The Mill at Conder Green

I'm distracted today by my gorgeous new MacBook Air. It's a terribly cute little thing of tremendous beauty. I got it on purpose so that I don't have to stay at my desk all the time when I want to type things – or work, fine, yes, work is a thing as well. But I've had a week off, and I have two days left so I don't want to think about work just now. Don't take my last two days away from me! 

Maybe my new toy will encourage me to walk every day again, because I'll be looking for an excuse to use it and a blog post is the perfect reason. Time will tell. 

So, one day, quite recently, but who can say when because I've become utterly useless at walking every day, I was driving around, trying to decide where to walk because I didn't fancy the place I'd written on my list for this day. I ended up on the road out to Glasson. I remembered a lovely stretch of canal that I hadn't seen for a few years – and another one that we used to bring the boys to a lot when they were wee. If you live around here, you'll know the Mill at Conder Green. It was a nice enough pub before its expensive makeover, but it's even better now. My brother used to work here – I think this is where he got most of his friends. He's got loads of friends. We've had a role reversal in that way – he's got loads and I've got very few. That's what you get when you become a hermit.  

There's a lovely series of canal locks from Conder Green to nearly Galgate – I hadn't realised how close Galgate was until I looked at the map just now. Auntie Trish, I could've visited for a socially distanced cup of tea! I'll give you a bell next time, and you can be my halfway point – it's only a little bit further than I went today.

Anyway, here's the first lock. Or the fifth, not sure, doesn't matter. The first one on our walk. You'll know that locks are used to raise and lower boats to the next water level, of course. Marvellous invention. Who doesn't love a canal lock?  

Here it is properly, the lovely bit of canal. It's a bit more, ummmm, cosy, I suppose we might say, than other parts of the canal. Where other stretches have neatly carved-out gravel paths, this part has more of a grassy carpet that's very soft underfoot. And the hedges are quite thick and high in places, creating a sort of comforting blanketed tunnel. It's very interesting that each length of the canal is so different.

Ahh, some size context for you. Here are some people trying to open the next lock, and you can see the difference in the two levels. There's a channel that comes down on the right, to give the overflow somewhere to go, I suppose. Swans use the channel as a slide. Great fun.  

No idea what this was, but it has dilapidated into a lovely little bench. Only big enough for one. I like when things like this are left as they are, not doing any harm to anyone, all mysterious and a little bit sad. Someone built it, whatever it is. Do you ever think about that when you look at old things? And wonder about the people who made them? The people who don't get written about in history books? 

The canal is two hundred years old, but I wonder if this bridge is newer than that. It doesn't really look two hundred years old, but I suppose it could be if it's been looked after. Or maybe structures last longer in quiet places where there's not much traffic. That could be a thing. 

Because I've been watching and reading All Creatures Great and Small, I've been quite keen to see a real live bull again, but the bull that lives in this field wasn't home today. The last time I saw a proper one was years and years ago, when the Lancaster and Morecambe Show was held just round the corner from our house. I don't remember seeing one since then. They used to absolutely terrify me, and I don't think anything has ever scared me more. They're so massive and unpredictable. But I've still been wanting to see one – I want to see if they're still as scary as I remember or if I was only scared because I was a foot or so shorter than I am now. Are they all grumpy? Are they all gigantic hulks of pure muscle and testosterone? Or are some of them quite friendly and chilled out? This is something I need to know.   

Don't Google 'are all bulls aggressive' – sooner or later, you'll find yourself looking at Spanish fighting bulls, and that's just too upsetting for words. 

Moving on. Quite honestly, this little spot has some of the prettiest countryside a person could wish to see. Just lovely. I didn't spot any cornfields, and all of the fields I did see seem to be used for grazing for sheep and dairy cows. A little stile here, but as this was the cow side of the canal, I decided not to go exploring. Admiring cows from the other side of a hedge is one thing, but finding myself face to face with one would be quite another. I don't think I'm ready for that. 

Ah, here we are. You can see a bit of what I was seeing as I walked. The hedges are shorter here, and you can see for miles, all the way to the fells in the distance. I think Hare Appletree Fell is what we can see, which you'll recall was my highest walk this year. Not that high, in the grand scheme of things, but a respectable altitude for me.

Down here at sea level, I was getting a bit sweaty and had to take my jumper off. This might be confusing for you if you're reading in the UK, since it's been cold and grey for a week. My apologies, but I'm actually posting out of order for the first time – I figured that it doesn't really matter anymore. I suppose if it's important to you, I could start adding the date of the walk to the post. But I don't think anyone does care. A few nice pictures and a bit of whimsical chat, and everyone's happy. That's all we need. 

Ooooh, look at those chemtrails ... is what I would say if I was a conspiracy theorist nutjob. Since I am not, we'll move on because I'm waffling again. 

Well now, what do we have here? A pontoon, you say? That's right, it's another pontoon. Surprisingly, I didn't walk on this one. Not sure why, because you know I love a pontoon. I think it might have been just that I was really enjoying my walk on the lawn-y path. 

