Liverpool Castle & Rivington Pike

Equinoxial perambulation. Starting from the Dovecote carpark, I walked along the large open paths of Lever park and down through beech woods towards Liverpool Castle and Anglezarke. From there I headed uphill through the woods and emerged on a promontory leading to Rivington Pike. Continuing along the ridge with breathtaking views of Anglezarke and out towards the Irish Sea, I took a dip into the terraced (Chinese) gardens, and ascended towards the Dovecot tower. From there, a mile or so brought me back to the car park. Fabulous walk just following my nose on familiar tracks. One thing that struck me was that despite the relative lateness of the year, the trees and bushes were shy and still only in bud, with catkins predominating over leaves. There were very few people about on this day, but those I did bump into were prepared for a long natter and to open their heart's treasures to a stranger. 

Turton & Entwistle and Wayoh Reservoirs

This is probably the best walk I know with proximity to a large town (in this case, Bolton). That said, circumnavigating both of these reservoirs is a distinctly rural experience, and particularly with Wayoh reservoir, it is possible to walk almost all the way around it without encountering a soul. Naturally, you can flex this walk and do one reservoir or the other. I have done it/them in various combinations; Turton & Entwistle only, Wayoh only, and on this occasion both. It really helps that the car park, and the fabulous real ale pub the Strawberry Duck, is centrally situated between the walks. There is even a train station with half-hourly trains. All this within a stone's throw from Bolton, and so few locals enjoying it. Like William Morris said, we sit starving amidst our gold. 

Wheelton Plantation

"Brinscall, about seven miles southwest of Blackburn, was a small farming community owned by the de Hoghton family, who were lords of the manor in the 16th century. When the cotton industry came to Lancashire in the 19th century, a thriving community of handloom weavers was built up in the valley area. William Christopher Wood built the present Brinscall Hall in 1876, and a calico printworks which employed a number of people but which closed in 1928. The ruins of many of these buildings are now surrounded by woodland known as Wheelton Plantation. In 1847 Liverpool Corporation bought the water rights of Withnell Moor from William Bashall Parke, a local landowner, and built Roddlesworth reservoir. The area is now owned by North West Water Authority and is part of the Anglezarke link of reservoirs and also a nature conservation area." From The Lancashire Village Book, by the Lancashire Federation of Women's Institutes (Countryside Books, 1990).

"Withnell Moor in Lancashire appears a lonely wilderness today, to be enjoyed by walkers and wildlife. But only 120 years ago, it was a thriving community and where today piles of moss-covered stones scatter the land, there once stood farms and cottages, green pastures and meadows, all thronging with families who lived, worked and played there." From Recollections of a Moorland Lad by Richard Robinson (Merlin Unwin Books, 2016). 

"In the space of little more than five square miles, there used to be nearly fifty farms, upon which hundreds of men, women and children depended. Then, almost overnight, the march of ‘progress’ robbed them of their homes and livelihoods, leaving behind a landscape frozen in time, with crumbling buildings and lonely vestiges of human habitation." From Lost Farms of Brinscall Moors, by David Clayton (Carnegie Publishing, 2011). 

River Roddlesworth & Halliwell Fold Bridge

This was a quick January breezer just to get some fresh air and try to manufacture a feeble microgram of vitamin D or two. The woods were bleak yet beautiful at this time of year, with the canopy open to the heavens. I can't believe after walking in these woods as often as I have, that there is an on-off waterfall depending on what time of year you go (Halliwell Fold Scar) AND further up towards Tockholes, an abandoned/ half demolished ancient manor house in the old township of Tockholes that was largely rebuilt in the 1770's (Hollinshead Hall). Had I known about them at the time, both of these features would have been wonderful additions to our walk, but somehow you gotta roll with the punches and do what the gods have in store for you. 

Franz Wacik (1833- 1938)

Franz Wacik was originally a student at the painting school Strehblow. Later on he studied at the Kunstgewerbeschule Wien with Alfred Roller . From 1902 to 1908 he studied painting with Christian Griepenkerl , Franz Rumpler and Heinrich Lefler at the Vienna Art Academy. Wacik devoted himself to book illustration, mainly in children's and youth books. He illustrated mostly in color, works by Hans Christian Andersen , fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm , stories by ETA Hoffmann , Hugo von Hofmannsthal , Clemens Brentano, and also the folk book by Till Eulenspiegel. For the series of books on Austria's Hall of Fame he took on the volumes on Franz Schubert and Franz Grillparzer, for the weekly magazine The Muskete he made hundreds of color illustrations, and also contributed to the Youth Red Cross. His works particularly stand out for the ambitious series Gerlach's Youth Library, again with Andersen's Fairy Tales and illustrations to Baron von Münchhausen.

