Monthly Archives: January 2026

UNDER THE HOWGILLS.

More of the Lune.

November 1981. Day four of our Dales Way walk. We had started in Ilkley as a threesome, but by the time we arrived, via a long day to Grassington, into Kettlewell, we were down to two. An excessive night at the George in Hubberholme, when we couldn’t find the tent, didn’t slow us up. I can’t recall where we camped in Dent. The next afternoon, we diverted into Sedbergh for beer and chips before joining the Lune. I remember well our camp later that day in the meadows just before the Crook of Lune Bridge. Our sleeping bags weren’t up to the freezing temperatures we experienced that night.

We made it to Windermere. But I don’t remember walking under the Lowgill Viaduct. I’m back here today for a walk down the Lune and beyond.

The journey up the motorway goes well, I am trying to make the most of a rare good January day. The Howgills look even more attractive than usual in the low sunshine as I swish down the road past the ‘Black Horse’ towards Sedbergh. But today I take the lane signed Waterside and Firbank up the Lune Valley. I stop to take photos of the Waterside viaduct, which carried the Ingleton Branch railway line.

I eventually park under the Lowgill Viaduct, which carried the same line. onwards to Tebay, where it merged with what is now the Main West Coast Line.

The Ingleton to Tebay line, the Ingleton Branch, was built in the early 1860s by the North Western Railway as a link for them to Scotland. This never worked, and it remained a quiet branch line linking towns and villages in the Lune Valley. It finally closed in 1964, but its structures and trackbed are still very visible in the valley today.

I’m inspired by the eleven-arched viaduct above me. What a climbing wall could be established on one of those stone arches.

I walk down the lane, past the attractive Pool House, to the Crook of Lune Bridge. Not be confused with the Crook of Lune bridge painted by Turner further down the river at Caton. The one I cross today is a narrow, arched C16th stone bridge. Oh, and by the way, this Lowgill shouldn’t be confused with the one at the base of the Tatham Fells.

From the bridge, I look upstream towards the shapely Howgills, and downstream with Firbank Fell in the background, I will be up the latter on my return leg. It’s a day of views despite not really climbing anything higher than 1000ft.

That’s a slow start, but I’m soon in the fields bordering the River Lune, where we camped all those years ago. How come I don’t remember the viaduct?

The Dales Way is a popular route, and the path is clear, though rougher than I expected. This may be due to erosion from flooding; there is a section where the narrow trod has been bolstered with wooden boarding.

I’m walking into the low sun, so some of my photos are looking back. In places, the river rushes along, but in others it seems to be at a standstill, which I notice has a very calming effect upon me. One can imagine sitting here quietly for hours.

I arrive at Hole House with its joining arch, which I’ve been through not that long ago. *

Time for the obligatory snowdrop and catkin photos.

Leaving the Dales Way, the river is crossed via a wooden footbridge and begin a steep 700ft climb up the otherside.

Stopping for breath at the abandoned rail track of the Ingleton Branch. I wonder whether one could follow it back to Lowgill. Wouldn’t it make a wonderful cycleway from Sedbergh?

My next rest stop is at Goodies Farmhouse, where I reach the road. The views back to the Howgills are becoming more impressive as height is gained.

There is more height to be climbed along the semi-enclosed bridleway, then onto open moorland.

At last, the top road is reached, and the stile is used as my picnic bench.

Just along the road in the wrong direction is Fox’s Pulpit and a small graveyard. I visited here a couple of years ago. * Then the Howgills were in cloud, but today are spread out in full Cinemascope.

The lane leads to my highest point of the day, a mere 304m, a smidgem under 1000ft, but exhilarating in the windless blue sky. I walk on, soaking up the views. The M6 motorway and the main railway line can be seen sneaking through the gap to Tebay.

The Lakeland hills are over there somewhere beyond the Tebay Borrowdale. Kidsty Pike is always the prominent one in the East.

A slanty sign shows the way down the fields. Some awkward stiles to be surmounted. After crossing this one, I slide off the boards into the stream, fortunately staying upright.

The path eventually drops steeply down towards Lowgill, offering a bird’s-eye view of the valley.

I finish on the road alongside those eleven arches.

A grand five mikes.

Several drone videos of the viaduct are available online.

I noticed a small turreted church by the roadside as I drove in this morning. I have time to stop and look around on the way home. St John the Evangelist’s Church, Firbank, built in 1842.

It looks as though a spring visit is called for…

A NOSEY AROUND THE VILLAGE.

8 Replies

Is it a village or a town I wonder?

Longridge was once a village centred on stone quarries and cotton mills. But that was long ago, there has been steady development in the last 50 years, until it is now a dormitory town of Preston.

The population in 2000 was about 7,000; it is now estimated at 12,000. So I think it is, in fact, a town even though the established locals still refer to it as a village. Make of that what you wish; it is irrelevant to today’s walk.

