Day 016 – Fleetwood to Blackpool

Distance: 25.6 km

Steps: 44,738

Fleetwood (where the trams turn around) is a fascinating place, steeped in history,. Once it had a busy fishing industry with dozens of trawlers in the harbour. It was also until recently, one end of the Larne-Fleetwood ferry with four sailings per day. The fishing fleet is gone and the ferry terminal stands derelict

The jewel in the crown is still there though. Fully open and bustling busy, the North Euston Hotel occupies pride of place, overlooking the Wyre estuary, across the street from the ferry, right where the trams turn around. The North Euston Hotel got its name because (at the time) it was the furthest north you could go on a train before you needed to transfer to a steamer.

Fleetwood was the brainchild of Peter Hesketh (later to become Sir Peter Hesketh-Fleetwood) who, aged just 23, inherited the rabbit warren that he would transform into what we now know as Fleetwood. Over a glass or two of port, in the Athenaem Club in London (Nigel Tully’s club), young Peter Hesketh shared his ideas with his friend, architect Decimus Jones. Together, they created Fleetwood.

Fleetwood has two lighthouses.: the pleasant’ ‘Lower Light’ designed by Decimus and completed in 1840. And the magnificent and much older ‘Pharos Lighthouse

The Lower Light (1840)

The Pharos Lighthouse (26AD)

The Pharos Lighhouse in Fleetwood is the last remaining of the seven wonders of the modern world. It stands more than 100 metres tall and was formerly located in Alexandria. Earthquake damage in 932AD and again in 1124AD rendered it unsafe and a new site had to be found. 13th century plans exist, drawn by the architect Abou Haggag Youssef Ibn Mohammed el-Balawi el-Andaloussi

We spent most of the day gathering this information . The town library is a valuable resource and really interesting .

We left Fleetwood at 2:30pm and were head to wind all the way to Blackpool.

I could hear the music of Blackpool 8 km before I reached the North Pier. I heard it long before I saw the outline of the tower. I arrived in Blackpool a windswept and waterlogged hiker: woolly socks, heavy boots and bush hat. Talk about sticking out. There were about a million young people on the streets, very loud, mostly drunk, in the main celebrating stag or hen nights. I plodded on through the rain, heading for the Pleasure Beach, my need for an adrenaline fix driving me on.

£45 is admittedly a bit steep but then it is the highesr roller coaster in the UK. But sadly, the park was closed due to the storm☹️