Author Archives: bowlandclimber

SPIRES AND STEEPLES – TWO.

Washingborough to Metheringham. 10 miles.

Tranquil villages.

I find myself back at the lower part of Washingborough near the Ferry Inn, which relates to an earlier boat crossing of the River Witham before the bridge I used yesterday was built.

From here, it is uphill to the prominent St John the Evangelist Church; I spotted its steeple at the end of yesterday’s stage. It is probably the oldest structure in the village, with the tower’s base dating from Norman times. It was restored in 1860 by Sir George Gilbert Scott, the Victorian Gothic Revival architect (St. Pancras and Albert Memorial, etc.). The warmth of the Lincolnshire limestone strikes me. Unfortunately, I cannot access the interior, which has some fine stained glass, including the ‘Zeppelin’ windows, commemorating 23rd September 1916 when a Zeppelin bombed the village in mistake for Lincoln. An elderly lady is weeding a grave, the sister of her mother who died of Diphtheria aged five at the beginning of the last century, a sad link with the past.

Onwards up the hill, yes, there are hills in Lincolnshire, is a welcome carved wooden seat depicting aspects of the village’s story.

The rough ground behind it is marked on the map as Pits Woods, and as I walk through it, one gets the impression that digging occurred in the past, possibly for iron or silver ore in the limestone.

A section through housing estates is well-signed with the S&S logo, so I’m soon alongside the railway. A new underpass has been built since my guide was written.

I then follow Branston Beck for a couple of miles. It has recently been cleaned, and hopefully, brown trout and water voles will return. There is plenty of bird life in the reeds.

The beck-side route marches straight to the village of Branston, or rather, the village is marching out into the fields. Some farmer has made a pretty penny here, and they complain about the inheritance tax, payable at 20% when the rest of us pay 40%. There’s a lot to see in Branston. First I arrive at the old sheep wash on the beck with its recent art installations.

There is a lot of artwork on a village trail relating to its history and environment.

I make a detour to view the village waterwheel constructed in 1879 to pump water to the houses of the local gentry before the main’s water arrived in the 1930s. Honestly, there was little to see, the wheel being enclosed and on private land. The diagram explains it better than I can.

Heading up to the church, I pass a small green with three elaborately carved wooden chairs. Again, this is part of the art trail.

Nearby, a plaque on the house commemorates the Enclosure Act, which had a profound effect on the subsistence farming population. I haven’t even reached the church.

All Saints Church has a commanding position. There is Saxon masonry in the tower, the tower’s west door is Norman and the Perpendicular style spire from the late C15th. Much of the church was “restored” in 1876 by Sir George Gilbert Scott, a name we keep meeting. Today, the church is locked, so I cannot see the C14th Nave or the elaborately carved benches. Note the modern replacement window from 1962 after a fire in the chancel.

Whilst wandering around the churchyard the peace is broken by the sound of jets above. They are gone before I see them but I’m ready the next time around. I can’t believe it, but these are the Red Arrows on an exercise. They keep circling, five in front v-shaped, with one following behind. I even get to see some red vapour trails. How do you capture that with a phone camera?

Meanwhile, time stands still in the mosaic at my feet.

Time to move on. Once out of the houses, I am into fields of what I think is sugar beet.
Not too muddy, and soon, I’m onto tracks across the fens. Out of the blue, a cafe appeared. Part of the Hanworth Lesure Complex. It is lunchtime so I call in for a coffee and carrot cake. Perfect.

There are pitches for camping and lakes for fishing.
Across the fields is the small village of Potterhanworth, until recently a centre for sugar beet breeding.

I look in the bus stop, which is bedecked with murals and has a window looking out to the church.

The Church of St. Andrews has a C14 tower, but the rest is Victorian. The parish council are having a meeting inside, so I move on, I am sure I would have been welcome. Across the road from the church is another impressive building, a huge water tower built in 1903 as part of a water supply system from a borehole in a nearby field. I need to stride out; time is passing.

Nocton, has plenty of interest; these villages have made an effort to highlight their heritage.

‘Dandelion Sundial’ by Cliff Baxendale is surrounded by relief panels depicting various aspects of Nocton’s history.

The present Church of All Saints, designed by, you guessed it, George Gilbert Scott replaced an older one in the grounds of Nocton Hall; both were demolished. A local man tells me the interesting history of the hall and churches. You can find it here.

On the way out of the village, I am surprised by the delightful ‘Cow’ created by Nocton schoolchildren from old scrap farm tools which had been ploughed up in the surrounding fields. Easy going on the bridleway across what were formerly massive potato fields for Smiths Crisps with their own railway. Dunston is a small, sleepy hamlet. St Peter’s church was largely rebuilt in 1874, but its mediaeval tower remains, and there is an Early English south doorway. At least I get to look inside this one, which is good because there is a hagioscope or squint, so the congregation in the north aisle could see the altar. A new one for me.

It’s dusk when I arrive in Metheringham, a long day but full of interest.

***

SPIRES AND STEEPLES – ONE.

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Lincoln to Washingborough. 4.5 miles.

Leaving Lincoln.

I emerge from a few hours enthralled in Lincoln Cathedral and start my Spires and Steeples Trail from the grand west door. In some ways, it would have been more of a climax to finish here, but let’s not belittle Sleaford until we arrive there.

I will probably write about the cathedral soon, but where will I start? There is so much history, beauty, and awe.

It’s easier to just set off on the trail. I want to tick off a few miles to make tomorrow more manageable. Out of the cathedral grounds, Lincoln Cathedral lost its spires centuries ago and down that ‘steep hill ‘ everyone talks about. It is steep, and those coming up take frequent stops to look in the tourist shop windows.

At the bottom, I dodge a few streets and pass by my first spire. The stately St. Swithins is now looking uncared for. The original church suffered a bad fire in 1644, the fate of many early wooden churches. It was rebuilt but replaced with this Neo-Gothic building in 1869, designed by James Fowler, a distinguished Victorian church architect. The mathematician George Boole was christened in the earlier church in 1815. More of him later. The congregation still meets in a nearby building whilst the repairs to the church’s roof are being funded.

The River Witham is navigable from Lincoln to The Wash at Boston, made possible by canalisation in the C18th. I cross over and start walking out of the city, passing a lock basin.

Along the banks are the remains of industries past, but it doesn’t take long to reach more rural scenery.

I come across my first S & S waymark, but I may have missed some in the city.

Looking back, the Cathedral dominates the skyline, as it does from miles around.

The track is popular with cyclists and joggers. A cycleway, The Water Rail, goes as far as Boston on the old railway. I’ve just realised I’m on an old rail track. The railway that finished off most of the river traffic. It took a package boat six hours to get to Boston; the train took one and a quarter hours.

Easy going and I reach the old railway station, cosed 1940, where I cross the ditch into a small park. There are a few animal statues to look out for, and then I’m on the main road through Washingborough, right next to a bus stop with the first steeple for tomorrow visible up the hill.

A good start to the trip, and I finished before it became dark.

As I explained in my introduction https://bowlandclimber.com/2024/12/06/spires-and-steeples/ I am booked into a pub in Metheringham for a few days and aim to use bus transport to the ends of each stage.

***

PS. This walk was completed on December 3rd – I’m not crazy enough to be out in Storm Darragh.

SPIRES AND STEEPLES.

8 Replies

A long-distance path of 25 miles in Lincolnshire, the trail begins at Lincoln Cathedral and ends at St Denys Church, Sleaford. In between it visits a number of towns and villages of the region, each with churches that have eye-catching spires or steeples.
Another short Long Distance Way I’ve come up with, maybe I should start calling them Short Distance Ways. I’ve never been to Lincoln, so this is an opportunity to visit and combine with a few days of walking. At one time, more than a few years ago now, I might have attempted this route in a day. But what’s the rush?
Steeple or spire? Are they the same? A steeple is any church tower, whether with a spire or without. A spire, on the other hand, is an ornament to a steeple – defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as ‘A tapering conical or pyramidal structure on the top of a building, typically a church tower.’
Our excellent OS maps help out by their symbols defining the type of church.

