Category Archives: Pennines

A RAMBLE AROUND CLITHEROE.

P1060609Another from a leaflet in the series of Walks with Taste in Ribble Valley, this time setting off from the centre of Clitheroe. I’m becoming lazy with route planning and relying on someone else’s choice, Ribble Valley BC this time. It promised “starting from Holmes Mill, wandering through the grounds of Clitheroe’s Norman Castle to the River Ribble for an easy riverside ramble” P1060718

I park in a side street in Clitheroe near Holmes Mill which has its own small pay and display carpark. The place is just opening up and I will sample its delights later in the morning.

My first objective is Clitheroe Castle and I navigate a series of steep and sinuous paths to reach its ramparts. Arriving at a terrace  there is an ornate stone turret, strangely from the Houses of Parliament, presented to the borough by its MP (Sir William Brass) in 1937, in commemoration of the coronation of King George VI. Also known as the Pinnacle, it dates back to the mid-1800s when there was rebuilding work at the Palace of Westminster after a fire. P1060604P1060594P1060600

On the next tier is the oft photographed  war memorial, a sculpture of a soldier standing in a mourning pose with head bowed.  The main inscription reads “Erected by the inhabitants of Clitheroe in grateful remembrance of their fellow townsmen who gave their lives in defence of their king and country in the Great War 1914 – 1918”. The sculptor was Louis Frederick Roslyn,  (incidentally you will see the same figure at a memorial in Slaidburn) P1060608

On its rocky limestone outcrop the remains of the castle keep rise above me , up yet more steps. Built in 1186 by Robert de Lacy, the Norman keep, reputed to be the second smallest in England, was in an important strategic location. After the death of Henry de Lacy in 1311, the castle passed to the Earldom of Lancaster, and then became the property of the Duchy of Lancaster. The castle was used during the Wars of the Roses, but was soon in a state of disrepair and it  was damaged further by Parliamentary forces during the English Civil War. The castle was privately owned until 1920 when it was sold to the local council to establish a memorial to the First World War.

The medieval buildings associated with the castle have all disappeared. In the eighteenth-century Castle House in the castle grounds is a museum which of course is not open a this time of day. P1060605

I climb to the top for views over the Ribble Valley, into Yorkshire, the cement works and the nearby Pendle Hill. All a little hazy. I do spot the  white Waddow Hall, at the base of the Grindleton hills, I’ll soon be walking close by it. But first I have to find my way down. 

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Leaving the grounds I notice one of the Tercets installed at intervals on The Lancashire Witches Walk enjoyed with Sir Hugh back in 2016. P1060626

I made a special effort to come and see Dandy, the Black Dog last week and here I am again walking past him near Booths Supermarket.  The Platform Gallery at the railway station is open so I have a look around at the art and crafts on display resisting any attempt to purchase. P1060631P1060634P1060635P1060636

Time for some proper rambling. I make my way through familiar streets down to Brungerley Bridge and my reunion with the River Ribble for the third time in thee outings. A gentle stroll downstream and I see the imposing C17th Waddow Hall on the opposite bank. It has been used by girl  guides for decades but now the Association in their wisdom has decided to sell it. P1060644P1060650P1060655

The river has been placid until now where it flows over a weir and cataracts down the valley. This is where water would have been taken off into a leat for the mill downstream. Out of the woods and past all the horsey fields and tidy allotments. Down here was once a mill village, Lowmoor. In 1928 when the mill closed, there were 200 houses (many back to back), nine shops, a National school, church and two Methodist chapels. The mill was demolished but many of the houses remained now being swallowed up by a modern estate on the site of the mill. P1060657

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I pop out onto the road between the Swimming Pool and gym and head back to the river at Edisford Bridge. I walked this section less than a week ago. The riverbank being popular with young families. Still no Kingfisher.P1060667P1060668

 Across the road, the one leading to the tip, and at last onto new ground –  a field path alongside Pendleton Brook.  A hazy Pendle Hill in the background. New housing is spreading out here and soon after the railway bridge I’m hemmed in.P1060671P1060675

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Did an architect actually design this.

I recognise the buildings of Primrose Mill, an early cotton mill, which have been tastefully converted into office spaces. At Scott Bridge the culverted Mearley Brook heads through the complex before joining the for aforementioned Pendleton Brook. A fish ladder has been built along this stretch to give fish access to higher water beyond the dam of Primrose Lodge, Having spent thousands I wonder has anybody told the fish. P1060681P1060682

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Looking down onto the fish ladder.

 

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Fish ladder in construction.     ribbletrust.org.uk

Rather than walk along the road I take to the Primrose Nature Reserve which follows the valley of Mearley Brook beyond the lodge. At the end I escape up a cobbled street towards the church.P1060683P1060692P1060696

It’s noon when I find my way into the Holmes Mill complex. A former C19th Textile Mill, it was the last working cotton mill in Clitheroe, steam-driven until 1973.  Historic England  tells you all about it.  In the last ten years redevelopment has resulted in a cornucopia of beer, food, ice cream, cinema, bowling alley and hotel. I head for the Beer Hall, said to have the longest bar in England, and home to Bowland Brewery. I choose their new season pale ale – Happy Hedgehog and find a quiet corner to enjoy. There are more waiters than customers. As well as the Bowland Beers the bar holds at least 40 other drafts. Next door is the engine room with a steam engine in situ. The bistro and foodhall  are packed with customers. P1060698P1060712

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Four and a half miles and I was home for lunch. More of a verbal ramble than actual walking.

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CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE. Great Hill, Belmont and beyond.

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I keep dipping into Mark Sutcliffe’s Cicerone guidebook. I almost didn’t today, I am late up having not slept at all well (nothing unusual there), the day’s sunny start was changing and the forecast suggested rain later. But a sudden spurt of enthusiasm has me breakfasted and in the car by 10.30. I know that’s late by most peoples standards but what does it matter, there is plenty of daylight since the clocks changed. A little rain won’t hurt me.  A quick whiz around the motorways and I’m parked on the Tockholes road and starting the walk by 11.30.

I nearly came to do this walk a couple of weeks ago but the route description “a boggy indistinct path” and “the going is much tougher than it looks” were a warning especially after all this year’s rain. but some drier days have come along and my impatience gets the better of me.

All starts off well with a stony land rover track heading somewhere into the hills. I’m guided out of a noisy lapwing’s territory. The grasses have that dead yellow colour to them after the winter. The track turns a corner and becomes a boggy path which I soon manage to lose. Before long I’m staggering around amongst tussocky mounds, how can things go wrong so quickly? P1050517

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Looking back to the carpark with Cartridge Hill to the left. 

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Going…

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going…

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gone!

I can see groups coming off Great Hill over to my left but the guide says cross a gully before joining the main track. I find a way down. I pass the  ‘trial shaft’ marked on the map and come close to the long abandoned farmhouse of Pimm’s, its location next to the trees.  Four coming the other way are on a professional navigation course. Others are D of E out training, map cases attempting to strangle them in the breeze. And then I’m left to myself for the slow trudge to the top. There are 360 degree views but all a little dull for photography. When was I last up here?  November 2014 with Al “The Plastic Bag Man” – I am going to his funeral this week. Is that coincidence I am here or is some hidden agenda guiding me? P1050545

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Looking back to Darwen Tower.

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The well constructed summit shelter is tempting for an early lunch but I’ve not enough miles under my belt yet. One of those lovely Peak and Northern Footpath Society signs has me on my way southwards along Redmond’s Edge with the masts of Winter Hill beckoning from afar. It was never like this before – a paved way becomes a veritable King’s Highway across the morass. Hundreds, probably thousands, of gritstone flags ripped out of old cotton mills line the route. Lancashire had more mills than most other places in the industrial era. Some flags bear the scars of the machinery embedded into them. This modern paving is to prevent erosion, I can’t imagine how much this two mile stretch must have cost. It gives effortless strolling, is quite creative in parts but doesn’t compare with the worn flags of the packhorse trails across the Pennines. Must be great for the Mountain Bikers though. In some places the peat is fighting back. Those dry stone walls up here must have also taken some constructing. P1050571

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Onwards over Spitlers, the highest point, now on gravel and the road coming up from Belmont is reached, masts towering above us. I never realised that the River Yarrow started up here. A cyclist pulls in after her steep road ascent and we get into all things cycling, talk of electric bikes which we both eschew, for now.

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Strangely I didn’t meet many people on that last two mile stretch but those I do have dogs and bar one not on a lead. The ground bird nesting season is in full swing, Curlews, Meadow Pipits, Skylarks and Lapwings are all around. What makes dog owners ignorant of the effects of their dogs running loose across the moor? There are signs everywhere saying control your dog. Starting to get grumpy. P1050606

And then it was the noisy motor bikes hurtling past on the road. I shouldn’t get grumpy on a lovely day like this, but I do.  Fortunately after 200m I escape onto an old footpath, possibly the original way, past Hoar Stones down into Belmont.  The path is well contoured and drained, a delight to walk.  A quarry is passed with strange strata of overhanging slabs of rock. Fell ponies are cropping the grass and take very little notice of me. I arrive into the linear village far too high to consider a diversion to the Black Dog. I now in retrospect wish I had done as it was on one of our irregular meet-ups in November that I last saw Al. I irreverently call him “The Plastic Bag Man” because of his trade promoting and selling plastic packaging. Hopefully he won’t he won’t be vilified for all that environmentally damaging plastic.  So many good outings with him. P1050636P1050642P1050655

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My way onwards involves crossing the dam of Belmont Reservoir to link up with the Witton Weavers Way on the east side of the valley. But, no the way is closed for ongoing reservoir works. I had no intension of walking back up the busy A675 road. Drawing a discreet veil over my progress I find myself on the other side and on the lane up to Pasture House Farms. I share the way with a Labrador walker who’s daily route has been disrupted by the dam works. We admire the spring lambs but up ahead are cows that she is scared of, I sympathise, but then lead on to the open rough pasture where the herd. is grazing. They take no notice of us, I go north  she heads south. Yet another of those brief encounters. P1050664P1050666P1050674P1050679

Easy going on a good level track, past Lower Pasture Barn Farm, which has had several reincarnations since it was a ruin. My camera has started taking square pictures and multiple exposures, it is too fiddly to sort out on the move. Another of those P&NFS signs points up to Darwen Moor which I resist, my car park is almost insight. A hidden little path through the trees off the road takes me directly there. P1050683P1050713P1050710

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An afterword. I’ve mentioned my late friend Al (the plastic bag man) too many times in the last couple of weeks with his name and memory cropping up all over the place. Tonight on NW TV news there was a segment on a chap with the same ‘fibrosing lung disease’ waiting for a transplant. Al unfortunately wasn’t fit enough to be considered for that.

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BELOW PENDLE AGAIN.

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I’m parked up at the same spot as a couple of weeks ago in straggly RIMINGTON. There seem to be more cars about than last time, perhaps a walking group have departed some time before me. But I never meet another walker throughout this short walk. Looking again at Clitheroe Ramblers’ 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys I see this is the only one I have not completed in the past. It should prove ideal for a short off the cuff walk.

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C18th Bustards Farm, my starting point in the village.

It is a pleasure to be back on the better drained limestone hills after last weekend’s mud-bath. Straight forward walking out of the village, across fields on a concessionary path and then a footbridge across Ings Beck. Robins are singing from every tree, Jays are making a commotion in the woods, yellow Celandines are poking through and the sun is shining, so perhaps we have turned a corner in the seasons. I’m soon alongside Twiston Mill and on to the minor road. I resist the short diversion up to Witches Quarry, a popular limestone climbing venue.

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Twiston Mill.

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Its silted up mill pond.

Each chapter in the book is written by a different local author and the standard of accuracy has varied, todays is not the best and I have to resort to my OS mapping on the phone to find my way above Twiston. Its uphill all the way to meet the next minor road. I recognise some stretches from a reverse walk in March two years ago which helps. The Blackthorn Blossom is just starting, as it was last time I came this way. P1040666P1040665

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Looking back to the Ribble Valley.