Jose Gonzalez: With the Ink of a Ghost (2015)

With the Ink of a Ghost is the opening track of Swedish singer-songwriter Jose Gonzalez's 3rd studio album Vestiges & Claws. It was released on 17 February 2015 on Mute Records.

"These are incredibly moving songs full of bittersweet asides that strike you at first with their haiku-like simplicity, only to draw you deeper into González's iceberg of ideas. Ultimately, it's this ability to stop you in your tracks and hold you with the warmth of his voice as you contemplate your existence that makes Vestiges & Claws such an arresting, uplifting joy." (Matt Collar of AllMusic )

Got to agree!

Lytham St. Annes

This was one of those impromptu days where you end up going wherever your nose leads you, and it works out to the good. It started out with me playing taxi driver and chaperone to my mum, who had a hospital appointment in Liverpool. We drove from Stockport to Liverpool, and after the appointment, we decided it was too nice a day to just head home, so I suggested Lytham St. Annes. 

Like a complete dope, I thought Lytham was only just north of Southport, and indeed it is, but necessarily via Preston and over the Ribble, via the M55 and far & away. Hey ho. We got there in the end and found the parking on the seafront easy. Mum was feeling well enough to walk along the promenade, into the town where we had fish and chips al fresco, and then through some of the funky arcade novelty/antiques shops, and back again to walk along to the windmill. We spent some time lingering on a bench looking out across the Ribble, in the gentle lucency of the sun, cosseted by a warm tidal breeze. In all, it was a perfect unplanned visit to the seaside capped off with an obligatory ice cream. 

Although it was a good week before the equinox, there was a sense of harmony and balance in nature that day. The tide swelled and swallowed up the estuary and rickety jetty. The sun arced boldly across the sky, seeking its rest and extinguishment in the Irish sea. The journey back was uncomplicated. We had waited for rush hour to peter out before we set off, and the sky was illuminated by a scarlet sunset awash with magic and awe.

Fairfield Half-Horseshoe Fail from Grasmere

Always a bold move to place yourself in somebody else's hands when it comes to planning a walk. All the more bold when your guide is one of those sans-map, winging it kind of sporty types who believes they can just excavate their way out of any trouble with a bowie knife (avalanches, broken legs, earthquakes, difficult to open tupperware boxes, etc). Never trust a walker who doesn't wear socks: never trust anyone on the tops!   

So I can't say for certain the route I traversed, but I know we started in Grasmere, passed Alcock Tarn, and headed up the first half of the Fairfield Horseshoe at breakneck speed. I just wasn't fit enough and pegged out a couple of times on the way up, not that Buzz Lightyear was bothered, having trotted off ahead by a few furlongs. Although I had (literally) done the hard yards and managed to ascend Fairfield (the rest being ridge walking), I was just in shreds so we took a turn east and descended back to Grasmere along a reasonably pleasant path not pictured below (if only I had been in any fit state to enjoy it). By making the impromptu descent I think we carved about 8km (5 miles) off the intended walk for which I was existentially thankful. This is only the 2nd walk I have had to cut short in my life, but it does show you even experienced walkers are not invulnerable and emphasises several time-honoured rules:

1. Always look out for your buddy, tracking back if you have to

2. Always have a PLANNED off-ramp (escape route) off the mountains and don't be ashamed to use it.

3. Even if you are fit enough to accomplish a walk, be prepared for the unlikely event of becoming unwell or incapacitated. Even a twist of the ankle can quite radically change the calculus of a walk.

4. Tell somebody who is not on the walk where you are going and an approximate time of return.

5. Keep your mobile charged. 

Stay safe!

