Avoiding the marathon

After a light lunch and a rest Commando declared he felt up to a little more gentle walking and suggested we have a look at the canals. This sounded a lot more like it as far as I was concerned, although I knew he wouldn’t be anywhere near up to the walk I had originally planned, so off we went.

Pretty soon we were at Pioneeer Wharf and I told Commando all about going the wrong way and stumbling upon a mini tent city. Across the road Commando spotted the giant bike sculpture we both remembered from our first visit to the city. This is George Wylie’s Life Cycle commissioned by Manchester Council for an international conference on the environment in 1995. Originally it stood in Albert Square. Quite how I missed it earlier is a mystery.

We walked through Castlefield and I pointed out all the things I’d seen the day before, especially the sheep. There were no swans today but we could hear the distant honking of geese. When we reached the white arched bridge we crossed it. A pleasure cruise barge was just pulling out, heading along  the Bridgwater Canal. We decided to follow it, taking part of the walk I’d planned. Of course, I’d been expecting to do it on my own while Commando was running and I knew he’d never be able to walk the whole distance but some was better than none and it was nice to have company, even if it was limping badly.

It wasn’t long before we saw some of the geese who’d been making all the noise. These ones looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths and swam to the bank to see if we had any food for them. We didn’t and they looked slightly disgusted. The towpath here wasn’t as interesting as the Rochdale Canal path had been if I’m honest. We seemed to be walking between tall apartment blocks, very modern and, we both agreed, probably very nice to live in, but not as scenic as the old brick buildings by a long way. There was more river traffic here too and every time a boat passed the gease would all flap about honking like mad.
“They’re probably saying ‘get off my canal,'” Commando laughed.

The noise of dozens of angry geese seemed to echo along the canal. It reminded me of part of a Pink Floyd track called Bike and I wondered if they’d captured the sound on a canal like this. Of course, I then had said track running through my head. Although there were no nice old buildings there were still plenty of bridges and brick arches to look at and on one pillar, graffiti of a sleepy looking fish.

Not long after this we came upon a Canada Goose on the path. It looked suspiciously at Commando as he sneaked past it. He looked suspiciously back. He was attacked by a goose on a run in the New Forest once and is now very wary of them.
“Be careful,” he said as I hung back to take a photo, “it might go for you.”
He was probably right. Although I did get my photo, the goose got a little too close for comfort and hissed at me in a very unwelcoming way. He seemed to be guarding the path.

Further along the buildings on the far bank had receded into the distance and the canal was bounded by scrubby trees and untidy grass. Some large blocks of stone were piled amongst this and I wondered what they were for.
“Perhaps they’re building something,” Commando suggested.
“Or maybe they’ve pulled something down,” I said, “they look quite old and weathered.”

A group of loud young men on bicycles passed us and we had to squish ourselves against the wall to avoid being run over. A cloud of sweet smelling smoke followed them, unmistakably marijuana. I wondered how they’d  got on with the goose? A few minutes later we went under a bridge and passed the lads. Their bikes were leaned against the wall and the were sitting on some steps still smoking.

Soon after this one of the pleasure cruiser barges we’d seen near the white bridge finally caught up with us. Rather than go past though, it stopped and seemed to be turning.
“If that’s the extent of the cruise I think I’d be asking for my money back,” I said.
“I think there’s a lock there,” Commando pointed out.
Sure enough, there was and the barge was turning towards it rather than turning back. We stopped to watch for a while. When its stern was facing us I spotted the name L S Lowry on the back. It conjured up matchstick men and the floating bridge painting I’d seen in Southampton Art Gallery a couple of years ago, when CJ and I were hunting for baby rhinos.
“The River Irwell runs beside this canal,” I said, sounding like a real authority on the Manchester canal system although I only knew from my route planning. “It must be heading for that. In fact I was going to walk back along it originally.”

