gate, there is a small gatehouse, with two blokes sunning themselves in deckchairs. One is smoking a pipe, the other stands up on spotting all these runners coming down the drive. “What are you doing there?” he asks. “Sorry but we have gone off track, we should be on the path at the other side of those trees over there.” I replied. “Yes but you’re trespassing” he retorts. “I know.” came my reply, “I can only say I’m sorry we didn’t mean to be here” - just wanting get on with the run. “Yes but you shouldn’t be there.” he said once again. “I can only say sorry, what more do you want?” The conversation went on like this for at least two minutes. If the guy was trying to wind me up, he was succeeding.

I finally blew up when he firstly said, “Can’t you read a map?” and “What would you do if I came in your back garden”. That was it! “I’ve apologized umpteen times you stupid p***ock what more do you want”.

With that there was a silence and before anything else was said, we legged it off back to Garstang to where we set out from originally.

Not all Thursday Wrinkly Runs/Walks turn out like this one, thankfully. Don’t be put off. Why not join us everyone is welcome, you don’t even have to be Wrinkly.

See you soon, John.

Wrinklys – we are the Bulldog Breed!