The triumph of experience over hope

Hardy Farm 

I've got my head around the new train timetables now: we've quietly lost a couple of trains from Humphrey Park, the Liverpool trains are less helpful and a couple now stop at Warrington; they've addressed the problem of congestion at the Castlefield/Deansgate bottleneck by limiting the number of trains stopping at Deansgate, losing the cross-city connections on the trams and free buses; and what I gain by only having to wait half an hour for the direct train to Southport from Oxford Road I lose by having to wait the best part of an hour for the rest after nine o'clock. So it was I left home at the crack of dawn to get the train into Manchester for a trip out to Redcar. The weather was set fair for a cold but very clear day, just right for Winter seawatching.

I was in luck, the Redcar train was one of the few Transpennine trains running from Oxford Road this morning. Even so I was a bit uneasy about the journey, looking at the departure boards it felt like something wasn't right so it was with a huge sense of relief when the train pulled in and set off.

All went well until we arrived at York. And stayed at York. Then the train was cancelled. I waited for the next train, which should have left Oxford Road just after ten o'clock. Ten minutes before it was due the departure board said it was cancelled. I checked online, it was running but late and still scheduled to get to Redcar. I looked at the time, I looked at the time the train would get there, if it did, I wondered if and how I'd be getting home, and I saw the train back to Manchester was leaving in four minutes. I hate conceding defeat on railway journeys, it offends pride as much as pocket. Anyway, I bottled it. And I got back into Manchester a few minutes after the train was due to arrive at Redcar.

There were some consolations. The Pennines were a Winter wonderland. North Yorkshire had its share of buzzards and kestrels. A family of roe deer browsed by the track near Barkstone Ash. And a red kite floated low over a back garden in Ulleskelf, though given the flooding in the Ulleskelf area it might have been more appropriate for it to be a white-tailed eagle.

I had been tempted to linger in Yorkshire and have a wander round seeing as I was already there but opted to keep going in to Greater Manchester where at least my options for creatively getting round any travel problems wouldn't be restricted by Transpennine's train service.

The train got into Manchester late and we arrived in time to miss any local trains that might get me somewhere for a consolation walk. I decided that I'd get the first bus at Piccadilly Gardens that didn't go home and see if I could make a walk of it. As it happened, the first was the 86 to Chorlton so I had another Mersey Valley walk. I was spectacularly pissed off by the trains so a bit of sliding about on ice, snow and half-frozen mud wasn't going to spoil any good mood.

Ivy Green 

I walked through Chorltonville into Ivy Green. There were patches of snow and ice but these were easily navigable. The tree that had fallen over the brook and the path was a little trickier. Pairs of parakeets screamed the odds as they chased each other round the treetops. The blackbirds, robins and woodpigeons were quiet, the crows and magpies less so. A mixed tit flock in some birches included a couple of goldcrests.

Chorlton Ees contrived to be even less busy than the other day. Parakeets, chaffinches and bullfinches were easier to hear than to see.

Chorlton Ees 

The river was lower again at Jackson's Boat, nearly back to normal. A few mallards dabbled by the bank and a cormorant flew upstream.

I didn't fancy the wibbly wobbly bridge in these conditions and didn't want to go down to Chorlton Water Park so I headed through Hardy Farm and got the bus home. At least I'd managed a bit of exercise and justified carrying the binoculars round for a day.