Oh, and by the way, the Spires and Steeples Trail is marked on the OS maps as a recreational route.

The tallest of Britain’s steeples, that of Salisbury Cathedral, which I visited in October, rises 404 feet; the spire is 180 feet high. Lincoln’s original spire, timber covered with lead, on its central tower, was even taller; at 524 feet, it was for two centuries the world’s tallest building; alas, it collapsed in 1549 and now, without a spire, is only 272ft high. Here in Preston, we have St. Walburge, at 309ft, the tallest non-cathedral church in the country.

Salisbury Cathedral.

St.Walburge’s Wikipedia.

A steeplechase was originally a cross-country horse race using church towers as landmarks. And, of course, Bolton’s Fred Dibnah was perhaps the most famous steeplejack.

As well as the churches, there is a series of art installations in the villages on the trail, which should add some interest to a flat landscape. The area south of Lincoln seems to be named North Kesteven, a local government district established in 1974.
I’m reckoning on the train to Lincoln, changing at Manchester and Sheffield, then a bus or train to a village named Metheringham. I will be lucky to arrive within five hours.
There is a bus service between most of the villages on the linear trail so I will be able to split the sections to suit my dallying and to fit around the weather. It is dark before 4 pm at this time of year.

In Metheringham I have booked into an inn for five nights, the Lincolnshire Poacher. This is named after The Lincolnshire Poacher, a traditional English folk song associated with the county of Lincolnshire and deals with the joys of poaching. It is considered to be the unofficial county anthem of Lincolnshire. I shall be whistling it on my way.

BUILT IN STONE.

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Almost as an aside, I was halfway around my Longridge walk when I started noticing the substantial stone-built houses.

Longridge, apart from its agricultural surroundings, was built on the proceeds of cotton mills and quarries. We have a mix of workers’ stone terraces and grander large houses built by the owners and managers.

I have mentioned the stone quarries before, and perhaps I need to enlarge the topic sometime, as well as the mills and spinning rooms. But today just a few photos of the stone houses.

It’s getting dark and the village is lighting up for Christmas shopping. I lived in one of those stone houses in the ’70s.

A VIEW FROM THE ‘RIDGE.

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Up here in Lancashire, we missed most of Storm Bert’s venom. There were a couple of days of icy weather and then lots of rain. I escaped from Chorley Hospital yesterday without any serious problems. Time to get out for a walk.

My morning was taken by awkward ‘joinery’ to enlarge the hole for Seth’s new cat flap. There are intruders on the prowl, one particular cat seems to spend most of his time in my garden and has gained entry into my house on a couple of occasions. Not what I want. With all the new houses in Longridge there are more cats about, not to mention dogs. I took the plunge and ordered an electronic cat flap that would only open to Seth’s chip. It’s arrived, and I try to decipher the instructions for programming and installing. It was easy to program, and Seth duly obliged and walked through it. That was yesterday. Today, I started on the installation, and I’m not finished yet.

The day is disappearing and I need to get out and make the most of the forecast. After all the rain, I think I’ll just opt for a road circuit up the fell. One I have done so many times. I bump into JD on the way, and we join forces for a modest stroll.

Here are a few photos taken on my phone as we progressed.

Craig Y in the strange light.

Looking out over the houses to the Ribble Valley and beyond.

A deserted Golf Course was closed because of flooding.

Cowley Brook Plantation.

Distant Pendle.

Fairsnape/Totridge group across the valley.

Looking out over Longridge reservoirs and the Fylde.

Sainsbury’s sunset.

A short walk of under five miles, the sun was setting by the time we returned. Nothing dramatic but we put the world to rights, which is a good thing.

I’ll finish off the cat flap tomorrow.

THE DEARNE WAY – FOUR.

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Broomhill to Mexborough. The Dearne dawdling to the Don.

A shorter day, or so I thought, and I have time to enjoy a leisurely breakfast. Premier Inns do put on a good spread.

The TPT is busy with cyclists this morning; it is a Saturday. Underpasses have had murals painted on them by local schoolchildren, but unfortunately, the graffiti merchants have spoiled them.

Brisk marching for me on the good surface. I’m walking through an extensive nature reserve, but without binoculars, I don’t see much. A lot of these flooded areas have been caused by mining subsidence. At one point, the exposed surface resembled a slag heap, which it probably was.

As nature intended.

I suppose cycleways are designed for cyclists and a straight, hard surface that goes on and on eventually becomes tedious for walking.

As a distraction, I notice some of the wayside stones have been carved with a ‘nature’ theme, but they are not very obvious.

A flood relief channel and a regulator to restrict the flow were built at Bolton upon Dearne. During the 2007 floods, the washlands filled to capacity but the regulator could not be operated as it had been vandalised!

I was pleased to escape the hard surfaces and walk along the grassy banking of the floodplain after Bolton. Looking at the map now, perhaps I was on the wrong river bank but that is of no consequence. I am making quick time today as there is nothing of great interest to detain me.

The river is indeed dawdling as it approaches the River Don. I want to see the confluence, but thick undergrowth makes it difficult.

The Don is a much larger waterway and navigable from the Humber to Rotheram. Just downstream from where the Dearne joins in is a large lock, and I use its access road to walk into Mexborough.

The Miners Inn, dated 1904, is now a bathroom/kitchen salesroom.

The local motte and bailey is set in a park and fairly obvious even to me.

All looks fairly bleak as I enter the town.

Things improve a little at the centre where there is a market and more shops, but all a bit run down. The loss of mining still affecting Northern towns.

The station is close at hand. The girls are setting off for a night in Sheffield, lashing down the booze on the train. I leave them to it and change for Preston.

It’s been a good trip to Yorkshire. A satisfying route with a logical beginning and end; in between, I think I walked about 36 miles. As I have mentioned, the waymarking is variable, and the downloadable guide, although informative not detailed enough for navigation. The GPX file on my phone saved the day in several places.

I never did see that flash of turquoise. But by popular request, here is a photo of Seth back from his holiday.

***

THE DEARNE WAY – THREE.

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Barnsley to Broomhill. Industrial wastelands

The morning starts with a mile downhill through Barnsley to negotiate the busy traffic at that large roundabout.

Barnsley Town Hall

Then I’m back on the line of the Barnsley Canal, still in an urban setting. The Barnsley area had rich seams of coal and was home to many collieries; the mass closures in the Eighties must have devastated the local economy and morale. I don’t think the rest of us understood the gravity of the situation. Most of today’s walk is through that landscape made bare and taken over by nature, either naturally or by the creation of Nature Reserves.

There is little water in the canal, mostly it is reeds or has been filled in.

The way crosses the river down below and enters a larger park area, more like the countryside now.

The downloaded information sheets are not detailed enough to follow the route, and waymarks have been lacking. Hence, I’ve used my phone’s GPS far more than usual. But I do come across this lone wooden post in the park.

Some interpretation boards are less useful than others.

Crossing a road, I come across the Transpennine Cycle Trail for the first time. But what’s that building hiding behind the trees?

This is the site of Monk Bretton Priory and is worth a diversion.

Founded in about 1154, it was a daughter house of the rich Cluniac priory at Pontefract. But it wasn’t an easy partnership, and in 1281, Monk Bretton became a Benedictine house. The Priory owned properties in South Yorkshire had rights over five parish churches, and worked ironstone and coal. After the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1538, the priory was swiftly plundered for building materials. The priory site changed hands several times before coming under state ownership in 1932. The ruins are now managed by English Heritage.

