Category Archives: Beacon Fell

SIMPLY BLEASDALE.

A winter afternoon, and I’m surrounded by familiar fells, Parlick, Faisnape, Hazelhurst and Beacon, far away from the pre-Christmas hustle and bustle. It’s been a while since I was out and about, but one has to take the opportunities of fair weather as they come along at this time of year. A cooler east wind is creeping in, so hopefully that persistent wet weather is behind us for some time.

St. Eadmer’s, where I park, sits in this beautiful setting on the Bleasdale Estate. It is the only church in the UK to be dedicated to St Eadmer, an Anglo-Saxon Benedictine monk and scholar. I have written about the church and Bleasdale many times, so let’s just get on with the walk, a circuit on good tracks.

I wonder if people turned up at Bleasdale Circle for the winter solstice a couple of days ago. It’s rather a bleak spot now that its trees have toppled.

Throughout the short afternoon, the fell tops are constantly changing as clouds come and go. The sun makes a weak appearance at times, adding interest.

There are several variations to my Bleasdale walks; today, I choose widdershins on a short circuit for no obvious reason. I contemplate the lonely lives of upland farmers as I pass by their isolated properties. I meet one other person, a lady recently retired from Sussex with her two dogs, and now lucky enough to live in Bleasdale.

On the return loop, I once more peer at that packhorse bridge over the infant Brock, near Brooks. It is on private property. I’ve read that it was on the original track from Bleadale House and Reformatory School to St. Eadmers. I cross what is obviously a more modern bridge, but then the curiosity gets the better of me, and I enter the woods to backtrack above the river and look down on the older crossing. One day…

Again, on a whim, I investigate a footpath I have never used before. Leaving the estate road, it cuts across rough fields to Admarsh Barn and the church where I am parked.

St. Eadmer’s.

The track into the estate.

SIMPLY A swollen beck.

Lonely Holme House Farm.

Looking up to Fiensdale Head.

Fairsnape and Parlick.

Beacon Fell

Old packhorse bridge.

From above.

Adnarsh Barn.

While looking online for the origins of Admarsh, I came across an interesting article on Bleasdale that I hadn’t previously seen. https://e-voice.org.uk/longridge/longridge-history-society/bleasdale/ Well worth a read if you know the area.

Time to get back to the shops.

BIRTHDAY FAMILY FUN.

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A self-indulgent post.

Birthdays come around every year. This year, we decided to celebrate as a family. A quiet getaway for us to meet up without too much fuss; no surprises, balloons or embarrassing kissagrams.

For some time since it reopened, I have enjoyed eating at the Cross Keys Inn at Whitechapel. I refer to its reincarnation in recent years. There has been a Cross Keys here for over a century; it was known affectionately to locals, tongue in cheek, as the Dorchester.

The original building was a farm called Lower Oakenhead, dating back to the mid-1700s. Sometime in the first half of the 19th century, the owners expanded into the licensed trade, and the property became a coaching inn, The Cross Keys, that operated alongside the farm. When I used to visit it in the 70s/80s, three Hesketh brothers ran the farm and inn. Often, you couldn’t get a drink until they had finished milking. I remember the pool table, open fireplace and dominoes. The brothers needed to retire to bed early for the morning’s milking but would leave the bar open with an honesty box. As well as beer, they strangely sold Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls.

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It closed eventually in 2004 and was bought in 2009 by a local builder, John Holden. He slowly renovated the inn and commenced on converting the stables, cowsaheds and storerooms into holiday lets. Reopening in 2021: The postal address of the holiday properties has been renamed Dorchester Drive in deference to its history.

It seemed the perfect place for a family gathering, so I reserved two lodges for the weekend, with the original intention that the dogs could accompany us. Booking the meal arrangements was slightly marred by my inability to drive; I like to do things face-to-face, and telephone conversations were vague regarding seating. Eventually, a friend gave me a lift up there, and I made final arrangements but without the dogs for various reasons. At least once we were there, cars wouldn’t be needed for the weekend.

Our small family, eight of us, met up there on the Friday evening; to my relief, the lodges were spacious and luxurious. Across at the inn, we were soon seated at a table adjacent to the bar, which was extremely busy and noisy with Friday night drinkers. I’m glad I’d arranged for us to be in the separate room where we could hear ourselves talk. The evening went well, with everybody enjoying the meal and atmosphere. We retired to one of the lodges for family games.

Breakfast was served for us the next morning, and it was excellent.

The plan for the day was to walk five or six miles from the Inn without having to drive, but on returning to our lodge, the key no longer worked in my hand or all the other family members who thought they had the knack. Back to the bar. Dan, the man, came to investigate but couldn’t do any better. He phoned the property owner’s representative, but she was at the hairdresser’s. Don’t worry; it will all be sorted by the time you return from your walk. But no, all the stuff we need is in the lodge—another call to the building firm that owns the complex. John was around in no time. His key didn’t work either. A call to his friend, the locksmith, was thwarted by his attendance at a football match. He then called brother Chris to help out. By now, there was a crowd outside watching the proceedings and giving advice.

An increasing arsenal of heavy-duty tools was employed to break through the door’s bottom panel. Burglars look away. J and C managed to remove it, with J flying through the hole created, much to the amusement and applause of the crowd.

We retrieved the gear we needed for the day’s walk and left the scene of devastation.

The planned walk across fields directly from the inn went well.

Soon, we were down to the bridge over the River Brock. There was very little water in the river.

The valley was busy with families and dog walkers. We looked a mottley lot.An earth slide proved popular with children and my not-so-young grandsons.

Leaving the river, we went through fields to come out at the base of Beacon Fell. The fun included grass whistling, a forgotten art… … and impromptu rounders.

Tree hugging is de rigueur with my family. And there were some grand trees to hug.

The trig point had to be visited.
More fun was had on the gymnastic apparatus.

