Category Archives: Pennines

THE BRONTE WAY five.

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Bailiff Bridge to Oakwell Hall.

The final day of our walk on the Bronte Way. By more good luck than management there was a bus stop outside the hotel to take us back to Bailiff Bridge. After some steep uphill road and lane walking we were once more in amazing rural areas. We had joined The Kirklees Way and a Brighouse Boundary Walk. There were some vicious dogs penned up in some of the properties we passed some on a running chain which is quite scary as they charge at you. We postulated what could happen if the chain snapped!

Some time was passed in a large pristine golf course, there’s always one on any long distance walk. Fortunately no fairways had to be crossed on this one. After crossing a motorway, M62, little lanes led into Liversedge where first we came across a quaker grave yard. Way back a man, who was a Quaker, had been refused a burial at Hartshead church, so he bought a piece of land for burials of his family. This is still being used today and there are four 17th century graves. It was on Hartshead Common that Luddites congregated in early 19th century to march on Arkwright’s Mill at Rawfolds with disastrous results. Could something similar happen in the future as robots take over workers jobs?   We are also sharing The Luddite Trail now, oh and did I mention The Spen Valley Trail. there must be a lot of keen walkers hereabouts.

A little further was a plant hire depot with some interesting old tractors, two looked as though they had come straight off the American prairie. And another aggressive guard dog going nuts as we stopped to take pictures.

We were now in the Spen Valley area which was the backdrop to Charlotte’s novel Shirley enacted at the time of the Luddites. This novel sounds interesting and will get a copy for holiday reading. On our route was a farm cafe which turned out to be an excellent stop for coffee and toasted tea cakes. The waitress was interested in our route and was clearly enthusiastic about Oakwell Hall. On leaving the cafe we spotted the resident cat waiting patiently on the back step.

Up the road was an old house, Clough House, bearing a plaque to the Rev. Patrick Bronte who lived here before moving to Thornton.

Some rather messy navigating through lanes and parks, all very rural though, brought us into the honest looking Shirley Estate, Gomersal. We wandered into the local church bazar hoping to find an old copy of The Bronte Way guidebook. On mentioning we were on the Bronte Way we were escorted to the grave of Mary Taylor a lifelong friend of Charlotte. Mary apparently was a Women’s Rights advocate who incidentally led a women’s group to climb Mont Blanc in 1875.

Open fields should have led us down to an entrance to Orwell Hall but probably distracted by females we took the wrong field. All was not lost and I think we had a better way into the grounds of this beautiful and obviously popular property. Oakwell Hall may have been the inspiration for ‘Fieldhead’  in Charlotte’s novel Shirley. This is the last of our Bronte associations but I wonder how many we have missed. We came out on the way we should have gone in, a far inferior way. A bus stop was on the main road and eventually a bus full of friendly locals delivered us to the efficient Bradford Interchange.

The end to a really varied and interesting five days of walking.  Sir Hugh’s new knee just about stood up to the whole trial.  We’ve seen a lot and learnt a lot.

Sign in the cafe.

*****

THE BRONTE WAY four.

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Denholme Gate to Bailiff Bridge.

The train got us to Halifax almost on time despite having to make toilet stops at various stations en route, the train toilet being nonfunctional. The toilet stop at Hebden Bridge was cut short when it was realised that the station toilet was also nonfunctional, all very strange and can’t all be Northern Rail’s fault. Of course our bus waited for us and we were soon walking from the moorland Denholme Gate. Enclosed rough fields with ancient wall stiles took us eastwards into what looked like an urban setting but the route cleverly kept us mostly on green ways. Paths wandered past houses and barking dogs. We were heading to Thornton the birthplace of the Bronte sisters. Little streams added interest and then the largest cemetery I’ve been in for years. A moorland ridge above was home to Sir Hugh’s first house, as there was no plaque to commemorate this event we didn’t divert. Then we were in the main street of Thornton full off characterful houses off the beaten track and not a Japanese tourist in sight. No 74, was heralded as the Bronte sisters’  birthplace, their father Patrick being curate at the Chapel. A cafe-cum-museum here gave us a rest, coffee and entertainment listening in to the local ladies’ Yorkshire conversation.

A deep valley had now to be crossed but to be honest we seemed to be cruising along despite the long grass in parts. There were distant, if hazy, views down into Bradford city centre. My memory is of fields and lanes going nowhere, stone walls, buttercups and dog walkers eager to converse. The hidden world of West Yorkshire.

Somewhere we joined The Calderdale Way in a wild valley and eventually emerged into the affluent Norwood Green. More of the same took us down to the suburbs at Bailff Bridge and thankfully a bus into Brighouse for a night on the tiles – well not really – an early supper in our hotel by the canal followed by an early night.

Check out Sir Hugh for another version of today’s walk.

*****

THE BRONTE WAY three.

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Stanbury to Denholme Gate.

Once the car shuffles had been completed we set off to walk back up to the Pennine Way/Bronte Way. The PW continues up to the isolated Top Withins farmhouse, with its solitary tree visible from down here. There is no convincing evidence to support the claim that the farm was the ‘original’ Wuthering Heights, but if it is not, it is certainly the type of place that Emily Bronte had in mind when she wrote her famous novel. The picture below is from a previous visit. Our way today however branched off and headed into the valley of Staden Beck and down to Bronte Bridge, a stone clapper bridge across the beck. The water tumbles over a small series of rocks above and below the bridge. The area is somewhat optimistically known as Bronte Falls; it isn’t really a waterfall, but is a wonderfully picturesque spot and a popular area for picnics. The original stone bridge was swept away in a flash flood in 1989 and replaced the following year by the present bridge.

Signposts helped us onwards with addition of Japanese instructions reflecting their interest in the Bronte history. Signs kept coming thick and fast. The track took us out of the valley and over Penistone Hill heavily quarried in the past. Now a country park there are confusing paths everywhere, popular with dog walkers who all seemed to have Cocker Spaniels. We arrived into Haworth by the atmospheric graveyard, the Brontes are not buried here but have a crypt in the adjoining church. Above was the Parsonage where the sisters lived, now a museum. Bronte associations were everywhere. Below in the main street tourists flocked into the gift shops and cafes.

The Bronte Parsonage.

Bronte School.

We of course were above such things, avoided hoards of Japanese and headed out on ancient tracks to Oxenholme. Here we found a bench for lunch which happened to overlook the Worth Valley railway line and in came a steam special hauled by a Standard Four locomotive, withdrawn for scrap from the Southern Railway in 1965 but subsequently restored.

Things went a little astray as we took to small lanes, too much time chatting and admiring both the scenery and the local properties. We found ourselves on a narrow lane a few hundred feet above where we should have been. I’d already remarked that we seemed to have missed most of Oxenholme, dammed right it was there below us. Fortunately a lovely path was found to reunite us with the correct way but we had enjoyed our diversion and had chance to meet one of the locals.

Charlotte, Emily or Anne?