The arched entrance was up a side street, the Priory now surrounded by housing.

Most is in ruins, but the gatehouse is mainly intact, as is the separate administrative block. Little remains of the church, but the cloisters are evident with the monks’ refectory. Uniquely, much of the drainage system is preserved; running water from the Dearne flushed the latrines and kitchen area.

Gatehouse.

Administrative building.

Site of the Church.

Intact drains.

One advantage of keeping the mileage down is one is free to explore more, But I’m now back on track, literally, as I follow old rail tracks down the valley. I should look into the history of where these rails went and for what purpose. I assume, perhaps erroneously, that coal transport was involved. I leave one abandoned line to use another. This one is heading to a prominent arched viaduct across the valley.

Leaving the railway, the path becomes indistinct in rough fields alongside the Dearne; concrete barriers have been constructed to keep the quad bikes out. To my right in the trees is the line of the Barnsley Canal again. I’m sitting on one of the barriers having a snack when a couple appears, the first I’ve seen. This is their regular walk, but they are worried about the cattle in the next fields. They are a friendly pair with much knowledge of the area and its wildlife. We walk on together, there are no cows. The canal is mainly empty, but he, being a fisherman, is keen to show me an area where it is flooded and a frequent haunt of his. I would have walked past without knowing it was there. He fishes for carp here and often sees a kingfisher perched nearby. Today, he doesn’t have his rod but has brought some bait to scatter.

I loved their Yorkshire accents; the further east one goes, the longer the vowels become. The lady reminded me of Lucy Beaumont, the comedienne from Hull.

@comedystans

#lucybeaumont #taskmaster #jonrichardson #meettherichardsons #hull #northsouthdivide #northerncomic #standupcomedy #standup #netflixisajoke

♬ original sound – comedystans

I leave them to their peace and walk on to brave the cattle. The frisky bullocks were all down by the river, so I passed safely. Still on the abandoned railway, the river appears below and down there somewhere is an old packhorse bridge.

Time is passing, so when I reach Storrs Mill Lane, I follow it for about a mile rather than the wandering field paths. For the whole length of that mile, the verges were covered in litter. I have never seen so much on a country lane. Why here? Do people make a special journey to throw away their cans and takeaways? I leave the lane at Edderthorpe and walk across newly hoed fields to rejoin the river where it puts on a bit of a spurt to loop around Middlewood Hall.

A diversion up the hill into the village of Darfield, and then I am back down on the Dearne flood plain, managed along here as a nature reserve.

As the light is fading I emerge onto the Trans Pennine Trail, virtually on the doorstep of my Premier Inn for the night. Déjà vu.

Why is my room always at the far end of the corridor?

***

THE DEARNE WAY – TWO.

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West Clayton to Barnsley. Artful dodging.

The Dearne Way website has this information for following the river through Bretton Country Park –

MARCH 2023:It has been reported that the gated entry point to Yorkshire Sculpture Park off Huddersfield Road (SE 295123), at the eastern end of Bretton Country Park, is now locked, with walkers asked to pay the ticket price of 9 pounds to make use of the previously permissive paths through the Park.

The YSP website says:
“You are free to walk along the public bridleway between West Bretton and High Hoyland. Exiting this path and entering YSP Grounds will require an admissions ticket. Ticket checks take place across the Parkland, including at Cascade Bridge, where the bridleway passes through YSP.”

Our GPX file for this LDP has been changed to make use of only the two Right of Way (the Public Bridleway and the Footpath from Haigh to Litherop Road) through the Park. (Should YSP change their policy, the original route may be reinstated.)

The OS map clearly still shows the Way staying close to the river on the permissive path to exit at the eastern gate. The situation hasn’t been resolved, and the up-to-date GPX follows a public footpath through the fields south of the river thus denying the walker a highlight of the valley. Whilst technically correct it seems churlish of YSP to penalise the infrequent Dearne Way walker.

An early breakfast at my luxurious hotel lets me catch the scheduled X1 bus to where I finished yesterday. This should mean I won’t be walking in the dark tonight. The day’s weather looks promising.

I cross the River Dearne by the packhorse bridge, as folks have been doing since the 1400s.

Nondescript lanes head away from the industrialised valley taking me towards the sewage farm, where I drop into conversation with a local man and his dog on subjects far and wide. Most of it is of no relevance to this post, you know how sometimes one strikes up an instant ‘friendship’ with a total stranger. What is of relevance is that he tells me of a scheme to create reedbeds alongside the Dearne for environmental and conservation measures. He proudly takes me to view the workings which stretch for acres. Diggers and other unidentifiable machines are busy preparing the ground. It all looks chaotic and a mess, but let’s return in a year or so when the reeds are established.

The footpath through the area is clearly signed and well-surfaced. This makes my mind up as to my onward strategy. I still hadn’t decided which route to take through Bretton Park, but now that I have passed the works, I am more or less committed to following the original way on the Bridleway into the YSP. I dispense with the GPX version for now. Didn’t you just know I would?

Waymarking hasn’t been consistent and disappears altogether in the neglected fields rising to the park.

The signage on the bridleway at the entrance is rather misleading. I ignore it and march toward the bridge; workmen appear surprised to see me, as the park probably hasn’t opened officially, but say nothing. Work is being carried out on the Cascade Bridge, but I don’t need to cross it.

I follow the course of the Dearne downstream. There are no other visitors, as it has just turned 10 am when the park opens. Another walker with a rucksack appears; he, like me, has entered on a PRoW, following a walk in a book by well-known outdoor author Paul Hannon. We compare experiences; he walked The Dearne Way several years ago using a now out-of-print booklet.

Strolling past the Caro installations and into the Henry Moore field. The sunshine highlights the curves and colours. Today I’m not rushing about trying to see everything, just absorbing the space’s ambience. Sculptures like these are so much better seen in a large natural arena.

On past the lower bridge, Damien Hurst dominates with his oversized figures. I’m not really a fan of his, but I do appreciate his interpretation of the girl who, for years, represented the Spastics Society ( now Scope) with her collection box ransacked. Society broken.

Do you remember this?

I’ve never been as far as the Weston at the eastern gate of the park. A light and airy building. It’s coffee time, so I visit their café or should I call it a restaurant. It has built up a reputation for fine dining, reflected by the clientele this morning. My small cup of coffee costs over £4, and it doesn’t even come with a token biscuit.

But a fantastic bonus, well worth the price of the coffee, the adjacent gallery is just opening with an exhibition of Elisabeth Frink’s paintings and statues. The space is so beautiful with a ‘slotted’ ceiling letting in a pale light complementing the natural colours of the walls.

Her work is well represented, with a group of her trademark heads centre stage. Beautiful animal prints, plaster dogs, weird bird bronzes, and more. Despite being in the middle of a long walk, I spend much time enjoying the exhibits. (on until February) It was only recently that I visited another Frink collection in Swindon. I could fill a full post on this gallery alone; maybe I will when I get home; here is a selection.

In contrast, the next half mile next to a busy dual carriageway and roundabouts to the motorway is mad. I am relieved to reach the fields alongside the Dearne. Easy walking with once again the Autumn colours taking my attention. A seat appears on cue for my lunch break.

As Darton comes closer, the dog walkers appear from everywhere, all have a friendly Yorkshire disposition. For a small place, Darton seems full of cafes, restaurants and takeaways. I settle on the friendly gluten-free cafe, where my coffee costs only £2 this time, and I catch up on all the local gossip.

I still have a fair way to go.

Suburbian streets dominate for a while until I reach an abandoned railway heading east through former colliery sites. Crossing the Dearne once more, I share fields for some time with lots of ponies. Are they descendants of the pit ponies?

