Farewell to our Morgan!

What a traumatic day as we waved goodbye to 'Nellie' as she sat on Richard Thorne's transporter before the long journey to the Reading area.

                                     Helen stands forlornly by the side of her beloved 'Nellie'

Our last drive in the Morgan was to Silverdale,  north on the M6 and off at Carnforth to what is a lovely area with a very interesting coastline.

It was a little disappointing in the sense that the area was very crowded with families,  the bulk of which I'm sure,  spending their holidays in the UK due to Covid and the narrow roads were extremely busy with one of the main routes closed.

Grange over Sands in the hazy distance across Morecambe Bay and the River Kent estuary

Anyway we had a very pleasant picnic on the shore and of course enjoyed the drive in the Morgan although the potholes as usual were troublesome.

                                                                Just a wee snack!

The decision to say goodbye after 13 years had been slowly building during this summer as we realised that we weren't using the car as much usual and it was, due to our advancing years,  getting more difficult to get in and out of it! 

                           A family taking a risk amongst the 'quicksand' and the incoming tide.

 Time now for someone else to experience the satisfaction and joy of owning one!

                                                     A rather empty garage!!!!!

A big thank you to all the followers of my blog and I hope that you have all enjoyed reading about our adventures in possibly one of the only remaining true sports cars.

                                                                   A final wave

 

A Pootle to Pilling

 For those of you who are unaware,  Pilling is an ancient settlement,  founded on what is essentially an 'island' with the sea on one side and marsh on the others. 

From artefacts finds there is evidence of spasmodic human activity dating back to the neolithic period.

What amazing knowledge you can gain from turning up a place on Google!!!

             The very distant horizon across the marshland towards Barrow and the Lake District

The village lies just east of that booming resort on the Fylde Coast,  Knott End on Sea.

Proof of the spasmodic activity that exists even now is the boarded up shell of the only public house,  a victim I suppose of this wretched Covid pandemic.

                                     The spire of Pilling Church and the surrounding village.

Anyway everything else appeared to be alive and kicking with many residents,  judging by the car parks,  attending morning services at both the Methodist and Church of England churches. I did try to keep my foot off the accelerator as we drove passed!

A coaster in Morecambe Bay that appears to be aground but probably isn't and just waiting for the tide.

It was a nice little run.  We did plan to travel further but the traffic was building up so we decided to shorten it and stick to the little roads endowed with even more potholes than the main routes!

25 Degrees?....

 .....Yes,  in England,  the Lake District to be precise so there was not a moment to spare.

I filled the Morgan with a full tank of gas and we got on the road again.

                                                          Outside the 'Lakeland HQ.

Sadly, in one sense anyway,  thousands of other marooned residents of the UK had similar ideas so although our first stop at the 'Lakeland'  headquarters in Windermere was quiet we soon hit the crowds as we travelled through Bowness.

This is a place that is relatively busy at all times of the year but at present is heaving with visitors.

Outside Blackwell House

So a back road was selected that brought us to Blackwell House, an 'Arts and Crafts'  house that we have visited before but on this occasion,   having avoided the car park and much to my wife's horror driven passed visitors in the cafe,  who admired the car immensely,  I positioned it in an appropriate photogenic spot to collect another photo or two for this blog post! 

Then it was on to a lovely picnic spot that seemed to have been avoided by most where we enjoyed some refreshment and absorbed the scenery.

         View from our picnic spot with the Langdale Pikes just visible in the distance, at far right. 

Our friends who live in a village called Finsthwaite,  just inland from Lakeside,  were our next port of call and we spent a lovely couple of hours with them before heading home via the M6 motorway,  still without ear defenders which we think are an absolute must if travelling on a motorway with the top down.

                                In front of the lich-gate of Finsthwaite church and the church itself.

Wonderful weather and a great day. 

                                                                       Finsthwaite.

The only sound......

 .....was that of bees buzzing,  as they collected pollen from the flowering heather,  beyond that there was total silence as we briefly stopped on Egton High Moor en route for Rosedale Abbey,  where their is no abbey but only the few remains of a Cistercian monastery.

                                            A brief stop in the heather on Egton High Moor

Once again we were spending a few days in the North Yorkshire Moors staying at the 'Horseshoe Inn' in Levisham,   not in the Morgan but in our Volvo.  While driving there we noticed a sign outside the Middleton Arms public house in Middleton on the A170.  The landlord,  obviously with a sharp sense of humour had temporarily renamed it as "The Vaccinated Arms"!!!!

Needless to say we took the opportunity of travelling on the renowned North Yorkshire Moors Railway in the knowledge that, apart from the fun,  our fare was contributing to the future of this important national resource which is mainly run by volunteers supported also by the National Lottery.

                                                                   Levisham Station

                                                 The 9.20 from Pickering approaching

                                              Our Southern Region Loco at Whitby Station

My wife had reminded me about the vast crowds that flock to Whitby which I must say had escaped my failing memory since our last visit.  Nothing had changed in that respect and just like any attractive fishing town during the summer season it was absolutely heaving,  not only with people,  but people with dogs that contrived it seemed to trip you up with their ridiculous extending leads in the cobbled narrow streets.