All morning Pendle Hill has been looming above me, a little hazy at times and at the road its big end is directly above. The scenery changes here, I’ve left the green pastures and  venture onto the open moors for a stretch above Coolham Farm. This is the highest I get on Pendle’s skirts. I have to imagine Ingleborough and Pen-Y-Ghent ahead of me in the haze but can pick out Rimington far below.P1040670P1040673

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Out of nowhere a wall enclosed green lane appears heading down from Twiston Moor. I follow it, doglegging, until alongside a deep wooded clough, the upper reaches of Ings Beck. I try to take some pictures of the red buds on the Larches here but the breeze makes it difficult to focus. P1040683P1040680P1040691P1040687P1040695

Just outside the garden of Clough Head Farm is the Thomas Peel Bulcock memorial of which I knew nothing. It was erected by Thomas Bulcock in 1863 in memory of his son buried here and other relations buried in Whalley and Downham churchyards. The Bulcock family apparently had a long association with the area. P1040698P1040701

Having passed through the farmyard I find myself in one of the longest fields I’ve seen in these parts. Back to green pastures I wander down the hillside to come out onto a familiar lane. P1040704P1040705P1040710

From there I traverse the hillsides above the Ings Beck where silver rich lead was mined for many years. I wrote about this last time. Today I find the remains of the limekiln for the little limestone quarry and pass the mine managers cottage. Oh and that lamp post in the middle of nowhere.

Knowing the way I am soon back into sleepy Rimington. P1040739P1040746

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The converted Black Bull and Cosgroves ladies clothing shop. 

 A sprightly five miles.

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RIMINGTON – ‘Time flies swiftly away’.

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For a change you may start this post with a  piece of music to set the scene.

The  tune is the hymn ‘Rimington’, composed by Francis Duckworth. He was born in the Ribble Valley village of Rimington on Christmas Day 1862 at the grocery store, now a house. When he was five he moved with his family to nearby Stopper Lane, where they ran the village shop next door to a Wesleyan Chapel and hand loom cottages, now all private residences. Francis’s mother died when he was 12 and he began a hard life of working in various family shops. He later opened his own grocer’s shop in Colne. He was well known throughout the area as an accomplished musician and organist and composed many hymns, often named after local villages. ‘Rimington’ appeared in 1904. He remained in Colne until his death in 1941. He is buried in nearby Gisburn’s churchyard where his memorial is inscribed with the first couple of lines of his famous hymn.

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We find ourselves parked this morning in that village of Rimington to follow another walk from Clitheroe Ramblers – 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys. Once again under the shadow of Pendle Hill, only a few miles from touristy Downham where I was a couple of weeks ago. But there are no tourists here, it is a curious village strung out along the lane with no obvious centre and a variety of housing styles. The Black Bull pub mentioned in the guide is nowhere to be seen, presumably closed. 

Anyhow we find our footpath heading into the fields – it is marked as a Heritage Trail, of which we know nothing. Some of the stiles are hard to spot with the sun in our eyes; as is Pendle towering above us. Yes, at last the sun is making a weak appearance today. In places the stiles have been replaced by those utilitarian galvanised kissing gates. I’m still not bowled over by them, being a dyed in the wool old git; see below. Anyway we head towards a farm through more tradional old gate posts and past a street light in the middle of nowhere. Bits of limestone break through the grass giving us a clue to the geology of the area. P1040511P1040514P1040517P1040519P1040522

Before we go farther I would like to do a poll on which of the following you feel is most appropriate in our countryside, assuming progress has to be made. Galvanised or green?

 Disused mines are marked on our map, perhaps they are something to do with the heritage trail. On the ground, pits start to appear all over the hillside and across the other side of Ings Valley. Apparently silver rich lead was recovered from here originally in the C17th from bell pits and later on an industrial scale from mine shafts. A smelt mill was built in the C19th.  “Between 1880 and 1885 the York & Lancaster United Mining Co. Ltd sank a shaft and raised some ore. Unfortunately, James Wiseman, the banksman in charge of the shaft top, fell down the shaft and was killed in September 1884”  This latter information I gleamed later from the internet where Rimington’s heritage is well represented. We should have known this before to fully appreciate and interpret the area. P1040526P1040528P1040530P1040529

We come across a small limestone quarry but fail to spot its limekiln.P1040532

There is probably a lot of heritage around here.

In the distance below Pendle is listed but modernised Clough Head Farm. We are almost on the border of Lancashire and Yorkshire hereabouts. I remember when White Rose flags were flown in Gisburn long after it had been assimilated into Lancashire. Lanes, which switchback the slopes, bring us to Middop Hall, C17th and again listed but without much change. A grand display of mullioned windows. Somewhere in the barn are remnants of Sawley Abbey. The stone from the abbeys must have been reused in many farms in the area, we have  passed some at Little Mearley Hall before. P1040536P1040537P1040543P1040541

Shortly after leaving Widdop Hall we get into conversation with a friendly farmer on his quad bike. After the usual discussion on the weather he opens up and tells us he lives at the Hall and relates its history. If only we had met him down there we may have had a closer look around.

Onwards on the deserted lane with more ups and downs than I want. Then we are heading up onto the slopes of Weets Hill to join the Pennine Bridleway on Coal Pit Lane, more heritage there.
P1040548P1040550From this elevated position the Three Yorkshire Peaks are just visible but too hazy to photograph. It is a slightly better view down the Ribble Valley towards the Parlick and Fairsnape group of Bowland. And of course you can’t get away from Pendle in these parts.P1040551P1040553Soon we are on the return leg, again on quiet lanes, through the hamlets of Howgill, Newby and Stopper Lane. Lots of interesting buildings are passed and we guess at their original purposes.

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A lot we walk past without a second glance, never mind a photograph. We do notice the plaque to Duckworth in Stopper Lane, but had no idea of the industry here. The historic photo is of the village’s joinery shop with its ‘windmill’. Screenshot 2024-02-24 213325Screenshot 2024-02-24 213447Here abouts is the village institute hall, a good half mile out of the village proper. But it does have an information board which tells us, all too late, about the Heritage Trail we have almost followed. P1040562

If you are planning to visit this area be sure to download this map from their website. https://www.rimington.org.uk/index.php/rimington-s-heritage/heritage-trail   We wish we had and feel the need to go back and check out our omissions. 

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The sundial on Martin Top Chapel, under scafolding today, is a reminder that this life we live is short and fleeting, and also seems to comment on the changes that have occured quite rapidly in these working villages in our lifetime.

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IN THE SHADOW OF PENDLE.

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After all that arty stuff over in Yorkshire last week it is time to get back to some proper Lancashire walking.

This walk is described as a classic in the booklet published by Clitheroe Ramblers – 25 Walks in the Ribble and Hodder Valleys. An excellent little production from 2004 with several authors describing their favourite local walks. I can vouch for most of them.

Wednesday is the only decent day of the week before a yellow warning for snow and ice. I thought of going for my usual cycle ride around Morecambe Bay and visiting Sir Hugh, but he turns out to be occupied, it can wait till another time when he is free. All this thinking and procrastinating and it is nearly lunchtime. Who else would be free for a quick short walk – I phone JD and he says he will be ready in 15 minutes, that’s what friend are for. Somehow I feel I need company today.

An easy drive and we are parked up by the little stream in Downham, one of the prettiest villages in Lancashire. The estate does not allow overhead electricity lines, aerials or satellite dishes etc , making it a popular location for period films. The classic 1961 film Whistle Down the Wind was based on the area and more recently the BBC 1 series Born and Bred. Many of the buildings in the village and surroundings are listed, including the stone bridge we are parked by.

But we haven’t come to look at the houses, no we have a brisk 5 miles to walk in the limestone country below towering Pendle. The guide book is very functional and basically just gives you directions without any historic or geological embellishments.

Chapter 14. A Downham Classic. Gill Morpeth.

We are soon unto fields heading towards Worsaw End Farm and there below us is the barn where Alan Bates (AKA Jesus or ‘the man’) sought refuge from the law and entranced the children from the village in that famous 1961 film, Whistle Down the Wind. Hayley Mills is the girl feeding and protecting him. I have just found out that the original novel was written in ’59 by Mary Hayley Bell, wife of John Mills and mother of the star Hayley Mills. If you get a chance to watch this black and white movie you will recognise a lot of the scenery but it is deeper than you think with strong allegorical passages as well as Lancashire humour.  “he’s not Jesus, he’s just a fella”

The phrase ‘Whistle down the wind’ comes from Falconry. When falcons are released to hunt they are sent upwind and when turned loose for recreation they are sent downwind. So down the wind is to be cast off to find ones own path. There is no wind today and we have a map so perhaps there are no similarities to be drawn. We just get on with walk.

Above us is the rounded Worsaw Hill, a grassed over limestone reef knoll which today is popular with the local sheep. I went up it once for a spectacular view down the Ribble Valley, well Clitheroe Cement works at least. We pass briefly into the yard of the farm featured in the film and than are back into fields alongside the meandering Worston Brook. We spot an almost hidden ‘packhorse bridge’. The water looks so clear, having come down from Pendle. I remember fishing as a child for Crayfish in these Pennine becks. I met a woman recently who was doing some research for DEFRA on crayfish in certain locations, they are apparently a very good indication of water pollution.

We approach Worston but don’t visit it, half a dozen houses and a good rural inn, The Calf’s Head. Instead we take a direct route up the fields towards Pendle. I don’t recognise this way, but when I look at my map from the last time I have, So much for my memory. I do know I have been past Little Mearley Hall many times and point out the windows supposedly taken from Sawley Abbey after the dissolution. I warn JD about the tied up dog that will surprise us round the side of the barn, yes he is still there today but seems to have lost his bark. The farmer is busy planting new mixed hedging along the way, they have grubbed up so much in the past..

The walk now follows for a mile or so a line of farms scattered at the foot of Pendle, Angram Green, Moorside, Barkerfield and Hookcliffe, all looking ancient and steeped in Lancashire’s countryside. As always with JD the conversation is stimulating and far reaching. We are making good time without stopping as I want to delver him home to help his wife with the grandchildren after school.

Cutting across fields towards another reef knoll the guide mentions a barn at Gerna a strange name for these parts, ?Nordic. The farm itself has been gentrified.

Soon we are following the lively beck back into Downham, the cottages here having the water run under there front entrances.

That’s been a quick walk for me, just two hours for the five miles which bodes well for my rehabilitation into longer trips, of which I have a few in mind.

Here’s a few snaps to give you a flavour of the area and maybe entice you to Downham for this enjoyable walk.

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Pretty Downham cottage.

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Worsaw Hill.

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The ‘Jesus’ barn.

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Disappearing bridge over Worston Beck. 

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Hazy view down the Ribble Valley. Kemple End, Beacon Fell and Parlick.

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JD hoping we don’t have to go all the way up Pendle. 

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Little Mearley Hall with the Sawley windows to the left. 

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A little disinterested today. 

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Good to see hundreds of mixed hedging plants going in. 

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Don’t follow your satnav, they were soon coming back. 

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Diversifying into paper cups.

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More limestone knolls below Pendle, and Rad Brook.

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Downham Beck. 

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Another pretty Downham cottage.

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THE FINAL STANZA?

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It never used to be so busy at the Cow and Calf Rocks’ carpark  A bright Saturday has brought crowds up here above an equally busy Ilkley. We are here to find the last of Simon Armitage and Pipa Hall’s  Stanza Stone Poems, Beck, hidden in Backstone Beck where the latter comes down at speed towards the town. I have downloaded some ‘simple’ directions but am afraid I may get distracted by the nearby climbing crags.

Ilkley Quarry, the Cow and Calf and the Rocky Valley were favourite haunts of my early climbing days. There was plenty of traditional excitement to be had on the rounded gritstone. But no let’s find the poetry stone first.