I become disorientated and quarter the compass before finding my way out of the fields and onto what was once the towpath of the Barnsley Canal, built to transport coal from the area.

As I approach the town, the tarmac takes over, with all its detritus.

I wonder why the route doesn’t visit the Fleets, a large lake. So I divert to see a large fishing lake.

Asda superstore has to be circumnavigated; even though I need to pick up food for later I can’t face the scramble in there. I catch a bus up into town. I must say I am impressed with Barnsley town centre. The bus and rail station are integrated, and when you exit you are into the main pedestrianised shopping plaza. A permanent memorial to those who have died with Covid-19 and the unsung workers of the pandemic has been unveiled in Barnsley.

My bed for the night is in the Premier Inn, which happens to be at the highest point of the town. The only entrance I find is through a multistorey carpark. A friendly welcome. My room is on a higher floor with good views over the town.

***

THE DEARNE WAY – ONE.

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Birdsedge to Clayton West. “Nobbut a trickle”

The day doesn’t start well. I have planned a short day’s walking as I have first to cross the Pennines. The usual bus to Preston, then trains to Huddersfield, followed by another bus journey to the walk’s start. It’s all a little complicated, but I had figured on the 8.50 train to Huddersfield, changing at Wigan and Manchester Victoria. This would have me on a bus to the start at lunchtime. While having my coffee at home, an email informs me that the train has been cancelled. Any later, I would struggle to connect with the bus, leaving me short of time in the afternoon; it’s getting dark by four. I need to catch an earlier train, but time is passing. I skip breakfast, run for a bus, and arrive at Preston station with two minutes to spare. The rest of the journey goes more or less to plan despite Northern Rail at Victoria verging on the chaotic.

A familiar figure outside Huddersfield Station.

When we arrive at Birdsedge, I’m the only one left on the bus, a few houses and an old spinning mill.
There is a faded but encouraging waymark for The Dearne Way on the FP sign from the road. The path wanders through the trees, skirting the mill’s lodge. The infant Dearne River, feeding the dam, is barely a trickle, and yet, in the past, it spawned all the industries down its course.
I’m on my way, and the weather is perfect, sun and blue sky, as promised. A few higher fields and walled lanes before I drop back down to the valley, here a woodland nature reserve. The autumn colours and the chirping birds are a joy. The path is hidden by the fallen leaves, and I swoosh through them like a young child. The water of the Dearne is barely visible. The way is proving more up and down than expected, but aren’t they all nowadays?

As I drop into Denby Dale, the many arched viaduct dominates the valley, header photo. The village came to prominence in the Industrial Revolution with mills and collieries. The railway arrived at the end of the C19th.

I join the village Pie Trail on cobbled paths. They have a strange history of giant pie-making here.

I’m content with a pot of tea in a friendly, high-street cafe. I learn how to pronounce Dearne – it’s Durn.

The route climbs out of the valley and traverses fields and woods with views over to the landmark Argiva transmission tower on Emley Moor. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emley_Moor_transmitting_station
Somewhere up here, I walk into the grounds of Bagden Hall; I am staying in the hotel here tonight, but I see the opportunity of walking a little farther, thus reducing tomorrow’s mileage. I am trusting that I will be able to catch a bus back.

Down below is the village of Scissett, which, like everywhere around here, was previously dominated by worsted mills. I arrive at the main road by Spring Grove mill, which has survived, minus its chimney, manufacturing mats and carpets.

Spring Grove Mill Early C20th.

Paths lead through new housing estates and a long railway tunnel to meet with the Dearne again – time for a photo.

I broke my camera last week, so I am making do with my phone this trip; there will be no zooming. What with using it for navigation and pictures the battery is getting low, but sufficient to seek out a bus stop in Clayton West just in time for the X1 to arrive and take me back past Scissett to Nortonthorpe Mill. I find a sneaky, unofficial way into the grounds of Bagden Hall.

The hotel looks impressive with its extensive gardens, now a ‘Wedding Venue’ like many country hotels trying to survive. The price is reasonable and they give me a free upgrade. Bagden Hall was originally built in the 1860s for Charles Norton, a wealthy mill owner who made his fortune running Nortonthorpe’s weaving mills in the valley, which supplied quality yarn to weavers for ‘fancy waistcoat goods’.

It was quite a busy day in one way and another.

***

THE DEARNE WAY.

9 Replies

A 32-mile route following the River Dearne from its source in the Pennines to its confluence with the River Don.

No, I hadn’t heard of it either.

We seem to be in a settled period of weather so my mind starts wandering and thinking of a few days away walking. I prefer a place-to-place walk over a one-centered one. I hesitate to call them long-distance walks as I have recently chosen a medium distance of 50 miles or so, giving me an average of about 10 miles per day. Cicerone Press is a good source of likely routes with new titles coming out every month; it’s worth subscribing to their newsletters.

This month, I noticed a new guide to a Pilgrim Route in Fife from Edinburgh to St. Andrews. It seemed to fit the bill perfectly. A little research showed no transport or accommodation problems. My medical appointments are hopefully now dwindling and I was free until past the middle of the month. I started to book it when a nagging doubt came into my brain. Something is happening on the 12th, of course, a standing arrangement with a friend, which I was looking forward to and wouldn’t want to change. I wonder why I didn’t write it on the calendar in the first place. Phew. (That day went well and Sir Hugh has written it up, I have reblogged it with his permission)

My window of opportunity has now narrowed, but undaunted, I look for a possible shorter alternative. Fife can wait till later. The website of the LDWA has a search facility. I type in Yorkshire 25 – 35 miles. Hey, presto, The Duerne Way appears. There are links to downloadable maps, directions and background information, all sounding interesting. It is marked on OS mapping and I believe it has been waymarked at some stage, depicting a miner’s lamp. Start thinking coal, mills, canals, and rail.

Booking.com comes into action for the first night, but I must revert to Premier Inns for the next two. Seth is booked into his favourite cattery and a train ticket purchased to Huddersfield. Getting to the start of the walk from Huddersfield may be challenging, but I’ve planned a short afternoon for that day.

Here is where I’m heading. Time to get the flat cap out.

Bleasdale with BC

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Tuesday 12th November 2024 Kemple End has been a fantasy location for a number of years with its quirky name tickling my imagination. Bowland Climber has mentioned it many times during our years of walking together but it has remained a kind of mystery for me, even to my questioning its actual existence, and somehow we…

Click to view
Bleasdale with BC

I didn’t have time to write this one, so I’m grateful for Sir Hugh’s version.

I have one photo to add. Sir Hugh on the slippery slope. It is more straightforward to climb back up than descend.

GOOD DAY SUNSHINE.

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As a counterpoint to Mike’s recent post, Seven Rooms of Gloom, which was published only a day ago, https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/147350/posts/5450048239 this will raise your spirits. The gloom has gone.

My spirits are raised this morning as the sun appears for the first time in a fortnight. I have a few jobs to complete before I go away later in the week, but soon after lunch I’m up on the fell. I park up at Crowshaw Quarry, the scene of Probes’ brilliant new boulder problem last week. There is a good view of Pendle from up here, one for another time.

I take the small track, leaving the road just down from the parking. Years ago, this was the start of one of my regular fell runs. In fact, so many years ago, that the mature plantations hereabouts were cut down, and a new one planted, which is itself coming slowly to maturity. Forestry coming full cycle.

I haven’t been up this way for a few months, and I notice the increased erosion caused by mountain bikes with fatter wheels and, in many cases, electric assistance. I commented about this recently, so will let it drop today – after all the sun is shining.