Some of us walked down the snake.

and of course, the cafe for coffee and ice creams. We were lucky to have a sunny day.

The route back down the fell passed through the interesting houses of Crombleholme.

I knew the path direct to the Cross Keys was usually boggy, and so it proved today, but everyone enjoyed the challenge. A few added to the challenge by jumping the streams.

Some of us went to look around the nearby churchyard to seek out a C18th sundial. The church itself was locked.

Back at the lodges, most of us had a snooze before reconvening for pre-dinner drinks.

Another successful meal followed in the much quieter dining room. The food and staff were excellent. Back to the apartment for more fun and games, although we were all tired, so retired at a sensible hour.

Sunday dawned drizzly, we packed up and returned to my house for breakfast/lunch. Cards and presents were opened. By now, it was dry, and so the whole family descended upon Craig Y Longridge, the local bouldering venue. The three grandchildren were performing feats way beyond my ability. But I did manage to cling on with my bad hand long enough for a group photo.

What a successful weekend, thanks to my family. You’re not twenty-one every year.

What’s the secret to growing old gracefully?

Time
Health
A quiet mind
Slow mornings
Ability to travel
Rest without guilt
A good night’s sleep
Calm and boring days
Meaningful conversations
Home cooked meals
People you love
People who love you back

Ah, well, I’ll be back at the hospital tomorrow.

For the record, here is our recommended walking circuit of about six miles directly from the inn.

BEACON FELL AGAIN.

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One last walk in 2024.

The mist has abated, but wind and rain threaten the New Year’s celebrations’. On Monday afternoon, there is time for a brisk walk. I choose Beacon Fell once again for quick access and dry tracks. The car parks are packed, and families, friends and dogs throng the paths. Consulting the site map I opt for the Fellside Trail as the longest and possibly the quietest route.

I am playing with the camera my son lent me – a 20-year-old Fujifilm S3200. I don’t have the instructions, so have had a brief look at the online manual. It’s not ideal conditions today, as you will seeand hear from the video.

I wander through the trees. It is all rather gloomy, with little to attract my attention.
Even at the pond, nothing much is stirring.

I get bored and strike off on a lesser track which at least takes me past a couple of carvings. Then I’m in amongst the crowds with excited children running along the back of the stone snake, all great fun.

It’s time to get home and hide away for a couple of days—here’s to 2025.

A BOWLAND BLAST ON THE BEACON.

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Those strange days before Christmas.

I’ve done my shopping, made the stuffing and wrapped the presents. Time for some fresh air, we are not having a frosty winter, the air is mild but the wind is howling. A short walk would suffice.

One could hardly stand upright next to the trig point on Beacon Fell—a strong, cold wind blasting straight from the northwest. I took a photo of the next rainband coming in off the sea and one of Parlick above the conifers, then retreated to the shelter of the trees. Although I was made aware of the danger of falling trees by the groaning noises coming from them in the gale.

There was a brief break in the winter showers,, but not the wind. I parked at 2 pm in the Quarry; mine was the only car. Most peopla are crushing the supermarkets. I know, or think I know, every path on the fell, a country park, but today I halted at the new map board installed just after the pond. Why not follow the red route? The Summit Trail sounds about right. Of course, as the walk progresses, I end up using the Sculpture Trail and then the Fellside Trail and probably others.

My red trail takes me through the trees to the information centre and cafe. I was hoping they would have a bedecked real Christmas tree on display, there are plenty of specimens on the fell, so I could get a seasonal photograph to illustrate this post, mot likely my last before the big day. No luck.

I poke my nose into the building, a little late for a coffee but I join a family at the window seats to observe the many species using the bird feeders. Good to see youngsters enthusiastic about nature. At one time, this cafe boasted that it was open 364 days a year, but Covid stopped that, and now, if you want a brew or a snack, avoid Mondays or Tuesdays.

I climb up to look at Thomas Dagnall’s Orme View – now, who does that remind me of?

I now find myself on the blue sculpture trail, which I happily follow, rediscovering a series of wooden carvings.

After visiting the summit, I head back on the Fellside Trail – a quick hour’s walk. I was still the only car in the car park before heading home to check the drinks.

A NATURE TRAIL IN THE MAKING?

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When I was up in Bleasdale the other week I noticed signs to a ‘Nature Trail’ with an attached map.

Time to investigate.

A sunny Saturday afternoon was perfect for a gentle stroll. I park at the church as usual and there is the first finger post directing me alongside Church Wood, recently replanted. The woods are alive with birdsong – a good start. Chiffchaff, Robin, Bullfinch, Willow Warbler, Chaffinch, Wren, Redpoll and Song Thrush. I only see half of them.

What a backdrop of Fairsnape and Parlick.

Not many people have come this way as yet, there is no path through the reedy fields. Occasional wooden posts sign the way and new gates have been installed at important junctions. I take a wrong turning or two, not always sure which side of a fence I should be on.

The occasional Pheasant struts across, the call of the Curlews is in the background and Lapwings put on a display above me. The floral display is only average – Lady’s Smock here and there, a confusion of sedge, reeds and grasses. Buttercups, Speedwells, Stitchwort and Mouse Ear.

At the seat I aimed across rough ground to reach the edge of Bluebell Wood with Beacon Fell straight ahead. The Bluebells were past their best.

There are some owl boxes on the estate but then along the edge of the wood, spanning the ditch is one of those awful small mammal traps aimed at killing stoats or weasels, possible threats to breeding pheasants. In my book you can’t have a nature trail if you are killing the nature on it, totally incongruous. And what will the owls feed on if the small mammals are trapped? I don’t like it when shooting estates pay lip service to conservation.The trail map even features a stoat as one of the animals to be seen.
Moving on. I cross the access road to Lower Fairsnape Farm and take a short diversion to visit a bird hide marked on the map. It is a shed with a few observation slots looking out onto the fields. Information is provided about the area. The farm is working alonside the RSPB to improve the environment for wading and ground nesting birds.