Delving into my 52 Ways to Walk book for this week, I have the snazzy title Breathe as you walk. That sounds fairly obvious. But no, there is more to it than that – let’s focus on Nitric Oxide, NO. (not be confused with nitrogen dioxide, NO₂, a brown gas and major air pollutant or Nitrous Oxide, N₂O, which is laughing gas) When I studied Biology in the sixties, Nitric oxide was established as highly reactive, having a lifetime of a few seconds, and I don’t recall any properties that applied to the human body. But we are in a different century, and it has assumed some importance to our physiology.

Nitric oxide is a vasodilator discovered in our bodies a mere 30 years ago. One source is from the nasal membranes, so nasal breathing delivers it directly to our lungs, helping to improve oxygen uptake. I have double-checked some of the science, and there is relevant and reliable clinical research. Interestingly, if you hum at the same time, more nitric oxide is produced.

Nasal breathing is already known to filter out more airborne pathogens than mouth breathing, and it also slows breathing, having a relaxing effect well known to Yoga followers.

Hence, on my walk today, I will try to breathe through my nose as much as possible. I realise that most of the time, when exercising, I predominantly breathe through my mouth. A gentle walk around the village/town is chosen. On the flat, slow nasal breathing is easy once you concentrate. Going uphill, breathing in through my nose but breathing out through my mouth works best. I don’t notice any extra energy on this limited walk. Of note, I am much more aware of the traffic fumes when breathing through the nose. Urban walking is probably not the healthiest option when it comes to pollution. On the contrary, at other times the scents of the countryside will be more acute with nasal breathing.

On the whole, during my walk, I find that trying to concentrate on the nasal breathing interrupts my enjoyment of the surroundings and my train of thought. More practice is needed.

I follow one of my usual circuits. Out past the cricket pitch, up Mile Lane (which is only half a mile), and down the path onto the top park. Here I divert to have a look at the little Miyawaki tree plantation. Most are just sticks at this time of year, but I notice yew trees and gorse in amongst them.

Down Higher Road, I pass the terraced row of stone cottages, said to be the first erected by a mutual building society.

At the top of the main street is a little fast-food outlet advertising burgers and wraps, not the sort of place I would normally use. But through the grapevine, I learned they prepare a daily curry, cooked on site in small batches from natural ingredients. I have started to pop in when passing to see what’s on offer in the curry department. Everything I have tried so far has been authentic and delicious. I go in today and come away with a portion of black bean dhal and some vegetable pakoras. Rabias Kitchen – my little piece of India in Longridge. As one has to say – other outlets are available. In fact, Longridge is saturated with takeaways.

I cut back through our recreational park with its children’s playgrounds, skate park, and now the brand-new Pump Track. I stand and stare at some of the youngsters pumping their way around the circuit. It looks like great fun. Let’s try to give our children something to prise them off their screens and possibly keep them away from more antisocial behaviour. Our community is not immune to vandalism and drug problems.

As an example of antisocial behaviour – I cpme across flytipping by the roadside next to a new estate.

This is followed by a thorough soaking from a motorist driving over the speed limit through a large puddle. Nose breathing took a dive as I swore at his rapid passing.

I don’t expect to venture far this next couple of weeks, what with the weather and appointments. Local walks will have to do.

A NEW YEAR – A NEW WALK AT LAST.

16 Replies

Slow walking in Uldale.

Driving up the M6 from Preston is always busy and often an accident blackspot, but suddenly, after junction 36, the road empties and all is peaceful with fewer lorries. I’m heading for junction 37, the one with an abrupt stop up the hill and no roundabout. This junction gives access to the Western part of the Lakes, as well as to the Howgills and the hills around Dent, now called the Western Yorkshire Dales National Park, even though they are now mainly in Cumbria. Historically, both Sedbergh and Dent were in the West Riding of Yorkshire until 1974, so maybe there is some logic in the naming. Dent certainly feels like a Yorkshire Dales village. The road winds down to Sedbergh and gives an intimate view into the heart of the Howgills, which sets the pulse going.

Since some friends of mine moved into Dentdale a few years ago, this has been a regular trip for me, particularly in the last three years when we were busy developing a climbing area, Blackbed Scar, on Wild Boar Fell. Today I have a gentler walk in mind, the first of the year, really, due to other circumstances. I’ve read about the waterfalls on the River Rawthey in hidden Uldale, but never explored them. A good enough reason to travel north to the hills, but stay low on a dry day with cold winds. I find that Metcheck often gives the more accurate local forecast. *

I’ve taken a book off my shelves for another appraisal—52 WAYS TO WALK, by Annabel Streets.

Each week, it suggests, one week at a time, different themes and ideas to keep your walks varied. There is a lot of dubious science incorporated, which is probably why it was relegated to my shelves. But we all recognise the physical and mental benefits of walking, so there is no harm in varying our routines. Time to start a new year with a weekly chapter from the book. We are already into the 4th week of 2026, so I can skip the first three chapters: Walk in the Cold, Improve Your Gait. and Walk, Smile, Greet. I feel I have covered those in my daily walk around the corner to the shops. So this week’s chapter comes up with Just One Slow Walk. She controversially suggests that long, slow walks are more beneficial than short, high-intensity periods. Soon to be contradicted in her week 7 chapter – Take a Twelve-Minute Walk. Whatever, I am happy to go along with the slow theme today, having been out hardly at all this year. The main reason, anyhow, is always to reduce your time sitting.