Onwards through the trees towards the infant Brownslow Brook, where I brought my children and then my grandchildren to learn the art of dam building. As I said, I haven’t been this way for a while, and there ahead of me is another recently harvested area of forest, it does look unsightly. As you climb the hill away from the bridge, the track everybody uses goes through mature beech and pine trees. But now, one of those metal gates has appeared, suggesting the path goes up to the right of the fence towards Green Thorn farm. Looking at the map, the original PRofW does go that way. Let’s see what the ‘path’ is like. For a start, the gate, which must only have been up a few weeks, isn’t shutting correctly because one of the uprights isn’t vertical and is wobbling in the soft ground. The contractors have strimmed a corridor through the reeds, but the ground is boggy and will deteriorate quickly with much footfall. I suspect most regulars will use the well-worn path through the trees. The PRofW, which was long abandoned, went up to the farmhouse, but now another metal gate brings one out of their land, bypassing the farm, back onto the forest path. What a waste of money. Red dots on this map show the gates and the alternative paths. Time will tell.

I soon reach one of the main forestry roads but continue straight across and up on a smaller path through a felled area. Strange birds fly overhead. Yesterday, I managed to mangle my camera’s zoom lens, which I suspect is beyond repair, so now relying on my phone.

I have thoughts of continuing to the trig point but can’t face the struggle through the fallen trees and all the mud. I’m content to stroll back along the forest road; just look at that blue sky.
Confusion creeps in at another recent area of felling. It is surprising how different things look when the trees I’ve walked past for countless years are gone. But Pendle is always there…

…as is my favourite beech.

***

I can’t believe it, but people are coming out of Sainsbury’s with Christmas Trees.

NEW ROUTES GALORE.

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I’m catching up on some news while recovering from my second cataract operation. I am full of admiration for the surgeon’s skill. Please excuse any typos; I still haven’t regained full stereoscopic vision.

In the last few years, I have mentioned climbing with my mate Mark on a ‘secret’ crag high in Mallerstang in the upper Eden Valley. I showed the odd photo but never gave away the location.

I played only a small supporting role in developing this lovely crag, but I enjoyed the exploratory nature of the climbing very much. The epic walk up to the crag. The peace and isolation of the fell. The views down into Mallerstang and, in the distance, to many Pennine and Howgill Peaks. The occasional train trundling down the valley, even a low-flying Dakota or microlight passing by. We had a hidden cave where we could store gear and ropes to lessen the load on our walk-up. Hammering in those belay stakes and then abseiling to clean those soaring cracks. On one occasion, when a large block came careening towards me, I dodged at the last moment—freezing and baking in the same month—the best company with Mark, Jude, and other friends.

The Neb, Wild Boar Fell.

Our stash.

Main Wall area.

First ascent of

Flakey HVS 5a

Narrow Buttress. E1 5b

Upper Malerstang.

Well, he has now published his exploits on UKC under the title ‘Wild Boar Fell’. There is also a new Fell and Rock mini-guide to the Eden Valley, due to be published, which will include the routes on Wild Boar Fell. In the meantime, here is Mark’s interim guide https://bowlandclimber.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/Wild-Boar-Fell-Both-sections-8.pdf

Just look at the opening photo. You would enjoy a day’s climbing up there.

On a different scale, up on Longridge Fell above Craig Y is a secluded quarry, Crowshaw, which is much more accessible.

We have been climbing in there for a few years now. Robin Mueller started the ball rolling with exciting boulder problems on the curiously shaped right wall.

There is a video of his exploits. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2M1Oc3G-JQ& https://youtu.be/f2M1Oc3G-JQ

I returned and cleaned up the slab right of his passages, then the lower walls to the left, which offered some easier boulder problems.

I had my eye on a 15-foot rock tower, but there was a nasty, pointed boulder below it. This was duly displaced with crowbars. Yes, I know we are mad. I played around bouldering out the start, but committing to more complex moves was getting me too far off the ground. I enlisted the help of Mark, of Wild Boar fame above, and he came over to belay me in September 2015. I was glad of the rope and protection on what turned out to be a decent climb – Tweeter And the Monkey Man, about VS 5a. We noticed the imposing blank wall to its right. My musical post describes the evening.

Tweeter, with that steep wall to its right.

My attention drifted back to the left walls again. That night, both Mark and I had attempted a high-level right-to-left traverse along the lip without success. Where the footholds ran out, it became technical and strenuous. I seem to remember I was going to France the next day, so I didn’t want to end up with a broken ankle.

I couldn’t let it rest, so I was back in August 2016 with Dor as my spotter and protagonist. I needed that to progress and eventually complete the End of the Line. V2. https://bowlandclimber.com/2016/08/27/its-the-end-of-the-line/

That steep wall still attracted me, but after putting a rope down it, I realised it was way too hard. I did give the ‘Friend’ slots a clean, thinking somebody may lead it. That’s how it stayed for years; not many knew of the quarry or visited it. Local climber Paul of https://crusherholds.co.uk/ has done everything at CraigY, so I thought I would show him my wall. He was impressed, but we never got around to trying it until this year, when, with a new bouldering guide coming out, he bit the bullet.

Days of rain came and went; there was a short window in the weather for one afternoon. We met up, and I rigged a top rope for him to look at the problem. Tenous moves off layback creases and minuscule footholds had him off the ground. The following moves past slopers were obviously the crux; he struggled with the sequence. Eventually, opting for a slap through past the worst hold. It all looked very insecure, and his success rate was only average. Once at the slot, he said it was OK to the top. I suggested a roped lead with some gear at half height, but as he explained, that was past the difficulties, and he was confident of the upper section.

We moved the ropes, and I got set to spot him on the first difficult section. That is when we realise that if he fell, we would both probably disappear down the steep, bramble slope below us. So I tied into the ropes and hung above the drop. The pads covered the base adequately. On came the tight edging shoes to cope with the ripples masquerading as footholds. The finger laybacks somehow kept him on until poised below the crux slaps. This time, his right hand didn’t connect well, and I could see his tendons straining to keep contact before the next slap. Only just made it. But then it was a triumphant romp to the top. Probing the Proud Line 7a+

It rained for the rest of the month.

There remains a sneaky little line to the left, if anybody fancies it before Probes has another look.

COUNTING STEPS,

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Rivington under anticyclonic gloom

My phone counts steps for me every day, god knows what other information it collects. Those steps don’t mean much to me. I’m still recording miles walked and feet ascended, I know I should have gone metric by now. Today was a day of steps which were too numerous to count.

I find myself in Chorley for a hospital appointment. Once it is over I take the opportunity to visit B&Q and Halfords in town. A quick lunch is bought from the nearby Asda and it is decision time, what to do with the rest of the day? A recent post from Michael at https://michaelgraeme.wordpress.com/2024/10/28/out-and-about-around-rivington-and-anglezarke-again/ was at the back of my mind. I haven’t visited Rivington Terraced Gardens for years and in the meantime, a great deal of restoration work has been carried out unearthing many paths and ruins. Time to go and have a look with the added promise of the autumn colours highlighted in Michael’s post.

I park on one of the many lanes, I don’t have a map of the site so just set off on a likely path.

Soon I find one of the regular explanatory boards and take a poor picture of their rather indistinct plan, which may give me a general idea of my whereabouts. I would suggest that anyone visiting get a copy of a map and certainly, if you are interested in the surprisingly short history of the estate, (started in 1900, abandoned in 1925) read this excellent Lancashire Past article. I wish I had before visiting.

A History of Lever Park and Rivington Terrace Gardens, near Horwich

To start with the sun is trying to shine and the woods are resplendent. I find myself walking through some sort of remembrance garden planted with foreign-looking conifers. It is half term and there are lots of family groups out enjoying the day.