Brecon Beacons & Ross on Wye

We went glamping in the Brecon Beacons for the weekend, doing only a bit of lazy walking on the Saturday with a visit to Ross on Wye on the Sunday. One of the best things about the glamping unit was the presence of a log fired hot tub. With the flames, the water, the cool air and the stars above, its a very primal experience. I can see how the Scandinavians derive such ecstasy from it that they feel the need to beat themselves back to sensibility with birch branches and roll about in snow. One thing I learned was that there is a lag time of about 1 hour to 90 minutes with the heating of the log burner and the temperature of the tub, so you need to get started long before you intend to jump in. Also, when the water gets unbearably hot, the only way to cool it down is to use a hose of cold water to top up, so have one handy. Musing as I did over the capricious nature of the specific heat capacity of water, I forgot to take a picture of the apparatus, which was joyfully lit with different coloured LED lights a bit like a Christmas tree, so I have included a picture off the internet to show you what I am talking about. The others are random clips from the weekend. 

Citroen Type H and C-10

Here is a strange blog topic for me. I went to a giant car storage park in Rochdale on a grimy day in winter 2018, and was struck by the presence of a Citroen Type H van warmly masquerading as a fire engine amongst the army of camper vans and motorhomes. Naturally I took a few photos, did a bit of research, and a Bohemian Budgie Blog was born. 

Of all the quirky workhorses to ever rumble along Europe’s backroads, the Citroën Type H van holds a special kind of charm. It’s the sort of machine that makes people smile when they see it, even if they don’t know what it is. It’s unmistakably French; practical, a little eccentric, and deeply rooted in the post-war spirit of making do with what you’ve got, but doing it with style. 

Born in 1947, the Type H was Citroën’s answer to a pressing problem: France needed to get back on its feet after the devastation of World War II, and businesses across the country needed a simple, rugged, and affordable way to move goods. Citroën, already known for its engineering ingenuity, took the challenge seriously. What they came up with wasn’t just functional; it was revolutionary. 

The van’s corrugated metal panels were its signature feature, a clever design trick borrowed from German wartime aircraft. The ridges added strength without piling on weight, giving the Type H the durability of a tank with the agility of a city van. Its front-wheel-drive layout, taken straight from Citroën’s Traction Avant, allowed for a low, flat load floor; easy to climb into, easy to load, and far ahead of its time. Every inch of the Type H was built with purpose, but in that distinctly Citroën way, practicality didn’t mean sacrificing personality. 

Over the decades, the Type H proved itself endlessly adaptable. It hauled vegetables to market, delivered fresh baguettes, served as a mobile butcher’s shop, and even ferried the wounded as an ambulance. Craftsmen loved it. Street vendors depended on it. It became part of the scenery in villages and towns, blending into daily life until it was impossible to imagine the French countryside without one. 

But to understand how Citroën arrived at something as charmingly utilitarian as the Type H, you need to look at the ideas bubbling inside the company during that same period; ideas that led not just to practical vans, but also to some of the most imaginative concept cars of the time. One of these was the Citroën C-10, a tiny teardrop of a car that couldn’t have been more different from the workaday Type H, but was born from the same restless curiosity about what cars could be. 

The C-10, sometimes called the "Coccinelle" (French for ladybug), was a study in minimalism and aerodynamics. It was designed to be ultra-light and ultra-efficient, a futuristic pod for a post-war world hungry for affordable mobility. Its slippery, egg-like shape couldn’t have been further from the corrugated bulk of the Type H, but both vehicles shared a single guiding principle: make the most of what’s available, and don’t be afraid to solve problems in unconventional ways. 

In a sense, the C-10 and the Type H are like two sides of the same coin. One explored efficiency in motion, while the other mastered efficiency in function. Both showed that Citroën was not just in the business of building cars and vans; they were in the business of rethinking what vehicles could be, with an eye for practicality and a flair for the unexpected. 

The Type H finally bowed out in 1981, after more than three decades of faithful service. By then, the world had changed, and newer vans like the Citroën C25 were ready to take over. But the Type H never really disappeared. It lived on in memory and affection, its silhouette instantly recognizable and its spirit woven into the cultural fabric of France. Today, restored Type H vans still roam the streets, repurposed into coffee trucks, food stalls, or stylish vintage haulers. It’s a machine that was built to work; and somehow, it became a legend.

Reference

Citroën (2019) Retromobile UK: 100 Years of Vehicles Inspired by You. Citroën UK. Available at: https://www.citroen.co.uk/content/dam/citroen/uk/b2c/about-citroen/making-history/pdf/retromobile_uk.pdf