I have been walking uphill continuously for an hour and a half: about three miles and a thousand feet, but I’ve arrived at a flat stone at the edge of the woods for my picnic. I know about this stone from previous visits. Once seated, I can enjoy my sandwich and coffee with the perfect view of Pendle across the Ribble Valley. A kestrel hovers in front of me and a peregrine glides past; I hear jays in the woodland.

I’m halfway through a walk selected from Cicerone’s excellent 15 Short Walks in the Ribble Valley. I think I have covered most of these over the years. Why didn’t I think to write them up, way back when? Well done, Mark Sutcliffe,

https://www.cicerone.co.uk/short-walks

This week, I seem to be short of the mojo for anything more ambitious, so I am only too pleased to follow route No. 13 Grindelton Fell and the Pine Woods, described as challenging. I’ve probably used some of these paths before, but not necessarily in the same order, as Eric Morecambe used to say. In fact, I know I have, previously being hopelessly lost in these very woods. Pinewoods is not entirely accurate, as only a few pines are standing; most are commercial spruces.

The day broke fine, with the possibility of warm sunshine —a bonus as we move into Autumn, time to get stirring and pack a picnic. For a walk of four miles or so I won’t bother with refreshments, but for anything longer I will bring a drink and something to eat. So today it is a picnic, of sorts. I’m linking this into one of my never-ending 52 Ways to Walk series, Walk with a picnic. The author suggests carrying a picnic hamper for a different muscular challenge. Forget the basket and napkins; mine is in the rucksack, an easier option.

I’d parked in the village near the two pubs that used to be The Duke of York and The Buck Inn. The former is now becoming a private residence, and the latter has been reinvented as a gastropub, The Rum Fox.  Grindleton has a main street of stone houses leading out into the fells. Lots of side terraces and little ginnels are included in a trail marked by beehives. Apparently, the village was once renowned for its honey and jams from its orchards.

Steep climb out of the village…

…until Whitehall Lane is reached. After all that climbing, you descend to cross Grindleton Brook, then climb again across the valley.

Time to stop and look across to Pendle…

…and to focus on the insect life in the ivy. The lane leads to White Hall itself with its imposing frontage.

A bridleway continues up the fell.

The views keep opening up over the Ribble Valley.

That last photo reminds me of a bike packing trip with one of my sons; we camped down in that valley below the ruins of Simpshey. Longridge Fell in the background.

I reach the tarmacked road, where I could have easily parked. It seems popular with dog walkers who use this road and the adjacent paths.

The steady gradient continues along the edge of the trees, and the track roughens. 

Before the forest arrived, simple farmsteads stood up here; they are marked on the old maps, and you can still make out the ruins of some.

At last, the trail is heading onto the rough moorland…

…and I can see my picnic stone. Lunch over the second half of the walk takes on another aspect – walking through the dense forest. There are many tracks in the woods, many going nowhere, so I need to find the right one as I enter the trees.  A trod goes through the dying bracken in that rectangular open area between plantations. It leads me straight to the forest gate without difficulty.

Well, that is easy. But the way through the trees isn’t the broad forest track I expected. It is a slippery, stony path weaving down a steep slope. It would be better to ascend than descend – or is that just me not so sure of my balance these days?  I follow it carefully.

A Silver Birch lights up the forest.

At last, my wayward path merges into a wider track between old walls. I can’t get lost now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot some ears in the air 30 yards away – I only just manage to get a shot before they disappear.

The watery track leads on through the dense trees with the occasional glimpse of the outside world.

Then I abruptly emerge from the woods back onto that tarmacked road. Looking back up it, I can make out the transmitter tower on neighbouring Waddington Fell.

After a pleasant stroll of about a mile down the quiet road, I am back in Grindleton.

That seemed quite a long short walk, but very enjoyable.

*