Coming to the steeper part I see a bridge over a beck tumbling down from the now misty heights and there alongside it a series of stepped paths. I set off up the steep and slippery steps built improbably into the hillside. They have been cleverly constructed of cantilevered gritstone slabs. Upwards I go, not knowing whether the steps will lead me anywhere. Should I even be here, there is certainly nobody else about all of a sudden. Up ahead a pallisaded bridge crosses the ravine and I pause to look back down. Eschewing the traversing trail I tackle more exposed steps winding up alongside the ravine, there is another bridge ahead and here I find a a board explaining the history and construction of The Ravine.

There doesn’t seem to be a way ahead until I spot more steps sloping across the steep hillside which eventually bring me onto a terrace with artificial caves. I had just read that these were the ‘Bear Caves’ constructed to house exotic ferns. There was abundant greenery everywhere, all this had been lost under heavy vegetation until the recent clearings in the last decade. No wonder I have never been here before.

Even more steps, until I suddenly come to a rocky embattlement and escape through an archway into the Japanese Garden with its romantic lake. Thomas Mawson who designed these terraced gardens between 1905-1922 for soap magnate Lord Leverhulme was heavily influenced by Italian and Japanese garden landscaping. I feel I’m exploring the remains of a lost civilisation.

The lakeside is a popular picnic area and I’m afraid that the ever-present problem of litter is evident here, and in other areas of the gardens.

Above the lake the stables and enclosed Kitchen Gardens are reached, all rescued from the undergrowth.Everything was done on a grand scale in Lord Leverhulme’s era.

I cross a wide track past one of the original entrances to the gardens and then a long flight of more steps and through an arch into The Lawns. At one time there were six ‘summer houses’, two have survived and been restored. They gave shelter and views out over the lawns and tennis courts. From the balcony atop one of the summer houses you can see how land had been escavated to create the level lawns.

I’m almost at the top of the gardens by now but, you guessed it, more steps take me up to a levelled site where once stood Roynton Cottage and then The Bungalow, one of Lord Leverhulme’s many residences. Read about the chequered history on that Lancashire Past post. All that remains now and recently uncovered is its footprint.

From here it was a short hop to The Pigeon Tower, Lady Leverhulme’s hideaway. Finally, I recognised somewhere I had visited before, usually on the way up to Rivington Pike and Winter Hill. I won’t be going up the Pike today as we are in thick mist now. Dovecotes are seen in the wall in the first photo.

I work my way carefully down more slippery steps until I’m on top of a small loggia looking out over The Italian Lake. The water level is low due to seepage and it’s not looking its best. The mist is creeping down the terraces.

The steps continue, I’m now looking for the Seven-Arched Bridge which I remember was hereabouts. I find it by unwittingly walking over it. The lane below is one of the many roads crisscrossing the estate.

Scrambling down the last bit of hillside I come to the South Lodge remains. Originally there were four lodges on the roads into the estate.

A wide track descends to the Great House Barn, which I remember as a basic cafe under a cruck roof. Now it looks more like a wedding venue, I don’t have the nerve to cross their threshold in my muddy boots.

All I have to do now is find my car, it’s down one of these roads.

My phone says I have stepped 5000 times, it felt like that. I probably walked no more than two miles. The sun disappeared early on so I never saw the best of the autumn colours, but I discovered a whole new world with a fascinating history, and the mellow mists added to the atmosphere. I wonder how many workers Sir Levehulme employed to construct his vision and how many to maintain it? Now we are mainly left with volunteers to keep the gardens accessible.

If you have two or three hours to spare come and get yourself lost in this lost world.

CHANGING CLOCKS. CHANGING PATHS. CHANGING TIMES.

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I didn’t know where I was heading for as I drove up onto the fell. Somehow the extra hour has thrown me today and it is lunchtime before I stir. I wondered about some bouldering at CraigY but a cold wind dissuaded me. I drove farther up, it looked like half of Preston had parked along the road to access the forest tracks. Too many people and dogs, so I continue to quieter Kemple End and squeeze into a parking spot. One of my favourite walks over the years was a small permissive path avoiding the forest roads, starting through a gateway, SD 689405, just down the hill and then snaking up through the trees eventually arriving at Sam’s Best View, if you remember it.

Things have changed. A few years ago a large area of forest on the Northern scarp was harvested and then we had the storms causing more damage to the remaining plantation. I tried to find a suitable way up this end of the fell in the heatwave of June 2023. here.

It will be interesting to have another look. That is how my walk for today evolved.

Through the gateway on a path of fallen leaves, I start the climb. The path here is quite broad and obviously used by mountain bikes. As it narrows they, the mountain bikers, have been trimming back the branches, filling potholes and creating jumps over obstacles.

Out of interest, a PRoW, marked on the map, crossing my track at SD678410 has to all extent disappeared. Blocked on the left by fallen trees and lost on the right from lack of use. Higher up some steep downhill tracks lead off right, specifically created by the mountain bikers. They look suicidal.

I become diverted by a prominent group of fungi often seen in coniferous forests. ?Hebeloma mesophaeum – Veiled Poisonpie.Moving on I recognise the dogleg in the path and follow it into the denser forest. Again branches have recently been cut back. This little used, at the time, path went right along the ridge but now after less than a quarter of a mile comes out into the area felled a few years ago.

An area of devastation which last June I couldn’t penetrate but now a path winds its way through the stumps and newly planted trees. The mountain bikers are to be thanked for this, they have carved out a track which can now be followed by walkers without having to trudge up the forest road.

There are good views back to Pendle Hill, down into the Hodder Valley and way over the Bowland Fells to Pen Y Ghent and Ingleborough.

I walk on and eventually come out at what was Sam’s Best View before the trees obscured it. I’m pleased that the path connects up again with the main ridge path and given time and use as the forest regrows will become a pleasant route sought out by the discerning walker. I suspect that the bikers will be more instrumental than walkers in keeping it open.

And there lies a problem. When I started ‘mountain biking’ 40 years ago we kept mainly to bridleways and there weren’t many of us. Most of the uphills we walked, or at least I did. Our tyres weren’t much fatter than road tyres but even then we were aware of the erosion caused by bikes on fragile ground. Fast forward four decades and there are mountain bikers everywhere, not necessarily strictly legally. The bikes have changed with full suspension, dropping seat posts and wider tyres. More importantly in recent years, electric mountain bikes have appeared. They are heavier and if used aggressively tear up the ground in an accelerating time. No more walking uphill. We are usually only aware of environmental damage when it is almost too late.

It’s great to see youngsters enjoying the trails on Longridge Fell and elsewhere but if used irresponsibly on footpaths may bring them into conflict with other users. Places like Gisburn Forest and Llandegla have been specifically ‘designed’ for mountain biking with trails for all abilities separated from other users. There is so much scope on Longridge Fell for mountain biking, as witnessed by the self-made innovative trails appearing everywhere. I wonder whether some input should be with the landowners, Tilhill Forestry, into developing a mountain biking environment. I’m well aware that could stifle and regulate the whole process. Pros and cons.

Let’s leave that debate to another time, there are far worse things happening in the world.

I wander back down the forest road, the clocks have changed and it will be dark a lot sooner today.

That only leaves me with the obligatory Autumn Leaf image. Pardon the pun.

PRIME TIME.

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I don’t on principle use Amazon, there is always a more direct online buying option. In any case, I try to buy local and support the shops in the village. So, you’ve guessed it I don’t have a Prime account. There will be a fair number of people in the Ribble Valley today cursing their Prime membership, their eagerly awaited parcels are stuck in the back of a van that is stuck on a bridleway not far from here.

I came out for a little exercise, to admire the autumn colours and do some fungal exploring. It’s that time of year, Prime Time.

The leaves are turning golden and falling fast at the same time. They are falling all around me like snow every time the wind blows. The stream is more lively than usual after some heavy rain in recent days. Excited children are playing poo sticks from the bridge, it is half-term for many. You may recognise where I am.

