Monthly Archives: March 2024

A WALK ON THE MILD SIDE – MELLOW MELLOR.

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March “comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb” is an unreliable axiom at the best of times, and these are unusual times climate wise. Looking back at my walks this March, and there haven’t been many, they have been brief interludes between rain storms. The fields and roads in the NW are still under standing water in many places. Yesterday, Good Friday, after a sunny start the storm clouds gathered, there was distant thunder and we were treated to some hefty hail showers. The lion is still roaring. We only have a couple of days for the March lamb to lead us mildly into April.

An optimistic ‘slate poem’ has appeared in the centre of the village. I still call it a village although it has become more town sized in the last few years. 20240320_160914

Yes, we are ready for some sunny warmer weather.

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Today’s short walk was more lamb than lion; weather and terrain being on the mild side. In fact I was stripping off layers as I walked up the hill out of Mellor. My first objective, easily reached, was the summit of Mellor Moor. There is a trig point, 223m, barely visible ancient earthworks, a Millennium Viewpoint pillar and the paraphernalia from a defunct Royal Observation Nuclear Blast and Fallout Monitoring Station from the cold war era. The latter is somewhere underground. I’m more interested with the 360 degree view this little hill provides, but with the day being so warm everything looks a bit hazy. Though BAE Salmesbury is prominent, are we still selling planes to Israel?  I’ve been up here on a crisp winter’s day when you could see everything from the Lakes, Yorkshire, Lancashire to Wales. P1050197P1050199P1050201

A gentle stroll down Abbott Brow admiring the blossoms in the gardens. I heard on the radio this morning that Forsythia was introduced into England in 1833 and was named in honour of  William Forsyth, an C18th botanist,  A few generations down the line came Bruce Forsyth.

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A pleasant wander across fields alongside a stream brings me to the edge of Mellor Brook. Passing between bungalows I follow a stream in a wooded dell (presumably a tributary of Mellor Brook) alongside houses. I have friends who live in one of them but they have erected a new fence so I can’t peer into their garden. The whole place is full of bird song and I stop for a snack and drink taking in the rural ambience so close to major roads and towns. P1050211P1050216

I manage to find my way up to and through Brundhurst Farm, yes there are noisy dogs as the guide book warned me. I forgot to mention this walk was featured in the Clitheroe Ramblers 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys book I have been using recently. I have now completed all the walks and would recommend them if the book is still in publication, it is advertised on their website. Local Walks (clitheroeramblers.co.uk)

There are lambs everywhere. A steep field takes me back to Mellor with the church steeple guiding the way. I even have time for a mellow pint in the Millstone Inn. P1050221P1050225

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An old well?

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The Millstone Inn.

A gentle rural three miles on a mild spring day. What’s next – April showers?

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AT LAST. THE QUAKERS AROUND SEDBERGH.

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This post has been two weeks in the writing, not that that makes it any better.

It’s been a strange time. Monday, having my haircut with Phil, a traditional barber, we all come out with the same style, fine by me. Most of our conversation was about mutual friends who have or who are shortly to depart our presence. With a humorous twist I can’t go into details here.

After my recent soaking on Longridge Fell I decided on some indoor culture for Tuesday. There were some interesting exhibitions at Abbots Hall Gallery in Kendal. I drove up in horrendous wet conditions on the motorway, found somewhere to park, £3.50, and walked to the hall only to find it only opens Thursday to Saturday at this time of year! Why didn’t I check? I phoned Sir Hugh in Arnside hoping for some sympathy and coffee, but ironically he was in Preston shopping. Drove back down the motorway in horrendous wet conditions.

Then on the Friday drove down to Manchester to visit my longtime friend, since university days, who is suffering with Pancreatic Cancer. It was a joyous occasion as we dutifully reminisced our days in various flats in London; beer, curries, girls, music and football. He showed me around his local park, John Leigh. What a wonderful space cared for by wonderful volunteers, a blue print for community parks anywhere.  

