Toward the end of August 2008 my wife, son and I took a trip from Sheffield to visit Lancashire. We stayed in a sea-view hotel in Morecambe, and the vast tracts of empty sand fascinated me. It’s said that the tide comes in here faster than a galloping horse, and indeed a few foolhardy folk have ventured out too close to the changing of the tide, and have been lost.
On the way back, we drove over the Snake Pass, which is astonishingly not only a narrow winding road over some of the highest parts of the Peak District, but also forms one of the few major thoroughfares from Sheffield to Manchester – two of the largest towns in the north of England.
2010 marked the year our family returned to the United States from England, and we moved back to northern New Jersey, very close to where my wife grew up in Paterson. Whilst Paterson itself might feel a little run down, it’s still home to one of the best waterfalls in the country – the Great Falls of Paterson.
Technically a national historical park, the area immediately around the Great Falls is still beautiful, in a dilapidated, industrial sort of way. I particularly liked the old brick factories and power stations, left over from the days when Paterson was the silk capital of the world.