‘Take the path out of the car park’ was an obvious start, we could manage that. The paths are more well used than I remember them, were they even here back then? But there are lots of them going off in all directions. And there are people in all directions too. Some coming up from Ilkley by way of the tarn, most like us wandering from the Cow and Calf and others from over the moor. Dogs, in all shapes and sizes, are everywhere, which gives Zola plenty of canine interactions, Clare is on hand to call her in when things are starting to get out of hand. I am amazed that she can bound off into the distance (Zola, not Clare), in a place she has never set foot in, and keep reappearing at our heels. The bracken is dead which helps us find the narrower paths. All the time we have a panoramic view of Ilkley down below in the Aire valley. P1020983P1020984

‘Head towards a plantation’ was the next  instruction, yes, but which one? A solitary Stanza Poem fingerpost then takes some of the adventure away. The sound of the beck meant we were close. ‘Scramble up alongside the beck’ was our instruction – but steps have been provided recently. ‘Squeeze through between a gorse bush and a boulder’  the guide says. But someone has cut the gorse bush back. Is this all down to the YouTube/Instagram/what three words phenomena creating honey pots in our wild countryside? I’m beginning to feel a little cheated, this was to be the climax of our poetry trail with the most difficult stone to find. Zola obviously finds it for us, but then in the end we have it completely to ourselves. P1020990P1020995P1020996

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False trail 

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Is this what you are looking for?

What a spot, a wild tumbling beck with the brown bracken clinging to the hillside. Water is splashing around the rocks and there in the centre of it all is the Stanza Stone. A proud boulder sitting in the flow as was Pipa Hall when she carved out the letters. We ask ourselves how did they find this elysian place?  P1030027

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It is all one chase.
Trace it back the source
might be nothing more than a teardrop
squeezed from a Curlew’s eye,
then follow it down to the full-throated roar
at its mouth – a dipper strolls the river
dressed for dinner in a white bib.
The unbroken thread of the beck
with its nose for the sea
all flux and flex, soft-soaping a pebble
for thousands of years, or here
after hard rain, sawing the hillside in half
with its chain. Or here, where water unbinds
and hangs at the waterfall’s face, and
just for that one, stretched white moment
becomes lace.
©Simon Armitage 2010

A bit of precarious scrambling had us up close to the poem which is slowly taking on the patina of all the other water splashed rocks. What will it be like in another ten, twenty or fifty years? all a very short period of time for the stones up here on the moor. The references to the curlew and the dipper are perfect for the situation. If you have read any of Simon Armitage’s poems you will recognise his acute observation, engagement and ability to weave his words. If you haven’t, a good start would be an anthology of his writings – Paper Aeroplane, 1989 – 2014. The title poem at the very end is one of my favourites, a self-effacing offering worlds apart from Tennyson, Simon is no stuffy Poet Laureate.

Where next? Well I had suggested we explore the wild moor looking for those thousand years old markings in the rocks up here. Cup and ring marks and geometric carvings. I won’t bore you with our subsequent wanderings. Zola probably derived the most benefit from the open moorland obstacle course. Did we find any? I can’t say for certain, lets just leave it there. I don’t know who C Clark and Crackety Jack are.P1030074P1030048P1030051P1030053P1030062P1030111P1030094P1030100P1030120

Our only trophy was stumbling across a ‘poetry seat’ constructed in line with the poems. The sign said Marsden 451/4 miles, where we had started with Snow up in the quarries at Pule Hill in October. We have not walked the whole trail but picked off the stones on the way – Rain, Mist, Dew, Puddle and now Beck. Whichever way you approach it this gives a wonderful feeling for the Pennine scenery, the vagrancies of its weather and the talent and inspiration of the poetry team.

Going with the flow Clare posts a poem into the letter box. I wonder when it will next emerge.P1030088P1030087P1030083P1030080

On our way back to the car I indulge in some reminiscing of those carefree climbing days long ago. P1030103P1030109P1030123

There was no congratulatory drink in the nearby Cow and Calf Inn, a quick toilet stop and I was happy to be on my way home before all those high intensity car headlights had chance to confuse me. How the mighty have fallen.

***

There is however a post script. Our journey is not yet done.

The final Stanza?  Armitage and Hall spoke about a seventh, hidden Stanza Stone. Although they disputed its size, both agreed it was fairly small and had been placed within either a “wooden casket” or “hollowed-out log”.  Armitage added: “We took it to a place above Hebden Bridge, where the Ted Hughes poem ‘Six Young Men’ is set, and placed it under the riverbank there.” Shortly afterwards the valley was flooded, “so we’ve no idea where it is now. It’s either in the Atlantic, or in the North Sea – or lying in someone’s cellar in Todmorden”.

Let me know if you come across it.

***

Screenshot 2024-01-25 163951

SCULPTURES DOWN THE EDEN.

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 Eden Benchmarks are a series of ten contemporary stone sculptures located at intervals along the length of the river Eden between its source above the Mallerstang valley and Rockliffe, north of Carlisle, where it runs into the Solway Firth.
 “Each sculptor worked in residence for six weeks and this enabled them to formulate their ideas by familiarising themselves with the locations and talking with local people, including schools, who were encouraged to visit their workshops to see the sculptures taking shape. The artists’ brief allowed as much creative freedom as possible to produce site-specific sculpture, which harmonises with the landscape and captures the essence of each unique locality.
 Collectively the sculptures give visual expression to our awareness of the river’s ecology and the need to look after it; individually they foster a profound sense of place, their capacity as seats accommodating an interactive focus for quiet reflection.”

These sculptures were funded and commissioned by the East Cumbria Countryside Project group in 1996. It disbanded in 2008 when funding dried up, but the sculptures are still there even if not officially cared for.

I have already discovered the first two in the last couple of days, ‘WATER CUT’ in Mallerstang and ‘PASSAGE’ in Stenkrith Park, Kirkby Stephen. Today I intended to visit as many of the remaining eight before I ran out of daylight. It would mean more driving than walking, I had plotted a route down the Eden between all the village sites. The satnav on my new phone proved invaluable.

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I’d enjoyed my two nights at the Black Bull in Nateby and they sent me off with a hearty breakfast, I didn’t eat again until I was back home in the evening. I stopped briefly in Kirby Stephen to take that photo of Lady Anne Clifford’s statue which I used yesterday. I noticed this seat with its friendly notice, I didn’t have time for chatting but what a good idea. As the benchmarks have all been sculptured to provide a seat to sit and contemplate this was a good start to the day.P1010658

A mad dash up the scary A66 and I was taking the road into Appleby. A little side lane, Bongate, lead down to an old ford over the Eden by a derelict mill and a small carpark. At the edge of the carpark was a rough looking boulder – could this be the benchmark? It was only when I walked around the other side of it that I could see fully the carved flower. I brushed the leaves aside and sat in it for awhile watching the river flow by. Stunning.

‘THE PRIMROSE STONE’ by Joss Smith at Bongate near Appleby.

Shaped from a nine ton block of St Bees Sandstone, the Primrose Stone magnifies the ‘inscape’ of the much loved first rose of spring. As you approach the sculpture from behind it looks like a rough erratic boulder and the carved petals of the flower at the front come as a surprise. It envelops the sitter in a bowl shape that is positively seductive and, like a primeval satellite dish, amplifies the sights, sounds and smells of the river”.

 Joss Smith lives in London. His work is mainly studio based and traditionally figurative but has recently been making accessible sculptures for public places.

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*

 I needed more time to explore Appleby but I was soon on the way farther north. I found a bit of roadside parking by the cricket pitch on the outskirts of Temple Sowerby and strode across muddy fields towards the river. You can see the state of the ground after all the heavy rain. The sculpture came as a surprise with the spheres scattered over the surface ripples. There was a distinct feeling of motion as the spheres ran into the river. I loved the ripple effects she had created around each grain.

‘Red River’ by Victoria Brailsford at Temple Sowerby.

“The stepped slabs of Lazonby Sandstone in this sculpture represent the contours of the landscape and its light, shade, pattern, shape and form. The spheres, reminiscent of gigantic pebbles in a fast moving stream, are a powerful evocation of the river and its energy but also, like hugely enlarged grains of sand, recall the origins of sandstone in the shifting sand dunes of Triassic Cumbria”

 Victoria Brailsford’s  work relates to ecological issues and ranges from charcoal drawings to wood carving and large stone sculptures. P1010107P1010110P1010117P1010116P1010140P1010120

*

 Back across the boggy fields and reset the satnav for Edenhall, a tiny red sandstone hamlet across the river from Langwathby. I park in a small pull off and ask the couple on the adjoining garden if I’m OK there. They don’t see many strangers in the village and I explain my mission. They are proud of their nearby Benchmark and regale me with their favourites, they haven’t made it to the Water Cut in Mallerstang as yet. I leave them to their pond maintenance and walk down the lane towards the squat red sandstone C12th church. I turn off at the wheel headed cross, the base looks ancient but the shaft as is often the case much more modern, There used to be a manor house down here which explains the churches isolated position surrounded by parkland. It also explains the name of the river bank walk I was about to set of along – The Ladies Walk. Built for the manor house occupants, a level path above the river with old iron railings and stone seats at intervals, fit for a lady. Not sure how far along I would have to go, met a bloke walking the other way but he knew nothing of Benchmarks. Up some steps and there is the sculpture. Two curved pieces of red sandstone in juxtaposition. They have graceful curving lines and wonderfully detailed surface rippling. The low lying one is being gradually covered by green moss and for a moment I think of cleaning it to reveal the detail, but I stop myself in time. These sculptures were specifically envisaged to reflect the landscape and now I feel they are slowly becoming part of it. That is probably hidden praise for the sculptor’s skill in the first place. I was warned that the ongoing path was flooded so I turned tail  and followed the  ladies alongside the ever enlarging river.

‘South Rising’ by Vivien Mousdell on Ladies Walk at Edenhall.

“Made from Lazonby Sandstone, ‘South Rising’ pays tribute to a vigorous ecosystem, representing the river’s perpetual journey and the annually recurring movements of migrating fish and birds. The horizontal stone alludes to the river itself, flowing north, and the tall vertical stone, with perhaps a passing resemblance to Long Meg, inclines south toward the rivers distant source. Chiselled with a surface texture reminiscent of water reflected sunlight, both stones have been carved in sweeping curves like the surrounding landscape, creating a rhythmic energy passing from one to the other”

 Vivien Mousdell trained in ceramics but switched to wood and stone carving and letter cutting. A skilled and versatile artist she has specialised in public commissions such as the stone boundary markers on the Cleveland Way and a variety of wood carvings on the Whitehaven to Ennerdale cycle path. She is also a puppet maker and performer and video artist. Some people are just so talented.

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 *

 Straight up little lanes in picturesque scenery, through Great Salkeld, I need to visit Long Meg and her Daughters on the other side of the river some day. Down there by the river are Lacy’s caves, chambers carved into the soft sandstone, which I distinctly remember from my Eden Way walk all those years ago. There was also an excellent climbing crag which is unfortunately now banned. Public footpaths and access are at a premium along this stretch which is a disgrace. The Settle-Carlisle line comes through the middle of Lazonby, I duck under it and head for the riverside picnic area. The Eden is in full flow. In rather drab surroundings the next benchmark lies low in the grass, can you spot it? P1010747P1010724

This one really is becoming organic. Moss is taking over and obscuring most of the stones’  cyphers. I see the sun or is it moon at one end and that’s about it. I do like the view up to the graceful bridge though.

‘Cypher Piece’ by Frances Pelly at Lazonby.

“The sculptor presents us with a series of puzzles to be decoded. The combined stones mimic the river landscape and contain various references to human history. A sun and moon have been carved at one end of the sculpture representing the winter solstice and a variety of images are portrayed elsewhere, including a fish, a Roman 1996, a Celtic horses head’ a rams horn and decorations taken from a Norse tomb”

 Frances Pelly lives in Orkney. As well as carving stone she also works in bronze.  P1010738P1010732P1010733P1010740

 *

 Where next? A short drive along the valley to another delightful village, Armathwaite. This a spot I know well having climbed on the riverside crags many happy times. I parked at the bridge and walked through the grounds of the Fox and Pheasant and up into Coombe Woods on a carpet of leaves until quite high above the river and the crags. The path leveled out and there was the carved block in a ring of smaller stones. I could easily pick out the intricate carvings of discarded clothing from the bloke who has gone for a swim. What an imagination, the sculptor’s not mine. I found a lower way back closer to the roaring river. A magic stretch of water.