No sooner were we back on track when we seemed to go wrong again on small streets in the village and ended up on the wrong side of Leeming Reservoir. No problem, just walk across the damn access road. The hot afternoon drifted on and once more we found ourselves on old flagged paths going where? A hill was climbed past old enclosures and water catchment culverts to arrive at a fine belvedere. An opportunity for a breather, a snack and drink and time to admire the view over fine countryside. From here a good lane just under Thornton Reservoir made for easy walking. A cyclist stopped to show us his electric assisted bike with a multitude of gears, impressive until I realised I couldn’t lift the beast. We emerged from Black Edge Lane into Denholme Gate where a parked car was waiting for us.

Onwards looked more urban, a bus passed signed for Halifax so we’ve come a long way into Yorkshire. The last two days may be better reached by train and utilising overnight accomodation.

*****

 

 

THE BRONTE WAY two.

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Thursden valley to Stanbury.

We were back in the beautiful Thursden valley after a bit of car manoeuvering. The day didn’t get off to a good start on an overgrown path, which had been superseded we realised later,  involving some scrambling and barbed wire leading to torn shorts. Calm was restored on the open moor. A strange stone arch ‘The Doorway to Pendle’, the former New House farmhouse built in 1672 and occupied until the 1920s when the land was bought by Nelson Waterworks. It consists of a sandstone archway with a triangular head. An inscription relates to the Parker family in the 17th century. There must have been many similar isolated houses scattered on the moors.

A good track, popular with cyclists, was followed all along the northern flanks of Boulsworth Hill; an old way, flagged in parts, connecting scattered farmsteads. Lapwing, skylark and curlew country. At the far end the path is being ‘improved’ with alien chippings which at the present time are an eyesore. Escaping from this we found a delightful concessionary path sloping down the wooded hillside. Above were a series of boulders that looked climbable but I can find no reference to them, I’m kicking myself for not taking the short walk up to them. 

Eventually we crossed the stream that flows into Wycoller where begin a series of interesting and often photographed bridges. In historical order a ford, a clapper bridge, a supported clapper and a two arched packhorse bridge.

We rested and ate lunch in the shade of the ruins of Wycoller Hall, probably Ferndean Manor in Jane Eyre, In a previous visit, whilst walking the Pendle Way, I bivied in the massive fireplace without realising it was haunted.

A gentle stroll back out of Wycoller was made for chatting. A farmer out checking his sheep and lambs on his quad  bike bemoaned  that he would probably be dragged out by his wife this afternoon to a local event when he would rather be putting his feet up. We saw him later driving to Haworth. We walked below another group of rocks where Foster had done some daredevil leaping. Open moorland was once more gained and appeared to go on forever, Pendle Hill disappeared for the last time in the west. We congratulated ourselves for being here on a perfect summer’s day – it can be grim up north. Somewhere we crossed over from Lancashire into Yorkshire, God’s own country if you are so inclined.

After Watersheddles Reservoir the valley of the infant River Worth was entered, almost a lost valley despite its close proximity to the road. A rough track alongside the lively stream, gritstone boulders, rhododendrons and bird song, my first Cuckoo of the year, a lovely spot for a refreshment break. It turned out we needed it as the way on became more laborious climbing in and out of valleys towards Ponden Reservoir. Passing Ponden Hall [Thrushcross Grange in Emily’s Wuthering Heights] I recollected coming this way in 1968 on an early Pennine Way journey and I’m sure they served teas then. Not today! Lets not forget that The Pennine Way was the brainchild of Tom Stephenson, Wainwright’s guide, which we didn’t have at the time was a later publication. A few more switchbacks shared with the PW brought us to the end of quite a tough day in the heat. The car was parked down the little lane leading to Stanbury.

 

*****

 

 

 

THE BRONTE WAY one.

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Gawthorpe Hall to Thursden.

Sir Hugh and I started at Gawthorpe Hall in Padiham. Many of the places we walk through have some connection to the Brontes or their novels. Gawthorpe Hall was the family home of the Shuttleworth family which Charlotte Bronte visited frequently as a friend of John Kay-Shuttleworth.

And a very stately hall it looked, but was closed today. We walk out of the grounds through a grove of chestnut trees. We were into farmland where we immediately got into the wrong field, no waymarks, and receive some advice from the farmer’s wife. Soon we drop down to a bridge over the River Calder where I’d been before on the Burnley Way. The river was a placid stream today but there was evidence of harsher days. Pleasant rural walking took us along and over a motorway and onto a canal. There was a large marina with people pottering about but little traffic on the water.

“That’s what a fish looks like”

We crept round Burnley and joined the River Brun into a park where we stopped for lunch. Despite us sitting on a park bench Sir Hugh felt obliged to demonstrate, not very convincingly, his new pocket folding chair. Lots of Asian families were walking past and in conversation we realised that Ramadan meant fasting from 4am till 9pm at this time of year, that can’t  be good for children.

Further along the river the local fire brigade were enjoying the weather on a splashing about exercise. Into fields and along a stream our instincts to follow the trodden path were ignored and we ended up lost near the ruined and abandoned Tudor Extwistle Hall [no connection to the Brontes]. Some time later after difficult barbed wire negotiations we were back on route near a small reservoir. Crossing a road we picked up a good lane to Swinden Reservoir where two farmers were trying to burn  accumulated years of rubbish.

We crossed a moor in lovely evening sunlight and dropped down through trees into the delightful Thursden Valley, the river was low due to lack of rain but still gave us a sparkling accompaniment to the road where a car was waiting.

A very pleasant introduction to The Bronte Way which probably doesn’t get a lot of traffic and has been poorly waymarked today.

*****

THE BRONTE WAY.

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First of all I have to admit getting my Bronte’s mixed up.

They were a nineteenth-century literary family, born in the village of Thornton and later associated with the village of Haworth.  The sisters, Charlotte (1816–1855), Emily (1818–1848), and Anne (1820–1849), are well known as poets and novelists. Two other sisters died at a young age as did a brother Patric.

Like many contemporary female writers, they originally published their poems and novels under male pseudonyms: Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell. Charlotte’s Jane Eyre was the first to know success, while Emily’s Wuthering Heights, Anne’s The Tenant of Wildfell Hall  were later to be accepted as masterpieces of literature.

The three sisters and their brother, Branwell  were very close and during childhood developed their imaginations first through oral storytelling and play set in an intricate imaginary world and then through the writing of increasingly complex stories.

The deaths of first their mother and then of their two older sisters marked them profoundly and influenced their writing, as did the relative isolation in which they were raised.

The ‘Bronte Way’ is a 44mile cross-Pennine route linking various places associated with the lives and works of the Bronte sisters. Starting at Gawthorpe Hall, visited by Charlotte, it goes by the Thursden Valley to Wycoller Hall (Ferndean Manor in the novel Jane Eyre), Ponden Hall [Thrushcross Grange in Emily’s Wuthering Heights] the moors to Top Withins (Earnshaw House in Wuthering Heights), Haworth Parsonage, where the Brontes lived and now a Bronte Museum, the Brontes’ birthplace at Thornton, along the hills west of Bradford to the Spen Valley (Shirley country) before finishing at Oakwell Hall (Fieldhead in the Charlotte’s novel Shirley).

You will be familiar with Sir Hugh from my previous posts, I should really have a tag to my walking companions. Well he has recently had his second knee replaced or whatever. He managed to walk thousands of miles on his first knee replacement much to the credit, amazement and interest of his orthopedic surgeon. He is keen to field test the latest operation so we have arranged a few short days walking on The Bronte Way. He has connections to the Yorkshire end of the walk so was keen to explore the route.