View from the hide.

I backtrack to regain the trail which follows close by a branch of the infant river Brock. A heron flies away as I approach. I follow an old enclosure wall away from the stream.

Is that a hare pricking its ears up in the field ahead? It is and then there are two.

That has almost made up for the mammal trap. I walk back up the lane past the school in a better frame of mind.

This is a trail in the making, if needs more footfall and less animal persecution. But what a backdrop with the Bleasdale Fells.

***

SPRING IN BLEASDALE.

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I hear the sound of Curlews in the air as soon as I leave the car. That haunting call across the rough fields.

It had been a toss up this morning, Belmont or Bleasdale. I have unfinished business on Great Hill and Spitlers Edge, but how boggy was it going to be up there. Let’s play safe and use the lanes of Bleasdale Estate for a drier round.

Spring is in the air, but only just after the last couple of days’ hailstorms. Blossom adorns the little lodge. A cheery row of daffodils line the road leading into the estate. Immediately the expanse of Bleasdale opens up with the familiar Bowland Hills as a backdrop. I don’t spot the Curlews but I do witness a few Lapwings performing their aerial display. And what is going on with those sheep and seagulls, with pheasants and jackdaw in attendance?

The wood to the right which was disappearing under foreign Rhododendrons has been grubbed up and the replacement mixed planting is only white tree casings at present, all looking very barren. But around the corner is a similar plantation now a few years old and the bird song emanating from it is orchestral this morning. They are all busy bonding and nest prospecting no doubt. Robin, Chiffchaff, Siskin, Song Thrush, Willow Warbler, Wren, Chaffinch, Tree Creeper. Goes to show how trees are so important as a habitat.

It doesn’t look much but what bird life thrives in there.

No body is about at the buildings, once a reformatory school, as I turn right towards the more open moor. Everywhere are sheep and their lovely lambs, it is difficult to take a photo without including them.

The two remote farms are still operating as such, whereas other properties have been converted to residential use.

It’s awhile since I’ve been to the Bronze Age Circle. Last time was after one of our winter storms and the place was a mess with fallen trees. Time for another look although I know the fields to get to it will be muddy. All is clean and tidy the debris has been cleared away, the inner circle, indicated only by posts, and ditch are obvious again and there is a welcome planting of trees around the periphery of the site. Does it all line up with that nick in the fell’s skyline? Once the Preston Harris Museum is open again I must visit to look at the artifacts from this site. Persons unknown have been attaching ‘clooties’ to one of the remaining trees.

St Eadmer’s Church is always worth a look, standing as it does in isolation below the fells.

The school is no more but the buildings have taken on a new residential life.

I do eventually get caught in an April shower which looks far more severe on Fairsnape.

Then on past one of the estate’s landmark beech hedges.

There’s a bee on the gorse and a pheasant strutting his stuff, it must be spring.

As there is nobody staying I have a look around the camping chalets in the field as I pass. Pretty basic tent sides with an inner living space and log fire. The one I scout around, forgive my nosiness, is called Curlew. They go under the Glamping Hideaway’s banner of Lanterns and Larks. A holiday away from it all?

Sometime I must have a closer look at that little packhorse bridge near the farm.

That has been a whistle stop tour of Bleasdale, get you boots on and do it for yourself sometime.

By the way it is more like winter again today. ‘Cast not a clout till may is out’.

***

FAR BLEASDALE.

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My lethargy of the other day cycling around the Bay was compounded the next day on a cycle ride to Glasson Dock. The back tyre finally deflating completely and despite frequent stops to pump it up the journey back was tedious and tiring. The repair can wait for another day – I’m going walking today.

I have Bleasdale tagged, and I see I have posted getting on for 50 times with it included. A number of those posts will have involved the surrounding fells – Bleasdale Moors, Hazelhurst, Fairsnape and Parlick – a perfect horseshoe enclosing the lower pastures and the scattered properties on the estate. The roads through the estate are private but pedestrian access is possible by the numerous rights of way. One of the reasons the area is high on my popularity list is that the tracks on a whole give good dry walking even in the worst of weathers and yet you feel you are out in the hills without stepping foot on them.

I was here at the end of October for a Sunday stroll. On that occasion I kept to the tracks to the East under Fairsnape and Parlick. The most visited by virtue of its church, school and the Bronze Age circle. Today I took advantage of the tracks to the West passing Bleasdale Tower to the road over to Oakenclough. They kept my feet dry and reached a height of 230 m with views over the Fylde and Pennines. ‘Far Bleasdale’ is a term I have invented for this walk of only 4 miles.

Along the road signs are that farmers are diversifying.

As you can see it wasn’t a day for photography.

Fairsnape and Parlick.

Beacon Fell.

Towards Bleasdale Moors.

There were few splashes of colour.

I was soon on the higher track with its views to the south and then down the road to my car.

A pleasant way to spend a quiet couple of hours amidst all the Christmas clamour.

BETWEEN BROCK AND BEACON.

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The blue skies continued for another day and I managed a local walk along the River Brock and up onto Beacon Fell. A rather haphazard sort of ramble as you will see from my map. All very familiar but resplendent in the Autumn colours. There was a lot of flood water on the country roads getting there and in then in the River Brock, even the side streams were raging.

In my new found fungal mode I kept veering off the path into the mixed deciduous trees looking for specimens. Rotten tree stumps were a fertile hunting ground. Isn’t it great when your photographic objects don’t fly away. Most I could not identify until I was home and using an on line search site. I’m still not that confident on labelling most of my photos but I’m beginning to narrow them down.

I spent a bit of time exploring the old mill site at Brock Bottoms which is slowly disappearing into the vegetation. The mill was once a thriving water-driven cotton spinning mill with up to twenty cottages in the valley for the workers. The mill was probably built in the 1790s. After a chequered history and two reincarnations as a roller making factory, and then a file making factory the mill finally closed in the 1930s. For some time the ground floor of the mill operated as a café, whilst the top floor was used for dancing on Saturday nights!