‘Vista’ by Graeme Mitcheson in Coombs Wood near Armathwaite.

“A solitary walker reaches a plateau in Coombs Wood where beneath him, between the trees, he can see the winding river Eden. Nine stones form an ellipse in clearing. It is a hot day and he removes his clothes and goes for a swim. This sculpture is about walking in the countryside and being at one with nature. The largest of the stones is carved with representations of various items of clothing and a map, which also functions as a sundial. A tiny face depicted on the cap is reference to a series of faces carved on the cliffs below in 1885 by William Mounsey who famously walked the length of the Eden”

 Graeme Mitcheson  lives in Derbyshire. His work is based in traditional stone masonry and he turns his hand to everything from commissions for bird baths and garden ornaments to architectural restoration and memorials.

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 An easy drive and I was parked on the village green at Wetheral near the church. It was just after one o’clock and for the first time I thought I might make the Solway today. A steep little lane took me down to the river and there was the next sculpture on a flat piece of land. This was a large affair, a bench with angels’ wings, cushions and arched panels reflecting the nearby bridge.

‘Flight of Fancy’ by Tim Shutter at Wetheral.

“The steep scale of the wooded bank across the river and the soaring viaduct combine to give the feeling of an outdoor cathedral. ‘Flight of Fancy’ plays with this ecclesiastical sense of lifting the spirit with angel’s wings, church style masonry and very convincingly carved prayer cushions”

 Tim Shutter is a master stone mason in the classical tradition. He is based in London.

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Back on the village green I became distracted by some tiny yellow fungi hidden in the grass -possibly Golden Waxcaps? There’s beauty in the minutiae too. P1010844

 *

 I was apprehensive of my detour into the centre of Carlisle for my penultimate benchmark. I new there was some parking near the castle so I asked my phone to take me there. It was clever enough to warn me that “the castle may be close today” Despite the heavy traffic delays I eventually arrived in the car park but couldn’t understand how to operate the pay machine. Two ladies took pity on me and as they had just finished their shopping spree gave me there still in time ticket. I felt the day was slipping away with these delays. P1010850

I walked towards the river only to find another car park without charges, the dog walkers used this one. Somehow rivers either bring a city to life or become subjugated into the background. The river Eden in Carlisle is of the latter character – lost between rail, roads and industrial sites or maybe it was the dullness of the afternoon that prejudiced me. The four stones were set in a line in the parkland alongside the river. Strange angular carvings which didn’t relate easily to me, erosion usually produces smoother features. OK they are smooth on one side but I find the other angles jarring.

‘Toward the Sea’ by Hideo Furuta in Bitts Park at Carlisle.

“The four components of this sculpture are manifestations of the sculptor’s intense and mathematical explorations of the stone itself and, almost incidentally, describe a sequence of water eroded stone running parallel with the flow of the river nearby”

 Hideo Furuta sadly died in 2007 aged 57. He was an artist of international standing and was based at a granite quarry  in Dumfries and Galloway. P1010853P1010861P1010862

 *

 Maybe I was a bit harsh about Carlisle as I know from my trip on the Hadrian Wall path that the Eden is in magnificent form either side of the city. Anyhow I was pleased to find an easy way out of the city to my last destination, the village of Rockcliffe on the Eden before it slips into the Solway.

The clock had turned three and the light was fading and I couldn’t find anywhere to park. I eventually used the carpark of a nearby pub and walked on down past the church to a little red cliffed bay area next to the river. Flood debris showed that it is often underwater. At the end I could see my final benchmark and thankfully it was a thing of beauty reminding me bizarrely of the amoebae I used to study under the microscope. How does the sculptor achieve such smoothness and shapes out of a block of sandstone? My only thought is that it could have been positioned closer to the Solway estuary itself but there may have been practical reasons against that. Here I saw the river slipping around the corner into that unseen estuary. I found a place to sit inside it and watched the sun fading in the greyness over the flat marshlands.

‘Global Warming’ by Anthony Turner at Rockcliffe.

“The title of this sculpture is indicative of its global perspective. Situated where the river Eden flows out to sea there is an expanding awareness of the wider world. It could simply be a huge sea creature washed onto the shore but it conveys the sense of an even bigger scale. There is a mysterious pregnant silence about it and it resembles a planet earth held carefully in a hand. The term global warming is now ominously synonymous with the world overheating yet we would like it to mean a nurturing, life enhancing glow”

 Anthony Turner was born in Kenya. A self taught painter and sculptor.  Recalling his childhood in Africa his sculptures are organic, exotic and sensual.

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*

 What a journey. I didn’t expect to reach all the Benchmarks today but time just seemed to flow for me. You must admit these sculptures are so impressive and yet so diverse. At each one I felt a strong connection with the artist, the stone and the setting. It is too late for me to rewalk the Eden Way but wouldn’t that be a finer way to appreciate the river and take in these works of art.

I’m back home after an easy motorway journey from Carlisle and preparing to visit my cousin and her husband down in Derbyshire. In the past I have shared walks with him but now he has advanced dementia and is bed bound.  Maybe I’ll show him some pictures of the River Eden.

EDEN VALLEY, MALLERSTANG.

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Time to head into the hills. After a good breakfast I  was ready to be away fairly early from the pub. Interestingly the garage opposite had more farmers’ quad bikes in for servicing than cars. P1010656

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Refueling.

It was a short drive up the valley into Mallerstang proper. On the way I passed the ruins of Pendragon Castle. The early morning light was so clear that I made a quick photographic stop in case things were murkier when I returned, it starts getting dark between three and four.

There is a lot of legend associated with the castle. it was supposedly built by Uther Pendragon, the father of King Arthur. It is said he tried to divert the river to form a moat.

A well known local couplet goes –

    Let Uther Pendragon do what he can,                                                                                                     Eden will run where Eden ran.

 The castle was built during the reign of King Rufus in the 12th century by Ranulph de Meschines,  After attacks by Scottish raiders in 1541 it became uninhabitable until the C17th when Lady Anne Clifford inherited it. She rebuilt it and added to it in 1660. It remained one of the favourites among her many castles until her death in 1676 at the age of 86. She spent her time between Skipton Castle and here in Westmorland  becoming involved with local affairs and restoring several nearby churches. A long distance walk tracing her travels passes this way. There is a statue of her in Kirkby Stephen market place. P1010666

 Her successor, the Earl of Thanet, had no use for the castle and removed anything of value from it, By the 1770s much of the building had collapsed. It now stands as a romantic ruin with pointy Wild Boar Fell in the background. P1010185P1010188P1010189

Whilst wandering around the ruins I was treated to a flypast by a Lockheed Hercules. P1010205

I drove through Outhgill which I visited yesterday and parked up at The Thrang for a walk I had picked off the net. It would take me up to the first Eden Benchmark, Water Cut – before visiting Hell Gill and its waterfalls, and then wandering back past valley farms.P1010209

Quite a broad track headed away from the valley floor, an old bridleway to Hawes at the head of Wensleydale. All the rivulets coming down from Mallerstang Edge were in full flow and my feet were wet after the first ford crossing. P1010224P1010221

That dot on the horizon turned out to be the benchmark in its very prominent position – how come I have never spotted it before? After some steady walking and a few more fords it was reached at about 420m. P1010225

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Water Cut by Mary Bourne. 1996. 

Water Cut is located a few miles from the source of the river Eden, high up on the eastern side of the Mallerstang valley. Like a huge milestone, it stands alongside the ancient green road known as Lady Anne Clifford’s Way. The space carved between the two vertical pillars creates the shape of a meandering river in the sky and provides a ‘window’ onto the real river in the valley below. It also symbolises the power of the river Eden cutting through the rock on its journey through East Cumbria and our own human journeys through the rural landscape and through life. Made from Salterwath Limestone, taken from a quarry near Shap, it also resembles the gate posts and stiles in drystone walls, which are so characteristic of the area, whilst it’s outer curve makes reference to the viaduct arches on the nearby Settle-Carlisle railway.”

Mary Bourne is an accomplished stone carver,  living in the North East Scotland. Her work explores forms of the landscape and her relationship with the natural environment.

I played about with various camera angles. The more I looked they resembled two salmon leaping, are there salmon in the Eden?

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From up here one has good views north along Mallerstang Edge and across the valley to Wild Boar Fell. The limestone lower layers contrasting with the overlying gritstone.

Not much farther I came to Hell Gill, I could hear it well before I reached the bridge over it. A deep rift in the limestone tearing down the hillside with thrashing waters in its depths. This was dramatic. I tried to get views down into the canyon but it was sensibly well fenced off. All was green mossy and ferny, I think there are fairies down there. P1010346P1010352P1010366P1010372P1010377P1010388P1010398P1010401

The water tumbled on down the hillside and I followed. It came to a welcome rest at a ford. P1010409P1010418P1010422P1010424P1010433

But what was that noise? A small steep detour and I could see the next and probably the best cataract. A video should have been taken. P1010440P1010451

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My boots were under water crossing the fast flowing ford.  P1010462

It must be all downhill from here but the next few miles tried my patience. I was basking in the beauty of Mallerstang and yet struggling to find the bridleway marked on the map on the ground. There was a lot more rough walking to come. It tended to keep above the top intake wall and hence involved tussocky grass and boggy areas. Few people use this way. P1010464P1010480P1010513P1010533

There were a few more waterfalls to admire and the light on the other side of the valley was beautiful. No steam on the Settle to Carlisle today.P1010550P1010472P1010477P1010466

Eventually I made my way to the valley bottom and along by the Eden back to my car just as the sun was going down behind Wild Boar Fell.P1010539P1010565P1010572P1010579

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I would highly recommend this walk, it packs a lot into those 6 miles without going onto the tops. I never saw another person.

Mallerstang-trail.pdf (edenriverstrust.org.uk)

***

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THE POETRY PATH. KIRKBY STEPHEN.

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 Twelve short poems, interpreting the hill farmer’s life throughout the year, written by Meg Peacocke, have been carved by lettering artist Pip Hall (0f Stanza Poems fame) on blocks of stone on a circular walk either side of the river Eden just outside Kirkby Stephen. Each stone also has an engraving depicting the month’s theme.  There was a handy car park at Stenkrith Bridge as this is also the start of another walk on the old rail track over three viaducts.  I was amazed at the flow of water through the little gorge below the bridge, a hidden thundering cataract. A little metal bridge took me over the water into the park.P1000777P1010052P1000791P1000785
 Alongside the path in the trees the first of the poems, well actually it was the ninth, October (Sheep Sales) as I had come into the trail half way round. Two stones, one of sandstone and the other Limestone. It was just possible to make out the poem.
 
 Sandstone. A desert wind, grain by grain, laid down these rocks. How did we trace a path through ancient dunes?
 Limestone. A million blanched and compacted shells. How did we swim through the drift and not perish?
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 The next poem, November (Tupping Time) was on a pair of upright stone slabs, again at the edge of the woods next to some spectacular rapids in the Eden.
 
 Through hazels and alders, softly or in spate, Eden moves in the valley it has hallowed  from Mallerstang to the shifting Solway sands.
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 I diverted from the poetry Path to try and find my first Eden Benchmark which was described after two of the poems. I could find no sign of it alongside the river and wondered whether it could have been washed away in the frequent floods. I was not entirely sure what I was looking for so I gave up and headed across the fields to the next poem, a Haiku.  December (Tree Planting)  I found them lying flat in the field.
 