                                                                   Whitby Harbour

Enough was enough and we returned to sit at the station for an hour to await our return train.

                                                      Our engine for the return journey

                                                                  Wet at Grosmont

During dinner at our pub a chap from North London said that  his Guide Book suggested that the best time to visit Whitby was on a wet Tuesday afternoon in December when perhaps the 'Strictly Come Dancing' final was on the telly!!!

It is amazing that short breaks such as this make you feel that you have been away much longer and I commend them to everyone but perhaps,  for our sakes,  you might avoid Whitby!!!

                                                 The view from our Garden Room

Here we go again!!......

 ....Another lovely picnic in one of our favourite spots by a tributary of the RiverWyre which the Duke of Westminster kindly allows us to enjoy in the Forest of Bowland.

The day dawned cloudy,  totally the opposite of what the Met. Office had predicted which shattered the plans we had made the night before for a drive into the Yorkshire Dales.

Anyway,  after another look at the forecast it looked as though the weather would improve in the late morning, which amazingly turned out to be correct.

So,  although Yorkshire was out of the question we directed our plans to a drive into the Bleasdale Fells.

Two yummy pork pies, a nice bottle of Provencal rose,  two Eccles cakes, a flask of tea and a newspaper were loaded into the Mog and away we went,  into what turned out to be glorious sunshine.

I suppose it is somewhat tedious to mention yet again the condition of many of Britain's roads,  the state of which can be only experienced and appreciated fully in a Morgan or a Model T Ford!  As I have said before I should invite the CEO of Lancashire County Council to join me in enjoying the ghastly potholes that we endure every time we venture out!!!

But I don't think that we will allow a few potholes to stop us!

Under an English heaven....

 ....using my vintage fishing equipment at the Woodfold Farm Fishery,  nestling as it does on the upper slopes of Beacon Fell in the Bleasdale fells,  some 35 minutes from our home.

There are three lovely lodges sited by the lakes and for the third occasion we spent an excellent four days enjoying the total peace and proximity to nature that is so satisfying and restful.

As far as the fishing is concerned I am trying to keep my tackle to a minimum and adopt the same techniques,  or lack of them, that I used when I was fishing as a young boy in the local ponds close to my home.

                                                                     A nice Rudd
It is incredible the amount of equipment anglers today burden themselves with,  some with four wheeled trolleys in which to carry it all to their fishing spot.

I do have a small trolley and seat,  at the insistence of my lovely wife who has rightly spotted some deficiencies in my physical capabilities.....like walking!!!!

                                          The view from the kitchen window at our lodge

The fact is that the sport has been made into a science with tackle and methods that are often totally beyond my understanding,  but the developments have certainly enriched the coffers of tackle dealers, especially during the present pandemic when many have taken up the sport.

I did have a good laugh to myself on the occasion when a keen carp angler fishing opposite me hauled in a very nice carp of about 8lbs or so.  Just at the same moment,  my float dived under the surface,  I struck and landed a tiddler that was about 2 inches long!!!!!

Never mind,  I just enjoy the solitude and the quiet enjoyment that I get from it.

Rumours of my demise..........

 ........are greatly exaggerated!!

However,  it is very true that I have not made a contribution to my blog for some time.

                                            Quick vacuum of carpets and window cleaning               

Anyway,  yesterday while polishing the Morgan I promised myself that today my dear wife and I would once again venture into them there 'ills' on a trip to buy some of our favourite pork pies in Lancaster.

The day dawned rather cloudy and I began to feel that it would not be an ideal day to go but as the hours progressed the day got brighter and the decision was made to go....but not before vacuuming the Morgan carpets and cleaning it's windows.

Once we had cleared the main road out and the A6 we were in perfect Morgan country once again.

We made a brief stop in Scotforth, a small hamlet on our approach to the Farm Shop in Lancaster.

                                                    The bridge and river at Scotforth

I waited in the car for my wife to return and it was clear from the expression on her face that something was amiss.....WHAT?  NO PIES!!!!!....well not hot ones anyway so our little picnic had to be large sausage rolls and syrup flapjack!

Fortunately our journey was not wasted as we were able to collect some pies for freezing and other items.

                                 Our picnic spot with a misty Morecambe Bay in the background

It is an appropriate moment to once again mention the appalling state of the UK's pothole ridden roads,  only really appreciated in a Morgan with sliding pillar suspension.  Modern suspension systems can cope much better so most drivers don't appreciate fully how bad the roads are.  Needless to say Covid will be used as the excuse for delaying proper repairs in the near future.

                                                                    Not far from home

You would think that we would be used to them by now but it is nerve-racking and bone shaking to say nothing about the ghastly crashing noises emitted during every impact. 

I am tempted to invite the head of Lancashire County Council to spend a week driving in the Morgan with me when he might understand my chagrin.

Nevertheless it was a good drive in very pleasant conditions and at least the Morgan has had a good run and we have had a good dose of fresh air and are both yawning vigorously to prove it.