The sun shone on Saturday, Sunday and Monday but I was ill, another humorous incident I can’t recall here. The tablets were working so I hoped to take advantage of a good forecast and  complete a walk I have had in mind for some time – The Sedbergh Quaker Trail. It was not to be, three close friends died this week and I was quite depressed. I missed the good weather. 

Preparations were underway for all my family visiting at the weekend for my birthday. I awoke in the night and found that my electricity had tripped. At 3am I was paddling about in my dressing gown trying to find the problem. I isolated it to the kitchen and disconnected everything in there, but it still tripped. Into the garage for extension cables to at least keep my freezer and fridge working. The birthday dinner must be saved., not sure how I will cook it. An early phone call, Saturday morning, to our community electricians and within an an hour Paul is prowling around the kitchen with his magic electric probe. “The problem is between these sockets and the dishwasher” Visions of the walls coming down. But as both of us lie on the floor peering into the dark of that forgotten space behind the kickboard below the units the evidence is clear – a mouse has been nibbling at the wires. Within a short time he has rewired it and all is go. I’m keeping the space open until a few mice have been humanely caught and deported.

The birthday meal was a huge success. 

All of this has nothing to do with Sedbergh and the Quakers but may explain my tardiness.  

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Historians mark 1652 as the beginning of the Quaker movement.   In that year on Pendle Hill  George Fox, (1624-1691)  is said to have had a vision commanding him to “sound the day of the Lord” to a great gathering of people.  I have written about Fox’s Well.

In June1652, fresh from his vision on Pendle Hill, George Fox arrived in Sedbergh. He did not preach in St. Andrew’s church there but the next day he was encouraged to attend a large gathering of ‘Seekers’ and other nonconformists in and around the small chapel on Firbank Fell a few miles from Sedbergh. 

Fox wouldn’t go into the chapel to preach but instead spoke for three hours to the gathered crowd from the top of a nearby crag – this is now known as Fox’s Pulpit. Many Seekers were convinced by Fox on the Fell that day and added their weight of  missionary zeal to his and what became the Society of Friends, or ‘Quakers’ – after Fox told a Derby judge to “tremble at the word of the Lord”  By 1660, there were 50,000 followers.

Meeting houses for silent prayer and contemplation, such as Swarthmoor near Ulverston, and Brigflatts near Sedbergh, were subsequently built. Brigflatts,1675, in Cumbria, is one of the most famous Quaker meeting houses, known and loved by Friends all over the world. It is acknowledged for all the simplicity of its lime-washed stone walls and interior woodwork — panelling, columns and balustrading — as one of England’s vernacular gems. For many, the peace and tranquillity of the Meeting House at Brigflatts leave a lasting impression. (information from their website.)

People of all faiths can admire the Quakers’ respect for all humans, their tolerance and belief in peace without the need for churches, rituals, holy days, or sacraments, to practice religion. Rather religion should be something one lived and acted out every day. These ideas were radical in a period where the established church held great political power, and many early Quakers were imprisoned and oppressed for these beliefs. Quakers were conscientious objectors in both world wars. Because Quakers were barred from universities and many professions, one natural outlet for them was in business.  A large number of British businesses were founded by Quakers, including such household names as Barclays, Lloyds, Carr’s, Clarks, Cadbury, Reckitt’s, Rowntree, Fry and Terry’s. The football team In Darlington that I supported as a teenager was nicknamed The Quakers from the links within the town. 

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This Tuesday the forecast is good, Despite a bit of faffing I am parked in Sedbergh by 10 am. Too soon to pick up a leaflet from the Tourist Information Office describing this walk. I’ll just have to do it from the map and follow my nose, I think I am pretty good at that.