  There sails the heron  drawing behind him  a long wake of solitude.P1000838P1000841
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 Next to Swingy Bridge was an upright stone commencing the year in January (Hedge Laying)
 
 The sky’s harsh crystal, wind a blade, trees stripped, grass dull with cold. Life is a kernel hidden in the stone of winter.
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A close up of the hedge laying motif showing how difficult they were to pick out.

 Having crossed the Eden I now followed an old sunken path through the woods on the other bank.
February’s (Cattle brought in for winter) poem was a stark tower of four blocks.
 
 Snowlight peers at the byre door. Neither day nor night, Four months ago we fetched the cattle in, safe from reiving wind and rain, months of standing shifting, burdened with patience. When will winter end?
Thin strakes of run on the byre door. Fork a load of silage out, straighten your back to watch them shove their muzzles in, and wonder if they crave the hazy nights when they can roam among tall summer grasses, sleek and sound and warm.  P1000862P1000877
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 The path crossed a small but lively stream and the March (Walling) poem’s block was in the water itself. Apparently when they were deciding where to place this stone it slipped from its cradle but landed perfectly in the water.
 
 From field and fell run cols run small. I am the rain tear in the eye blood in the vein I am the sea.  
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 April (Lambing) was built into the stone wall on the right. If the stone was already in the wall, which I assume it was, it is a sign of the walls antiquity.
 
 Coltsfoot, celandine, earliest daisies. Twin lambs race to the mother, baby cries, Mam! Mam! Jolt out of them and now they jostle the ragged ewe, boosting each split hoof high off the bitten turf. Pinching jaws and hard curled coats are braced against these April suns and sleets.  P1000904P1000908
 
 Farther on just before a bridge over the old railway line and again built into a wall was the larger May (Paling) poem. Another piece of ancient wall. Look at those lovely lichens growing on the rock.
 
 Penned in a huddle, the great tups are clints of panting stone. The shepherd lifts a sideways glance from the labour of dagging tails. His hands are seamed with muck and sweat runs into his eyes. Above us, a plane has needled the clear blue.  P1000914P1000915P1000917
 
 After the bridge June (Gathering and marking sheep) was found in the undergrowth on the right. The two blocks look as though they have come out of a mill floor.
 
 Light drops like honey from branch to branch. Elders balance their dishes of cream, while fledglings try small quivery leaps, testing buoyancy of the air.  P1000926P1000929P1000927
 
 I followed the path down to join the track of the old railway, part of the longer viaducts walk. July (Haymaking and silage) was soon encountered, a large rough block of limestone there on the left.
 
 Silage. Tractor incises the first green furrow. Skilful geometrician, the driver judges an arc of weather. P1000938P1000940P1000941P1000946
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Farther along August’s (Showing sheep at shows) poem is semi hidden in the trees to the right. A large weathering sandstone block with a white patina of lichens encroaching on the lettering.
 
 Crabapples tart on the tongue, Hazelnuts milky, Rosehips cool in the hand, Thistledown silky.  Squirrel is speaking his mind.
Knapweed purples the banks.
For touch, taste, smell, sight, hearing I give thanks.”
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 The last poem on my circuit was September (Farmer’s markets) a block of shaped red sandstone maybe reflecting the railway’s past. The bold lettering adding to the effect.
 
 Revetted banks, a concrete post. Rabbits tunnel the cinder waste. Angle iron, link of broken chain. Listen, and catch the hiss of steam again. P1000982P1000989
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I have transcribed the poems above as photographs don’t show them clear enough. As well as the poems, motifs reflecting the subjects were inscribed on the stones, I found it virtually impossible to make these out which is a shame but sculptures on natural rock exposed to the elements will suffer from corrosion. I really enjoyed this little walk, a great idea to highlight the area. The stones were well chosen and positioned. Meg’s poetic lines are to the point and very evocative – make sure you read them.
 
 I was back where I started, but smarting from not finding that benchmark, I rechecked  on my phone, ‘pocket computer’, It seemed to suggest it was after the first two poetry stones and gave a grid reference. But people often quote misread grid refences. Lets look again. I delved deeper into the undergrowth by the river after the second poetry stone and found nothing, the grid refence I was getting was different from the publicised one. I then followed my phone to the given grid reference and there stumbled upon the installation It was close to the river hidden by undergrowth, nearby the first poem which being composed of two stones could have caused the confusion.
 
 This, the second Benchmark down stream on the Eden was called ‘Passage’ by Laura White
Evocative of the river’s passage through the gorge under Stenkrith Bridge, this sculpture is subtle and unobtrusive but exudes an inner strength that somehow gathers the special ambience of its location. The shapes carved into the stone are clearly derived from the shapes in the river bed rocks but have been refined to activate and compliment the space and provide a focal point for contemplation”  
 
 Laura White’s early work with stone explored organic themes but more recently she has used mixed media and video images. She lives in London and teaches at Goldsmiths College in London and Manchester Metropolitan University.
 
 Ah well, at least I found it. The stones were rather lost in the vegetation and are slowly naturally mossing over, not many people visit them or perhaps can’t find them. Whatever, it was a good excuse to spend some more time alongside the lively Eden and on the breccia bedrock. 
 
 
 
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Tomorrow I will head to the hills for the first of the Eden Benchmarks. 

GOLDSWORTHY PINFOLDS IN THE EDEN VALLEY.

 
 
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“People also leave presence in a place even when they are no longer there” 
 Andy Goldsworthy.
 
 I had two objectives today – The Poetry Path in Kirkby Stephen and Andy Goldsworthy’s six Pinfold Cones, from early this century, scattered around the area. As the day progresses an Eden Benchmark crept into my itinerary. It became a bit of a whirlwind day. Just warning you, in fact I have just decided to remove the poetry to another post.
It is difficult to write a post when virtually all of your six subjects, in this case the Pinfold Cones. are almost identical.
  A fairly early start and I found myself driving narrow lanes in the mist. This is limestone country. Through the village of Orton and onwards to Crosby Ravensworth to try and find my first pinfold. This was easy as it was next to the main street at the south end of the scattered village. A small square pinfold with one of Andy Goldsworthy’s stone cones in the centre. The cone shape is said to have been influenced by the Nine Standards Rigg above Kirkby Stephen. He has used it in installations in many places. He talks of the cone shape being warm and enveloping, a source of hope and also protection. They focus our attention on the environment and the history of man’s influences upon it.
 This cone is made from local limestone, looking quite black in this damp morning. The Pinfolds will have been around for a long time, a pen used for stray animals before they could be reunited with their owners. We have a good example on the outskirts of Longridge. I have found some reference for Goldsworthy’s pinfolds being rebuilt on the  original sites, there doesn’t seem to be any documentation for each one. I must assume at least that it will now guarantee their survival.P1000674
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 Back in Orton I stopped for a coffee in Kennedy’s Fine Chocolate shop. Maybe I should have stocked up on luxury Christmas presents, but I didn’t. Across the street is The George Hotel, we ended up there one afternoon after climbing at nearby Jackdaw Scar, Kings Meaburn, a crag where you start on a sandstone lower wall which morphs into limestone as you progress. The geology of this whole area is fascinating and one learns a lot from climbing on its cliffs. The bar staff had had a busy Sunday lunchtime and were wanting to rest before the evening’s trade. Being officially open, they happily accommodated us though, by locking us into one of the bars at the back with orders not to let anybody else in. We sipped our supplies of beer and played pool for an hour or so. P1000687P1000689
 I drove through the village of Raisbeck without realising and ended up on a single track road going nowhere. I had to backtrack and found the next Pinfold, a larger square with a gated entrance hidden away in the trees, the clue being Pinfold Bridge shown on the map. Another limestone construction. Judging by the vegetation few people bother to search it out. P1000696P1000698P1000703
 Not wanting to face that narrow lane again I retraced my way back through the few houses that make up Raisbeck. Something caught my eye as I passed a small building. Stopping for a closer look it turned out to be an old school house. The Dame School was built in 1780 by farmers of Raisbeck and repaired in 1857, probably closed by 1900. Dame schools were for young children of poor families providing only a basic education.  By the 1970s the old school building was in a bad condition. A poet named Michael Ffinch and local supporters fought to have it designated and restored. 
 The notice on the door said “COME IN”. There was a room downstairs with a fireplace and wooden floored room upstairs. There wouldn’t have been space for many children. How good that it has free access without any obvious funding. Ffinch wrote a poem about it and I wished I had photographed it in the room because I can’t find it now.
Outside was an unusual stone picnic table and 2 stone ‘flower beds’ one celebrating Queen Elizabeth’s reign, the other Charles coronation. They are quick off the mark up here.P1000717P1000732P1000739P1000758
  There was still mist about on the hills as I drove down to Kirkby Stephen. P1000767P1000770
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 My next stop just outside Kirkby Stephen – The Poetry Path. But I am leaving that for a separate post.
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 The day was still young or so I thought and therefore I decided to drive to find more Goldsworthy Pinfolds which were easily accessible by road in the area north of Kirkby Stephen. 
 I drove the short distance to Church Brough and parked under the shadow of the castle at the primary school. There was the circular Pinfold with its Cone – but slap bang in the middle of the school’s play field. I hesitated taking any photo of  this one due to its proximity to the school. P1010667
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 Up the fast and furious A66 to Warcop. All around are military training grounds with lots of warning signs. In fact as I got out of the car distant artillery bursts were audible. The little square pinfold was a haven of peace. We are now in sandstone country.
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 Farther up the A66 past Appleby I took to those narrow country lanes again to the small village of Bolton. The pinfold was easy to find right next to the road. New housing is going up all around and it is good that the Pinfold survived even though it is somewhat hemmed in. Not as sympathetic to the environment as Goldsworthy would have liked..P1010101P1010098
 
 
 Driving back to Kirkby Stephen there is still light enough to carry on to Outhgill, higher up the Eden at the start of Mallerstang, where the last of my pinfolds was situated. I have driven through this hamlet many times but never stopped to explore.  At one time Outhgill had an inn, a post office, a smithy, parish church and a Methodist chapel. Of these, only the church still functions. In the churchyard are the unmarked graves of 25 of the builders of the Mallerstang section of the Settle-Carlisle Railway who died or were killed during the construction. At the time the line was constructed (1869 to 1875) between Dent and Kirkby Stephen, six thousand navvies and there families were employed and housed in shanty towns in the valley. Can you imagine the squalor?

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 I noticed one property named Faraday Cottage, where the father of the scientist Michael Faraday was the blacksmith in the late 18th century. He in fact moved to London before Michael was born so the link is tenuous.  P1010616P1010615
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Faraday Cottage.

    The Outhgill pinfold was up a little lane and was the smallest I had come across.  P1010614P1010611P1010608
 
 Quite a busy day. The Black Bull in Nateby proved a very friendly place with good food and beer. I slept much better than I do at home.  P1010648P1010651P1010650
 
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ARTY THINGS IN THE EDEN VALLEY.

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It must be 40 years since I walked  ‘The Eden Way’, which as the name suggests follows the River Eden from its source in the fells above Mallerstang, through Kirkby Stephen and Appleby, past Carlisle to the Solway Firth. I remember I only took a bivy bag for lightness and ended up quite damp several mornings.

It’s an area a little out of comfortable reach from Lancashire and I have neglected it over the years. Some recent climbing nearby has brought it back to my attention and it so happens that one of the many books I have read in this month or so of poor weather was ‘The Stream Invites Us To Follow’ by Dick Capel. ( I seem to recollect John Bainbridge recommending it, that is one of the joys of Blogging, your readers, few though they may be, often come up with suggestions which you have overlooked. Thanks John )

Dick Capel came to Cumbria in 1982 working as a warden in the National Park as it was then. He changed areas in 1991 starting work for the East Cumbria Countryside Project, ECCP. This aimed to promote the conservation and enhancement of the natural environment of East Cumbria.  During this time he became heavily involved with the Eden Valley and particularly in developing a series of sculpture trails reflecting the area. He  writes evocatively of the area and his own trials and tribulations. In particular he highlights The Eden Benchmarks, The Poetry Path and a series of Goldsworthy Pinfolds that appeared under his watch.