After the short trip south along the Brock and back again I took the footpath following the river upstream. Before I had gone far, there right alongside the path was a large funnel mushroom, 6 inches across, and while I was clinging to a tree I spotted these tiny capped fungi, barely an inch high.

The surrounding trees were putting on a good display.

I followed the river often on board walks which are deteriorating and becoming very slippy. In parts they have been washed away as the bank becomes eroded. A new raised section has been installed – an expensive path to maintain.

I went as far as the old ford and than climbed up the rough lane into mixed birch and beech woods. A good spot for bracket fungi.

On reaching the road there seemed to be traffic chaos. There had been a Scouting navigation event on at the nearby Waddecar camp and literally hundreds of cars were coming to pick up the youths. The lanes here are so narrow and had soon become gridlocked. Something the organisers need to sort out before next years event.

I climbed steeply up into the heights of Beacon Fell, the header photograph showing the light on the way. I was then in the more sterile coniferous trees, but to my delight there were many different fungi hidden away in the depths. One only has to look. I bypassed all the usual paths as I scavenged deep into the trees. I did however eventually reach the obligatory trig point.

Coming down a different way I took a path I had never used before. It passed hidden Lower Lickhurst, a surprisingly large mansion. I was wary of my right of way through their grounds but good signage and stiles led me out and across fields. I still find these modern gates a little incongruous in the countryside no matter their practicality – probably designed by committee or even AI. An old sunken way dropped me back to the Brock car park to complete an interest filled 6 miles.

I took care to avoid those narrow gridlocked lanes on the way home.

***

RURAL RAMBLING – BROCK’S BOTTOM.

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After last week’s heroics in the high Bowland Fells, today was a gentle rural walk. My son suggested a walk for his day off. Where? I asked. “What about Brock Bottoms, I’ve not been there for years” I’m writing it up as a 4-mile walk, some of you may want to follow, a perfect evening stroll.

We used to take the boys along the Brock getting on for 50 years ago, so I’m pleased he still has it in his mindset. (I must have done something right in their upbringing) I remember paddling down the stream to the remains of the mill in the valley all those years ago, not for us the riverside path. I have written before on the history of the mill – Brock Mill was once a thriving water-driven cotton spinning mill with up to twenty cottages in the valley for the workers. The mill was probably built in the 1790s. After a chequered history and two reincarnations as a roller making factory, and then a file making factory the mill finally closed in the 1930s. For some time, the ground floor of the mill operated as a café, whilst the top floor was used for dancing on Saturday nights!

What will we find today?

Along with my son Chris, I’ve enlisted Mike for a short walk with promises of a curry afterwards. Surprisingly, the picnic car park at Higher Brock Bridge itself is quiet. What a contrast from those Covid days when every space was taken by cars isolating from each other.

A few dog walkers are around, but within 200 m of the car park, we meet no one else. The water level is very low, reflecting the recent dry spell. I seem to think the path has been ‘improved’ over the years. Lots of wild garlic, fading bluebells, stitchwort, red campions, hawthorn and other Spring blossoms deserve our attention. The valley is very steep-sided along here.

We leave the main path to explore the ruins of Brock Mill. Until now, we have been walking along the line of the mill race or Leat. There is little left to see. Where were the associated cottages? Where was the main wheel? All is jungle with Himalayan Balsam taking over.

Rather than go back to the main path, we struggle along on a riverside trail, not recommended. Once out into the open meadows, the going is easier, and we soon reach the elegant Walmsley Bridge. For some reason, the road is blocked, yet everything appears to be in order with the bridge. It was only when we walked up the lane that we found a landslide that had taken half the road down into the Brock. It could be a while before this lane is reopened, fortunately no premises have been cut off.

At the corner, we take a farm lane I’ve never used before. The farm turns out to be massive agricultural sheds in a modern manner. A traditional cockerel guards the approach, but the path goes around the edge of the buildings with little fuss, no doubt an unofficial diversion, but no problem. The farmhouse itself is named Throstle Nest, with one of its barns converted into a luxury living space. The access lane soon has us back on the minor road.

A bridleway could have taken us back down to Brock Bottom, but we stay on the quiet road for half a mile, passing some delightful Lancashire farmhouses. Another footpath I haven’t used before takes us straight through fields below Beacon Fell onto the lane, which drops us back down to the picnic spot where we are the only car remaining.

A very pleasant 4-mile round through the Lancashire countryside.

The hastily put-together curry supper was a success as well.

***

A QUICK VISIT TO BEACON FELL.

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It had to be a quick visit. It was nearly 3.00 when I parked in the quarry, darkness comes before 4.00 and that is when the rain was due.

Aren’t we lucky to have a Country Park on our doorstep? Ready-made trails, sculptures, wildlife and views. Just great for a short visit and a burst of exercise when you can’t think of anything else. I tend to follow whichever path I find myself on, one can’t get lost for long and all will eventually lead upwards to the summit trig point at 266 m. Since thinning of trees has been carried out in the last decade there is a better variety of habitat. The only downside at the moment is that the visitor centre is closed, post Covid or council savings? I wonder what has happened to all the volunteers. Also don’t expect to find the previously excellent café open, they are only doing a takeaway service Thursday to Sunday.

Yesterday I walked quickly around the darkening forest and then out and up to the open fell top. There always seems to be somebody up there, the ‘green lungs’ of Preston. I was soon back at the car satisfied with my quick visit. The rest of the week looks rubbish.

Beacon Fell Country Park – Lancashire County Council

***

A BREEZY BEACON.