I pay a visit to St. Andrew’s church. Once through the cemetery I’m on a quiet lane to Birks, a hamlet of farming cottages, a brief flirtation with the River Rawthey.  P1040883 P1040884

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Through muddy fields to visit Brigflatts Meeting House. What a beautiful peaceful place. Built in the style of a Cumbrian farm house, it has open doors for visitors. The porch with its ?original studded door leads into the main room. A place for prayer or contemplation. Alongside was another room used as a library of relevant books and a place to sit and have a brew. All very inclusive. P1040895P1040900P1040896P1040899

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I move on, suitably refreshed in mind and body. I think I miss a turn to Ingmire Hall but find myself on The Dales Way for the first time in 40 years. It is a little disappointing following the road verge for some while. Some rather complicated navigating through  The Oaks, holiday lets now, and I’m on the banks of the Lune for a short stretch to the strangely named Lincoln’s Inn Bridge. The adjacent farm had been an in  at one time.

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I leave the Dales Way until rejoining it later in the day, and find a way up into the mixed woodlands which will be resplendent with bluebells in a few weeks time. For photos of them have a look at John Bainbridge’s  post from 2022. P1040941P1040947

Emerging onto a narrow moorland lane at New Field.

Onwards and upwards I reach the highest point and there on the right is the rock or pulpit from where Fox is said to have preached way back in 1652. An isolated spot as you could find. P1040954P1040957P1040965

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The plaque affixed to the rock reads –

Here or near this rock George Fox preached to about one thousand seekers for three hours on Sunday, June 13, 1652. Great power inspired his message and the meeting proved of first importance in gathering the Society of Friends known as Quakers. Many men and women convinced of the truth on this fell and in other parts of the northern counties went forth through the land and over the seas with the living word of the Lord enduring great hardships and winning multitudes to Christ.

I sit atop of the rock eating my sandwich, nobody about to hear my words. The chapel mentioned up here fell into disrepair and has vanished but there is an abandoned graveyard with one lone standing gravestone.

I choose a nearby squelchy, but well signed, bridleway to take me back down the valley. The Howgills are spread out in front of me, but unfortunately the summits are cloud covered.P1040973P1040975

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Half way down past Goodies Farm I cross the bed of an old railway. This was from Ingleton, via Kirkby Lonsdale and Sedbergh. to join the main line at Tebay. It opened in 1861 and the rails were finally lifted in 1967, twelve years after it had closed to passengers. I had previously passed below it near Brigflatts and seen in the distance the Waterside Viaduct. P1040992

I cross the River Lune on a recently rebuilt footbridge and back onto the Dales Way but now going in the opposite direction. P1040995P1040996P1040997

A series of farms and fields take me south. The farmer at Hole House complains about the wet weather causing problems at lambing time. At Nether Bainbridge most is falling down. 

Along the track a farmer is repairing his drystone wall. I get the whole history of the area. A magic conversation. P1050014

I leave the Dales Way at Bramaskew and walk on to High Branthwaite, taking the farm lane up to Howgill Lane which I can follow all the way back to Sedbergh. The alternative was to walk along the higher fellside of Winder Hill on open access land. After nine miles I was happy to use the traffic free lane. All the time looking at the surrounding fells. The Howgills, Baugh Fell and Dentdale with time to spot a few early flowers. The area is mostly neglected by hiking community who go elsewhere to the honey pots. I’ve not met a single walker all day on my ten mile round.P1050026

Back in Sedbergh the village is buzzing with visitors mostly decked out in the latest walking garb. The, no doubt otherwise helpful, Tourist Information closed at 4pm so I never acquired that walk leaflet.

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AN AFTERNOON WITH MERLIN.

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No not the Welsh Magician from the Arthurian myths, but the Merlin Bird ID app uploaded to my phone. This very clever app, as if by Merlin’s magic, lets you listen to a bird’s song and quickly identifies it for you, 95% accurate. You can also upload other details or photos for identification. I know the vast majority of birds if I spot them, but have always been poor with their songs. I’m aiming to improve matters by regular use of the sound ID function. Practice makes perfect. Hence Merlin came out with me today.