Sir Hugh’s new ‘new knee’

Guide books of the way are out of print but the route is marked on the OS maps so we should be OK.

*****

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – Marsden/Diggle to Ashton-under-Lyne.

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Deja vu today.

This was probably the worst section of the ring, it started off well in the Pennines but became a dreary trudge after Mossley.

The Standedge Tunnel has no towpath so after a good breakfast in The New Inn, Marsden, I caught the bus over to Diggle. It has only just started going into the village after all the snow and ice they’ve experienced up here. This felt like cheating and I should go back one day and work out the route over the summit moors that the canal horses took to connect either end of the tunnel, it would only be about 4 miles. I’m told that in Summer boat trips can be taken through, that would be an experience. Anyhow this morning I’m at the southern gated tunnel entrance and setting off down the Huddersfield Narrow to Ashton. The surface of the canal is lightly frozen over but it is beautiful weather and the dog-walkers are out enjoying the sunshine.

Flights of locks head downhill quickly. This flight has uniquely single paddles top and bottom and on this side side of the Pennines have the suffix W denoting west. Local mills proclaim their names proudly from their chimneys or towers reminding one of the dominance of weaving in these hills. Shout it from the rooftops. Wool, cotton, coal, limestone were transported on the canal. Before long I was down eight locks and passing through Dobcross.

Just past was the old transhipment warehouse for transferring goods to mules prior to the Standedge Tunnel opening. I believe it is now used as the headquarters of the Huddersfield Canal Society. The smaller building was thought to have been a smithy. Also on the other side were old weaving sheds which have been transformed into unique accommodations.A massive railway viaduct looked familiar and further down stepping stones across the River Tame jogged my mind even more  – I had been here recently but couldn’t remember why. Uppermill was passed without realising it, a L&NW marker was a reminder of the railways takeover. A straight section had me alongside Tesco’s in Greenfield where the marina was backed by Alderman’s Hill with its obelisk. Snow patches clearly visible. I definitely had been here before but remember going off to the hills to the East. This time I kept to the towpath.

Woodend Mill and its chimney adjoining a lock at last jogged my memory – I had come out of the woods here on The Tame Valley Way just over a year ago.

At Mossley a mill building above me hissed, moaned, whistled, crunched and groaned like a Schoenberg symphony. apparently it is a timber recycling plant. Worth a listen…

 

Scout Tunnel could be traversed on a towpath in the dark before the countryside ran out.  The enclosed valley with canal, river, electricity lines, rail and road became increasingly grim. Past industries have left waste lands, an old coal conveyor bridge hangs above the trees in ruins, electric substations all a bit too close, And then you are in or mostly under Stalybridge, a lot of work was needed to reconstruct the canal through the centre of town.Rather grubby urban walking through a corridor of industry and dereliction followed and after a narrow cut the final lock,1W, joined The Ashton Canal at a small basin.  A couple were taking their barge for a spin, 10 years of restoration work on it so far – a labour of love. Disappointingly I was soon diverted away from The Ashton’s towpath as it disappeared underground somewhere. I found myself in an Asda car park with no obvious way out, not the end to the walk I’d imagined. However with a little improvisation and without getting run-over I found a way through and back down to the towpath just as it entered Portland Basin. This was a much more lively and pleasant place with a beautiful bridge over the joining Peak Forest Canal. The Ashton continues into Manchester but I’d walked that section in the past so my circuit of the South Pennine Ring was complete. I’d had 6 days exercise, varied scenery and lots of interest but I think I’ve had enough of canal walking for now.

*****

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – Huddersfield to Marsden.

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As the train emerged from Standedge Tunnel into Marsden the world changed to white. The roads around Huddersfield were treacherous with the snow that had fallen and frozen. It was all gone by lunchtime. Whilst at Huddersfield station I would recommend the little station buffet on platform 8, used mainly  by railway workers, providing cheap coffee and basic eats. Fortified I retraced my steps down to the Locomotive Bridge over the Huddersfield Broad Canal. The statue of Sir Harold Wilson [local boy made good]  by the station wore a hat of snow.

A short last piece of the Broad Canal took me to Aspley Basin with all its moorings taken. I shared the path with students from the surrounding University and the transition to the Huddersfield Narrow Canal occurs on campus.

Work building the Narrow Canal commenced in 1794 and though it was largely completed some five years later, the construction of 3.1 miles of Standedge Tunnel took a further eleven years. It runs 20 miles to join the Ashton Canal in Ashton-under-Lyne. Passing under the Pennines between Diggle and Marsden, the Tunnel is the longest, highest (above sea level) and deepest (underground) canal tunnel in Britain. The long narrow boats on this canal couldn’t access the shorter locks on the Broad, hence the need at Aspley basin for offloading and transfer. The Canal operated until 1944.  Many sections were infilled by the early 1960s and later developed. What remained of the Canal fell into dereliction. A major effort has restored it to navigable status.

Some of this major restoration has taken place in the city itself with several tunnels being rebuilt. I soon have to take to the streets to avoid one such section where there is no towpath. Heading out now all the usual canal side developments are underway. The River Colne runs alongside and is crossed from time to time. The river provided the power for the mills, supplanting handloom working, and the canals subsequently improved transport before the railways came.

Britannia Mil 1861.

 

One stretch had been drained to allow workers to repoint the walls, the sad looking canal exposing its normally hidden treasures. This area, not sure where I was, was all a bit run down. Not much civic pride and ne’er do wells hanging about under bridges. I was glad to pass through and head for the hills.

A whole series of narrow locks gained height. A design feature was just one paddle on the upper side yet two on the other end, I couldn’t understand the logic to this, opening one paddle is simpler than two but why not both ends. Incidentally the E on the lock number denotes East side of the system.

Fields opened up at Linthwaite and across the way was the massive woolen mill – Titanic, an iconic building in the Colne Valley. It was built the same year as that fated vessel,1911. It has been restored as apartments and a health spa.

The canal enters Slaithwaite in a narrow channel rebuilt to take it through the village. It has become an integral part of the central area which today was busy with shoppers and visitors enjoying the afternoon sunshine. The old Spa Mill and the Globe Worsted Mill look down on the bustle. There are locks right in the middle of town. All very pleasant and what’s more I was directed to the Handmade Bakery and Cafe in the Upper Mill where I enjoyed soup and a basket of their famous bread. The other half of the mill is occupied by a microbrewery, Empire, which I wisely did not visit as there was more climbing up to Marsden 3 miles away.

The River Colne was always in close proximity with its weirs and mill races. Trains kept rumbling by heading for their Standedge Tunnel.Near Sparth Reservoir, one of ten built to ensure the canal’s water supply, were pleasing cottages and their ruined mill, Cellars Clough.

Marsden, to which I will return to, was glimpsed down below and now in close proximity to the railway Standedge Tunnel was a short distance away. It’s entrance has been described as a Mousehole in the Pennines. The trains to and from Manchester have their own tunnels above. When they were horse drawn barges were ‘legged’ through the tunnel, taking up to three hours. The horses fol owed trails over the hill. The nearby information centre in an old canal warehouse is full of canal history and worth a visit.I walked back down to the surprisingly busy Marsden, a typical gritty Pennine town, to find my accommodation for the night – the welcoming New Inn. Yet another varied walk on this circuit.

