15 August 2016 - Lyons Farm, Melling, Kirkby, near Liverpool, Merseyside

Chris sat up very late last night to watch Andy Murray play for his gold medal, and also catching up with the multi-medal day for Team GB. By this morning, Britain had climbed to second place on the medal table for the 2016 Olympics, now two thirds through. All of this armchair sport meant our day was slow in starting.

The weather forecast was brilliant, not just for today but for several days forward. This alone should be reason to celebrate however rather than spend precious time doing so, we set out for yet another National Trust property, this time Rufford Old Hall even closer to our camp than yesterday’s destination. We travelled north west via Ormskirk in Lancashire. Up until now, Ormskirk had been simply the final destination of the train we have caught each Liverpool-exploration day. Now we learned a little more.

Rufford Old Hall was built in 1530 for Sir Robert Hesketh, although only the original Great Hall survives in the current structure, because like most of these houses, it has been built on to, remodelled, renovated and partly demolished. The brick built wing in the Jacobean style was added in 1661 and a third wing was added in 1821. The house is designated by English Heritage as a Grade I listed building and the adjacent service buildings, Grade II.

Post-Tudor additions to Rufford Old Hall

The Old Hall remained in continuous ownership by the Hesketh family through until 1936 when it was gifted to the National Trust, although during some of those years, the house was leased out. In 1798, the house was considered not quite grand enough for a baronet and so Rufford New Hall was built to accommodate and entertain these greater and grander folk, just down the road. From then on, the Heskeths who did deign to reside within the walls of the Old Hall were dowagers, younger siblings or baronets in waiting. 

The family came to own the land, great swathes of land throughout the county, from the time of the Norman conquest when they were awarded it for services rendered. Canny marriages and good management kept it intact until this last century when massive subdivision of land took place, and the house was put on the market to raise funds for the taxes arising from the land sales. Alas there were no takers for the asking price and the house was relinquished to meet fiscal demands.

Rufford Old Hall - the original 1530 Great Hall

Arriving soon after opening time of 11am, we found a spot in the already crowded car park, and set off along the Rufford Canal which bounds the Hall and gardens, through a small wood and across a field of long grass, a mass of wild flowers, nettles and blackberry. Above the sky was criss-crossed with a dozen jet trails, underfoot the grass was still wet with dew. We paused to feed on the ripening blackberries, juicy and small, but really better left for another day.

Back at the Hall we wandered about the gardens, admiring the blooms, the orchard, the vegetable gardens where we noted the massive onions still not having reached the gardeners expectations. We discussed this with the gardeners and the problem with box hedges in England, which according to the man sculpturing a squirrel from one large box plant, is not the ghastly problem some would suggest.

At midday, we assembled with a dozen others at the Hall entrance and listened to a guide explain the history and quirks of the building as we wandered around the exterior. After lunch we took ourselves inside, joining the masses, although less than those packed into Speke Hall yesterday.

Rufford Marina

The afternoon was still young, so we headed back down the A59 to the village of Rufford turning into the marina. This is an area off the canal to accommodate dozens of narrow-boats and providing a very pleasant walking and picnic spot. We wandered about here for some time, and up the other side of the canal to the lock. We stopped and chatted briefly with a fisherman and I asked what his long cylindrical net was for. He obviously thought I was quite stupid and I did feel so after he explained; it is to keep the caught fish in until they are returned to the water after the fishing experience.  Makes sense, but I still can’t get over the fact that people actually fish with the sole expectation of returning them all to the water. It is for sport I am told; I had always thought fishing was a combination of hunter-gathering and sport. Silly me!

I suggested we head to the Ribble Coast & Wetlands Regional Park just a couple of miles to the west. At the Hall we had learned that once there had been the largest body of fresh water in England lying immediately to the west of the Hall. A 1579 map shows the lake stretching from Rufford in the east, to Churchtown in the west, from mere Brow and Holmeswood in the north to Scarisbrick Hall. It was known as Martin Mere, and drained out in two places, the eastern outlet into the River Douglas which in turn flows into the River Ribble to the north, thus offering navigational accessibility. 

Attempts to drain the lake had been made since 1692, again in the 1780s, but effective drainage was only achieved in the mid-19^th century with the introduction of steam pumping. This served to increase the land owned and able to be cultivated for the Hesketh family and their tenant farmers. Interestingly I also learned that between 1974 and 1982 sand from the former lake bed was quarried for use in glass-making at Mere Sands Wood which is now this nature reserve to which we headed.

Martin Mere’s reserve covers 650 acres and welcomes thousands of Whooper swans and pink-footed geese over the winter, and a host of other birds and human families in the summer. We were amazed to find the huge car park so full on arrival. We made our way through to the entrance, where we found entry would cost us, even after the OAP discount, almost £10 each. Had we arrived early in the day with a plan to spend more time there, we might have considered this worth the out-lay, however we were just calling by to check it out with the thought of a short walk. Not today, thank you very much!

And so we headed back home to Lyons Farm, arriving to find the German motor homers still here. We had engaged one of them in conversation this morning before setting out for our day. He was walking his little shiatsu, named William, who responded only to German commands as you would expect. The two parties travelling together are intending to meet up with their children flying into Manchester, and then set off north to the Isle of Skye. We had understood that to be happening today; obviously something was lost in translation, perhaps it will be tomorrow. 

Late this afternoon while we were sitting over our ritual arriving-home-coffee, Chris G came around on his ride-on mower. It was just this week his part-time worker was doing the same, however the grass has already grown up about our caravan steps. Hopefully we will be gone before it hides the caravan!