A very popular climb from Scorton on the edge of the Bowland Fells. I never get bored of this little fell. How many times have I been up it? See here, there and everywhere.
But where has the name come from? Who was Nicky? No amount of internet searching gives any clue, locals don’t seem to have any idea either. Any suggestions?
A nook is “a small quiet place or corner that is sheltered or hidden from other people” That’s not the case up here any more, there is nearly always a steady stream of people walking up the steep steps from Wyresdale. They don’t know any better as there are far pleasanter ways to reach the modest summit from more roundabout ways. JD and I followed one of these to the top today.
The side road I normally park on was closed due to works, but there was plenty of space on the main road into Scorton. The ‘works’ didn’t progress much whilst we were out for the day. How much local authority funds are wasted for the lack of adequate overseeing? Too many questions today.
We left the lane at the inviting Wyre Way signs. I blamed the low winter sun for our almost blind wanderings over only just frozen fields. There was certainly one point where a new fence across the line of the right of way was lacking a stile, (GPS defines these spots accurately, note to Lancs Highways Authority sent) The onward haphazard wanderings however were all my fault. We found ourselves, don’t ask me how, in a bare harvested maize field which had the appearance of a pheasant shoot. I was concerned it could become a peasant shoot if we didn’t find a way out. The road was just across the other side of the hedge but we couldn’t find a gate. I suggested we swallowed our pride and retreat back to the right of way. But no, JD is sometimes more persistent, obstinate and intrepid than even I. He is to be seen escaping from Colditz. 
Regrouped we soon left the lane onto the bridleway up into the woods of Grize Dale. We were not the only ones, a large shooting party were just setting off into undergrowth to kill a few pheasants. (Is this activity exclusively male I wonder?) Fortunately we were well on our way before the shots ran out, would have been a shame to spoil the day. The rhododendrons are taking over on this side of the fell. 
The reservoir seemed fuller than usual, but that was no surprise after all the rain in December. Today was all blue sky, the feel like temperature in the brisk easterly was well below zero. More to come this next week, no more rain in the foreseeable future. But as we live in the northwest we will wait and see. 
I took JD on the long way round to find the easier graded ascent of Nicky, as you can see from my map. That surveying pillar guided us upwards but it was a false siren, the true summit was still some way up the hill. The shining white trig point was soon reached along with many others coming the other way, all well wrapped up against the wind, and their dogs. Only 215m but a view all around. The outlying Bowland Fells behind us, the Fylde below us and the motorway heading up to Lancaster and the more distant Lakes. It is said you can see from the Great Orme to The Isle of Man. 
The onward path, previously eroded and muddy, has been upgraded with chippings and soon we are back in the valley. Is Applestore café closed on Tuesdays? Maybe we missed a chance there. I was pleased to find the public footpath around Snow Hill barn is still passable and possibly improved. It took us into woods above a very steep drop into the brook. Escape was possible over a wooden footbridge. JD noticed the original stone slab bridge below, it was still intact, if a little narrow. Obviously Health and Safety have been in play. 
The parking was busier now in early afternoon opposite that iconic, seen from the M6, church steeple. What a lovely little round and we were back for tea.
***
The temperature is hovering just above zero, but we must be under a high pressure there is no wind and the sun is shining. Perfect. I don’t carry a camera for these two days, I’m trying out my new phone.
The quarry is hidden away just before the road starts its winding ascent. It’s late morning when I park up under the old Sykes Lead mine and the roadside Lime Kiln. The quarry faces west so should be sheltered from the easterly wind. A regular procession of motorcyclists pass me as I walk up the road to the gate.
Sat alone on the isolated true summit of Fairsnape, deep in Bowland, I’m poking at one of my sandwiches, egg and tomato, made a month ago. They went into the freezer when hot weather and circumstances cancelled an outing at the last minute only for them to re-emerge this morning. there is a distinct unappetising taste. Should you freeze hard-boiled eggs? I’ve just traversed some of the loneliest hills up here and am in need of some sustenance. The morning has been misty on the fells, however with a welcome cooling breeze. Distant views are restricted from my lofty perch, most of you will never have been here. Only a few curlew and grouse share my space. I poke again at the sandwich and decide to toss it into the heather for probably the seagulls, who now also patrol these heights, to scavenge.
