Tag Archives: Bleasdale

FAIR DAY ON FAIRSNAPE.

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                                                         Looking back along the Fairsnape ridge.

JD and I set off from St Eadmer’s Church for a round of the Bleasdale fells. It was warm and sunny from the start. As is usual in these Covid 19 days we caught up with each other’s news and discussed the state of the nation as we walked up the estate road. Before long we were faced with the long rake across the side of the fell up to Fiendsdale Head, it seemed steeper than before. Drinks were taken half way up as we suffered from the heat.

The way onwards to the summit is always boggy but with a judicious choice of cloughs and some changing of sides over the fence we made it with dry feet. There are not enough flags.

We were kept entertained by a helicopter making repeated trips with some payloads to the distant White Moss. An even stranger sight greeted us we reached the 520m true summit of Fairsnape, a substantial digger perched on the peat hags.The operator was sat in the cab so we could ascertain his mission. United Utilities [North West Water to you and me] are trying to stop peat erosion and water run off. He evens out the cloughs, the helicopter drops stones to form a barrier before heather is replanted. Easy.

Stones emptied into the cloughs.

Well on a good day like today its good work but in a storm it would be a different matter. He spoke of trying to avoid the monster getting sucked into the peat. We left him to it but wondered at the effectiveness of man in such a huge scale of wild moorland.

The trig point, 510m, and cairn of Paddy’s Pole [no idea of its origin] on the western edge of Fairsnape are easy to locate in today’s clear weather but this area can be a nightmare in bad conditions and poor visibility. We both had tales of aimless wanderings.

In these conditions an easy stroll across to the trig and Paddy’s pole..

The shelter gave us a place to sit and eat lunch. I was on the lookout for flat soft areas for a future bivi night.

Along the ridge towards Parlick we were keen not to miss Nick’s Chair a lofty rocky prominence.

Nick’s chair – easy to spot in this direction.

Here is a 2014 picture of my grandson on the chair featured in one of my ‘lockdown’ quizzes.

We didn’t bother with climbing to Parlick’s summit but took a traversing path around it before descending the Zigzags down the rough fell side to Blindhurst.

Blindhurst with Beacon Fell in the distance.

Blindhurat Farmhouse.

It was then an easy walk across fields back to the church. A well devised route from JD. I believe I had a touch of sunburn.

The last time we did a similar route was almost 2 years ago to the day in Hurricane Ali, what a contrast.

*****

BEACON FELL BY THE BACK DOOR.

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I knew Beacon Fell car parks would be full on a Saturday. I knew Brock Bottoms car parks would also be full. The Covid-19 crisis is bringing everybody out into the countryside, no doubt the coast as well. Shouldn’t we be encouraged by all these people exercising in the countryside? Well no – the amount of litter I saw today and the inconsiderate and illegal parking problems were distressing and that was on a walk when I tried to avoid the hot spots. I’m becoming more and more disillusioned with the British public the longer this lockdown carries on. Selfish and ignorant people are certainly spoiling it for the rest of us. Rant over – almost.

Having said all that I’ve just enjoyed a lovely evening’s walk without meeting hardly a soul, although I came close.

For a change of scenery, I wanted to visit Beacon Fell. I often walk there and back from home on field paths in a round of 12 miles but today I only had a few hours to spare late in the day. Consulting the map I reckoned I could walk along the Brock River and climb up to the fell without encountering the crowds.

Having parked my car on a quiet lane about 5 miles drive from home I set off at 4pm. The lane dropped me down to the River Brock near the popular car park. There were cars parked all over on double yellow lines as an overflow from the official carpark. The noise from the throngs of people by the river was all-pervading. Picnics, barbecues and drinking was the name of the game, all crammed together on the riverside. I’ve never understood the idea of bringing all your urban trappings into the countryside, but maybe they don’t have gardens or parks at home.

My plan was to walk upstream on little paths by the river and in fields, I never met another person – what a contrast. The Brock was fairly low after the dry weather we have had. I saw a couple of Dippers but otherwise all the birds were anonymous, singing hidden in the trees. The path is good with duckboards over the boggy areas. A solitary cottage is passed well isolated from the virus. Onwards through woods just above the river. An old ford in the Brock is reached at the bottom of Snape Rake Lane, there is a footbridge alongside.  I can remember driving down here once many years ago,  fording the river awkwardly in my landrover to drive up the other side only to find the gate at the top locked. A quick turn around and retreat had me coming back through the difficult ford rather red-faced.  My reckless years. Today I was content to sit and look at the peaceful scene.

Climbing away from the river up the steep lane brought me into the woods high above the river.