*****

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – Sowerby Bridge to Huddersfield.

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As I stepped off the train in Sowerby Bridge I was face to face with an old climbing friend, Sandy, whom I’d not seen for a few years. A brief chat before the doors closed and he was on his way to Leeds. One of life’s unusual coincidences.

My walking trip around the South Pennine Ring was interrupted last week with the arctic weather which cut off this area.

From Sowerby’s main street the last section of the Rochdale Canal is reached and a couple of locks go down into the town’s basin. This morning I was pleased to see a barge coming up, a couple had taken 6 months leave to follow an ambitious circuit of the country’s canals. In the historic basin itself little moved. This was the beginning of a short section on The Calder and Hebble Navigation which travels to Wakefield and is part canal and part River Calder, hence the name ‘Navigation’. It was engineered by a renowned 18th century canal builder, John Smeaton. The work started in 1759 and the canal opened in 1764, much earlier than the others.

Walking out of town I was surprised by the amount of house building on low ground between the canal and the river- watch this space in a few wet winters’ time!  A long level towpath, popular with walkers and cyclists, brought me to Salter Hebble locks where previously a branch ambitiously climbed up to Halifax. Lots of interesting canal architecture on display as I dropped under busy road intersections to a calmer stretch. An electric guillotine lock lies at the bottom.  Down here are the usual grouping of canal, river, rail and road. There are some impressive arched bridges constructed by the railway companies.  More industrial heritage followed, some ruinous others renovated and reinvented. Balconies on mills mean apartments. I lost my way a bit in Elland where roads have blocked the towpath which swaps sides, a short diversion over a bridge and down Gas Works Lane had me sorted. Elland was noted for the production of Gannex Macs, a favourite of Sir Harold Wilson. More of him later.  High heeled office staff from canalside offices were walking to lunch, I was heading to Brighouse, The river was in close proximity ready to join in the action.

Two tall towers, disused wheat silos of Sugden’s Flour Mill, greet you at Brighouse. They are now unusual climbing walls.  My excellent lunch was taken at the busy No 43 cafe, canals get you to the heart of these Yorkshire industrial towns. The canal basin is alongside shops and car parks. Unfortunately soon my way was blocked and I took to the desert of an industrial estate, is this what keeps Brighouse alive?  Interspersed with the metal sheds were remnants of workers back to back cottages.Where do the workers live now, not in the luxury mill apartment conversions I bet.

Canal trust workers were busy tree cutting and lock mending but I squeezed past to a surprisingly rural section. Up to now the towpath had been a metalled walkway but from here on after the M62 was a muddy path, soon to get worse. Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway markers remind one that as the canals lost their influence the railways took over. The River Calder joined the canal for several sections. The path alongside became dangerous and I had doubts that I could reach Cooper Bridge where the Calder goes off to Wakefield and I would join the Huddersfield Broad Canal heading back up west. Opened in 1776 it was known as Sir John Ramsden’s Canal, a wealthy Huddersfield landowner at the time. Coal was carried from  East Yorkshire to power stations until 1953. A friendly man lives in the lock-keepers cottage at the start of the canal.

The canal immediately starts climbing. Industry reappeared, its never been far away in these valleys, with a mixture of derelict structures and modern sheds.  The light was fading as I entered Huddersfield, dubious characters and graffiti appeared so I cut short the day at the elaborately engineered  Locomotive Lift Bridge, a vertical lifting bridge from 1865 now under electric operation, and climbed past the seven storey Brierley mill to the station for a quick trip back to Manchester. Things will look better in the morning.

 

A long walk and hence a long post – two canals in one day.

 

*****

 

 

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – Todmorden to Sowerby Bridge.

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When I was a youngster I would travel alone across the Pennines by rail to stay with an Aunt and Uncle in Manchester. A whole new world would appear to me as the steam train travelled down Calderdale, I have a long lasting vision of steep sided enclosing valleys, running streams and tall weaving houses with mullioned windows. All very atmospheric.  Well I was here again today –  stepping out of the train, albeit a diesel rail car, onto a platform deep in the valley.

Notices told me that Todmorden was Incredible-edible, an initiative focusing on local food and growing vegetables for the community. Throughout the town are plots planted up by locals with information on eating and crops to pick, well there wasn’t much at this time of year. An applaudable venture but I wonder how successful.

Everywhere was quiet as I slipped back onto the towpath in the town centre where there is a watering station for the boaters. Immediately there were boats, I should really be calling them barges, which had been conspicuously rare on the previous sections of the Rochdale Canal in the last two days. A basin full of lived in boats, alternative lifestyles are common in this valley.

Many mills have been demolished and replaced by anonymous industrial sheds.

I caught a glimpse of Stoodley Pike high up on the moor but most of the day was hemmed in by the valley sides, it was bitterly cold when in their shadow.

A canal barge chugged by with jolly occupants, the first vessel I’ve seen in motion. Obviously this area will be busy in the better months with canal traffic. I noticed there were several companies offering canal trips.The river Calder runs alongside the canal and severe damage was caused by the catastrophic floods of Boxing day 2015. A lot of repair work has been carried out in the intervening years.

Approaching Hebden Bridge are Stubbing Locks and Hebble Mill, the workers cottages here are classic ‘back to back’. Hebden Bridge’s centre is a crystals throw from the canal and is thronged with tourists visiting the new age emporiums. Thankfully I find a cafe on the edge, it turned out to be far superior to what its appearance suggested. Cool music, excellent coffee and tasty homemade quiche. Its long list of fancy teas betraying the town’s hippy roots. Back on the canal all was peace and quiet man.       Mytholmroyd was virtually bypassed.  It was the area where counterfeit ‘coiners’ operated in the 18th century, the industrial revolution brought many mills and foundries to the town and it was the birth place of Ted Hughes, the late poet laureate, whose early work was influenced by local nature. A cast iron statue by Kenny Hunter of a hawk  commemorates Hughes’ poem Hawk Roosting and has  connotations to the nearby Hawksclough Mill.        Sympathetically renovated mills and warehouses contrast with the sheds further on.       The canal continues with the River Calder alongside. In the area of Luddenden Foot there must have been vast mill workings judging from the amount of derelict land. A large complex of weaving sheds are being used for other purposes. The surrounding country side is surprisingly green and the canal is a popular recreational pathway in Calderdale.Approaching Sowerby Bridge mills crowd in and then suddenly the canal comes into a town centre car park where I mingled with shoppers. In front is the prominent parish church.The deep Tuel Lane Lock takes the canal under the main road on its way to join the Calder-Hebble canal – but that’s for tomorrow. That prominent Wainhouse Tower in the distance on the edge of Halifax is the tallest folly in the world. The nostalgic Jubilee Refreshment Rooms at the train station provided a good beer whilst I waited for my train.

A couple of extras …

Don’t feed the birds.

Good use of an old mill.                                                                                

***

As I write this the weather forecast for tomorrow is dire. Siberian winds bringing in snow, subzero temperatures and a significant wind chill factor. Maybe the east side of the Pennines isnt the place to be.

***

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – Rochdale to Todmorden.