Most of the fungi I find are on dead wood, there are so many trees down from those frequent storms we are experiencing. A good find is a clump of ‘Jelly Ears’, its previous name now not acceptable, growing on a fallen beech. Auricularia auricula-judae has a soft, jelly-like texture. Though edible, it is not held in high culinary regard. It has been likened to “eating an Indian rubber” Though I read that it can be dried to give added flavour to stews. I leave it where I found it.

Wandering back along that bridleway I hear raised voices ahead, not the children I saw before. No there is some loud cursing going on. There, stuck half on and half off the narrowing track is a delivery van. Once alongside, I see that it is an Amazon Van, the blue type with ‘Prime’ blazoned down the side. It is a mystery as to how he progressed this far. Sat nav surely can’t be fully blamed, a hint of human error becomes apparent when the driver asks me “Can I get out if I drive on?” A resounding NO.

Another van appears at the end of the lane, no doubt sent Prime delivery from Amazon. The circus begins after some damming words between the colleagues. A tow line is set up and van number two starts pulling, only for the stricken van to slide further off the narrow track into the vegetation. More cursing ensues. The next try, I’m not sure that the two protagonists are on the same wavelength, only results in the ‘Prime’ van taking a decided lean to the port side. Now it is balanced on two wheels and in imminent danger of rolling down the hillside. My suggestion that they should remove the parcels before it is too late doesn’t go down too well. There is urgent talk on mobiles to the head office of tractors, cranes and winches.

Time to retire, it will be dark in an hour.

My curiosity is such that I am considering another nature walk along here tomorrow morning, purely for fungal research interests.

SANDSIDE DISCOVERIES.

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When is a short walk getting longer? When you combine Sir Hugh with BC.

It needed several phone calls to arrange this short walk, we seem to have developed busy diaries these days. It shouldn’t be like that for happily retired carefree outdoor folk.

I’ve been helping to keep Cicerone Press in business recently, ending up buying two copies of their new Sarsen Way guide and my latest acquisition is 15 Short Walks In Arnside and Silverdale. How can I even suggest to Arnside resident and aficionado, Sir Hugh, a walk on his territory?

Walk 4. Sandside, Dallam Tower and Haverbrack in the new book looks good and covers some new ground for me. My local guide suggests we don’t park on the roadside at Sandside, the tide often floods this area. I’m happy to take his advice and park higher on the outskirts of Storth. Take note, Cicerone.

Historical photo.

Fishermen are just getting set up on the promenade for the incoming tide of Dabs.

We escape onto a footpath that follows the old railway. This looks interesting.

And it was. An impressive railway* cutting through the limestone of some length. I was distracted by some enticing lines up the rock faces. Sir Hugh tells me there is a geocache up there somewhere.

Under two bridges and out of the cutting we hit the minor road past old warehouses, Sandside was from Elizabethan times a major port, Milnthorpe Port, when ships moored up with the high tide to staves in the estuary. Coal and goods were unloaded and lime, gunpowder, and wool were exported. The old customs house has survived and a warehouse has been upgraded to office space. The warehouse and limekilns are alongside the track. A on my map. When the Arnside viaduct was built in 1857 this trade was cut off. A business park has sprung up along the road and we passed RocknRun where I spent a small fortune in the past,

My first suggested diversion was to seek out Hollins Well. We were able to follow a RofW across fields until we came face to face with a local shoot. They don’t know of the well but Sir Hugh has vague memories of visiting it, so we trespass a little to find it. It wasn’t really much to look at – a small stone trough draining under a wall to a concrete one. B on my map.

Here is a video of Sir Hugh escaping down the trenches…

Backtracking we crossed the road to follow the old railway* embankment. The path information board has dire warnings.

The embankment didn’t go far before we were down on the marsh alongside the River Bela. The viaduct of the railway was taken down in 1963, its remains may be seen either side of the Bela.

Historic Bela Viaduct, Wikipedia.

And its red sandstone blocks scattered around the area.

* Arnside to Hincaster Railway was built in 1876 and closed in 1963. It was built primarily for use by mineral trains carrying coke and iron ore from County Durham to various ironworks in and around Barrow-in-Furness.

From the marsh, we have those wide views across the sands to the limestone escarpment of Whitbarrow Scar, laid down some 350 million years ago, It is difficult to get your head around that timescale and why is it standing proud when all around is eroded? The noise from the Greyag Geese is deafening from a quarter of a mile away.
Now alongside the Bela River, we approach a fast-flowing weir and in the distance the shapely early C19th turnpike Milnthorpe Bridge. All very photogenic.
We don’t cross the bridge but enter the grounds of Dallam Tower and follow the river upstream to the C18th footbridge, built as the crossing on the old lane from Milnthorpe to Storth. Lunch is taken on the parapets despite the fact we don’t seem to have walked far.

All around are the signs of autumn in the grand oak, beech and chestnut trees.The English knew how to create a country park.
Within the deer park, a pele tower was built on the site in about 1375 but demolished when the present house was built in 1720–23. But history suggests that there was a Saxon tower or motte on the hill above. On the OS map marked as Earthworks. C. This has been excavated to reveal stone ramparts. It is prominent on the hilltop but we skirt around just below it. Stopping to look at the views, getting one’s breath. There is the bridge over the Bela and there is nearby Milnthorpe, with St. Anthony’s Tower above it..

At the top of the field, we pass through a stylish stile into private lanes with private houses, with private views over to Farleton Fell.
Time for another deviation. On the map close by is The Dog Hole, D. which I can’t pass by. Sir Hugh tells me of the occasion when he found it in 2015 with the help of a local lady. Read his report for more information. https://conradwalks.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-dog-hole-sd-482-802.html

Off we go deep into the forest, there are paths everywhere, whether human or animal we aren’t sure. Limestone craglets cry out for a bit of bouldering. Sir Hugh sniffs the vicinity and strides out ahead to come straight to the site, An old rusting metal winch and the hole itself fenced in next to it.

(That’s not all true – we used GPS on our phones to track it down and escape afterwards) Otherwise, we might still have been in there)

Dropping down out of the woods Sir Hugh remembered an ancient oak in the middle of a field, that same local lady had pointed it out to him. You couldn’t miss it. Without getting up close it looked to be getting on for a thousand years old. E.

A stroll down the village street, good to see they still have a PO/shop. That view across the sands imprinted on my mind.

It had been a warm day and I don’t think I drank enough leading to mild dehydration which unfortunately put me off the rails for the next day.

Check out Sir Hugh’s view of the day – https://conradwalks.blogspot.com/2024/10/bowland-climber-explores-my-stamping.html

SWINDON ART GALLERY.

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Having completed the highly enjoyable Sarsen Way I’m heading home. I need to get back to Swindon for a train. My bus from Salisbury takes two hours to reach Swindon, passing all those rural bus stops I Used last week. My bladder just lasts out.

I was impressed with the bronze statue by Elizabeth Frink in the grounds of Salisbury Cathedral yesterday. I read that the Swindon Art Gallery has a fine collection of contemporary art and as a bonus a Frink exhibition until November.

I’ve only got a couple of hours to spare so decide on the Art Gallery over the Great Western Steam Museum. Here I am walking past that bus station mural avenue once more, but you have had enough murals – let’s go and see some proper art. As soon as I wrote that I realised I was denigrating the street art which I much admire. Let’s go and see some alternative gallery art.

The venue is tucked away down a side street in Swindon’s Council Offices.

The gallery is understated. On the first floor of the offices is a small information office/shop. I glance briefly at the historical museum, all things Swindon over the years. Much of that history is related to the thriving C20th railway hub that would become one of the world’s largest railway engineering works. Where has it all gone?

A football programme catches my eye. “In1969 Swindon Town F.C. recorded the best result in its history, winning 3–1 in the League Cup Final against Arsenal at Wembley Stadium, a match watched by close to 100,000 people” – I was one of them. The scores were level 1-1 at full time but Don Rogers scored two for Swindon in a rousing extra time.

