| Weather: Cloudy with maniacal westerly and a sharp shower |
| Distance covered today: 14.3km (8.9mi) |
| Last night's B&B: Sedgeford House (£40) |
| Cumulative distance: 770.6km (478.8mi)/ % Complete: 43.8% |
| GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 40 (click!) |
At least I chose the right day for the third shortest leg of my journey to date! The weather was really quite poor with a gale-force westerly blowing and the sharpest rain shower I have experienced since I left Land’s End. I am still rather annoyed with myself as I might well have saved a day by combining yesterday and today into a single leg as the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle. If my maths is any good and if the roads and paths were available, that would have given me a single leg of about 22km (14mi) which is just above the average daily distance of the journey so far! Of course I couldn’t change my mind yesterday without altering all the B&Bs that I have already booked ahead. At least I was inside by the time the worst of the storm hit, which is some consolation.
The other benefit of my avoidable dogleg was that it did enable me to experience the tastefully affluent little village of Audlem and a succession of increasingly affluent villages as I progressed into the heart of Cheshire (at least I think it is the heart, but having no idea where the boundaries are, I’m only guessing!). This place is in many ways reminiscent of rural Surry – an area far too affluent for its local economy, with the wealth being imported by successful people who work in the surrounding conurbations and live rather well in the countryside. The slight downside of this “nouveau” wealth is, might I suggest, a certain loss of a unifying architectural idiom? Perhaps money influences the planning decisions, or maybe the planning rules around here are just less stringent. Not that most of these places aren’t individually very impressive, and, I’m sure wonderfully comfortable to live in, it’s just that after the impressive architectural integrity of so many of the places I have been walking through, it is hard to define what these properties have in common. But indeed, that freedom may be just why these people choose to come here to spend their money!
The character of the environment started to change rapidly as I approached Crewe. My only experience of Crewe previously was as a passenger changing trains at the station which is a major junction in the area, but I have heard of its reputation as a rather gritty, industrial town in the north-west, rather dependent on the railways as the major employer and focus for contractors. As I approached the town, it certainly lived up to its reputation, with small engineering workshops, builders’ suppliers, motor maintenance facilities and hardware lease companies lining the streets. Even as I am writing this near the centre of town at around 7pm, but away from my B&B, I am very conscious that the number of shuttered buildings indicates a high level of crime, such that I am even now deciding that I had better pack in the writing and get back to base before it starts to get too dark and lonely! This is not to say that it has much in common with Avonmouth in relation to that desolate town’s industrial decay. I would guess that Crewe is in fact quite prosperous and is very much in the business of supplying the needs of its snootier neighbours in the rich Cheshire environment. Even my B&B reflects the work ethic of the place. Here there are no tourists drinking fine ale with strange names. Here there are travelling salesmen drinking lager and eating bangers and mash. It is all strangely comforting.
On the way into town, among the small industrial premises, I couldn’t help noticing a Euromaster tyre-changing facility. It’s the first I’ve seen on this journey and I confess I was jolted a little. It is a wholly owned subsidiary of the vast Michelin Corporation. It was intimately involved in a business venture that turned out to be a spectacular failure.
Without going into too much detail, when I was responsible for marketing the oil company’s products to the commercial vehicle market in Europe, I got into negotiation with the head of Euromaster, a Frenchman with whom I got on famously, and together we came up with what I still think was a very far-sighted idea of building a continental network of advanced service centres for long-distance commercial truckers, so that their servicing needs could be catered for while they were well away from base. The idea was that they would trust the high franchise standards of the brand and they would keep their hugely expensive rigs on the road earning money, rather than having to recall them to base for servicing. The whole operation would be world-class in terms of service delivery, information transfer and value for money. There was enormous synergy between our two organisations and the idea looked highly profitable in prospect. We called the project Trinity as a reflection of the unity between our customers and our two organisations, and the first trial investments looked very encouraging. The trouble was we had to get the support of our two holding companies for the substantial overall investment required.
Together we came up with the idea that if only we could get the CEOs of our two companies together, they would warm to the idea and the rest would be easy. So, after much persuasion, I finally got our CEO to fly with me on the company jet to Clermont-Ferrand in Auvergne, there to lunch with Monsieur Michelin at his private chateau. It was a disaster. Monsieur Michelin was a charming host, but he was young, polished, owned the company (inherited from his old man) and obviously considered it rather vulgar to discuss business at lunch. My boss, a quintessential English businessman, a very smooth hired hand who ultimately went on to be chairman of Rio Tinto, wanted to get down to brass tacks immediately. There was no meeting of the minds. My French colleague and I did our very best, but eventually, we were the only two discussing the concept, while the principals glowered at each other. The plane-ride home was excruciating. The concept struggled on for a couple of years, but it was holed beneath the waterline at that lunch.
I went on to other things and the boss ultimately left the company, but that particular project didn’t do much for my reputation. I am reminded that so much of business success is about chemistry, passion and luck. The numbers, the vision and the strategy all count, but they are not enough. Now, every time I see a Euromaster store, I find it hard to restrain an involuntary shudder. At least I can be confident that there won’t be any on the Pennine Way…..
The countryside is again subtly changing. The first few low hills appear
An A-road with a pavement! What an excellent innovation. It ran for about 5 miles before petering out at a T-junction
The villages are clearly more affluent
As are some of the residences
Including the cars in the driveways
Some residences perhaps less tasteful than others?
The remarkable Wybenbury Moss. It is a rare example of a "schwingmoor" or floating peat bog. This comprises a raft of peat, in some places only one metre in thickness, floating on a lake which is 23 metres in depth. The floating nature of the Moss is thought to have been created by the subsidence of underlying salt-bearing rocks, sometime in the last 5,000 years.