So I find myself parked up at Rawthey Bridge, just north of Cautley, where the river branches off into Uldale. That forecast is partially correct: the air temperature is about 7, but with stronger winds than expected, it feels freezing, hat and gloves from the set off.

There is no path up the initial section of the gorge, so I pick up an unmarked bridleway into the low hills, Bluecaster, to the south west of the river.

The map shows several fords along the way; I’m expecting wet feet. That doesn’t take long in the waterlogged ground.

Of course, one tends to visit waterfalls for their full effect after rain, so I can’t complain. Height is gained, and then the valley traversed high above the river, hidden in the wooded depths. All around are familiar fells, Cautley Spout cradled by the Howgills, the back of Wild Boar and distant Nine Standards.

The sun is in my eyes, ensuring that I manage to step onto as many unseen deep bogs as possible. The theme of Slow is easily followed.

In parts, there are signs of stone culverts and banking, suggesting packhorse use long ago.

Shake holes remind me I am in Limestone country.

At last, the now vague path levels alongside the rushing river at a footbridge, which gives good views of the first falls upstream. I do wonder what the length of water downstream in the wooded gorge that I have bypassed would have revealed. I am sure someone will have canyoned the whole length. I could cross the bridge and complete my modest circular walk back down the opposite side of the valley, but a faint path continues on this side. The map shows a path that extends another half mile or so to an abandoned quarry, which was no doubt its raison d’être.

Treading carefully on the slippery limestone, I follow the river past a series of falls over tilted strata. There seem to be some good deep swimming pools along the way.

My video aims to give a sense of the sounds and sights of the falls. All very dramatic in this lonely valley.

Reaching the quarry area, the eroded path is forced onto a lip directly above the water. It looks tricky, so I make my excuses and decide, probably sensibly, to turn around and retreat. Further on, the river levels out and then disappears around the corner to more unseen falls. In drier weather and with companions, I would have gone on.

Later, YouTube shows the gorge becoming inaccessible and drones being used to view the taller falls, so today I made the right decision. But the thought of a summer’s direct exploration up the waters is at the back of my mind. Of course, Mark Richards has been there more than once.

Back at the bridge.

I cross over, climb up, bypass Uldale House and wander slowly back along the deserted lanes.

The only traffic is the red postie’s van.

There are some lonely sheep farms up here; at one time, their lives probably didn’t stretch much further than Sedbergh every few weeks.

This was previously a school, which closed in 1940.

Dropping back down to Rawthey Bridge, I can trace the boggy start of the walk on the low hillside opposite with Cautley Crag in the background.

I finish the afternoon warming up and chatting over a pot of tea at my friends’ Dentdale house. Here’s to more slow walking.

A NEW YEAR. IN BOWLAND MEADOW.

19 Replies

My walking year wasn’t meant to start like this.

I had a busy and costly day yesterday.

A dental appointment in the morning – check-up and a difficult molar filling that keeps dropping out and will need some major drilling in the near future.

Physiotherapy appointment at lunch time to assess some abdominal muscular problems, which have completely stopped me from venturing out in 2026 so far. Suspect nerve impingement in my thoracic region. Hopefully not a kidney stone, as my GP’s appointment is in two weeks.

Afternoon – ultrasound scan of my shoulder, which has suffered from the bar stool episode last year. The charming radiologist tells me I have a complete tear of the supraspinatus. No quick fix there.

‘That was the day that was‘, which left me £500 less in my bank account. Having said that, I don’t begrudge a penny of it if it gets me back on the road. (OK, I know I’m lucky to be able to afford it where others may not.)

Today, my muscle spasms are less, thanks to the physiotherapist’s strong-arm massage on my back yesterday—time to stop the painkillers. I have watched the blue skies on several days this year and been unable to get outside and enjoy them. By lunchtime, the day is set fair, and I decide to go for my first walk of 2026. My choice of route is modest and local. It has only now struck me that the name of the estate I walk around is Bowland Meadows – serendipity.

I would have been happier in the Bowland Fells, but needs must, and at least the meadows have been granted a local name, although Bowland View would have been more appropriate. The meadows are no more, yet more countryside has been sacrificed for our mad rush to build more houses at whatever cost to nature. Barratt Homes, as the developers, fall back on giving the streets ‘nature-related’ names, as you will see in my photos. Is this to dupe the house purchasers into thinking they are moving to a rural life? What was wrong with Factory Row, Mill Street and Gas Alley? As our natural fauna and flora are being destroyed, the popularity for naming streets after birds, animals, trees and flowers has increased exponentially. There is some perverse psychology at play. Similar to the global companies offering to plant a tree for every pound spent on destroying the planet. It just doesn’t work.

Having said all that, my stroll around Bowland Meadows reveals diverse, pleasant housing, open green spaces, play areas, and a connection to the surrounding countryside, for now at least. And of course, those Bowland Fells will dominate forever.