I nearly didn’t bother with a walk as it rained all morning and didn’t promise much better for the afternoon. But come the stoke of one pm and some optimistic brightening I am ready to go at the top of the village. My plan is to simply walk around the familiar fell road, avoiding the sodden fields and moor.

As I climb the fell road I keep stopping to listen to the birds in the hedgerows and trees. Merlin does the rest. My leisurely progress gives me time to look at my surroundings, particularly the stone walls marching alongside me. A stone placed on the verge a few years ago has started to develop a pronounced mossy growth, whereas the ancient walls are completely enveloped in vegetative growth.  P1040753P1040754P1040755

Higher up the road the north facing wall is completely different to its south facing companion.

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Dropping down to the weir at Cowley Brook I leave the road to wander up through my favourite plantation. Even the noise of the fast flowing brook doesn’t stop Merlin picking out the bird song. Straight away it identifies a Gray Wagtail and there in front of me is the tail wagging bird. I might have missed it without Merlin’s prompting.

There is water gurgling from every nook and cranny but I know how to avoid the worst bits. At the top of the plantation I rest awhile on a tree stump looking out over the Ribble Valley although all the tops including Pendle are in mist. I’ve been lucky so far as there has been some brightness and the rain has held off. I celebrate with an orange. P1040769

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Hitting the road to Jeffrey Hill I change my plan on a whim. Rather than just walk back on the road why not go up to the trig point of Longridge Fell 350m. the most southerly named ‘fell’ in England. Having set out on a road walk to avoid the mud here am I heading off up one of the squelchiest  tracks at this time of year. P1040779P1040790

There is something different about the walk alongside the wall, a tracked vehicle has been up here. I then notice the drainage ditch that they have been excavating. Why I ask? Surely not just for us walkers. Are there plans afoot to plant more trees?  I ponder this as I walk on and then notice they have dug a similar ditch on the other side of the wall. I can’t believe what I see – one of my favourite trees, the solitary Scots Pine I christened ‘Its Grim Up North’ from its windblown appearance, has been uprooted for the sake of the ditch and is lying on its side. I almost cry. How could they have done this? P1040780P1040782P1040783

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I have alluded to it many times on walks up here and have a folio of photographs of it as it wasDSC02518

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I plod on rather dejected. There are more drainage channels going in other directions. (is this the same work you saw above the Dog House Clare?)

I take that narrow tunnel through the trees. I’m expecting problems at its end as the last time I came the other way I couldn’t get through because of fallen trees. They are still there blocking the way but it looks like people have started to find a way round or more correctly through them. Only just, P1040796P1040798P1040800

I emerge near the fell wall and head up to the trig point. It is fast disappearing in the thick cloud, and is that rain I can feel? Have I misjudged the time and conditions by adding on this detour? What time does it get dark? A quick march up and then I’m heading back down through the mirk, no sign of the Bowland Hills or even Chipping Vale down below. It is excessively boggy on this stretch.  I am however rewarded by Skylarks singing joyfully overhead. Merlin and I can hear them, but there is no chance of seeing them in the mist which is getting worse. It is good to see the appropriate slate poem by the gate is still intact. Needless to say I don’t meet a soul, there isn’t even a car parked up at Jeffrey Hill, a rare occurrence given its popularity with dog walkers.

It’s just a long walk down the road now but I am getting gradually drenched. My phone with Merlin is buried in my deepest pocket. No one at the golf course which has been closed for many days this year due to a combination of flooding and mist. I still manage to find a couple of wayward golf balls in the verge, they will go to my son whom seems to loose a lot himself. There are some newborn lambs in the field, the first I have seen this year.

I am back at the car by 5pm, seven and a half miles under my belt, more than I had anticipated and I’m  ready for a good long soak in my bath.

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For the record here is a list of the birds Merlin recognised, I only actually saw a fraction of them but I’m getting better at recognising a Robin’s song  from a Wren’s or a Chaffinch.