Pubs are closing everywhere, even in the most affluent of villages
Looking up towards the church in Wybenbury
With increased affluence, a marked increase in the number and quality of horses
The Euromaster site in Crewe....
6 comments:
Euromaster -- that is a fascinating story, and a lesson too. In more vulgar terms, its who you know and not what you know. I seem to be in the same pickle with regards to the groundwater network - major personality clashes with the organization that used to (not any more) provide much of our funding. and as you say, perhaps time to move on to other things.
My good friend Chris sent me this comment by email in response to this post:
"I see that you have made it safely, despite an anxiety about getting home from the pub though the dark satanic streets...
As you recall, Crewe is, or was, a railway town. It rose to importance after the Grand Junction Railway built itself a works there, which railway became, after several mergers and acquisitions, the London and North Western Railway. That in turn become the London Midland and Scottish Railway with the 1923 Grouping, and in the 1930s, Crewe works built, under the Chief Engineer, Stannier, a number of very successful classes, including the Duchess Class, and the Princess Class. The steam locomotive tradition continues: long after electrification and dieselisation, one Peter Waterman (who is, I understand, some sort of musical impresario), founded a Company there for the restoration and re-manufacture of preserved steam locomotives. The Trust he set up continues, I believe, and I know that one of his recent additions to the Waterman fleet of steam locomotives currently is being restored in Crewe. It is, as you might already have imagined, a 2 foot gauge Beyer Garrett, the same as those that run on the Welsh Highland Railway, and the prototype of my big black engine. Waterman's is No 109, which I think was built in Manchester in 1939, one of the same batch as 116, the loco that I rode behind on the Alfred County Railway in Natal in 1989.
My memories of Crewe as an interchange are similar to yours. In the days before we were married, Jenny would journey on Friday evenings from Cambridge to see me in Chester for the weekends, a terrible cross-country journey that required four different trains, the last being an old rattle trap of a diesel multiple unit from Crewe to Chester that left Crewe about ten to midnight. So I would drive over to Crewe to meet her. Those slow connecting trains up to Chester were a part of any journey from London, at least in our early days in Chester, unless one caught one of the through trains from Euston to Holyhead, which trains were still quaintly described as Boat Trains, I seem to recall. And another memory of Crewe station is hanging out of the window of an Edinburgh-bound sleeper that I had caught at Euston to ensure that Derrick Thompson, who lived in Chester, old Naval friend and Richard's Godfather, found where our double berth compartment was in which we travelled for the first part of our Boys' Expedition to Kyle of Lochalsh."
Chris's message continued:
"Tomorrow's walk should be a little more scenic. As your approach Congleton, you must touch close to Little Moreton hall, which really is a Gen U Ine black and white Tudor building. I have memories too of Congleton. There was a gang of four of us at school, and two of that gang went to University in Manchester (Michael Francis, whom you have met, to UMIST, and one of the others to Manchester University), and they both joined International Computers Limited, the last British Computer Company, and the latter guy, also a Mike, lived in Congleton. Meantime, I had joined Rolls-Royce, and one of the things I got involved with was templugs, small pieces of heat treated metal that could be inserted into a component and then by subsequent hardness testing, the maximum temperature to which they had been subjected was assessed. These had been developed by Thornton for use in marine diesel engine pistons. We persuaded Shell to make some 'specials' that were small enough to screw into a small turbine disk (with great anxiety and forewarnings of disaster by the Chief Stress Engineer), and 'calibrate' them for runs of only five minutes (instead of several hundred hours), at their maximum temperature. Our problem at the time was premature turbine disk failures, probably a result of internal fires and overheating, think QANTAS A380 over Indonesia, so you can imagine that there was no enthusiasm to run the engine at maximum power for more than the barest minimum of time, lest the blades let go... so the trick was... specify the test conditions, run the engine, rush it back to the development shop, strip the engine, remove the templugs, give them to the youngest development engineer on the section, he leapt into his trusty Morris Minor 1000 (drop head, of course), drove to Congleton, slept on Mike's floor, rose the next morning and drove to Thornton, where the plugs were handed over, tested, and the results telexed back to Rolls, whilst I might get given a Visitors' Lunch before I drove back to Watford. My first encounters with Shell, Shell Research, and my eventual employer... there is more to that story, you may imagine, but another time...
Of course, there were longer visits to Congleton as well, hence my knowledge of Little Moreton Hall, Mow Cop, and the staircase of locks on the Macclesfield canal at Bosley, which might be a good route for you as you head to your stop after Congleton. Many years later, we journeyed down that flight the first time that we hired a canal boat, four Rileys in a boat, heading for Pontcysyllte aqueduct...
Congleton was very proud of its Royal Charter, I think granted in 1272 or something like that, and I can remember that HM the Q visited for the celebration to mark the 700th anniversary. There used to be some quite nice old buildings, but I don't think I have been there since the early 1970s... gosh, doesn't time fly."
Richard, Sorry to hear about the groundwater funding problem. Good luck with an alternative!
I'm hugely enjoying your blog from the comfort of home, where I tussle with PC boot problems which may have been resolved by a BIOS update. Keep up the good walk!
Euromaster, hm. So many schemes and dreams in business, and only a few come off.
About the subsistence at Wybenbury Moss - might that be subsidence?
Roger
Hi Roger, very pleased you are enjoying it! Many thanks for the correction! (embarrassing!!). It was late at night when I wrote it, which is not much of an excuse. I'll amend it immediately before anyone else notices!!!
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