Shifting on sands

It’s a position that has stood the test of time and tide. The historic role was introduced in the 16th century. Cedric took over the position aged 30, and has transformed it from a role that was in danger of becoming confined to the history books into a modern-day recreational institution.

He has guided the Duke of Edinburgh across the sands, and led crossings with other famous names such as Melvyn Bragg, Bill Bryson, Victoria Wood and Ilkley-born Alan Titchmarsh.

His knowledge of the bay and its shifting sands is regularly called on by rescue organisations. People who have walked with him talk of communing with nature, feeling part of the elements, in tune with sand, sea and sky, with the Lakeland landscape on the horizon.

Cedric’s autobiography, Sandman, tells the fascinating story of his life in harmony with sea and land, ever respectful of the dangers of a landscape where tides roar over the sands as fast as a horse can gallop.

Cedric’s cross-bay walks have become internationally-renowned, with 10,000 people a year completing them. Around 400,000 have so far followed him on the three-hour trek across the sands.

Born to fisherfolk, in the house where his father was born in Flookburgh, on the west coast of the Cartmel Peninsula, Cedric spent much of his childhood cockling in the bay. His book includes wonderful old photographs of cocklers and shrimpers out with horse-drawn carts waiting to load up with a catch.

Cedric’s first fishing trip was with a family friend and his horse near Humphrey Head. “The cart was under the water and Sep lifted me onto the fore end, holding me with one arm and gradually pulling the horse round with the other,” he recalls. “The cold water came up to my waist and I found it hard to breathe as Sep brought the horse slowly round and it swam for the shore. I remember Sep saying, in fisherman dialect, ‘gu-lad, gu-lad, tha’ll mek it’.”

Money was scarce during Cedric’s childhood but he was happy as a sandboy, setting off for walks with his dog, Crackers, and sister Jean.

During the war, he’d listen for German bombers droning overhead, en route to Barrow-in-Furness and the shipyard. Cedric’s first night on the shrimping grounds was a memorable experience. “There were about 15 fishermen with horses and carts. It was a still night with no moon or wind. We travelled over the marsh and out into the Bay. For a young lad, this was a bit eerie, so dark you could hardly see your horse. As we arrived at the shrimping grounds we made our nets ready to drop from the cart, then the horses made their way into the water; splashes from their hooves lighting up like sparklers. This ‘foxfire’ had to be seen to be believed; even when you’d hauled in your net, emptied your catch of shrimps into a box and were running your fingers through to sort out the seaweed, you didn’t need a torch because they were all aglow!”

Working with horses in water was fraught with danger, as Cedric discovered on several occasions. “In my younger days fishing, I saw two horses go down in quicksand while trawling for shrimps. They were stuck in the sand, when the tide was on the turn the fishermen had to leave. All they could do was stand and watch as the tide lapped over the horses and eventually covered them. What seemed like an age was perhaps only a few minutes and, with the buoyancy of the animals and the struggling, they popped up to the surface and swam to the awaiting fishermen. Quite a remarkable experience!”

Married with a young family, Cedric was encouraged to apply for the post of sands guide, and in October 1963 he landed the job, with responsibility for the River Kent side of Morecambe Bay.

His most memorable crossing was on May 30, 1985, when he led the Duke of Edinburgh on the Royal Carriage Crossing. With 12 carriages taking part, forecasts of rain left Cedric concerned about conditions out on the bay.

On the day, however, the weather was fine. “The tides were low and the sands could not have looked better,” recalls Cedric. The Duke told assembled Press he wasn’t apprehensive about making the crossing, adding: “I have every confidence in my guide.” Approaching the marshes, with helicopters whirring overhead, Cedric found it a challenge to keep onlookers at bay and make sure the carriages didn’t get too close together, as this would soften the sand and make it dangerous. At one point the Duke lost sight of the route markers in the milling crowd and Cedric had to put him right.

“Things were getting a bit out of hand. I thought ‘right, I’ll blow my whistle’. Suddenly the public opened up a wide expanse so we could see where we were going and we were off,” he recalls. “Prince Philip’s carriage moved off at a greater rate and I had in mind what the organisers of the drive had told me: ‘Don’t let the Duke have his own way!’ Although I asked the Duke to slow down his team, as we were leaving the others behind, he wanted to know why he should do so. I had to tell him!”

Once Cedric got him to slow down, the carriage procession could take in the sweeping panorama of the bay.

Another memorable crossing was in July, 2000, when Cedric was asked to guide a fundraiser – accompanied by 17 geese. “I had visions of them taking flight when we got out into the wide open space of the bay, but they could not have behaved in a better way. They must have thought I was Mother Goose!” says Cedric.

Now 76, he remains passionate about his job. And his lifelong love of animals means he’s just as passionate about the bay’s wildlife too, particularly the rich variety of birdlife. He and his wife, Olive, share their home at Guides Farm with beloved dogs, a goat, cattle, ponies and hens.

From spring to early autumn, Cedric continues to guide people across at low tide. On high tides he sets his nets to catch the tasty flukes feeding on cockles. Olive helps him with bookings, which can number up to 40 a day.

“Without the dedication of Olive, I could not have fulfilled my role as Queen’s Guide to the full. We are a team and work so well together,” he says.

Whether he’s guiding Royalty, celebrities or a party of schoolchildren across the bay, Cedric’s love of and respect for the sands is at the forefront of what he does. “The bay is an amazing place,” he says. “Anyone who ventures out onto the endless expanses of sand can’t help but be overwhelmed by the vastness. At high tide the bay can be deceptively calm, but it’s dynamic. Tidal bores can run over the sands at nine knots, moving tons of sand, building up banks, gouging out deep, muddy channels and scraping out melgraves (deep holes) that fill with quicksand. A strong wind co-inciding with a high tide can play havoc, hurling great waves, smashing embankments and moving large areas of the salt marsh away. These are living sands always on the move.”