Robin; Blue Tit; Collared Dove; Carrion Crow; House Sparrow; Goldfinch; Rook; Starling’ Fieldfare; Chaffinch; Gray Wagtail; Coal Tit; Long tailed Tit; Wren; Great Tit; Jackdaw; Skylark; Blackbird; Goldfinch; Pheasant; Greenfinch; Dunnock. P1040874

Here’s the Robin.

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BELOW PENDLE AGAIN.

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I’m parked up at the same spot as a couple of weeks ago in straggly RIMINGTON. There seem to be more cars about than last time, perhaps a walking group have departed some time before me. But I never meet another walker throughout this short walk. Looking again at Clitheroe Ramblers’ 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys I see this is the only one I have not completed in the past. It should prove ideal for a short off the cuff walk.

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C18th Bustards Farm, my starting point in the village.

It is a pleasure to be back on the better drained limestone hills after last weekend’s mud-bath. Straight forward walking out of the village, across fields on a concessionary path and then a footbridge across Ings Beck. Robins are singing from every tree, Jays are making a commotion in the woods, yellow Celandines are poking through and the sun is shining, so perhaps we have turned a corner in the seasons. I’m soon alongside Twiston Mill and on to the minor road. I resist the short diversion up to Witches Quarry, a popular limestone climbing venue.

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Twiston Mill.

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Its silted up mill pond.

Each chapter in the book is written by a different local author and the standard of accuracy has varied, todays is not the best and I have to resort to my OS mapping on the phone to find my way above Twiston. Its uphill all the way to meet the next minor road. I recognise some stretches from a reverse walk in March two years ago which helps. The Blackthorn Blossom is just starting, as it was last time I came this way. P1040666P1040665

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Looking back to the Ribble Valley.

All morning Pendle Hill has been looming above me, a little hazy at times and at the road its big end is directly above. The scenery changes here, I’ve left the green pastures and  venture onto the open moors for a stretch above Coolham Farm. This is the highest I get on Pendle’s skirts. I have to imagine Ingleborough and Pen-Y-Ghent ahead of me in the haze but can pick out Rimington far below.P1040670P1040673

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Out of nowhere a wall enclosed green lane appears heading down from Twiston Moor. I follow it, doglegging, until alongside a deep wooded clough, the upper reaches of Ings Beck. I try to take some pictures of the red buds on the Larches here but the breeze makes it difficult to focus. P1040683P1040680P1040691P1040687P1040695

Just outside the garden of Clough Head Farm is the Thomas Peel Bulcock memorial of which I knew nothing. It was erected by Thomas Bulcock in 1863 in memory of his son buried here and other relations buried in Whalley and Downham churchyards. The Bulcock family apparently had a long association with the area. P1040698P1040701

Having passed through the farmyard I find myself in one of the longest fields I’ve seen in these parts. Back to green pastures I wander down the hillside to come out onto a familiar lane. P1040704P1040705P1040710

From there I traverse the hillsides above the Ings Beck where silver rich lead was mined for many years. I wrote about this last time. Today I find the remains of the limekiln for the little limestone quarry and pass the mine managers cottage. Oh and that lamp post in the middle of nowhere.

Knowing the way I am soon back into sleepy Rimington. P1040739P1040746

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The converted Black Bull and Cosgroves ladies clothing shop. 

 A sprightly five miles.

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GRUNSAGILL.

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Grunsagill, no I hadn’t heard of it either. This map gives a clue, only just in Lancashire.Screenshot 2024-03-04 150021

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I have previously come up the Skirden Beck from Bolton-by-Bowland as far as Blue Scar, but today we were heading farther up alongside its tributaries to the isolated hamlet of Grunsagill. It turned out to be quite an epic, if one can apply that word to rural Lancashire.

Mike found the walk in 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys by Clitheroe Ramblers. We have followed a few of their walks in recent week deep in our countryside. I notice that the publication is 20 years old now so one expects to find changes in the routes, but our experience is more that nobody is walking some of these rural paths which are becoming overgrown with poor infrastructure. What would today be like up above Bowland-by-Bowland.

