Tuesday, July 17th, Barthomley - Stoke Minster, 14 miles

This was the day I was least looking forward to: the 2SW guide warns of 'urban deprivation' near the Trent and Mersey north of Stoke and I was apprehensive about encountering dubious characters along the canal. But after a cooked breakfast served by Olivia and her even younger sister Lily in their school uniforms, I set out at 8.45 and made my way via quiet lanes up and through the village of Audley (which may look nondescript, but boasts its own theatre) to reach Apedale Country Park. Skirting the foot of its hill, I was back on the 2SW, and pleased to spot the red waymarkers which David and a friend had put up only the week before.

I reached the Newcstle's uninviting suburb of Chesterton too early for either of its pubs to be open. From a tombstone in Holy Trinity Churchyard, I had just texted Simon bemoaning the lack of refreshments, when I discovered the Mighty Bite Sandwich Bar and Cafe just down across the green! Over a cup of builders' tea I informed the surprised proprietress that her establishment was now on a pilgrimage route. She replied that any extra business would be welcome.

Suitably refreshed, I closely followed the 2SW up and over the green space between Chesterton and the A34, which I crossed at the Bradwell Lane lights.  Then through the Bradwell estate, whose roads are named after Arnold Bennett characters, to the crematorium, from where a flight of steps leads steeply down through woodland to an underpass under the A500.  I was whistling the "The Lord's my Shepherd" to keep my spirits up as I entered this "valley of the shadow of death", but encountered nobody either in the underpass or crossing Chemical Lane, the railway footbridge and then patchy woodland to reach the Trent and Mersey Canal.

Following the guide's advice, I left the route at this point to walk a little way northwards up the canal to Westport Lake, which now boasts an attractive new Visitors' Centre.  But before I had tea there, I finished Joyce's picnic (beef sandwiches, what else?) on a lakeside bench, admiring the woodland which obscures the sight, if not the sound of the A500. 

Middleport Pottery backs onto the canal.
 © Copyright Chris Allen

It was just after 1pm, and with Simon not due to collect me from Stoke Minster until 5.30pm, I had time on my hands.  I decided to take a detour at Middleport to the Victorian Burleigh Pottery, rescued from oblivion by the Dorlings in 1999 but recently taken over by Denby Pottery with hopefully an even longer lease of life.  In its tearoom, a regular  called Angie embroidered my account of my wanderings with tales of the 'Kidsgrove Boggart', whose chains could be heard rattling in the nearby woodland and the holy well in Kidsgrove's Bathpool Park.

Still with plenty of time to spare, and as the afternoon had brightened up, I resolved to follow the Way religiously along the detour it takes round the Trent and Mersey's filled-in Burslem arm to the former gardens of Festival Park.  But though I left the canal at Oliver's Mill and turned right along a road lined with scrap as per instructions,  I soon lost my bearings in scrubby woodland. Although I did not encounter another soul, and tempted as I was by butterflies flitting among the flowers on vacant lots, after about 15 minutes of wandering, I judged it prudent to retrace my steps.

In fact, the canalside was much more pleasant than I had anticipated. The firm towpath was being well-used by dogwalkers and cyclists and only one patch of dereliction, where a piece of wall has fallen into the canal, disfigured its green banks.  But when I dived into adjoining woodland for a comfort break I found I was relieving myself on Newport Pottery's old shraffheap!

I carried on in warm sunshine to Etruria, where I stopped for a lemon and lime at the China Garden pub at Stoke Marina. With still time to spare, I decided to go back and do the Festival Park section in reverse.  The route crosses the landscaped slagheaps separating the retail park from the office developments and the Moat House Hotel. From this landmark, I did indeed discover the brick bust of Josiah Wedgwood, then headed  into the woodland up the slate bed of a former waterfall. The guide helped me rediscover other features I had completely forgotten since visiting the Festival in 1986 - stone circles, sculptures and a footbridge crossing a small ravine.  We will revist them on one of our winter walks.



At Stoke Minster's Saxon Preaching Cross



What with dawdling and rediscovering I had to put a step on it to meet Simon  in time - and Stoke Minster now seemed further away than I'd bargained for.  Due to exhaustion or dehydration, I began to feel groggy while passing Hanley cemetery and had to take care not to step too near to the canal..

But beside Stoke Town Hall, my spirits lifted on spotting a red cross on the pub opposite Stoke Minster - The Glebe is now a Joules pub!  A Joules pale ale would revive me, I resolved, and when Simon met me in the churchyard, I persuaded him to join me for some refreshment there.  The kitchen was not yet open for hot meals, but the kindly barwomen brought us a splendid cheeseboard, pate, biscuits  and a huge home-made pork pie.  You can can have a good night out in Stoke after all!