It wasn’t long before we could see another bridge ahead. As we got closer we could see it had a name, Throstle Nest Bridge, how wonderfully odd. The Old Trafford Stadium peeked over the top of it and we could see the huge road sign I remember using as a landmark during the last marathon. My planned route carried on past this, along the River Irwell to the point where it joins the Bridgewater Canal. About half a mile from where we stood was the old Coronation Street set. Although I haven’t watched the programme since I was a child and I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be much to see, I’d thought it might be fun to walk past and look anyway.

The marathon start and finish line was just beyond the bridge too, out of sight but there nonetheless. Commando was strangely reluctant to go any further. He didn’t want to be reminded that he was here with me, walking along a canal when he should have been running up on that road. His ankle was hurting too and it stood to reason this should be our turning point.
“Shall we go over the bridge and back along the river or back the way we came?” I asked.
“Can we get back along the river?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure we can. It was the way I planned to go back and I’m pretty sure I could see a path most of the way. It crosses back to the canal further along, near the lock I think.”
“Ok then, let’s take the river for a change.”
So we climbed onto the bridge.

From the top we could see the stadium hoardings and the Trafford Arch which serves as the Marathon start. In hindsight we probably should have turned around and not climbed. Thankfully we saw no runners, not even finishers walking home. Soon enough we’d turned our back on it all and were heading along a road in the general direction of Castlefields.

Pretty soon we came to the Pomona Metrolink Station. In fact a tram was leaving as we approached.
“We could catch a tram back if you like,” I suggested, thinking of his ankle. “They probably stop at Deansgate and it would save you walking.”
Commando said he was ok to keep going though so we carried on along a pleasant looking walkway beside the river. There was a row of globe like street lights and a bench here and there. A couple of cyclists were ahead of  us and a  couple of walkers behind.

Then the path divided. To our right was a rough looking track crossing wasteland that is due to be developed and turned into more of the apartments we’d seen earlier. We ignored it and carried on ahead. From my planning I knew there was a way across this wedge of land, basically an island between the river and the canal but I was a little hazy on which path to take.  The cyclists had carried on past too though so I figured they knew where they were heading and didn’t admit to my misgivings.

Unfortunately, the cyclists knew even less. We rounded a bend and discovered them standing near the lock, unable to carry on because the way was barred. With a shrug, they got on their bikes and went back the way they’d come. Commando made an irritated noise. Then the walkers caught up with us.
“Isn’t there a way through?” they asked.
“It doesn’t look like it,” I said, eyeing a dirt track leading  up the steep bank above the lock. “There might be a way up there but I not sure.”
“Oh, we were following you. We thought you knew where you were going.”
“We thought the cyclists knew where they were going,” I shrugged.

On a different day I’d probably have climbed the bank but I wasn’t sure Commando and his ankle would manage it. If it didn’t lead us back to the canal we’d have added even more distance to our walk and that was the last thing Commando needed. While we turned back the other walkers braved it.

When we came to the divide in the path there was a handy bench so we sat for a while and I checked Google Maps. As far as I could see both the rough track across the development site and the dirt track up the bank lead to a bridge across to the canal. Obviously there wasn’t any photo taking. Commando was decidedly unimpressed and might have throttled me if I’d got my phone out again. Thankfully we made it back. We saw the other walkers ahead of us as we reached the bridge so they made it too. Then it was back the way we came with Commando slowly getting less cross the closer we got to the hotel.

Back at the hotel we managed to avoid most of the marathon finishers and scuttled back to our room with our eyes to the ground trying not to notice the ones we did pass. The day was rounded off with a very nice meal in an Indian Restaurant near the hotel. There were also photos of a few more statues I’d been meaning to capture since we arrived. They are the work of Colin Spofforth and the row of colourful acrobatic figures are certainly eye catching.

Non marathon day ended with a short walk back to the hotel as the sun was slowly setting. It had been a tough day for Commando but we’d made the best of it and had a little adventure along the way. Life has a way of throwing curve balls like marathon halting injuries once in a while. I guess it’s the way you deal with them that matters.

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