Waking up from a good nights sleep in the sand dunes, I set off towards Southport.
The walk to Southport was a long straight trudge, though that was better than the alternative of trekking over the dunes.
Southport was busy with families enjoying the bank holiday. This was the beach Red Rum used to train over, he wouldn’t have got out of a walk today with the number of people and cars parked on it.
Had a chat with an ex navy guy who spotted my MIND T shirt, he was telling me of the lack of help in the services and also on the civilian side if you had PTSD. Next to him a dachshund consumed doggy ice cream.
The route then turned inland as I made my way to Preston in order to cross the Ribble there.
I passed through fields of lettuces and onions and a large number of glass houses, many ominously empty, whether due to labour shortages or fuel costs I don’t know.
The rain started to fall steadily as I crossed the flat countryside. I finally settled to wild camp in a small wood and drifted to sleep listening to the rain rattling on the tent.