Several times as I was walking, a little plane took off and headed north for a bit. Then it came back to land just beyond one of the fields to my right. I think that's where the sky diving place is. But spectacular wonder of wonders, I captured the moment when two flew really close together (sorry if you're on your phone – the planes are probably invisible to you or just tiny specks, but I couldn't zoom in any more). It was very cool. There were a couple of other people walking ahead of me, and they stopped to watch the planes too. For a very brief moment, it all felt a bit World War II, and these sounded like Spitfires. Not that I'd like to see a real-life dogfight – I think there's enough bad stuff going on in the world right now, don't you?

Aha, told you! Swans use the overflow channels as slides. This one's just checking its plumage before it goes down – the last thing you want when you're a swan is for a kinked feather to get caught on a cobble. I bet this place is like the log flume at Alton Towers in the middle of the summer, with swans queueing up to slide. I wonder if there's a height restriction.

What the bloody hell am I talking about?! Off my rocker. Sorry. 

Just beyond the tree line is Lancaster University. I was going to blithely write down that Lancaster is in the top ten of UK universities, without actually knowing whether it's true. Then I wondered whether it might be a Lancaster myth, made up to make us feel good about ourselves. But no, it's true, Lancaster is actually 8th for 2020. So that's nice. It's not really surprising, then, that I couldn't have got into Lancaster as a student if I'd wanted to. Just for fun now, I'm looking down the list to see where Aberystywth falls ... 58th. Nicely in the top half! Mega. 

I worked at Lancaster University for a few years. Good times. I liked working there. You soak up the energy and the strong feeling of motivation, and it's quite an inspiring place to be. Maybe one day I'll do a master's there. But maybe before that, when there's a vaccine, I'll go to the uni for a walk around the perimeter road and show it to you. It's nice. Not as nice as Cambridge, granted; still nice though.   

Would we call this a copse? I think it's a copse. I don't think it's a thicket, because, well, a thicket is thicker. But anyway, this little copse showed signs of autumn as I walked past – every couple of seconds I heard something fall, making little cracking noises as it hit branches on the way down. Since I don't know what the trees are, I don't know what was falling. I'm not getting very far with this tree learning, am I? Hmmmm, must try harder. 

Troll bridges all over the place in Lancaster. This one also leads to an enchanted forest, deep within which lies a forgotten and enchanted castle whose inhabitants have been in an enchanted sleep for, ummmmm, nine hundred years. Not many people know about it, and it's not on Google Maps, so don't bother looking. 

This seemed like a good place to stop. I didn't know the canal had any junctions, but here we see one. Looks to me like this bit with the locks is a little offshoot from the main canal. How terribly interesting. This was where I could have taken the left path and gone to Auntie Tricia's (that's right, it's Tricia, in actual fact) for a cup of tea, had I known where I was.

What I actually did was still quite a good use of my time. I sat on the bridge, choosing a really good view of the fields and the comfy path, and I got out my special British racing green Moleskine notebook (you've got to have the right notebook) and started to write my novel. I didn't write a lot, but I did write the first few paragraphs. It took a while because I'm the kind of writer who over-considers every word before committing it to paper, even though no one will see it. I need to fix that really because it's a significant problem! This is a problem that only occurs when I'm writing on paper – as you see in this blog, I have no such issue when waffling a load of rubbish for online consumption. I'm not going to tell you what my first paragraphs were about. If I ever finish this piece, you'll be able to buy it in Waterstones. If I don't, it doesn't matter. 

Feeling very pleased with myself, I headed back. It was here that I made the decision to make myself an appointment for an eye test so that I can get some new glasses with photochromic lenses so that I'm not blinded on sunny days. Completely unnecessary when you're a hermit and never leave the house; totally necessary now that I am not a hermit and I do leave the house. 

Look at this path. Proper good. Who wouldn't want to park themselves here on a summer's eve, and just exist? 

Two miles back to the car though, so I couldn't really dally any longer. A short pause to take a reflection selfie ...

And then I went to chat to some sheep. A couple of them were quite close for a while – they look you right in the eye. I wonder what they're thinking. Are sheep quite intelligent? I've never thought about it. I'll look that up later. 

It was all going on all of a sudden. Next, I saw a cow having a drink. This was so cool because it was making really loud slurping noises that sounded no different to human slurping noises. Two more people walking in the opposite direction to me stopped to watch the cow, and we all chuckled. What fun!

More of that comfy blanketed tunnel. I really love it here.

I stopped again to talk to some more cows, but these weren't in the mood and turned their backs on me as soon as I said hello. 

And then there was another one wading into the canal for a drink. Brilliant.

I was back at the Mill in next to no time – the way back is always quicker because I'm not stopping quite so often to take a photo or stare at a tree. 

That's a very happily situated house, is it not? I wonder if the inhabitants avoid looking out of their windows at night because there are will-o'-the-wisps.

Matthew and I are about to go out for a quick midnight walk because it's Friday. It's cold and we'll have to wrap up, but I've now run out of walks to type up on this gorgeous new machine, so I'll have to do one now.

Until later, giddy flames.

WQ