A Walk through Silverdale to Jenny Brown's Point

As the weather cleared up this afternoon after a morning of heavy rain we decided to walk through Silverdale to Jenny Brown's Point. Silverdale isn't far from home and we can pop into see my Mum and Dad on the way, so it's a perfect Sunday afternoon destination.
Lindeth Tower
We parked close to The Wolf House Gallery although today, unfortunately, we didn't have time for a coffee and a browse through the lovely stuff! Close to Wolf House, which gets its name because it looks over to Humphrey Head where legend has it the last wolf in England was killed, is Lindeth Tower. It was here that Elizabeth Gaskell escaped the Manchester smog to holiday by the coast. She wrote her novel, Ruth, in the Tower shortly after it was built, no doubt inspired by the stunning views across Morecambe Bay and to the Howgills.
Gate into Jack Scout with Morecambe Bay beyond
Our walk took us past Jack Scout, a promontory now owned by the National Trust, which gives superb views of the Lakeland hills and fells. Today the tide was rushing in and it was a great spot from which to watch the Bore rushing up Morecambe Bay. Our destination, Jenny Brown's Point was almost under water and it was impossible to walk across the rocks. We promised ourselves that we would return in the summer when the tide is out.
Jenny Brown's Point - the tide was coming in fast
Our drive home took us through the Yealands, Redmayne and Conyers. These are small villages between Milnthorpe and Carnforth and are best known for their Quaker connections. The author, Elfrida Vipont, lived here and wrote The Lark in the Morn and The Lark on the Wing here. They are wonderful books and probably her best known novels.

Silverdale and Arnside became Silversands in Angela Brazil's early novel Bosom Friends. Angela Brazil was born in Preston and spent many of her early holidays in the Silverdale and Arnside area, enjoying the sea and sands. 

Brazil writes " the little town of Silversands was built on the cliffs by the sea, so close over the greeny-brown water that the dash of the waves was always in your ears and the taste of the salt spray always on your lips."

I don't think I could describe Silverdale more perfectly.