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The Eden Benchmarks.

The  Benchmarks are a series of ten contemporary stone sculptures located at intervals along the length of the river Eden between its source above the Mallerstang valley and to the Solway Firth.

“Ten sculptor’s were chosen as part of the East Cumbrian Countryside Project, ECCP. The artists’ brief allowed creative freedom to produce site-specific sculpture, which harmonises with the landscape and captures the essence of each unique locality. The sculptors worked in residence for six weeks and this enabled them to formulate their ideas by familiarising themselves with the locations and talking with local people, including schools, who were encouraged to visit their workshops to see the sculptures taking shape”

“Collectively the sculptures give visual expression to our awareness of the river’s ecology and the need to look after it; individually they foster a profound sense of place, their capacity as seats accommodating an interactive focus for quiet reflection”.

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The Poetry Path.

Encouraged by the success of Eden Benchmarks Capel’s next arts project was the Poetry Path by the Eden on the edge of Kirkby Stephen interpreting the hill farmer’s life and love for the Eden Valley.

“Twelve short poems, written by Meg Peacocke, have been carved by lettering artist Pip Hall on blocks of stone installed at intervals along a circuital route either side of the river Eden. Decorative motifs with each poem depict some of the activities associated with every month of the hill farmer’s year”  

“The aim of the Poetry Path is to introduce a permanent and integrated interpretative experience into the landscape, which is assimilated as part of the heritage it promotes and conveys a powerful message about the farmer’s potential role in maintaining a sensitive but viable hill-farming regime in relation to the natural environment as a resource both for nature conservation as well as food production”.

  I could not have written that.

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Andy Goldsworthy’s Pinfold Cairns.

In the area there are six of these stone cones built into village pinfolds, which used to hold stray animals,  Created by the sculptor Andy Goldsworthy (1996 – 2002) supposedly based on the prominent piles of stones called the Nine Standards above Kirkby Stephen. At one time Goldsworthy lived in the area.

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The funding ran out in 2008 for the ECCP.  But the art remains. Sculptures and poems reflecting the area’s heritage and beauty, and hopefully enhancing peoples enjoyment and understanding of the countryside and environment.

Dick’s book has acted as a catalyst for some exploration on my part. I find myself visiting friends up here so I have decided to stay on, I’ve booked into the Black Bull in Nateby for a few days. P1010169

A related website  provides all the information you need on all the installations. I have quoted above from that site.

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“The stream invites us to follow…and certainly, there is no more fascinating pastime than to keep company with a river from its source to sea”  W H Hudson, Afoot in England.

FISH AND CHIPS.

20231025_114510More of a TripAdvisor review than a walk blog.

You may remember a walk I did a few weeks ago with Mike as a recce for of his group’s outing. Well Wednesday was the appointed day for the real thing, the monthly walk. The car park at the Hare and Hounds, Abbey Village, soon filled up, greetings made and boots were donned. The planned route followed paths through woods around the Roddlesworth Reservoirs. I came along as an extra, although I do know several of the other walkers – there were 24 altogether, oh and two dogs. That sounds an unruly number for the leader, Mike, to keep an eye on.

On the way over he was concerned that the group, who are prone to dawdle whilst they chat, wouldn’t complete the walk in time for the booked lunch; that areas of the way were excessively muddy; was it too steep in parts; would the small pub be up to providing a good meal for group. Getting lost was not an option. At least the weather was a perfect still blue sky day. 

All went well on the walk. Everybody kept up more or less, the dogs were well-behaved. Most people avoided the muddy, but best scenic, section alongside the upper reservoir, I took a few that way and met up with rest a little farther on. Most of the spectacular backdrop to these woods and the significance of the reservoirs was lost on the throng – who needs insights when you are busy chatting? (My original post gives you all that and photos to boot, I didn’t bring my camera today)

Back at the pub the bar was inundated with drink orders from the  couple of dozen arrivals. Credit to the barmaid for efficient and friendly service. Everyone seated, and the food arrived in fairly quick succession, a feat I admire from the chef. All seemed happy with their choices, there was a German slant to the menu as ‘mine host’ hails from there. Two hours passed, and then the crowd dispersed having thanked Mike for his excellent walk. I wonder if any will return to sample and appreciate the beauty of this area in a quieter slower mood. 

My fish and chips were perfect. 

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PENNINE POETRY – MIST.

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Simon Armitage’s Stanza Stones – Mist.

We, Clare, JD and I, are well on schedule for our quest to visit the final Stanza Stone for today. After the Snow and Rain along comes the Mist.

The scenery changes on our onward Northern drive, deep wooded valleys crowded with solid stone terraced mill houses.  Cragg Vale, Mytholmroyd (birthplace of Ted Hughes, Poet Laureate 1983 – 2008) Hebden Bridge, Pecket Well. We start dropping off the moor into Oxenhope when a steep narrow lane brings us back into the hills looking for somewhere to park under Nab Hill.

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A muddy track leaves the lane, we check GPS that it is the correct one, a Stanza Stone waymark is soon noticed. Passing small quarries, no soaring climbing faces here, the rock is softer and splits into thin slabs possibly to be used as stone roof tiles common in Yorkshire at the time. We are on the lookout for a larger quarry on the right and then a stone cairn. Wind turbines look down on our wanderings. The problem is that there are several piles of stones on the edge of the moor, when is a pile of stones or a stone shelter a cairn? I dismiss the first stones and head farther towards an obvious larger cairn, ignoring smaller ones on the way. There is doubt in the team. The clue we have is to drop below the cairn to find slabs of rock. Nothing obvious here, how far down the slope should we go? We repeat the process under the other ‘cairns’. JD wanders off to pinpoint the OS map’s indication of the stone with his GPS, that doesn’t help. Clare scouts the lower ground, there are lots of slabby rocks about. I ponder that not being able to find the Mist Stone in the mist would be ironic, we are having difficulty on a perfect day. At last back at the first pile of stones we discover the correct slabs. P1000198P1000218

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The story goes that one slab was lifted in situ for Pip Hall to carve, it had a hairline crack down the centre and as the stone was moved it split, much to the consternation of the workmen. Undaunted Pip carved each one independently to later place them together, so that the lines hopefully read as one. (The picture of the split comes from their book) One has to give some thought to this lady out on the moor in all weathers carving away. These slabs are of a softer grit than the ones previously visited, Snow and Rain, and the lettering paler. Simon’s poem is equally evocative though, looking out over the valleys and moors where the Bronte Sisters once roamed for inspiration. Lichens are spreading out over the letterings giving them a more ancient look than their mere 12 years – come back in another 12 years. Someone’s ashes are scattered around and will slowly be blown across the moor or crushed underfoot.

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The split slab back in 2011 before repositioning.  

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Mist.

Who does it mourn? What does it mean, such
nearness, gathering here on high ground
while your back was turned, drawing its
net curtains around?

Featureless silver screen, mist
is water in its ghost state, all inwardness,
holding its milky breath, veiling the pulsing machines
of great cities under your feet, walling you
into these moments, into this anti-garden
of gritstone and peat.

Given time the edge of
your being will seep into its fibreless fur;
You are lost, adrift in hung water
and blurred air, but you are here.

The three Stanza Stones we have visited so far have exceeded my expectations and I can’t wait to return with our team to the Ilkley Area, home of the Literature Festival where the idea was born, to discover the remaining three, Dew, Puddle and Beck. Wouldn’t it be great to find the fabled seventh, but I suspect that will only appear to an alert walker somewhere on the Stanza Stone Trail.

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My navigation skills have improved for the drive home, – these are roads I know well up above Wycoller. We even have time to stop off to look at one of East Lancashire’s  Panopticons, The Atom. Both a shelter and a viewing point over the valley and to Pendle Hill. I am sure from memory that when it was first installed there was a stainless steel atom in the centre of the ‘Molecule’ – no sign of it now.

(The other three are Colourfields in Blackburn, The Singing Ringing Tree above Burnley and The Halo above Rossendale.) P1000231

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The day couldn’t have gone better. Sunshine, excellent company and three poems found and enjoyed.

PENNINE POETRY – SNOW.

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Simon Armitage’s Stanza Stones – Snow.

Simon Armitage is steeped in Pennine Grit. Brought up in West Yorkshire and living in Marsden in particular, his works have been influenced by the rich heritage of the area. I have been reading a few of his books and poems recently and feel an affinity to his working class background. When you delve deeper you realise the profound and original intellect of the man and his ever widening focus. That’s why he is Poet Laureate.

My friend JD, who has featured many times in these posts, told me about some of Simon’s readings on the radio, such as his journey as a modern day troubadour down the Pennine Way, and more interestingly his series of poems carved and brought to life in the rocks of the high Pennines. The Stanza Poems, six poems on the theme of water in various forms: Snow, Rain, Dew, Puddle,Mist and Beck,  a collaboration between himself, Pip Hall the stone carver, and local expert Tom Lonsdale, a landscape architect. Those looking hard enough might stumble across a seventh Stanza Stone, a secret stone left in an unnamed location within the Watershed area, waiting to be discovered and read. As far as I know nobody has.

I bought the book and was immediately fascinated. Stanza Stones a book by Simon Armitage, Pip Hall, and Tom Lonsdale. (bookshop.org)

What they have produced is truly magical and the insights of the protagonists brought to life in the book. I take my hat off to the literacy skill of Simon but equally so to the dedication and art of Pip the sculptress which will be borne out in our efforts to locate the stones.

A fairly tough trail, considering the moorland terrain, of 50 miles or so has been worked out between the carved stones from Marsden in the south to Ilkley farther north. Suffice to  say JD and I never got around to walking it, mainly because I thought some of the 20-mile days across rough moorland with no bed at the end was too much for me to contemplate. I happily compromise and suggest a motorised raid to the individual stones. The idea catches fire and in a conversation with the ‘Slate Poem Lady of Longridge Fell’ (another story enacted in my lockdown posts) we have a willing and knowledgable accomplice. Welcome aboard Clare, one of her slate poems in her garden says it all.

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Messenger. Mary Oliver.

Cometh the day cometh the hour. We are off to Marsden with a fair forecast. I’m afraid to say my navigational skills fell short of the sat nav lady whom I chose to ignore. We came at the first site in a round about way, but the moorland scenery and deserted roads were worth it. Mutterings from the driver and the other passenger who kept well clear of any navigational mistakes. CaptureStanza 1

An unpretentious lay-by below Pule Hill, west of Marsden, is our starting point. The steaming brick ventilation shafts of the Manchester to Huddersfield railway are obvious above us on the hillside. As well as the railway down there somewhere the narrow Huddersfield Canal goes through the Standedge Tunnel, the longest, highest and deepest canal tunnel in Great Britain. Their combined  history is worth a read, it’s a lot more complicated than you think. Above all that are the ramparts of Pule Hill quarry and rocky edge on the skyline. Fortunately for us the original quarry incline is still intact giving an easy climb up into the workings. Memories of plodding up here with ropes and gear for a day’s climbing come flooding back, and I feel a quickening in my step. We are impressed with the amount of quality stone work just giving access to the quarries. What a substantial industry of men must have worked away on these slopes. P1000147

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I’m distracted by the quarry rock faces I have ascended in the past whilst the other two go off in search of the poems engraved in stone. P1000168

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Nature’s art.

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At the far end of the quarry are two large blocks built into the wall and there is our first poem laid out in front of us, letters carved into the two stones bringing out the colours of the rock from those past quarrying days. We trace with our fingers across the rock surface. Already after 13 years the patina is changing, and green lichens are crossing the letters, what will another decade bring. There is already some slight damage caused by man. P1000167P1000160

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Here is the poem transcribed as it is difficult, but not impossible if enlarged, to read in the photos. The stanzas cross between the two stones.

Snow.

The sky has delivered its blank missive. The moor in coma.                                   

Snow, like water asleep, a coded muteness to baffle all noise, to stall movement, still time.