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Funny how the day turns out. I’ve been festering in the house for a few days due to some minor medical problems – but you don’t want to know about them. Midday I drive to the supermarket for supplies, why don’t I walk as it is only 500 m around the corner? I’ve just not felt like exercise as I said. Emerging after yet another troubled time with the self-service till, I do so much prefer a chat with a friendly cashier, (We are becoming so isolated from each other, have you noticed?) the brilliance of the day hits me. Blue sky, warmish sunshine and a pleasant breeze, ideal for a walk.

I ponder where would be best for a short walk. Longridge Fell above me is an obvious choice, but I have come unprepared in lightweight trainers and I suspect after our recent rain the going will be boggy. Across the valley the Fairsnape/Wolf Fell ridge looks inviting, but again I only came out to buy a few vegetables. However, slightly dwarfed there is Beacon Fell; good paths, good views and a café. Perfect for my present ambivalent mood – at least I’ll get some fresh air.

Narrow confusing country lanes take me across Chipping Vale and up to the free of charge Quarry car park. A gang of three volunteers are cutting back the vegetation. The country park relies on volunteers, a pang of guilt passes by me. Strangely mine is the only car in the quarry.

I set off in a clockwise direction on the well maintained paths not too worried about which one I take, they all lead to the same place, eventually. It strikes me that I was originally inspired to get some exercise because of the sunshine and I now find myself deep in the rather gloomy forest. Never mind I soon come out into the open near the main metered car park and visitor centre. The café here prided itself on being open 364 days of the year, but I find it closed today. Another aftermath of Covid. Thursday to Sunday only now, what a shame, will it ever now make a comeback?

I wander up to the Orme Sight statue by Thompson Dagnall, I think the original art installation in the park. Looking through his one eye one can see far away, yes the Orme on the North Wales coast.

From here I take minor forest trods upwards. Most of the storm damage which I experienced here last time has been cleared, must be all those volunteers again. There is not much sign of Autumn in the woods as nearly all the trees are spruce. I find myself on a ‘Sculpture trail’ and spot one or two new to me. Then I confidently find the correct path to the top of the Beacon with its trig point. There is nearly always someone here enjoying the view.

“The triangulation pillar is situated on the site of where the beacon would have stood. Records show that there was a beacon here as long ago as 1002 AD. Later maps show it as part of a chain used to warn of impending danger such as the approach of the Spanish Armada in 1588. More recent beacons have been used to celebrate such occasions as coronations and jubilees. Rising to a height of 266 metres above sea level the summit gives fantastic panoramic views of the Bowland Fell and Parlick Fell, with the coast beyond, Morecambe Power station and Blackpool Tower.”

I’ve seen it all before and as it is blowing a hoolie at the summit I move on quickly along the northern side of the hill to find a way towards the car park. I’m still the only car parked up which I strangely find a little spooky. A good 2.5 mile unintentional walk in and out of the trees. I was glad I had come out to the shops in the first place. Back at Craig Y a friend was going through the motions on the start of the traverse. I delayed him with talk of Warhol, Amsterdam, trees and Truss.

Losing the sunshine.

Cleared storm damage.

Orme Sight.

Toady.

A ‘green woman’

The breezy beacon.

The spooky car park.

I’m looking forward to an even better day tomorrow.

BLEASDALE CIRCLE REVISITED.

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My son had never been to see the Bleasdale Circle despite having walked around the Bleasdale estate since he was a young child. In fact when I think about it, we pushed him round in a ‘buggy’ when he was barely one. I had to remind him that was 50 years ago!

I must have a dozen or more posts regarding Bleasdale and have mentioned the Bleasdale Circle several times. Things didn’t look right today as we took the concessionary path towards the circle – the trees which enclosed it have virtually gone, I had to take a second look. As we came closer it was obvious that there had been severe storm damage since I was last here and the remaining trees harvested. To be honest the whole site looked a mess, all very disappointing, it’s going to need some loving care to make it presentable once more. The concrete inner ‘posts’ were still in place, but the interpretation board was undecipherable. The views from up high on the fells will no longer show the prominent circle of trees marking the site. See my previous photos here.

I quote from previous posts –

The circles are Bronze Age and were originally oak posts, an outer and inner ring. Discovered in 1898 and subsequently excavated they yielded a central burial chamber with cremation urns and ashes. These are now on display in the Harris Museum in Preston. The inner ring of wooden posts have been replaced with concrete posts. The orientation of the posts within the circle of the Bleasdale Hills may suggest some deep reason for their siting here.

Here is the official listing for it.

We walked on around the estate at a slow pace as the temperature soared. Our plan was to finish the walk just before six when the Cross Keys Inn at nearby Whitechapel would be opening. The plan worked, and we enjoyed a beer and a good meal.

A BLOGGERS GIFT.

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Beacon Fell.

My friend and blogger Sir Hugh, conradwalks , often talks of ‘a bloggers gift’ Some unexpected happening or conversation that brings the story to life. He seems to collect these occurrences on a regular basis, many of them centred around a cup of tea with complete strangers. I’m secretly jealous.

Picture the scene – we are walking down a country lane when a man recognises me and enters into conversation. We are just passing his house, and he suggests showing us around his garden. We are not rushed for time, “Yes we would like that” was our innocent reply. The garden was large and unruly with many interesting plants. His main passion was apples and he had many varieties, most grafted onto stock by himself. We had finished the garden tour when his wife offered us tea, we couldn’t refuse. Next thing we were seated in the garden with tea and chocolate birthday cake. Talk was inevitably about the old times, we had many shared acquaintances.

As we came away after a good hour in their company I realised I should have had a photo of the occasion – a bloggers gift. Too late, what a missed opportunity.

Anyhow, here are a few photos from our stroll around the Whitechapel area beneath Beacon Fell. The emphasis was on beautiful Lancashire pastures with extensive views and on the multitude of very expensive properties, you don’t get much for less than a million. Mike was prospecting a possible route for a walk he is leading later in the month starting and finishing at the newly refurbished Cross Keys Inn.

Whitechapel St James Church.

