It must be that time again, when our local villages vie for the best in bloom. Chipping was all aglow this morning with some stunning displays, helped by the bright sunshine. I think they often win as the community makes such a good joint effort.
But we hadn’t come to see the flowers, we had a short walk in mind in the hills above the village. Our more ambitious trip to Ilkley Moor was delayed to another time. I had strained my side in a difficult balancing act at the top of steps attacking my overgrown hedge a couple of days ago. JD suggested this as a gentler stroll, and it was forecast to become very hot, which did transpire.
The basic straight forward walk out of the village through the grounds of Leagram, up to Saddle Side farm lane and back via Wolfen, Tweedys and Kirk Mills has been done so many times, often described here for example. Ideal for the wounded. Parking up at the village hall, JD announces he won’t bother with his boots – everywhere will be dry underfoot. I suggest boots could be better if we decide to go ‘off piste’. I am already plotting a cross country variation if my injury wasn’t worsening. Old habits die hard.
We stroll through the village, as I said resplendent in bloom, past the old watermill and out on the Leagram road. 
Walking into the estate is always a joy with the beautiful aged trees, although I see one oak has succumbed. The southerly hill in the background is Longridge Fell.
I have been reading ‘How to read a tree’ and can recognise on this tree the south side branches growing horizontally towards the sun whilst the northern side grow more vertically to try and catch the light. What do you think? 
At the sheep farm JD knows the farmer and we have an extended chat with him on all things sporting, village related and political. He never mentions his sheep which produce some tasty cheese.
Soon we come to the sign Lickhurst and Stanley, one of those classy P&PFS, which would give us an option of visiting the hidden Burnslack valley, which neither of us has done for awhile. Decision made we set off on a good surfaced lane going to Park Gate, (this was all a deer park in the past) and heading for the fells. But we leave it on a non existent way to a forded crossing of the brook. I take a photo half expectant of a dipping, but JD is as sure footed as a goat. My poles help me across. 
I won’t describe our onward pathless progress across the next fellside, except to say we arrive on the Stanley track some time later. Cutting back I have another attempt to photo JD’s potential soaking. No luck. 
Burnslack farm, now houses, must be one of the remotest inhabited properties on this side of Bowland. The path is sensibly diverted to give them privacy. Two owls keep an eye on us as we pass through. 
Looking back to Burnslack Farm.
An ancient way leads to the next farm, Saddle End, along the base of the fell. There are the remains of several barns along here, traces of cobbles, and fresh water springs. Sir Hugh will appreciate the in situ taps on one of the farmer’s baths collecting he water. 
Up here we find a place to sit for the highlight of the day, JD’s hand crafted vegetarian pasties. One can’t call them Cornish, they are well and truly Lancastrian. My neighbour gifted me a jar of home pickled red cabbage this week so I have brought some along as a perfect accompaniment. We eat like kings with a view to match. 
Sheep shearing is progressing at Saddle End.
The afternoon is steaming hot so we take the easy option down to the lanes leading back to Chipping. I am hoping for some farm eggs at the lane end but I’m out of luck. Mills line the Chipping Brook telling of iron foundries, bobbin making, cotton and chair works. All gone. The ‘millowners’ house overlooking the pond is perfect for the situation in contrast to some of the new housing creeping up the valley. 
In the churchyard I show JD the grave of LIzzie Dean, behind which there is quite a tale. To tell it I suggest you watch this video.
Needless to say we have a pint in the said Sun Inn to celebrate a lovely walk and a cautious return to summer weather.
***
I haven’t done ‘that local walk’ this year. The fields, to be honest, have been too wet. It was a walk I repeated many times during the lockdown, remember that? It has always been one of my favourites taking me straight into the countryside. From my front door up the road and into the fields. Across them to Gill Bridge, up the lane and into the Derby Estate. Through Ferrari’s Country House grounds and back on the road past Little Town Dairy and the Derby Arms.
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.
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.