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Three lovely  ladies were clearing litter from the tow path this morning.  They do it twice a week and there is always bagfuls.  To cover the optimum length they are riding bikes!       A Canal and River employee is also walking the banks checking for any problems. So it seems that this stretch is well looked after but why are there no boats? Apparently the locks this side of the Pennines are difficult to operate, some moorings are unsafe and there is often low water due to reservoirs previously being sold off. That all seems a shame considering all the work and expense to reopen the Rochdale.  The more you think about it the more audacious does the plan in the late 18th century to take water in a canal over the Pennines become.

Today’s walk had started by a side branch serving the town itself though only a short length remains. Close by is a fine bridge. A few more derelict mills and some housing developments  are passed and then the countryside is reached through bridge 56 with the Pennines in the background.

The inspection man.

This seems a popular stretch. Alongside runs the Manchester to Leeds railway with a boundary stone evident. The towered Firgrove Mill has workers cottages attached… … its redundant steam engine is in the Manchester Museum of  Science and Industry,  watch

Ahead at Clegg Hall there are some well kept former weavers’ cottages and a refurbished mill with apartments.I am heading towards Littleborough but my attention is drawn to a clock tower in the NW, it belongs to the closed Birch Hill Hospital which was built as a workhouse and opened in 1877. It had wards for ‘imbeciles’ and ‘fever’ patients, in addition to an infirmary block.The canal slides past Littleborough but I need a coffee so make the detour into a town bedecked with Lancashire red rose flags, maybe they don’t like being part of Greater Manchester. A busy little place and I find a great little cafe frequented by locals, Rebecca’s, for coffee and toasted teacake. Back streets lead me to the canal where new houses are being built.

I’m now heading for Summit the highest point of the Rochdale Canal by a series of locks in open moorland.There are bays where stone from the quarries was loaded and more mills, mostly derelict. I got chatting to a man who’d worked in Rock Nook Mill, originally a cotton mill but diversifying under Fothergills to high performance textiles.  A fire in 2015 devastated the mill and it now stands forlorn and open to the elements.An abandoned mill further up is unexpectedly the base of a theatrical scenery production firm supplying the whole country.

A few more locks and I arrive at the west end of the Summit basin at 600ft. At the top lock there is a lock-keepers cottage and then the canal widens and contours through rough moorland for about about a mile to the first lock going down the east side of the Pennines.The train line has disappeared into a tunnel.

Passing into Yorkshire 8 locks take the canal down to Walsden, whose church spire is prominent from a distance. The industrial landscape reappears with mills and weaving sheds canalside.

A little group of post war ‘prefab’ bungalows seem out of place. One of their owners, of a similar vintage, is proud they have lasted this long. Nearby are a couple of modern rabbit hutches – wonder how long they will last.At Gauxholme warehouses and boats appear and the canal passes under a cast iron railway bridge with Gothic abutments. More locks drop the canal down quickly passing back to back cobbled streets and then in front of you is ‘The great wall of Tod’. This massive wall of blue brick supports the railway high above, quite dramatic and hidden away from the rest of the world. How many millions of bricks? A Dipper, that iconic northern water bird, was passing up the canal, a Waterhen taking a lift on a plank and a Robin singing its heart out on this sunny day.

The canal entered  busy Todmorden at the main street with an abrupt guillotine-like lock dropping it down on its way, without most of the tourists knowing its there.. I had a train to catch so exploring the town will have to wait.

*****

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – Manchester to Rochdale.

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This was a 12 mile day full of interest with old mills coming at me thick and fast. The Metrolink tram took me to Piccadilly and I quickly found my way onto the canal basin where the Rochdale Canal emerges from the depths having already passed 9 locks since Castlefield. 3 years ago Sir High and I had braved these subterranean passageways on our Cheshire Ring jaunt.

Today my way was blocked by a locked gate meaning I had to retrace my steps and try again on the opposite side. The numbers on the bridges didn’t seem to tally with my map until I realised I was confusing lock numbers with bridges.  Not a good start, you shouldn’t get lost on a canal!

The Ancoats area of Manchester where the Rochdale Canal next passes through is known, tongue in cheek, as The New Islington because of all the new buildings many which utilise the old mills and warehouses in luxurious conversions. Marinas dot the developments. It is good to see this rather than dereliction, vandalism and demolition. The cranes are busy again with city centre living.

Some famous buildings are passed – Brownsfield Mill the old AVRO factory for aircraft manufacture;  the Royal  Mill a rebuilt 20th century cotton mill now under residential use, originally named New Old Mill a plaque commemorates a royal visit in 1942 and hence the name change;  the Beehive a former cotton mill connected with Sankey’s soap at a later date now earmarked for commercial use. There are many more. Names allude to the past – Cotton Fields, Coal Pits Lock etc.

But before long I’m back amongst average housing, urban sprawl and litter. The honking Canada Geese are everywhere fouling the towpath. Even the graffiti is not up to standard. But the sun is shining, there are few people about and I feel glad to be setting off on a new exploration.

To compensate there is the fine 19th century Victoria Mill canal side, a former cotton spinning mill. It was designed as a 6 storey double mill with a shared central chimney. Now office and residential use.

The next area is Newton Heath which had an industrious past associated with the canal – die works, bleach works, a tannery, rope works, glass works, brick works as well as the textile mills. A row of maisonettes is named after one of the young Man United players killed in the Munich air crash, 1958, I wonder if the other 7 are likewise nearby, I wish I’d looked.

I nip up a side street for a morning coffee with toast and jam in a basic cafe frequented by locals lingering over their fried breakfasts. Modest housing fronts onto the canal in contrast to the large Regent Mill whose brickwork is exquisite.It bears the names of Russell Hobbs and Remington and I believe they are still trading there.

Failsworth arrives with Aldi, Lidl, Tesco and KFC, the latter temporarily closed due to lack of chickens which has almost reached a national disaster according to some news outlets. The canal continue obliviously to pass the large Ivy Mill. This cotton mill was converted for aircraft assembly during WW2 and is now office space.A brief stretch of ‘countryside’ was passed through before the canal is squeezed under the M60 without a towpath, an elaborate foot bridge over the motorway reunited me on the other side heading for the Boat and Horses pub. A name recollecting the passage of hundreds of horse drawn cargo boats, it did not look inviting today having become a rotisserie and carvery for roadside travelers. The  nearby J.W. Lees Greengate brewery has produced real ale since 1828 and is still family run. I couldn’t pass through the area without sampling their product so at the next more modest canalside pub, Rose of Lancashire, I had a quick half. This inn opened in the early 1800’s as the canal was being developed and was a haunt of local radicals and reformers trying to influence parliament to improve the lot of the working class. The Peterloo Massacre 1819, in Manchester, was a defining moment in that struggle. The canal winds its way through the outskirts of Oldham with the railway a constant companion. This is the Manchester to Leeds engineered by George Stephenson and opened in 1841, I was to become well acquainted with its course in the next few days.  In the vicinity the railway crosses the canal on a beautiful cast iron bridge.

Over the River Irk, past the open spaces of Chadderton Park before more locks rise at Slattocks.

The next barrier is the M62 where the canal has been diverted under a culvert with an ingenious floating towpath. The original line is a boggy passage to the left. A lad was fishing for pike with a large lure which he expertly cast down the water. A previous fisherman told me that it was too cold for the fish, there was almost a layer of ice on the water.