Into the fields.

Himalayan Balsam in profusion.

Hydrangeas at Crombleholme.

Modern day fencing.

Wood Fold.

Barnsfold barn conversion.

C17th Ashes Farm, moated.

Cross Keys Inn, closed on a Monday lunchtime

***

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – Brock and Beacon.

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Last year, when it was published, I ordered a copy of the new Cicerone guide book, Walking in Lancashire, by Mark Sutcliffe, I didn’t expect to find much new ground in its 40 walks that I hadn’t covered, but I thought it would be an incentive to get out in what still was some degree of Covid lockdown. Maybe one a week. Well, all that was scuppered by my plantar fasciitis, which virtually stopped me walking from August onwards. I would have been better with ‘Cycling in Lancashire’. Time has moved on, it is now March 2022, my heel is slowly improving, and I want to expand my walking distances and venues. I’ve been up and down Longridge Fell too many times.

The other day I picked up the Cicerone guide from my pile of ‘books to read’ and decided to start working my way through its offerings of day walks. A bit of a project, as my friend Sir Hugh would say. Opening the book, Walk 1 happened to cover Beacon Fell and the Brock valley, an area I know well, but it would provide a good introduction to the guide and Mark’s style of writing.

“Park at Brock Bottom. 5 miles with 800ft of ascent. 3hr.”

“This pretty route combines a riverside woodland walk through an intimate valley with a steady climb to the modest 266 m summit of Beacon Fell, which punches well above its weight when it comes to expansive views”

I wasn’t confident of those expansive views when I set off this morning in low cloud and moist air. The last two Covid years you wouldn’t have been able to park anywhere near Beacon Fell, but today only a couple of cars were in the Brock Mill picnic spot. In fact, I walked for 4 miles without seeing a soul. The riverside woodland walk was indeed a pretty route. The lively river Brock and the ancient mixed woodland was alive with birdsong. I reckon I can recognise most species on sight, but how I wished I could recognise their hidden songs.

A stretch of boardwalk looked decidedly dodgy.

Passing through the Waddecar Scout camp, which seems to have ready erected tents, I was wary of the flying tomahawks.

Most of this walk I did in June 2021and knowing the terrain, I was tempted to go my own way, but a bit of discipline made me follow Mark’s route – his directions were spot on. This led me to use a footpath up Gill Barn Clough, never before used. If you look carefully you can see the remains of the barn still visible under the moss which cloaks everything in the valley.

Emerging out of the clough into empty fields, the panorama of the Bleasdale Fells stole the show, as is mentioned in the guidebook.

I had never noticed this lone tree on the skyline before.

I was soon climbing up onto Beacon Fell. No sooner than they had cleared the damage from the storms at the end of 2021, then along came more storms last month, bringing down more trees. The views from the trig point were, as expected, a little hazy, definitely punching below weight. I couldn’t resist a coffee at the café, one must support local businesses. A couple sat on the next table described how their Alsatian had been spooked out by the coin encrusted crocodile.

Down through the new plantations, one a remembrance wood, into the coppiced willows and back to the car park where D of E Award expeditions were resting up – red, blue and yellow groups. They had a wet camp last night, but I hoped tonight would be better for them. They were all in good cheer.

I’m glad I’m coming home to a hot bath and a comfortable bed. A good introduction to Cicerone’s Lancashire walks.

BEACON FELL – Déjà vu.

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A couple of weeks ago I wrote of the devastating storm damage in the forests on Longridge Fell, well today I witnessed the same on Beacon Fell. The difference being that here, as it is a public park, the foresters have been busy clearing much of the damage making the place safe for the public. I imagine that at the time of the storms, early December, the public would have been excluded.

I only came up here this afternoon for a short walk, I seem to have been up and down Longridge Fell most days during the holidays – time for a change of scenery.

The sun was trying to make an appearance.

Parked up in the little quarry on the quieter east side of the fell, a modest circuit was completed from there. The little pond was looking particularly attractive in the low light. I wish I could paint. Round the corner piles of cut timber started to appear and it was obvious that there had been a lot of storm damage in amongst the trees. Logging machinery was scattered about, being a Sunday, nobody was working. I expect that when they replant, they will use more sustainable native species. Where there is destruction, there is hope.

Not a word about the virus.

AN ANGEL ON LONGRIDGE FELL.

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I almost never set forth yesterday, the mist was so thick down in Longridge, but I wanted to continue with my renewed walking therapy. Friends had called in for coffee, so it was 2pm when I emerged out of the worst of the fog to park on Jeffrey Hill. The whole of Chipping Vale was a sea of cloud, with only the higher tops of the Bowland Fells visible across the way. My route up the fell was shrouded in mist, giving a spooky feel to the place in the low sunlight. I had the feeling that I was being followed, but no one else was about. As I climbed the air cleared and soon I was above in blue sky with the ridge of Longridge Fell visible ahead.

I stopped briefly to place an angel on the top of the decorated Xmas tree, the reason for my venture after comments from my last post – https://bowlandclimber.com/2021/12/17/longridge-fell-christmas-tree/

At the summit was a lady with her Collie dog, she had been there awhile, enthralled by the views in front of her. It was indeed spectacular. Thick cloud filled all the valleys, and there above were the tops of the fells in sparkling clarity. Beacon Fell, Fairsnape, the Croasdale Fells and Waddington Fell. And in the distance the Yorkshire Three Peaks. All islands in the clouds. Looking down onto the mist I thought there was the arc of a broken spectre, but unfortunately it never really materialised.

Another walker arrived with his Springer Spaniel. Whilst the three of us chatted about the spectacle, the two dogs ran themselves ragged in a game of tag. I stayed longer than usual before drifting away as more people started arriving. I continued taking photographs as I came down the fell. By the time I had reached the road, a full moon rose from the east as the sun set in the west.

A perfect ending to a unique afternoon.

My pictures below don’t really do it justice.