What can it mean that colourless water can dream such depth of white?             

We should make the most of the light.                                                                           

Stars snag on its crystal points. The odd, unnatural pheasant struts and slides.

Snow, snow, snow is how the snow speaks, is how its clean page reads.

Then it wakes, and thaws, and weeps.     S A.

Before we leave, we discover a beautifully constructed curving wall seat inscribed with ‘Ilkley 45 1/4 miles’ which is the distance to the last stone via the trail, thankfully we have the car to take us onwards.P1000170P1000169

We skip happily down that incline, pleased to find the first stone and captivated by the scenery and the poem it now holds. Let it snow.P1000176

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“both the water of life and the river of death”

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The walking  and even the gardening has been put aside, and I’m spending a lot of time reading whilst it rains outside. My cousin has just published a comprehensive history of the parish of Bolton by Bowland. (Spot the B connection). He has lived there for many years and has spent much of his time researching the history, geology, genealogy, ecology and everything else interesting relating to the village and surrounding area. I’m already well through my complimentary copy and have learnt so much more of our nearby neighbourhood and English history in general.

(Our Craven Parish. Bolton by Bowland.  John Pallister.  ISBN 978-1-911138-39-6.  Amazon doesn’t stock it. When I see John next week I’ll find out where it is available.)

That brings me to that other subject – my aversion to Amazon. I don’t like to be controlled by some giant all invading corporation.  I have no wish to subscribe to Amazon Prime when I try to order a paperback. Can one control the internet?  I suspect not. Unfortunately all of us are hooked, even by innocently reading this post you are being tracked. I use the independent Blackwell’s or Abe books wherever possible. I now find out that Abe, even though they support smaller suppliers, is connected to Amazon!  What is the future for independent bookshops? They need the internet to sell their hidden volumes and yet Amazon must be contributing to the physical bookshops closing every week.  “both the water of life and the river of death”  is a quote from Simon Armitage, our current Poet Laureate

I’m presently into Simon Armitage, with an ongoing project to visit the Stanza Stones, his poems carved into Pennine rocks by Pip Hall.  http://www.stanzastones.co.uk/

Walking Home by Simon, his journey on the Pennine Way back to his home in Marsden. is a book I have just finished. A modern troubadour paying his way by poetry recitals in a variety of venues along the way. I found his writing engaging and romped through the volume. So it was back to Abe for the follow-up Walking Away. a similar trip bringing to life the SW Coastal Path. All Points North is a gritty and amusing  predecessor. He certainly does have a passion for observation and words.

It’s still raining, so I will start on something different, the next book.  A Celebration of Lakeland in Winter by a John Pepper. A recommendation from George at  Lakeland Walking Tales ‹ Reader — WordPress.com  That’s the value of blogging and linking into far more professional sites than mine.

My simple reading list is endless, and maybe I have added to yours.

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – GRAGARETH’S MEN.

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Well there were JD and me, the three scientists doing a peat survey for some research organisation, the Three Stone Men who have been there for who knows how long, and a few others stone ones scattered around. The peat survey was interesting as we are just waking up to the importance of peat as an important carbon storage resort. We were happy to sit in the shelter of the Three Men as there was a distinctly cold breeze coming from the Northwest. A good opportunity to take a break and eat our sandwiches.

Our journey up the motorway had not been straight forward as I missed the turn-off to Caton and the Lune Valley. Another junction farther north and JD’s phone chose an alternative route over towards Kirkby Lonsdale, although eventually on the A65 we ignored the lady navigator and followed the sign up to the little hamlet of Ireby.  I shall not reveal where we parked, but there should be space by the telephone (book) box. Surely we are in Yorkshire by now, but no the Lancastrians have pushed a finger into Cumbria and Yorkshire.  We are in fact out to climb the highest (allegedly) hill in the Red Rose county, walk number 16 in Mark Sutcliffe’s Cicerone guidebook.

Up to now we have been walking on a distinct lane out of Ireby and then the tarmac road heading up the fell from Leck. All easy going, gaining height almost effortlessly, at least we could keep up a good conversation without getting out of puff. JD is super fit at the moment having recently completed a pilgrim route to Santiago, a Scottish trip and The Dales Way. I was hoping that his all-inclusive hotel stay in Menorca with his wife might have slowed him down. We are in limestone territory. P1020289P1020292P1020298

This road leads to a remote sheep farm. I used to park up along here for exploring the nearby Leck Fell potholes. Short Drop Cave was always a favourite, lowering yourself in with your feet dangling in fresh air in the darkness, dare you let go of the rock? Of course, you did and only dropped a few inches! You could explore the channel for some distance and then worry about getting out again. But today we were heading up to those stone men visible on the hillside above. Conversation dwindles on the steepest scrambling bit, look at the contours, and we are all too ready for that rest at the Three Men. P1020305

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The Three Men.

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The Three Ladies.

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Lunch over we chat to the peat surveyors before strolling the last section to the lonely trig point on Gragareth, 627 m, the highest in Lancashire. Now this is where some debate comes in, farther north across the barren moor is Green Hill, still in Lancashire, and marked on the OS map as 628 m. We don’t fancy the two-mile boggy trudge up there. But help is at hand – in 2014 the Database of British and Irish Hills suggested  “Gragareth replaces Green Hill as Lancashire county top”.  Gragareth having a height of 628 metres, 100 metres east of the trig point, while Green Hill is 627.5 metres. Who knows?  P1020324

Anyhow, we slink off along the wall southwards. But I have forgotten to tell you about the views from that highest point. Morecambe Bay, Lakeland hills, nearby Barbon fells, all those rounded hills up to Dentdale, Whernside and of course stately Ingleborough, distant Pendle and the Bowland Fells, quite a collection.

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Northwards.

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Whernside.

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Ingleborough.

On down along the wall and then a vague path down to the ‘Turbary Road’ above Kingsdale, a track used by peat cutters – yes we have been destroying the land long before climate change was thought of. This area is full of caves, potholes and dry riverbeds, but the way missed most of them out. On reflection a few small diversions to peer into these limestone features would have added interest. P1020331

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Marble Steps Pot.

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Twistleton Scar End.

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Turbary Road.

Once on the lane we made good progress stopping only at a bench for a drink, out of the vegetation crept a giant dung beetle. P1020348

Masongill looked delightful.P1020349

Freshly cut green fields, and we were soon crossing the ancient clapper bridge into Ireby.

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It was good to be back in Limestone Country, as you can see the weather improved as the day went on. Eight and a half miles with 1700ft of ascent – I’m still thinking imperial.

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CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – East is east.

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Walk 37. Weets Hill from Barnoldswick.

Barlick, until local government reorganisation in 1974, was in the West Riding of Yorkshire. It then found itself in Lancashire, the locals were not happy and many still see themselves as Yorkshire folk. Back in the day, until 1992, you had to be born in Yorkshire to play cricket for the county and I seem to remember special dispensations being given to players from Gisburn/Barnoldswick area when they were in Lancashire. Or was that just a rumour at the time. I do remember well however White Rose flags flying defiantly in Gisburn as you drove through.

None of this has any relevance to today’s walk except to point out we are in the far east of the county where Lancashire mills give way to Yorkshire dales. A 10-mile day of easy navigation, gentle gradients, canal towpaths, a Trig point and lots of fields. Stick with it – there is plenty of interest.

I approached the recommended Greenber Field car park down the narrowest of lanes, I was almost giving up when it suddenly appeared hidden in the trees. On my return I took a wider road, the B6252, back into Barnoldswick and I would recommend that as your approach. Unfortunately the café on site was closed due to staffing shortages, a common problem of hospitality in these strange times. That’s the second day in a row I have been deprived of my coffee. Still the day was promising with warm sunshine and blue skies.

I set off with enthusiasm along the canal towpath on the edge of town. Easy strolling with lots of friendly and well-behaved dog walkers, pram pushers and cyclists. I passed three of the prominent manufacturers in town – Rolls-Royce, Silent Night beds and  Esse stoves. All but one of the many cotton mills have gone. The canal was busy with boaters. On my longer canal walks I often try to pick out the most humorous, or more likely corniest, boat name of the day, Mr. Grumpy won today. All making for an enjoyable start to my day’s walk.P1000990P1000987P1000991P1000997

In fact the morning was disappearing fast – made more so by an extended chat with an enthusiastic walker. We got onto the subject of the Lake District which he seems to have just discovered. Out came his phone with pictures of Coniston, Helvellyn and Scafell etc, many in selfie mode. I had to make my excuses to get under way again. 

Once I had left the canal I saw virtually no one else for the rest of the day. 

My way up onto White Moor was mainly on well surfaced bridleways, that PBW again. As height was gained the views opened up, with my recent ascents of Bouldsworth and Black Hambleton prominent to the south along with the rest of the Pennine Chain, and there was little Blacko Tower. Perhaps I was distracted, but I took to the moors sooner than I should have, up a well trodden track (SD 869 441). On past a plantation obvious on the map, that’s when I realised my mistake, but the track alongside a wall was good, so I just kept going until I was within a stone’s throw of the summit. Birds eye views of Barnoldswick appeared way down below.

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What did I say about easy navigation?  As it happened this was possibly better than the longer way round and up the tarmacked lane to Weets House, it was easy to navigate once I knew I was lost – if you follow my logic. 

The summit was adorned with a shiny white Trig Pillar and even better as I was ready for lunch a memorial bench. And what a panorama – the nearby bulk of Pendle, Longridge Fell, the Bowland Hills , Ingleborough and Pen-Y-Ghent and lots more. The Ribble Valley stretching out in front of the hills completed the scene. P1010028P1010029P1010036

It was only after some time sat there enjoying the view that I noticed beneath my feet little plaques set into the soil, each one a memorial to a departed family member whose ashes were no doubt scattered up here. I like the idea of being scattered from one’s favourite hill, but I thought the plaques possibly out of place. No offence to any family concerned who had the wishes of their departed granted.

Time to head down, and I followed the track I should have come up to Weets House, an isolated property as you could wish for. Back on the PBW I headed north wondering who had travelled this way in the past centuries attending to their trades. Miners, pack horses, farmers, soldiers?  The map depicts ‘ancient earth works’ from early times and there is a Roman Road crossing my track at one point. P1010042P1010049P1010048

A quiet road, Brogden Lane, winds down the hillside past upland sheep farms and comes to a right angle corner at The C18th Manor House, what you see from the lane is actually the back of the house. A ford then leads to Brogden Hall.  That was my way and I circled around what is a large equestrian centre with only a glimpse of the hall itself. Out into the fields I crossed a motor cross circuit – the penny dropped I have been here before. It was when I was walking the West Craven Way in 2015. P1010054P1010053P1010055

The pastures were full of deep grass which surprisingly makes walking through it tiresome. It’s that time of the year when the dairy herds are let out for some proper food. Passed a reservoir, and I was into a field with one of the largest herds of cattle I’ve encountered. They can be frisky at this time of year and being cautious I took to a path on the other side of the wall. After my minor trespass I was back on route up a slope now with grazing sheep and their lambs. I couldn’t resist a spring lamb photo, or two. Can’t you just taste that luscious grass? P1010059P1010063P1010068P1010069

I worked my way through the gardens of some nouveau riche house, their garden furniture was more stylish than my lounge. I’m not jealous, but it set me wondering if they were entertaining would you be offered a drink en passant. P1010071P1010072

This was on the edge of the little hamlet of Bracewell where there had been a former hall. The church, St Michael’s, dates back to the C12th but most of the present fabric dates from the C16th, though there is a Norman style arched doorway and apparently inside a Norman font. (it was locked today) For some reason I ignored adjacent Hopwood House and Farm, both grade II listed. But my attention was drawn to the ‘Old Post Office’ with its inscribed plaque, but why on earth did someone build a porch whose tiles obscure that plaque. P1010075P1010077

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I have a gripe with Mark for the next part of his route down the busy and twisty B6251 road. This is dangerous considering the speed of traffic along it. Driving back along that stretch on my return I was behind an articulated lorry doing well over the permitted 40mph, no chance of that stopping quickly. Looking at the map there is a footpath leaving Bracewell to the abandoned village of Stock where there may be earthworks to see. A public footpath from there crossing Stock Beck would bring one back onto the  bridleway route. I wish I had taken that way, which as well as avoiding the dangerous road looks to be of interest in itself. I would recommend you do.