The way into Castleton was enlivened by a cheery mural from a local primary school.

Just when you thought you’d had enough mills the massive Arrow appears. Cotton has given way to storage. I’m not sure how the canal goes under the M627 but I was diverted through retail parks to meet up with it for the last pleasant mile into Rochdale where I was accompanied by many dog walkers. Well the canal, despite its name, ironically doesn’t go into Rochdale but skirts the town at a discreet distance. Things have changed in Rochdale since the mills closed.

The train journey back on that line to Manchester Victoria only took 15mins.

*****

 

 

SOUTH PENNINE RING – A CANAL WALK.

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I can’t get away from canals at present. Family duties will see me down in Manchester for a few days so I decided to look at this circuit which I’ve had on the back boiler for awhile.

The South Pennine Ring is a 71mile circuit north of Manchester combining parts of the Rochdale, Calder & Hebble, Huddersfield Broad and Narrow and Ashton Canals.

Completion of the circuit by boat has only been possible since 2002 with the restoration of the Rochdale and of the Huddersfield Narrow. Enthusiastic and dedicated pressure groups made this feasible but major engineering work was needed, particularly where motorways crossed the defunct system. Money came from many sources and various plaques reflect the Millennium  Lottery Charity funding.There are a large number of locks, needed to cross the Pennines twice, and the highest and longest tunnel [Standedge] in Britain. The original canals played an important role in the area’s industrial and weaving heritage. Several interesting towns are visited and  there are reminders of the past everywhere. Obviously the only canal traffic now is pleasure boats but the towpath gives the additional benefit of a long distance circular walk.

The Canal & River Trust was launched in 2012, taking over from British Waterways, to oversee    canals, rivers reservoirs and docks in England and Wales. Throughout the walk there will be much evidence of their work, aided by volunteers, to maintain this important heritage.

 

I had previously walked most of the Ashton from Piccadilly to Portland Basin three years ago.  So the plan was to walk the rest in a clockwise direction over a few days using my son’s house in  Stretford as my base, taking public transport at the beginning and end of each day. An economical and fairly practical way of completing the ring. This would be another step towards my fully fit walking rehabilitation since overuse damage to my left hip’s ligaments last year.

An excellent map is available –

 

 

 

THE BURNLEY WAY. Day Five.

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Portsmouth to Towneley Park.

If you google Burnley to Portsmouth by bus you can imagine the result –  a ten hour journey to the south coast. Today’s more modest journey went like clockwork, leave home 9.45, park up at Towneley Park, 10.43 bus to Burnley bus station, 10.55 bus to Portsmouth [the one in Cliveger Gorge] and I was walking back into Lancashire by 11.30. I’m becoming a bit of Burnley Bus nerd. The weather today was perfect for a change.  A track climbed steeply from the main Calderdale road and headed into the hills, unusually it was unmarked. Roe deer ran before me and disappeared in the bracken, only their barking could be heard. This was steep climbing and I was soon looking back down into Calderdale and up to distant Stoodley Pike.

Once above a remote barn conversion a smaller path made a beeline for Heald Moor.  A rough track then led along the ridge to Thieveley Pike which was marked by an Ordnance Survey Pillar, 449m,  the highest point on the BW. This was the essence of open Pennine walking just me, skylarks and cotton grass.

Halfway along the ridge was a stone marker plaque who’s origin I cannot find, any ideas?

 

The extensive views were back to the Coal Clough Windfarm, down Calderdale to Stoodley Pike and The Peak District, Lancashire Moors, Hameldon Hill, distant Bowland and then Pendle and the Three Peaks and more of Yorkshire…

  A subsidiary ridge went over Dean Scout Rocks  which made a convenient lunch stop looking down into the Cliviger Gorge. A steep track descended through more sections of the Burnley Forest. Going under the railway I joined a section of the Pennine Bridleway, this turned out to be a delightful peaceful pastoral passage past old farms on what must be an ancient track. Ripe raspberries in the hedgerows were a bonus.

I was circling a hillside plantation named the Fireman’s Hat though I couldn’t see the resemblance, this has been made even worse by a communication tower which has somehow been allowed to be placed in this prominent natural position, money must have changed hands. I walked my way through Walk Mill and payed a quick visit to the Barcroft Hall a 17th century building. Interestingly there was of those old American caravans in the garden.

I then entered the extensive grounds of Towneley Hall and met the masses enjoying a sunny day, children and dogs included. There are paths and avenues everywhere. An ice-cream van by the bridge over the Calder River was doing a good trade and I couldn’t resist a cornet. A stroll  past the hall itself, note to visit in future, and then up a mature lime avenue to the gates on the main road and my car.

 

So I’d completed The Burnley Way, in more days than planned and in poor summer weather conditions but had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Met some lovely people along the way. Good varied walking with fascinating natural and industrial features in an area not known for its walking. My photos don’t do it justice. It is well waymarked and the guide leaflets from Burnley Council clear and accurate. I had learnt a lot more of this area and I highly recommend.

 

THE BURNLEY WAY. Day Four.

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Worsthorne to Portsmouth.

Rain all morning, once again the summer weather had conspired against me but rather than be inactive I opted for another short stage. My lunchtime arrival in Worsthorne coincided with a brightening but showers were still in the air, however I didn’t need waterproofs for the rest of the day. A flagged path across a field took me into Hurstwood described as a delightful Elizabethan village with attractive buildings – most seemed to be under renovation at present so I didn’t dally. A lane crossed the infant River Brun which I had come across a couple of days ago in Burnley centre. The now cobbled lane passed isolated farmhouses onto the moor, I pondered on the man-hours  needed to construct these old highways. Dropping down into Shebden Valley the reason for the lane became apparent – an extensive area of quarrying. Apparently this was for limestone extraction using hushes and what remained was piles of unwanted stone, the sheddings. I joined The Pennine Bridleway at the bridge but for some reason I was directed to a smaller path into the workings, this soon became indistinct and my wanderings were more and more erratic until I hit the Long Causeway road.  [Stay on the bridleway!] This straight road possibly dates back to the Romans and was used as a packhorse trail in the 18th century. It is characterised now by the Coal Clough Windfarm which it runs alongside, I remember this as one of the first in this area. From up here Pendle dominated the skyline to the north.  At a corner a farm track continues on the original line and I just followed this although the footpath supposedly takes to the field. Another isolated farm is passed and a lovely little building which would make a good bothy but more likely an expensive holiday cottage.

The path traverses above a wild clough and passes through plantations which are part of The Forest of Burnley a lottery funded scheme to create new forest around the area, I had noticed secveral others on these walks. Pathfinding through the new plantations is not always easy and waymarking could have better. I found myself on the top of a gritstone cliff, Pudsey Crag according to the map, a diversion was taken to view it from the valley. It looked worthy of climbing but is apparently out of bounds on private land. Deep wooded cloughs are entered as one progresses towards the Cliviger Gorge, occasional cottages appear out of nowhere – this is a secret place. Coming out of one of the cloughs towards Brown Birks farm I was confronted by a large brown bull right on the track, I was so overawed I didn’t even get a picture. Backtracking I picked up another footpath circumnavigating the field and with a bit of ingenuity safely avoided the bovine obstacle. I was now dropping into Cliviger Gorge and looking at the climb out on the otherside which will start my next stage. Looking down were the back to back terraces of mill villages Cornholme and Portsmouth. I jumped on the bus to take my me back to Burnley but found it pulled off the main road to visit some smaller villages and I surprisingly saw I was only a mile from my start so I was dropped off and walked into Worsthorne. Another day of discovery.

