Let me stand again on Winder, in the magic summer breeze,                                                       Feel once more the stones and heather, watch the bracken and the tree ;                                 Let me see again the river, and the fields and walls and farms,                                                    Sedbergh, let me feel you near me, let me take you in my arms.

A poem written in 1954 by  Tim Birdsall, a former pupil at Sedbergh School. I find this poem more resonant than the oft-quoted lines from Sedbergh’s celebrated public school’s song – Winder. Sedbergh School has just celebrated its 500th year.

It is Cautley, Calf and Winder,
That make the Sedbergh man.

Sedbergh and its school are closely bound to Winder, the hill overlooking them. By tradition, all pupils of the school need to climb Winder at least once during their time at the school. I don’t think I have ever climbed Winder from the town; I’ve often come over it returning from a longer excursion in the Howgills. Time moves on, and today I’m happy to wander up and over the not-so-little hill.

There seems to be a lot of activity in the town – it is the annual Sedbergh Hills Race. They have already set off on their 14 mile/6000ft course.

After Lockbank Farm, I plod up above the wall the long way round, before starting the steeper track to the top of Winder. Fortunately, the paths are well trodden through the prolific bracken. From lower down, there appear to be several false tops to Winder; there are. I stop often to watch the town disappear below me, and to take in views of the Lune Valley, and all the other hills that surround Sedbergh.

At the trig point, a gaggle of people man the final checkpoint for the fell race.  There is a trig pillar and a toposcope up here; the views are extensive, but I don’t linger. A little further down here comes the leader of the pack; I cheer him on, whoever he is. He is more than five minutes ahead of the others; of them, I only see a few – the pace must be hot today.

I baulk at the 500 ft ascent to Arant Haw and instead take a green track toward Settlebeck Gill, with Sedbergh way below.

This is exhilarating as it clings to the edge of the deep ravine. My only complaint is that little water flows down there at present in these heatwave times. It must be more impressive in winter after heavy rain.

Now taking a lower track, I drop down into the Gill, here less fierce than above. The route is popular with numerous people ascending and following me down.

I do a little dogleg across the stream, where most people seem to go straight on, and find myself on a path through ancient woodland.

At its end there in front of me is the wooded mound of a Motte and Bailey, c1100, Castlehaw. Not that easy to make out! 

A bunkhouse nearby offers accommodation for families and friends to get together, an increasingly popular way to share time.

The footpath goes through their garden before disappearing into the woodland again and coming out on the edge of Sedbergh through a lovely old iron kissing gate.

Even taking a footpath below Castlehaw, there is little to see in the trees of the Motte and Bailey.

Strolling through the main street, I studiously avoid any of the bookshops.

Instead, I make my way to St. Andrews parish church. A Norman doorway leads me into the tall aisle of the church. The present church dates mainly from about 1500. The Lancaster architects Paley and Austin carried out a major restoration in 1885–86.

Above the altar in the east wall is a distinctive stained-glass window, with the one picture in the five lights. It depicts Christ calling to Andrew and Peter, the fishermen. Thought to have been installed about 1890 by Henry V Miller.

Several other bright windows line the side walls.

 

On the North wall are two large, fairly recent embroideries created by a band of local stitchers, depicting local scenes and architecture. Fantastic detail.

My way back to my car takes me through some of the grounds of Sedbergh School. Lancashire CCC uses their cricket pitch on occasion each season.  

And this is the school’s view of Winder, a tough little hill in the bosom of the Howgills.

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