Tranquillity base is just outside the Lake District

“Good morning!”

It’s just after 9am and I’m bounding along the promenade of Grange-over-Sands, where fellow strollers, plus dog walkers and joggers, are in fine cheer on this bright early autumn’s day. Rays of sunlight are spraying the vast watery expanse of Morecambe Bay, against whose northern edge this quaint little Cumbrian town is set.

Looking out to the bay, I wonder if Grange should in fact be named Grange-over-Grass because its promenade skirts beside a luxuriant, marshy carpet of green, and its vibrant hue contrasts splendidly with today’s cloudless sky.

Beyond the vegetation, I spy a sweep of sand, as the bay is at low tide, and dozens of birds are nibbling and pecking away as my nose catches a breeze spiked with salty aromas.

I’ve been in something of a trance for a while now, even before my train dropped me off at Grange’s cute train station. My eyes had been glued to the train window as we crossed the viaduct that spans the bay here by the estuary of River Kent, a waterway that wriggles down from the hills of the nearby Lake District National Park.

While Lakeland, as it’s also known, is one of England’s big tourist magnets, Grange remains comparatively sleepy and ignored by the masses. It was a small fishing village until it grew into a tidy resort town in the late Victorian and Edwardian age after the arrival of the railway in the late 19th century.

Unlike other popular resort towns of that era, such as Morecambe, which nestles further south beside the bay in Lancashire, Grange doesn’t have a beach as such. But it more than makes up for that with its other attractions, led by its delightful south-facing promenade, which curves for about 2km and gives you time and space to appreciate the glorious natural setting.

Peeking back over the water, you’ll notice the green peaks of the Arnside and Silverdale AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty) — another hidden gem in this part of the world and one also accessible by the train.

Liberally sprinkled with benches and lovingly-manicured gardens, Grange’s promenade has telescopes and information boards charting the town’s history, the railway’s impact, the bay’s mercurial nature and all the birds that reside here or call in during the year, from waxwings and marsh harriers to bitterns and oystercatchers.

Towards the end of the promenade, where the bay grass has taken on a burnished autumnal tinge, scaffolding shrouds the town’s seawater lido, which dates from 1932. The locals are hoping for funding to restore it to its art deco glory.

The sound of electric trimmers slightly jolts the peace and quiet, with a pair of silver-haired men tidying up some hedges by the (currently unoccupied) exercise stations and facilities for bowling, tennis, putting, crazy golf and skateboarding.

There are a few spots for refreshments on the promenade, but you’ll find plenty more options if you duck through one of the short tunnels or walk the bridge beyond the railway line that divides the bay from Grange’s town centre.

That has its own pleasing setting, backing on to wooded hills and furnished with rows of picturesque stone and whitewashed townhouses. Many properties have gardens crawling with hydrangeas, roofs clad in solar panels, and some double as family-run hotels, B&Bs and self-catering accommodation.

I have to say Grange makes for a lovely placid base for the region, whether you’re hiking into the bucolic countryside surrounding town (which I’ll do later) or road-tripping into the Lake District.

The town has a few familiar British supermarket and cafe chains, but most businesses are independent.

I pass butchers, bakers, pie-makers, tearooms, hardware shops, florists, barbers, pharmacies, galleries and bookshops. There’s a chippy, a kebab shop and a Cantonese restaurant, as well as neighbourhood bistros offering stylishly-presented dishes with seasonal ingredients, including pork, beef and lamb reared on the farms of Cumbria.

After a scenic hike into the hills above town, it’s nice to have a drink at one of the watering holes with bay-facing balconies or beer gardens. One is the Commodore, previously the Bay Horse - an inn for the coach service that had horse-drawn carriages making the treacherous journey over the bay’s shape-shifting sands. The railway changed that, of course, making travel safer and faster — although it did initially cause a problem for the ladies of Grange.

In Park Road Gardens, one of the ornamental gardens splitting the town from the railway line, there’s a bandstand framed by a pond with water lilies. It was originally by the promenade, with brass bands attracting crowds, but after complaints that the soot from passing steam trains was ruining the ladies’ dresses, it was transferred here to this slightly elevated spot.

I say “hello” to one of the female volunteers caring for these gardens, where butterflies float over lawns and beds of sweetly-scented flowers.

I take a breather and soak up the sunshine and the views from one of the many bay-facing benches scattering Grange-over-Sands. I ponder what a lovely place this is — and how relatively few people, even Brits, know about it.

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