FLANKING THE FELLS.

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I’m lucky to be surrounded by accessible fells giving good local walking, but at the moment I’m restricted to cycling, so I’m making the best of any opportunity for exercise whilst the sun shines. Today’s ride took me around the Bleasdale lanes without much climbing up the fells. However, I was surprised that when I plotted the route later, I’d climbed a thousand feet. It didn’t feel like that, there must have been lots of gradual ascents in low gear. Throughout the day I was treated to fine views of the Bleasdale Fells, Beacon Fell and on the run into home Longridge Fell.

Within four miles I was cycling through Inglewhite with its C17th market cross and then down across the River Brock into Claughton, a scattered parish by the motorway. Somewhere in the middle of it is Claughton Hall, but I only saw the western gate lodge. Up the lane was a medieval cross, at least its gritstone base.

On the map there was a lane taking me in the right direction, but it turned out to be trickier than I thought, and I ended up walking the last uphill half, all very pleasant though.

I was soon on familiar roads skirting the Bleasdale Estate, with the fells all around me.

The ‘back’ of Beacon Fell.

Fairsnape and Parlick.

I stopped for a break and was joined by a party of horse riders from a nearby trecking centre. In the field to my left were dozens of dogs running about, some sort of canine day nursery. The staff didn’t seem very friendly when I stopped to look, perhaps they are wary of dog thefts at present.

Next it was mainly downhill on convoluted lanes with Longridge Fell ahead. I live at the base of the fell, so no further climbing was needed.

The sun was a cold November grey by the time I pulled into home. Another simple 20 miles through Lancashire’s countryside.

*****

RE-CYCLING.

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As I pedalled out of Longridge today I had no intention of going up Beacon Fell, but that is where I ended up, don’t ask me why.

Next week is the climate crisis meeting in Glasgow, so cycling and recycling could well be on the agenda. My carbon footprint today should be low providing I don’t switch on the central heating or eat any meat. Life is becoming complicated, with all manner of ways of going green. If we all recycled and if we all cycled instead of using our cars … but that is not going to happen. Pollution in our cities decreased drastically during the first lockdown, when nobody was going anywhere. Apparently the roads are busier than ever now. So what does our chancellor come up with in his budget to reduce global warming? A planned increase in fuel duty is cancelled because of fuel shortages and high prices. He has also cut the flat-rate tax on domestic flights to zero to encourage more flights. Those two decisions don’t look good for our green credentials in the international climate debate we are hosting next week. A case of business over environment. We will never reach our modest carbon reduction targets.

Anyhow, that is not why I’m on Beacon Fell. I’d been feeling rather guilty as I had opted out of a planned ride around the Guild Wheel yesterday with Martin. https://phreerunner.blogspot.com/

I’d woken up to monsoon rains and a dismal forecast, so I contacted Martin in Manchester to wimp out of a ride in the pouring rain. He agreed and I think cancelled his plans with others. By 11 o’clock the rain had stopped and there was a brief interlude of a couple of hours before the torrents returned — we would have been OK. Elsewhere in the NW there were floods and they have my sympathies. I still felt guilty and disappointed that we’d missed our ride.

Today looked like a repeat, weather wise, and I idled the morning away, but by one o’clock it was still just dry and bright, so I roused myself for a short spin around the lanes. Somehow cycling is not as spontaneous as going for a walk or run, all the faff of different clothing and oiling the bike etc. It is too easy just not to bother, especially for some brief exercise. But I need the exercise as I feel I’m becoming unfit and flabby from my enforced inability to walk far, Plantar Fasciitis, which seems to bring on red wine drinking and snacking.

The road out to Chipping seemed to fly along, maybe I had the wind behind me. Soon I was on quieter, more relaxed lanes and just went where the bike pointed. Before I realised it was pointing up Beacon Fell. So I dropped into my grandad gear and puffed my way up. I have been a little concerned recently by getting out of breath on any marginal incline, so I looked upon this ascent as a bit of a test. I’m due at my doctor’s practise for a proper test in the near future. Needless to say, I made it and pulled into the visitor centre/café at the top. It is half-term, so there are a scattering of outdoor type families taking to the pathways. The café is open as a ‘takeaway’ so I buy a coffee and sit at one of the outside tables. The coffee is not as good as usual, I wonder if they have changed suppliers and gone for a cheaper brand, I don’t say anything.

It’s nearly all downhill back to home but I come across a few interesting diversions which may show up on my phone camera.

As well as the gloomy global climate predictions I’m also concerned about the steadily growing Covid infections, hospital admissions and deaths. A close friend had a close encounter with a Northern Casualty Department last week, third world is how he described it. I’m just glad I’m booked in for my booster vaccination tomorrow.

Get recycling and save the planet.

Get your booster and save yourself.

A gloomy Bowland.

A gloomy Beacon Fell.

A gloomy BC.

Coffee.

In the highlands.

Not many of these about.

No way. I’ve been caught before. Don’t want to end up in casualty!.

*****

A RURAL RIDE FROM LONGRIDGE.

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Not a footpath in sight, not a stile climbed, not a fell summited, and you will be pleased to hear not a church visited. Oh! Well, maybe just one. My heel is playing up just when the weather is bucking up. Not to be defeated, I drag my bike out of the garage and do a few short rides around Longridge. So today I was ready for a longer ride. Out to Bashall Eaves, Cow Ark, Chipping, Whitechapel and back, about 29 miles (47 km) or so.

Cycling brings a different aspect to one’s locality. No flowers to identify, no birds to watch, no passing conversations. Just the tarmac ahead and that steep ascent looming. Today I concentrate on the inns that I pass, past and present. In the Ribble Valley and Bowland we have been lucky to have had an excellent selection of quality establishments. Rural inns have a long pedigree, their names tell us much of the local history. Unfortunately the country inn has suffered from economic pressures and several hostelries have bitten the dust. Covid has had a serious effect on the hospitality business.