I then followed quiet lanes up the northern side of Beacon Fell with improving views of the Bleasdale Hills. In the hedgerows tall Foxgloves, white Bramble flowers and wild Dog Roses were in profusion.

I knew a forest break that cut back right up the slopes of Beacon Fell. After the natural woods alongside the Brock, this appeared sterile and eerily silent.

At the top was the friendly old crocodile carving studded with coins.

I was soon at the trig point without meeting anybody.

Although on the way down towards the car park and cafe people were wandering about. it was here that I started coming across blatant littering less than 100m from bins. Obviously, the culprits expect someone else to come along later and clear it all up. The cafe and toilets remain closed because of the Coronavirus pandemic.

My way off the fell was through the Memorial Forest where you can purchase a plot and a tree as your fitting memory. Another memorial was a field of native trees donated by a former Countryside Ranger, a simple inscribed stone commemorated the gift.

Buzzards were flying above on the evening thermals.

A previously coppiced beech wood was traversed out onto the lane where my car was parked.

Well satisfied with that circuit,

*****

 

BLEASDALE BELONGS TO ME.

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Do you remember those summer evenings after a day in the hills?  The day’s heat floating in the air. The stillness, no wind except for perhaps a gentle breeze wafting some floral scents from below.  The low light is diffused, the summits hazy. Maybe the odd midge or two disturbing your sun flushed face and arms. The stove is purring with the prospect of soup. All is well.

Last night if I closed my eyes I was there.

I was actually in Bleasdale enjoying a stroll around the estate roads. This area is much quieter than Longridge Fell and as I walked through I felt I was the only person on the planet.  It was a perfect evening and I savoured the warm sunshine which brought out those memories of summers past.

It is ironic that this has probably been one of the best few months for backpacking in many years and here we are in lockdown. Still, if I can have Bleasdale to myself  I’m not complaining.

*****

THE BLEASDALE CIRCLE AGAIN.

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Bleasdale Circle with Fairsnape and Parlick looming above.

Another of my winter favourites. This circuit is mainly on lanes and good tracks but takes one right into the hills. I’ve written about it many times but today I have come across some interesting new facts.

For a start, Bleasdale School dating from 1850 where I park is now closed. It soldiered on since the Millenium with about a dozen pupils from the surrounding farms but when the number dropped to two or three its fate was inevitable.

Up the lane, the Parish Hall is heated using a wood pellet boiler with a wind turbine to generate electricity, forward-thinking for a small community. Further on is the uniquely named St. Eadmer Church.

The lane then heads into the hills past a few farms. A footpath diverts to visit Bronze Age Bleasdale Circle. Originally two circles of wooden posts with ditches and a central burial chamber. The wooden posts of the inner circle have been replaced by concrete posts but still are evocative of the site. There is the usual speculation as to the uses of these circles and their positioning. Burial urns from the site have been on view at the Harris Museum in Preston.  The whole site has been planted with a circle of trees which are visible from many parts of Bleasdale. The outer circle, obstructed by the trees, was possibly from an earlier Neolithic era. Ritual sites are often reused over the ages. I visited it today and got my feet very wet in the approach fields.

themodernantiquarian.com

Further into Bleasdale, there is a section of boggy ground before the next farm tracks which come in from the west, like crossing a watershed. All around are good views of the surrounding hills. As well as the Curlew and Lapwings a small flock of Pied Wagtails entertain me flitting along the wall tops. I’m now approaching the properties of the Bleasdale Estate. The estate is now run as partly agricultural and partly a shooting concern but I’ve just unearthed some of its history.

In the C19th a Mr Garnett lived in nearby Bleasdale Tower, he was an agricultural reformer and philanthropist and in 1857 founded The North Lancashire Reformatory School constructed on the estate. It catered for over a hundred boys who worked on the land and in trades such as tailoring and shoemaking as well as receiving an education

“In November 1857, a few weeks after its opening, three boys escaped from the institution due to the fence wall having not been completed. They were all apprehended in Preston the same evening and returned to the Reformatory.”

“Of the 51 discharges for 1865 thirty-three were doing well, twelve convicted, one dead and five missing”

As I walked down the lane today I crossed over Clough Head Brook on a substantial stone bridge which apparently was constructed by the boys. Stonemasons’ tools are depicted on the parapet.