In the corridor are some exhibits by contemporary artists, the art is for sale.

Some of Swindon’s large art collection is on display in one of the smaller rooms. I’m always pleased to see a Lowry and I never knew Desmond Morris painted. A friend of mine has a small collection of Clarice Cliff ceramics.

A larger room was given over to the Elisabeth Frink exhibition.

“Dame Elisabeth Frink (1930-1993) is one of the most significant sculptors of the 20th century. This exhibition focuses on an important body of work produced between 1976 when Frink moved to her studio in Woolland, Dorset, and her death in 1993. This exhibition will explore her artistic process, personal life and the influences that shaped her work. Bringing together objects from public and private collections, celebrating the enduring legacy of Elisabeth Frink”

The display was diverse with sketches, paintings and sculptural pieces. Emphasis was put on her love of animals and her relationship with them in our environment.

A video was playing of Frink in her studio and gardens.
Some of those heads were on display. exhibiting human repression, frailty, and hope.

Two rooms were closed, preparing for a Wessex and Hardy exhibition, but there were more paintings in the corridor. The best of the rest I thought was…

Time for that long train journey home.

THE SARSEN WAY 7. Amesbury to Salisbury.

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Switchbacks to Sarum.

It’s a crisp, sunny autumn morning. Leaving town I cross the Avon by an old bridge and shortly afterwards cross it again. I must check the map to see what’s happening.

Up and down the downs again, why did I think it would be all flat today?

The first village, Great Dunford, was only a few houses and a church.

As usual, I make my way to the church, dating from the C10th with very little mdern ‘improvements’

But I am distressed to see dog s*** in the church aisle. Can you believe it? I had nothing to clear it up with and nobody was about in the village to report it to. Disgusting.

I again cross the Avon to arrive at the Bridge Inn just in time for a morning coffee.

Back on the east bank, past Little Durnford’s one house and then into the woods for some more undulations. The bridleway I am following is probably an ancient route across these downs. Ahead on the horizon the distinctive spire of Salisbury Cathedral made an appearance and was there for the rest of the day. At 404ft the tallest church spire in England. (Preston’s St.Walburge’s is the third tallest after Salisbury and Norwich)

Coming out of the hills I pass this delightful cottage, aren’t they all?

And there in front of me is the earthworks of Old Sarum.

I didn’t realise it was so large. I have progressed from Barbury Castle to Avebury, and now the grandest of them all, Old Sarum. Despite often visiting Salisbury and Stonehenge*, whilst I worked down in Bournemouth, I was unaware of the existence of this ancient Iron Age fort with its Medieval Castle and Cathedral.

The Iron Age hillfort was established here about 400 BC. It was then occupied after the Roman conquest of Britain when it became known as Sorviodunum.

William the Conqueror recognised Old Sarum’s potential shortly after the Conquest in the C11th A motte was constructed in the centre of the hillfort, and then an inner set of timber fortifications created an ideal army base.

The inner castle was established and a section of the bailey was selected as the site for a new cathedral in 1075. Old Sarum’s importance as an administrative base grew and the new cathedral became a religious and learned centre.

In 1226 the cathedral was moved to nearby Salisbury, although the castle remained an administrative centre into the 14th century and then all was mostly abandoned.

(Stonehenge was accessible on foot from Amesbury but I had heard awful stories of overcommercialisation so I gave it a miss. There were so many other sites to be visited instead.)

I first walk around the outer ramparts, sometimes on the ridge and others in the ditch, a mile circuit with the castle mound central to it all.

Some lovely beech trees have established themselves along the ramparts.

There is a short section of the wall that once guarded the outer ramparts.

I then examine the footprint of the old cathedral.

I reluctantly pay English Heritage to look around the inner castle, reached by a bridge where the old draw bridge had existed.You need an aerial image to realise the full extent of Old Sarum.

It is all well documented, and I enjoy the experience, but is it worth £6.50?

Back on track, the cathedral spire is coming closer. Chatting with dog walkers, I receive lots of advice as to the best way into town but I stick to the Sarsen Way and PAT signs to the end and enjoy a rural route, avoiding roads.

That is until I get involved with new flood defence and parkland improvements.

But by six o’clock, I was in the centre of town, only a few blocks away from the cathedral.

It certainly hits you in the eye when getting close up. As you have seen the original cathedral was located at Old Sarum, two miles away until it was decided to move it to Salisbury. Foundation stones for the new building were laid in 1220. By 1258 the nave, transepts and choir were complete. The cloisters were added in 1240, and the tower and spire were constructed by 1330.

I am too late to go inside but enjoy the surroundings in the late afternoon sunshine. There are many American and Japanese voices around.

: Salisbury Cathedral.

: Salisbury Cathedral.

In the grounds was a statue by Elizabeth Frink set me off on a search which would lead me to the Swindon Art Gallery. I have admired her work at the Hepworth and YSP in the past.

‘This figure symbolises … human dignity and creativity over militarism and totalitarian disregard for human dignity and rights.’ Stephen Gardiner. Her tense but powerful presence exists beside the tourists and the worshipers.

I wanted to hold her hand at the end of my walk.

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A convivial night was enjoyed at the Merchants House Hotel.

THE SARSEN WAY 6. Netheravon to Amesbury.

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I can’t resist thatched cottages.

A series of small villages and churches along the Avon linked together by byways. My loss of the guidebook possibly means I walk on lanes more than necessary, but I make it to Amesbury, having enjoyed a shorter day.

I say my goodbyes to Swindon’s Travel Lodge and, carrying my worldly goods, walk up to the bus station for the last time. I need to choose a memorable mural for this last occasion.

She just wins over him…

In a more relaxed mood, I can take a later bus to Netheravon, where I finished yesterday. This morning, the little café/florist is open, so I can fuel up on coffee before departing. Whilst there, I witness an autumn floral display being created.

The River Avon is running high, but I am told by a resident that recent works to create bends and oxbows upstream have reduced the risk of flooding. The resident lives in this C16th cottage, the first of many I admire today.

Haxton, Figheldean, Ablington, Brigmerston, Milston, and Bulford all have their charms, with beautiful cottages and Saxchurches. The walking in between, often next to the Avon, is nice and flat for a change, not a down in sight.

Church of St. Michael and All Angels. Figheldean

The owner of this house in Figheldean tells me he needs to have the ridge repaired every 10 years and the whole thatched roof every 20. Finding the skilled people to undertake this and sourcing the materials is becoming more and more difficult.

Moving on….… the whole area is surrounded by MOD land. I never realised that the War Department was acquiring land way back in 1897 by compulsory purchase. At least it is back into community ownership now.

These puffballs were the largest I’ve ever seen, mobile alongside for scale.

Church of St. Mary. Milston.

The Avon is just over there.

St. Leonard’s Church. Bulford.

My arrival into town is still green but noisy from the busy bypass. It must be difficult for route planners to navigate relatively traffic-free ways through urban landscapes. I have no prior knowledge of Amesbury, but I read it may have the oldest continuous occupation in the country. Also in the news at the moment is the investigation into the Salisbury Novichok poisonings from 2018. The intended victims, The Skripals in Salisbury, just escaped with their lives. But Ms Sturgess living at the time in Amesbury wasn’t so lucky with the ‘perfume’ she used.

Lord’s Walk.

Strange.

My hotel is in the middle of town opposite the Abbey Church St. Mary and St. Melor. I have a look around it. Probably on this site since C9th, connected later to the town’s Abbey. The latter disappeared in the reformation, but the church survived for the local population. It remains an impressive building, Cathedral like.

My cosy hotel has a Thai restaurant which I enjoy in the evening. I’ve done well for food this week.

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