Bunker

This morning I took the hire car back to the garage and walked into Kirkby Lonsdale. It was a glorious sunny morning and I stopped briefly here. Dan and I had arranged to go swimming and, lacking a car, we walked to Whoop Hall, which took us about 45 minutes.

Dan's an incredible little swimmer; he swims all the time I do, covering roughly two thirds of the distance that I do. Given that he's about two thirds of my height, I reckon he works just as hard as me. He also has less in the way of reserves, so I made sure he had a snack and something to drink before we set off home.

On the way to swimming, I'd pointed out to Dan what I think is a World War Two bunker, just off the side of the A65. I've been driving past it for twenty-two years now and I've always wanted to take a closer look. So, on our way back, Dan and I clambered over a wall and made our way through the trees across some rough ground and then up a hill to the bunker.

There's an open doorway at the back and inside there was some old newspaper and an empty HP sauce bottle. It seemed solid and I mooted to Dan the possibility of picnicing on the top, which is covered in grass, at some point. (I immediately regretted this; I don't know how strong the roof is.)

I'm not quite sure why the bunker is there, exactly, at that precise location I mean. And I wonder if it was ever manned? A quick Google hasn't revealed anything. I'll have an ask around over the next few days and see if Kirkby's oral history has anything to offer.