Yes, it is official it has been the wettest February in recent history so we can expect mud at the very least. In fact we miss out the first water-logged field in favour of the water-logged farm lane alongside Blue Scar, with locked gates. The farm has been unoccupied for years and last time I was here I struggled to find the PROW up from Skirden Beck into and through the farmyard, only to discover there was a concessionary path bypassing the farm altogether. Forewarned we follow it today dropping us down to the beck side. Those new galvanised gates help us find the way to the footbridge and the steep climb to Ray Head Farm, 1677. The fields are merely damp. P1040578P1040579

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Barking dogs guard the farm yard but are called off as we pass through and follow more gates and newly planted hedges up towards Lodge Farm. There are hills ahead we don’t recognise and behind ever present Pendle watches our progress. So far so good. We stop to take off a few layers as the day has warmed up, the sun is shining and there is no wind. A green and pleasant land given over to sheep farming.

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We are back to wooden stiles now and the guide warns of difficult route finding, we go astray in the wrong field above and unable to gain access to New Gill Beck. Backtracking is the only option and we find our own way down through no man’s land to another new gate and the little footbridge over the beck. Out of the blue we come across a waymark for The Ribble Valley Jubilee Trail.  Later research suggests this would be a worthwhile week’s 65 mile walk through some of the best of the Ribble Valley. P1040591P1040592P1040593

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Strangely there is an in situ caravan relic in the next field, no idea how it got there. P1040596P1040598

We make better progress on a pleasant stretch alongside the beck. P1040602P1040600

And there in front of us is the imposing Beckfoot Farmhouse with its mullioned windows, dating from1686 and partly rebuilt 1876.  The lower plaque in the porch says  EBI AN.DO 1686.   P1040604P1040607P1040606P1040605

Stately living indeed and they are making changes to the landscape hereabouts, lots, and I mean lots, of tree planting but the footpath remains clear through their estate. There has also been a lot of work done along with the environment agencies to slow down the flow of water in the beck in times of heavy rain. A work in progress no doubt. It looks like an ideal place to reintroduce Beavers? P1040609P1040610

A bit of rougher ground and a dodgy footbridge brought us to the road at  Butterfields. P1040611We now follow the quiet lanes for a mile or so, at the high point Pendle comes into view again. There are lots of cyclists, presumably from east Lancashire clubs, using this switchback route. A majority of the properties seem to be holiday lets, is this the only future for English farming? See below. P1040614

We drop into Grunsagill, a once stately house and a couple of farms. Chatting to the farmer he says it is too cold and wet up here for lambing now, best in April. In fact it turns out his sheep are down in lower fields at Longridge where we have come from.
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A brief spell by Grunsagill Beck, another tributary of Skirden Beck, and we descend into what is basically a holiday village, Lower Gill.  Farm buildings done up as self catering units and attached recreational facilities including a heated pool.  P1040619P1040620

If the day had ended here we would have been very happy with our walk.

The next three quarters of a mile however were spent sinking into the worst possible flooded fields and then even worse trying to stay afloat on what was basically a slurry lagoon. Slurry is an integral part of modern farming where animal waste together with other waste organic farm matter is converted over a period of time into fertilizer that can be reused on their lands to fertilize crops. It should be in a controlled slurry pit not dumped into farm lanes. Slurry pits are dangerous enough from the point of view of deadly gases and drowning. Out here we felt very vulnerable on the virtually impassable slurry track. God knows what damage and pollution the run off into streams is creating. It can’t all be blamed on the wet weather, this is dumped farm waste. It should be looked upon as a serious enough problem as fly tipping in the countryside and sewage disposal by the big water companies.  A world away from the high end vacation focused and sanitised ‘farming’  back at Lower Gill. I wonder if it is their land and slurry?P1040626P1040629P1040631P1040630

We needed hosing down and disinfecting after the ordeal. A walk to enjoy in the summer months.

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