On my corner is the Alston Arms, now The Alston which has had several reincarnations since its establishment in 1841. It has survived the COVID lockdowns and seems as busy as ever with locals, a large outside seating area has helped. Strange that I have not visited since over two years ago, when it was the favourite venue of my friend developing Alzheimer’s disease. She always ordered the same — fish, chips and mushy peas. And they were good!

The second one encountered on the road is the Derby Arms, recently reopened after a period under a fish franchise, The Seafood Pub Company, It looked open today for lunch, so all is well, hopefully. The area around here was part of the Derby Estate. The Stanley Family, Earls of Derby, established lands in Thornley here, hence the pub’s name.

Along the way through Chaigley I pass the former Craven Heifer Hotel. The Craven Heifer became a popular pub name, particularly in the Craven area, so I don’t know how one popped up in Bowland. This hotel was a regular eating place at the end of the last century, it closed Christmas Eve 2008. Since then, it has been a private residence.

On the way down to the Hodder I passed these gates which are normally locked. Today they were open, and I had a quick peep into their lands, with a lake and a large house in view. No idea who lives here. Chadswell Hall.

I stopped off at the Higher Hodder Bridge, the river was as low as I’ve seen for a while. Just up the road is the former Higher Hodder Hotel. This was another hotel with a long period of serving good food and ales. It became well known to the fishermen casting in the Hodder below. I noticed on an old photograph a petrol pump in its forecourt, those days are long gone. Its demise came in 2001 with a severe fire from the kitchen. Bought by a local businessman and converted into apartments. It still has problems with erosion from below where the Hodder flows, undermining the banks. One day it may all fall into the river.

At the next crossroads I knew of an ancient milestone but had never stopped to investigate, Today I had a good look at it. There was lettering on two sides with mileages. On the West face To Preston 10M. To Gisburn M8. On the North face
To Lancaster 16M. To Whalley M3. 1766. It turns out that this is Grade II listed.

The next pub is the Red Pump in Bashall Eaves. This had been closed for some time when it was resurrected by the present owners in 2014, who turned it into a ‘gastropub’ with accommodation including recently added Glamping Yurts and Shepherd Huts. I notice that it has restricted opening hours, so calling in for a pint is not always possible. The pub has a connection to a murder mystery that was never solved.

Some serious pedalling has to be done climbing the road towards Browsholme Hall who have got in on the café scene. No time to visit today. On through the strangely named hamlet of Cow Ark and soon I’m freewheeling down the road which follows the line of the Roman Road from Ribchester to Carlisle and back over the Hodder at Doeford Bridge.

The Gibbon Bridge Hotel is a little farther on and has a history only going back to 1982 when the family diversified from farming to catering. Over the years the hotel has grown and particularly in recent times with the focus on weddings. They still do a good lunch in the dining room, with magnificent views over the gardens and Chipping Vale.

Chipping at one time had three pubs in the village. The Talbot has been closed for years and is looking in a sorry state. Opposite, the Tillotson’s is now open again but has annoyingly random hours, they were missing trade today as lots of tourists were wandering around the quaint village.

The Sun has had a renaissance and is now thriving both as a locals’ drinking pub and a reliable eatery. It is reputedly the most haunted pub in Lancashire. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aA1MZp3WYdI I couldn’t resist a wander around the churchyard looking for Lizzie Dean’s gravestone.

The Cobbled Corner Café has not reopened — it was a favourite with cyclists.

The Dog and Partridge just outside the village dates from the 16th century but closed in 2018 and is up for sale for residential development. Sign of the times.

I now head out to Whitechapel on narrow lanes under the shadow of Beacon Fell, When I first came to this area in the early seventies a curiosity was the Cross Keys Inn run by a farming family. It had irregular hours depending on work on the farm, a quirky bar, a good pool table. Late night sessions were common. At times, if the landlord was busy elsewhere, there was an honesty box for the drinks you had consumed. The inn was known, tongue in cheek, as The Dorchester! It closed over a decade ago but was bought by a local builder who has restored it along with accommodation units and has recently reopened it. Again, as the case with many of these rural pubs they are not open every day, particularly at the beginning of the week, but it is good to see it trading and I’ve promised myself a pint there soon.

Down the road is yet another Lancashire village, Inglewhite, centred on a village green and a cross. The pub here is called The Green Man and has a date stone of 1809. Green Men go back to pagan times and are a fairly common inn name — the sign here depicts a typical Green Man. This pub has been closed off and on for several years, reflecting the difficulties of successfully running a rural inn. Let’s hope it stays open for the foreseeable future. It was not open today!

Homeward-bound now with tiring legs, I pass the last rural pub — Ye Horns Inn. An 18th century listed building that closed four years ago. It had been run as a family business for decades, famous for its Goosnargh Roast Duck reared down the road, and its unique wooden panelled snug located behind the bar. New owners have developed the site with residential properties, but hope to reopen the pub soon. I await with bated breath. Another unique feature here is the men’s urinal across the road from the pub. Not sure how many drunken patrons were run down on this precarious crossing.

It is strange that my trip around all these rural inns didn’t involve any alcohol intake but as you saw several are closed for good, others concentrate on dining and others have limited opening. With a bit of organisation and forward planning, a right good pub cycle could be achieved around the eight trading pubs— but whether it would be legal or safe to ride a bike at the end of it would be debatable.

SOME WHITECHAPEL LANES.

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Saturday 2nd January. 2021. 5 miles. Whitechapel.

The four miles drive, hopefully allowed in Tier 4, to Whitechapel was treacherous after a severe overnight frost. Mike had already arrived in the Village Hall car park in his 4X4. We had planned to walk on the lanes to avoid the boggy fields, but the lanes turned out to be of ice rink quality. The modest circuit south of Beacon Fell was completed without incidence. I didn’t take many photos as we chatted away.