The lane goes through the original school buildings which are now used as cottages and workhouses for the estate. The school enlarged over the years and eventually closed in 1905. A map from 1893 shows the school

In a wall on the corner is a King Geoge V post box [1910 -36]

Taking the shorter route on tarmac brought me past Brooks Farm where an arched ‘packhorse’ bridge is visible over the River Brock. Despite its appearance, it was never built for horses with steep steps at either end. It is not on a known packhorse trail and didn’t appear on maps till 1893. It has been suggested that the bridge was built to provide access from Bleasdale Tower to Bleasdale Church, I wonder if those reform boys built it.

In the wood nearby are some new, not particularly attractive, chalet type holiday lets, a sign of the estate diversifying.

My way back to the school was enclosed by smart beech hedging for which the estate is renowned.

I took this photo of the Bleasdale hills on my way home, St. Eadmer’s church is right of centre.*****

*****

This walk was completed two days ago and since then advice about walking and climbing during the coronavirus emergency has been sensibly updated. As I’m in the vulnerable group I’m taking heed. We are all responsible for limiting the seriousness of the situation in the next few months.

BMC Advice.  18/03/2020

  • People need access to the countryside for their health – both mental and physical.
  • Follow the most current NHS advice regarding health and distancing. Currently Public Health England’s advice is: “you can go for a walk outdoors if you stay more than 2 metres from others.”
  • Consider your means of travel and distance – close to home is best and, despite the environmental impact, it’s better to be in personal cars than public transport at the moment.
  • Stick to familiar areas and low-risk activities.
  • Reduce your risk. Be very aware that medical and rescue services and facilities are going to be extremely stretched and overwhelmed. It would be socially irresponsible to be taking risks at this time that could place an additional burden on medical and emergency services.
  • Do not assume that Mountain Rescue will be available. There is a real possibility of reduced or even no cover for rescue in some areas as this develops.

 

CALDER VALE.

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Calder Vale is a hidden village tucked away from the world to the east of the Bowland Fells. Quakers Jonathan & Richard Jackson founded Calder Vale realising the River Calder would provide water power and in 1835 the Lappet mill was built to spin cotton. At the same time, they provided for their workers and their families by building houses on site. A further mill was built downstream for weaving the fabrics. The waste from these mills was transported to Oakenclough further up the Calder where the same family had established a paper mill. Most of the mills have long since closed but the Lappet mill has survived by specialising in the production of Arab head shawls!  Those red or blue and white shemaghs for protection from the sun as well as windblown sand.   Time for a revisit.

I waited this morning for the mist to disperse, and I waited. By 12am I decided to set off hoping the sun would appear as promised. I am not far away as the crow flies but the lanes in this area are a maze. Eventually, I found a parking place by Sandholme Bridge on the Calder. I wanted to walk into Calder Vale from above to fully appreciate its position. The quiet lane rose up above the river heading towards the Bowland Hills [which were in the cloud]. I was directed off the lane towards Cobble Hay Farm, a working farm that also hosts a popular café and gardens. Guess what, it has been closed all winter but is reopening tomorrow, so no coffee today. The original farm is dated 1681.

Once through the farm, one is onto open pastureland which today was a quagmire, and I was concerned about becoming stuck as my boots sank further and further into the mud. Up above a couple of buzzards were wheeling around and crying. I approached the next farm cautiously, thinking there may be dogs at loose, but I was greeted by this friendly face.

I’m now on the edge of the Bleasdale Fells [Bowland], there used to be a pub up here, The Moorcock, now closed and a private house. I was aiming for the little St John’s Church,1863, the parish church high above the village.  It was closed today but apparently has some fine stained-glass. Next to it is the little village school serving a wider area than just Calder Vale, I wonder how many children walk up from the valley each morning.

Reversing their route through the woods I met up with the River Calder down below. A pleasant stretch alongside the lively water brought me to a weir where water was taken off to a large millpond which previously supplied the Lappet mill. The mill is no longer water-powered but it is interesting to follow the original leats.

Now deep in the valley, the first row of Calder Vale workers’ cottages are passed and how delightful they look today but car parking is obviously a modern-day problem. [heading photo]

The Lappet Mill is massive and the sounds of weaving can be heard outside. Let’s hope the demand for headscarves continues.

Just past the mill is an old farmhouse, a sheepdog rushes out to greet me. The farmer appeared, and we had a long chat on all things rural, meanwhile, the dog rounded up all the hens in the yard – ‘showing off’ said the farmer.

More cottages were reached over a footbridge. Alongside the river, there was very little sign of the lower mill, only a few stones and water channels here and there.

The track climbed out of the valley and crossed fields to a country lane. A man was practising with a parapente on an easy slope, he never got off the ground.

Once on the road, I walked quickly back to the car with the weak sun in the west and the rumble from the motorway becoming intrusive. I stopped to buy half a dozen farm eggs towards my tea.

*****