THE BURNLEY WAY. Day Three.

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Briercliffe to Worsthorne.

Another shortened day to accommodate the weather. I was back at Queens Mill and no sign of it opening to highlight Britain’s last remaining steam mill engine. Mill streets led to allotments and hen houses on the edge of town. The Parish Lengthsman pulled up and switched off his engine for a chat. He had been watering flower displays and was now off to do some path strimming. Throughout history lengthsmen have been employed to keep parishes tidy and the post has been revived in recent years to provide on the ground local maintenance.  We found we had mutual friends in Longridge and our chat covered many topics, he didn’t seem in a rush to get to work and I’m never in a rush when local knowledge can be gained.

Eventually I crossed several field to arrive at the grounds of Happa [Horses and Ponies Protection Association] and their modern cafe, as you know I won’t willingly walk past a cafe so I found myself inside enjoying a good Americano. Others were tackling mammoth portions of fish and chips, the cafe has a loyal local following. As you would expect horsey types were in strong evidence.

Skirting horse enclosures and then fields full of inquisitive cows I then began  descending towards the Thursden Valley but became a little entangled in boggy grounds and barbed wire fences – the way marking could be better. The valley itself is like a lost world with a small brown peaty brook meandering along. A path of sorts pushes through the sedges with occasional clumps of purple orchids and lots of meadow sweet. Horsetails seem to be trying to affect a takeover in some areas.

I came out onto a road with steep lanes leading into it – I recognised the situation from when we used to drive over to Widdop for a climbing session. The road leading out of the valley always appeared steep and exposed with a car seemingly wrecked down the slope to the left. I was amused to see its rusting form still there today.

A steady plod up the wild road and a descent brought me into Yorkshire with views down to Widdop Reservoir and the crags we so often climbed on. Prominent at the right-hand end was Purgatory Buttress, home of some classic extreme climbs. I was always attracted to the Artificial Route up the front and despite its scary moves was often drawn back to it. Below it are some beautiful boulders for a more relaxing if not taxing time.

Off the road a little track headed through the heather towards a stream where I found an ideal lunch spot. A Blackcap settled in the vegetation in front of me. A boggy section headed across the valley to join a distinct bridleway which climbed above Widdop Reservoir and onto open moorland close to Gorple and Hare Stones. More reservoirs came into view and Stoodley Pike was prominent across the Calder Valley. This track seemed very isolated today not another soul in sight and a rather broody sky.

…not another soul insight…

Distant Stoodley Pike.

A family of chirpy Wheatears were running on ahead of me. Burnley soon came back into view and you realise how close to the town this circular walk keeps returning. Down to my left Hurstwood Reservoir appeared where the route heads to but rain was in the air so I just continued straight down the bridleway into Worsthorne , with some interesting houses, for the bus, Hurstwood can wait till next time.

Hurstwood reservoir.

As I came down the track a mountain biker was heading up which reminded me of a ride I did with my teenage son many years ago on a long loop to Hebden Bridge and back. That was just at the beginning of the mountain bike revolution.

 

While on the subject earlier in the day I passed signs for a MB charity challenge, in a very good cause, from the previous weekend – why have those responsible not removed these by now. I consider these as litter once there purpose is over. Shouldn’t have ended the day on a sour note.

Name and shame.

 

 

 

 

THE BURNLEY WAY. Day One.

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Towneley to Hapton.

I had chosen Towneley Hall as a convenient starting point for the 40mile Burnley Way which I’d broken down into three days’ walking. I’d obtained an excellent leaflet guide from Burnley Council which detailed the walk very well and it is marked on the 1:25,000 OS map OL21. I could see that a radial bus service would ease getting to and from daily start and finishing points, living so close it wasn’t worth paying for B and B.

A late start and a shortened day to let the morning’s rain abate. On the no 483 bus this morning was a man in full golfing regalia with trolley and bag so I knew we had arrived at Towneley Golf Club when he got off. I could have been anywhere but crossing the road I came across the first of the BW waymarks with the birds beak giving the direction up a little lane. I couldn’t make out the coke ovens which were supposed to be hereabouts but soon came across an art installation, part of the Wayside Arts Trail, a red brick kiln which is sadly falling apart or has been vandalised – a depressing thought. I realised I’d forgotten my camera so out came the phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Onto an affluent housing estate old tracks passed between properties, not the terraced housing one associates with Burnley, this is the west side of town.  Crossing a busy road I climbed up the hillside and was immediately looking down on the town and its moorland surroundings, this view was shared by the golfers I joined on an interesting looking course. I navigated my way between greens and across fairways without causing too much trouble and out onto the open fell. Up here apparently was the site of an Isolation Hospital serving smallpox and scarlet fever at the beginning of the 20th century and later TB patients, it was certainly isolated, how things have changed in a hundred years. Away to the left was the Singing Ringing Tree a well known sculpture I’ve visited on other occasions, its a shame it was not incorporated into the BW by following the Arts Trail. 

The Singing Ringing Tree from a previous visit.

Downhill in poor visibility towards Clowbridge Reservoir to cross another busy Pennine road linking the mill towns of the area, this one was heading to Rossendale I think. By the road were signs of previous mining activity with adits going into the hillside, this turned out to be the site of 19th century Wholaw Nook colliery. Four stones from the foundations have been carved by Ian Grant to represent Four Seasons in a Day, a reference to the local weather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the open moor track on the otherside of the road I met a couple from Bury who had been on the SW Coastal Path about the same time as myself so we swapped stories. They are hoping to backpack the BW in the near future. I found negotiating Nutshaw Farm a bit complicated with all the building work, I was not the only one as further on up a rough cart track was a delivery van with a puzzled driver trying to follow his satnav, I suggested he turned round while he could and sorted a route out for him on the good old fashioned 1:25,000 OS.

Approaching Nutshaw Farm.

A steady ascent above Clowbridge Reservoir and I was on Hambledon Hill, but not the trig point, with its various communication towers. Pendle Hill was visible to the north but south I couldn’t identify the moorlands. Even up here there was a burnt out car.

Looking back from Hameldon Hill over Clowbridge Reservoir to Thievely Pike.

Ahead was Great Hambledon but the BW doesn’t seem to bother with isolated summits, I was however drawn to a prominent cairn on the edge of the escarpment. This involved crossing boggy ground on a vague track with small stone quarries below me along the rim. The cairn gave me a chance to eat my sandwiches while watching the wind turbines to the east, these are always prominent from the A56 as you wind out of the Ribble Valley. Pendle was still misty and views into Bowland disappointing.

Towards Great Hambledon.

 

 

Murky Pendle above the Hapton Valley.

First of many windfarms.