I didn’t, and I had to brave the oncoming traffic for half a mile until I could escape onto a peaceful bridleway. If you look closely at the contours of the countryside here you will see lots of small hillocks. These are drumlins, glacial deposits of boulder clay on the surface limestone. Today with the abundant Spring greenery they took on a magical landscape over which I expected troops of elves to come skipping along. It was however a good place to watch lapwings in their rapid flight.  P1010088 (2)

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The walk ended through Greenber Field Farm. All very neat and tidy but far removed from the farming as I knew it. Massive sheds, computerised cows and not a farmer in sight’. The C18th house itself is Grade II listed.P1010101P1010104P1010105

Well not quite the end as I spent some time watching canal barges come through the lock gates, the summit of the Leeds -Liverpool Canal.  P1010106P1010109

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***

CaptureBarnoldswick.

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE (and a bit of Yorkshire) – On the hoof.

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                                                                               Black Hambledon.

Another skylark day.

I hadn’t decided where to walk this morning but after a bit of faffing I hurriedly opted for a ready-made route, no 39, in Cicerones’s 40 Lancashire walks book by Mark Sutcliffe. It is described as the Reservoirs of Worsthorne Moor, but it is far more; traversing post-industrial landscapes, wild gritstone boulders, trackless moor, endless views and the summit of Black Hambledon, Hoof Stones Height, 479 m. I haven’t knowingly been up Black Hambleton before and today’s route virtually circled it before committing to the top.

It was almost lunchtime when I parked up on The Long Causeway, an ancient route from Pendle through to the Calder Valley, now dominated by wind turbines.  A fell runner was just returning from his morning circuit, there was still a chill in the air. (we’d had a ground frost)

Some of the early tracks I remembered from The Burnley Way done back in 2017. Leaving the wind turbines the way drops down Shedden Clough into an old limestone mining area where they used ‘hushes’, dammed watercourses to uncover the limestone. There was evidence of industrial activity wherever you looked. P1000808

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A man from Salford was exercising his two dogs down by the bridge. He escapes up here for fresh air and tranquillity. The young dogs were having a great time, I think they were pleased to be out of Salford too. A couple of mountain bikers came through and after that I met no one until almost finished. P1000811P1000814

I was on the Pennine Bridleway heading towards Cant Clough Reservoir set deep in the hills. Normally one can go across the dam, but there was maintenance work in progress which meant a  tiresome diversion down the valley and back up again. They were ‘repuddling’ the clay lining, probably the first time since the construction at the end of the C19th. You may remember the 2019 panic when the reservoir dam above Whaley Bridge was put under strain and threatened the area with flooding. P1000829

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In another extensive quarried area I soon left the PBW, for a while anyway, and headed on a smaller path bordering the wild Rams Clough up into the hills towards an unnamed 468 m summit. All was quiet except for the joyous skylarks. I was soon looking back at Cant Clough Reservoir. The path became steeper and rougher – a sign of things to come?

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I reached a bridge in the middle of nowhere carrying the BBW where I managed a photo of a Wheatear which flew from post to post, I remember several of them in this very same place on my Burnley Way outing. P1000848

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Passing into Yorkshire, Gorple Upper Reservoir now came into sight below and there above me the Gorple Stones, which looked as though there would be bouldering possibilities. But how often do you get a day like this up there? P1000855P1000856

Ahead now was the prominent Gorple Buttress. I recall the excitement in the climbing magazines back in 1995 – “John Dunne has climbed an E7 on the jutting prow of Gorple” Walking below it today it looked as impossible as ever, overhanging and slopy, I wondered if anybody has repeated it. Dunne went on to produce an even harder more direct line at E9 three years later. A good spot for lunch gazing down at the remote reservoir and across to Black Hambleton. P1000860

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John Dunne on Eternal E7, cooler day.         David Simmonite.

Stirring myself I was soon down to the dam. Mark’s route goes a little down the valley, towards the lower reservoir, before climbing again, but I spotted a level path getting to the same point by crossing, possibly illegally, the dam  and using the estate’s shooters’ track. Not advised in the killing season. There were some very attractive little gritstone buttresses above that valley, I may need to return. P1000873

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 Gorple Lower Reservoir.

Across the way were the hauntingly fascinating ruins of  C16-17th Raistrick Greave, presumably abandoned when the reservoirs were constructed, around 1930. It had been a large farm and buildings, one suggestion is that it may have been also a stop-over on the local packhorse trails. Reaps Cross is nearby and of course The Packhorse Inn over at Widdop. P1000907P1000915

To be honest I never really picked up the path again. The ground is very rough and tussocky, when I thought I was back on track I usually ended up on a sheep trod going nowhere. I just battled up the hillside keeping to a southerly direction avoiding Clegg Clough for more than one reason. All around was that dry straw-coloured moorland grass so attractive from afar in the winter months. P1000922

Boggy paths started to appear on Hoar Side Moor and I followed one until I hit the fence which I could follow westwards up Black Hambleton at last.  All very bleak and isolated. P1000930P1000933P1000929

The trig point eventually appeared. I found a rock to sit on straddling the Lancashire /Yorkshire boundary. All around were the familiar Pennine Hills. Bowland, Pendle, Ingleborough, Boulsworth, StoodleyPike and many unnamed ones to the south.Way down below I could see a Barn Owl quartering the rough pastures.P1000934

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Pendle in the distance.

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Bench marked rocky seat.

I wish the walk could have ended up here as I never found the proper path off to the southwest, the rough ground making it hard going, and the mile alonside the busy road was scattered with litter.  But ignoring that last hour this had been a stunning walk of variety and remoteness, sorry I was distracted by all those boulders. I was tired by the end.  P1000954

***

  CaptureBlack Hambledon.

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – A LONG DAY ON PENDLE.

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I’ve been impressed so far with the walks from Mark Sutcliffe’s Cicerone guide to Walking in Lancashire. It’s a big county covering all types of terrain from the Coast to the Pennines, and he has chosen well. I must have walked most of his routes many times in the past, but he keeps throwing up little gems of variations new to me. Today was no exception. Nobody in their right mind would climb Pendle up those steps from the overrun village of Barley, I did in October 2020  as the lockdown restrictions for Covid were being relaxed. Never seen so much congestion on the roads or hill, but I was on a mission that day to find Fox’s Well. Mark takes us the quiet but long way up from the little village of Pendleton, a hamlet (tun) close to Pendle.

Pendle Hill dominates the landscape as you drive along the busy A69 though the Ribble Valley. It was along here I came today before branching off into the peace and quiet of Pendleton. I paid my dues and parked in the village hall’s car park as suggested in the guide, Walk 34 – ‘a challenging walk‘. I have been slowly increasing the mileage that my knee injury will cope with, it is nearly a year since the cycling accident that tore the medial ligament. Time is a slow but reliable healer, today’s rough 10 miles would be a test.

The sun is out as I walk past the Swan with Two Necks, I have visions of a pint outside on the return. Pendleton is unusual in that it has a stream running down its main street making it a favourite Ribble Valley venue. The pub regularly wins awards for its beer and food. Higher up the village the Fiddle Stone, once a clapper bridge across the stream now curiously spanning a patch of grassP1000368

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Leaving aside thoughts of beer, I soon take a lane into fields which rise up to Wymondhouses, a Pennine farm once used as a chapel. The plaque above the door states that the first Congregational Church in north-east Lancashire was founded here in 1667, a Mr Thomas Jolly being the nonconformist preacher. P1000382 P1000389P1000393P1000392

Rougher pastures and a sunken way led me onwards higher to come out onto the road at the Nick of Pendle, a low pass through these hills between the Ribble Valley and Sabden. A popular stopping off point for motorists seeking a picnic and a view. There were quite a few cars parked up this morning, the first people I had come across.

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Back to Longridge Fell and Bowland.

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Sabden down in the valley.

I was quickly back to peace and quiet on an obvious bridleway heading for Churn Clough and the Deerstones.

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Bridleway with Deerstones on the horizon.

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Below is the almost circular Churn Clough Reservoir, now used for fishing. Our path crosses the clough and then climbs steeply up its right bank heading for the Deerstones marked on the OS map. It is quite a pull-up. The day has changed, the sun has disappeared, and dark clouds fill the sky. The Deerstones look menacing in this light. At the back of my mind there is something of interest in the quarried stones, but I don’t divert without good reason. (I later read of the Devil’s Footprint. This feature was natural and caused by nodules of iron rich stone eroding out the harder gritstone bedrock. The legend is that the footprint was left by the Devil as he gathered stones in his apron to hurl at a nearby church. He then clumsily dropped them at nearby Apronfull Hill. I suspect that without prior knowledge the footprint would have been difficult to find. P1000419P1000412

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The Deerstones.

The path comes out onto the open moor at a gate. Paths go in all directions. I just head north on the vaguest of paths to join the main route coming up from the Nick. Pendle is a big hill and I feel minute in this landscape, it wouldn’t take much to get lost in its vastness on these SW slopes. All is sky and skylarks. You can’t capture this with a photograph, especially now that it is so dull.

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Could be anywhere.

The path becomes more defined on the lip of the prominent Ogden Clough, a highlight of the day so far. P1000429P1000431P1000430P1000433

I have distant memories of ploughing directly up that clough in a hard winter when all other tracks were obliterated. Today the going is good and as one approaches the summit the path has been ‘flagged’ to prevent erosion. There are still very few people using this way, but I fall into conversation with Max and his dog. He is full of tales of Lakeland walking, recently having completed the 214 Wainwright’s. He admits to being a little nervous on some of the Lakeland scrambles, I encourage him to take on Sharp Edge on Blencathra and maybe even Jack’s Rake on Pavey, I am not sure if he is convinced.

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Wes, dog and flags. 

By now we have reached the summit Trig point, at 557 m,and realise the place is thronged with people from the Barley side, what a contrast to our way up. Nonetheless, it is a good viewpoint over Pendleside and a sit down for a snack, but not for long as under the cloud it is decidedly chilly. 

P1000437P1000436P1000438P1000440P1000442A new path has been fashioned from the top of the Barley steps to the trig point. I must admit it blends as well as possible into the plateau and must save a lot of erosion. There is also a new stone shelter built into the nearby wall. Once through the wall as if by magic everybody disappears, and I have the whole of Pendle Moor to myself. There is no wind today, so it is almost perfect silence apart from all those soaring skylarks.

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Empty spaces – skylark country.

Past the stone shelter and on to Scout’s Cairn, the path is very boggy all the way. The Yorkshire Peaks are a bit hazy, but I’m focused on Kemple End, Longridge Fell and Parlick, Fairsnape Fell framing Beacon Fell straight ahead. As I said photography is difficult in this light. P1000448

The moor goes on forever. But is that sunshine returning? And now for that little bit extra. After a memorial cairn I drop steeply down into the extensive Ashendean Clough, a deep incision in Pendle’s SW slopes. This could be Scotland.

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Memorial to two Clayton-le-moors Harriers members.

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Down steeply to Ashendean Clough. Can you spot the Nick on the horizon?

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The guide says to cross the stream, but that is not so easy today without getting my feet wet or even worse. A perfect little valley full of bright yellow gorse. A footbridge by a barn and I’m into rough pasture aiming for the next barn which I cannot see, but we get there in the end and come out onto the lane by Mearley Hall. That has been quite some hill day.

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Howcroft Barn.

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I arrive back in Pendleton and treat myself to that beer, sat outside in the late sunshine. Perfect. Reflecting on what has been a connoisseurs walk, mostly away from the popular Pendle routes. That has been quite some hill day.P1000502

***

CapturePendle. (2)