Because I’d gone off route I had to find a way down the rocks which now encircled the moor and this proved tricky and time consuming. Once down there was a stretch of rough ground, an old firing range, an almost impregnable plantation and some irritating farm tracks. The plantation was one that had been developed with the help of lottery funding creating the Forest of Burnley project with many sites on the route. Then I was in Castle Clough Woods. I had been here before on The Hyndburn Way and was intrigued by the deep gorge apparently created by glacial meltwater. I was keen to explore further and left the BW once more and dropped into the gorge itself which has a small stream running down it. Heavily wooded steep slopes with quarried rocky outcrops must provide a diverse natural habitat – this is a hidden gem.

Deep in Castle Clough.

I managed to find a way out into Hapton playing fields and back to the station just as the weather was starting to improve.

 

TAME VALLEY WAY. 2 Stalybridge to Stockport.

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The cobbled steps down into Stalybridge were icy, I crossed the River Tame and continued on the Huddersfield Canal. There is something about canals as they pass through towns, graffiti and rubbish unfortunately abound and here was no exception. The canal has been restored, no doubt at great expense, as part of a millennium project and should be a great asset to the town but sadly it provides a haven for ‘ne’er-do-wells’. Enough said, but we have moved on from…

Dirty Old Town – YouTube

The river and canal are in close proximity, but the route favours the towpath just because of its existence. Crossing from one to the other I used The Alma road bridge constructed in the same year, 1854, as the first major battle of the Crimea War. On the outskirts the usual light industry flourishes and there always seems to be a background hum from the units reminiscent of the sound track from some old Sci Fi movie. Relief came at Portland Basin where the area has been gentrified with living accommodations  and boat trips. Here is a junction with the Ashton Canal heading into Manchester and the Peak Forest Canal coming from Derbyshire – what a network. I had a feeling of deja vu and it was only sitting down with the map I realised I was on The Cheshire Ring which I walked last year.  Rivers lose there character hemmed in and stagnating through towns and industry  but when I next joined the Tame it was in pastoral green fields. Amazingly these have been created from  what was the largest refuse tip in the area! All that tranquility was soon disturbed by  passing under the thunderous M67 whose six lane highway has replaced a two lane main road. What will we need in another 25 years?  The remaining few miles into Stockport were all surprisingly rural in country parks and close to the River Tame. The problem was with so many well trodden paths and poor signage one had to sometimes make an educated guess as to the route, keeping close to the river seemed to be a good idea. At the end of all these fields I emerged into Reddish Vale where the world and his dogs were congregating, there was a nearby carpark. The ducks were showing their skills at walking on water. A dismantled railway  gave fast walking, I had a train time in sight, before dropping to the River Tame for its finale. Under the M60, as it bypasses Stockport, one would never normally know that the Tame joins the Goyt at the end of its journey down from the Pennines. Having congratulated myself on reaching this point in good time I was dismayed by the length of traffic dodging streets up to the station to catch that train back to Preston. Another two day route completed in perfect winter conditions, apart from the dazzling low sun, and a good start to 2017.

TAME VALLEY WAY. 1 Denshaw to Stalybridge.

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Denshaw, Delph, Dobcross, Uppermill, Mossley, Heyrod –  not names familiar to all. Its freezing and I’m stood outside the Junction Inn on the edge of the Pennines, think ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ country. I find a small waymark and set off down the Tame Valley Way. I love two day mini long distance walks, enough variety and an overnight stay. It’s taken me 5 difficult hours by public transport to arrive here. The metro tram took me out of Manchester to Oldham Mumps Interchange, a grand image which turned out to be a desolate street with a couple of bus stops. I escaped eventually on a local bus into the Pennines. Free at last to set off walking. The infant Tame is a trickle through flooded meadows and yet mills soon appear, they must have been water powered at one time.  Going through the yard of one mill I hear working machinery and looking inside see raw wool being fed into a carding machine and subsequently spun and dyed. Everywhere things were whirling.

I contemplate mill life in the last couple of centuries before most mills have been demolished or used as storage or one man garage workshops. Before conversion of the manager’s  house into a gated luxury property and the humble mill workers’ cottages into desirable commuter residences. There was ample evidence of those in today’s walk.

These valleys have almost a secret existence these days…

Of course, I had to get into conversation with an allotment and whippet devotee. One suddenly arrives along the river in Delph, a busy Pennine village of solid stone houses. The chip shop dates back to 1769 – not sure it was serving chips then. Disappointingly my ‘bag’ of chips for eating along the way comes in a polystyrene carton. I’m sure the central library/art gallery was a subject for one of Lowry’s paintings…Anyway onwards along the river through more small settlements with many reminders of their history.The Huddersfield Narrow Canal was joined on the outskirts of Uppermill and the Tame crossed on stepping stones to reach refreshments in the Saints Cafe tucked away in a cobbled weaving square. In the bustling town there is an evocative statue of Ammon Wrigley [1861-1946] a woolen mill worker who won fame for his prose.For most of the afternoon the Huddersfield Canal was followed with the River Tame in close attendance. Short stretches of abandoned railways were also used through reclaimed industrial land, gas works and mining areas. As Stalybridge is approached river, canal, road and railway are hemmed in together, even now the oppressive industrial atmosphere prevails and I was glad to escape to my B & B in Heyrod overlooking the valley.   During the clear day the temperature had not risen above 5° and was plummeting fast. A mistake was to walk north to south into the low winter sun which had me squinting all day. Presumably the same tomorrow.

Reflection of plane's jet stream in the canal.

                             Reflection of plane’s jet stream in the canal.

ANCIENT WAYS.

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Beamsley Beacon and Round Hill.

Two ancients going their own way.

There will be lots of posts with Autumn colours at this time of year, I went abroad a week ago whilst the leaves were green and have returned to spectacular trees. But today I hardly saw a single tree on these bleak moors. The general visibility was poor also but a combination of The Pieman and The Rockman as companions was sure to provide an entertaining day.

I have driven below on the A59 hundreds of time and looked up at the craggy top but I had never ventured up there. By our roundabout stroll we found were reminders of ancient routes long before the present roads. There were numerous old mile/directional stones and many boundary stones suggesting lots of foot and mule traffic at one time. Tracks tend to connect and the places mentioned on the stones give some idea of destinations. What was the nature of peoples travel – monastic or trade routes?  – people certainly wouldn’t have come up here for pleasure. On the map there is also a Roman road shown but no trace of this was passed today. The whole area was rather boggy, an understatement, and progress was slow and must have been troublesome for those who passed before. There is no trace of paved mule routes here, whereas in many Pennine areas these are an outstanding feature. On the map there are mentions of ‘cup and ring’ stone markings but we didn’t notice any, didn’t look hard enough.

Enough of way stones – there didn’t seem to be many obvious paths…Up on the drier heather slope there had been some harvesting of the heather which was bailed up – to be used for what? There was yet another mystery, two detached boot soles.

Having traversed Round Hill [409m] we arrived at Beamsley Beacon itself [393m], a more popular destination being a short walk from the car park. The prominent Beacon was part of the chain of fires that could be lit as warnings during the Napoleonic wars, recent uses of these beacons have been more celebratory. The large stone cairn is thought to be a Bronze Age burial site but has never been excavated. The trig. point bares a memorial to a crashed Lancaster Bomber crew from the Royal Canadian Air Force killed 5th November 1945.Will have to come back for the views.