Tag Archives: Bowland

A BLEASDALE BABBLE.

The streams coming off the Bowland Fells were babbling, full of water, and we babbled, full of air, as we strolled round the tracks. The walk passed by pleasantly with all the chat and we occasionally glanced at the hills which a few days before had been plastered with snow but were now in Springlike condition.

I persuaded JD, of Canary Islands GR131 fame, to accompany me, he was hankering for the open fells – give me another week or so. When I phoned him early morning, a perfect bright sunny and dry one, he had just returned from a morning gym session so I was doubly grateful for his company.

I have described in greater detail variations of this walk several times before. Usually done in the winter when it provides a fairly solid surface to walk on, particularly important in this season’s exceptional wetness. The farmer we met on his quad bike described it as the wettest he had experienced, we could only take his word for that.

At the start a few parapenters were soaring above Parlick and a little further we spotted four buzzards doing there own soaring on the distance.

We walked right round the base of the fells Parlick, Fairsnape, Holme House and Hazelhurst past farmhouses where hill sheep farming has changed little over the years, then on through the Bleasdale Tower estate to emerge onto the road leading to Oakenclough. There were hazy views over the Fylde from up here, a good place for a spot of lunch in the sunshine. Whilst I chewed on my banana JD tried to figure out how to open his tin of tuna which turned out not to have a ring pull – ah well he is on a diet.

Road walking took us past Tootle Hall which I remember was once a homely farm cafe serving chicken in the basket with chips, ham and eggs or a substantial afternoon tea. In the area in those days several farmers’ wives supplemented their incomes with meals in the family dining room. [There is one remaining in Ford Lane, Goosnargh – The Cottage. Go there soon if you wish to recreate eating out in the 60s and 70s. Its all gastro pubs now.]

Walking on past that wonderful beech hedge and we were back at the car within 3hours. A perfect babble and one I will no doubt repeat many time in future winters.

*****

FRUSTRATION 3 – NEEDS MUST.

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I usually walk across the fields to Gill Bridge on the Loud River.

The River Loud arises up near Beacon Fell and flows ‘loudly’ at first through Chipping Vale and once under Gill Bridge sedately past Gibbon Bridge to join the Hodder at Doeford Bridge. In past geological times this latter flow was westwards, north of Longridge Fell, directly into the Ribble but glacial deposits reversed the flow into the present circuitous route via the Hodder.

My boys at a certain age used to disappear on fishing trips to Gill Bridge and I seem to remember them returning proudly with the smallest trout you’ve ever seen. I never knew where they went or the legality of their pastimes, how times have changed.

Today I took the lanes to avoid any unnecessary rough ground and steep bits. I began to wonder at this choice as cars and large tractor things flashed by me at breakneck speed – what is the hurry these days? They seemed oblivious to the icy stretches on some of the corners.

I just couldn’t resist a walk out today as the weather was perfect; blue skies, winter sunshine, zero wind and subzero temperatures. Yes I know I would have preferred to be up on Fairsnape Fell which was prominently in the background for the duration of my amble, heading picture. But needs must, I keep probing at how far I can walk on the flat as there is still an outside chance that I may be able to escape for a few days before Christmas, I have a couple of ideas in my mind for a getaway. I’m not exactly feeding the rat today, [ “Feeding the rat is the need to get out, to test yourself, to flush out the system, and, above all, to have some fun.” Al Alvarez. ]

My probing nearly came unstuck when I slipped on a patch of ice …

… and gave my left hip a painful tweak – a rest, some heavy breathing as well as heavy cursing got me going again. I limped into the grounds of Ferraris Country House, on a public footpath past the originally named Blackmoss House, and bumped into an old acquaintance who now works here part time as gardener/handyman. We caught up with our respective news’s [what is the plural of news?]. The place was busy with a wedding of a hundred guests, how much has that cost?

Back over the Loud and onto the busy road the tearooms where I buy local produce were closing.

Round the corner was The Derby Arms inn which was busy with pre-Xmas parties. I suppose that these establishments have to make their money when they can to balance out the quieter periods. Its a hard life in this trade nowadays.

Easy walking past the cricket and football grounds, ignoring the awful new development on the edge of town, had me home for an ice pack and pre-supper drink in front of the cozy log-burner. Xmas card writing can wait for another day. Don’t know whether I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

At least I tried to slay the frustration if not the rat.

FAIRY HOLES CAVE – WHITEWELL.

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My stereotypical image of prehistoric life is of a family sat eating round a fire, animal bones scattered about, in the mouth of a cave. Hence, this morning I found myself sat in a cave entrance high above the River Hodder near Whitewell living the dream. Fairy Holes Cave was excavated in 1946 and more recently in 2013 and has revealed cremated human bones, animal bones and pieces of pottery dated to the early Bronze Age. I had not been here for maybe 35 years when I had come to show my children the virtually unknown site. I remember it took some finding and was on private land – it remains so to this day. Once located there are three caves in a limestone outcrop, the middle one being by far the most extensive. A high entrance leads to a 25 m long cave which you need to stoop along until at the furthest point a phreatic tube allows you to stand again. My head torch only allowed a poor view of the features, but I was hoping some photos would show more. Having satisfied my speleological desires I clambered up the hillside and continued on my walk through this limestone area of Bowland.

The early morning start north of Chipping saw me parked up at the end of a bridleway, now a surfaced lane, leading to a prominent Lime-kiln on Knott Hill, this was used to provide lime for the fields and mortar. Throughout this walk little outcrops and quarries of limestone are discovered.

The tracks onwards to Lickhurst Farm were waterlogged reflecting the amount of rain we’ve experienced this summer. Got chatting to the weathered farmer, whom I knew from a previous life, about these isolated Bowland Hill farms. He is due for retirement soon and is one of the last generation born and bred in the area. So many buildings, farms and barns have been upgraded for a new breed of incomers. The property next to him which seemed derelict a couple of years ago when I passed through now offers luxury accommodation. We speculated, with a smile, on how they will manage cut off in the next harsh winter – no doubt helicopters will be involved and the TV will report on a survival rescue.

Lickhurst Farm.

The next stretch through more wet fields passed farmsteads, Dinkling Green and Higher Fence Wood, amidst curious Limestone Knolls surrounded by the Bowland Fells: a juxtaposition of grit and lime. Hereabouts I had heard of caves but never found them, I wandered about in vain for a while and was on the verge of giving up when I spotted a fenced enclosure, a give away really. There it was – an obvious cave opening in an outcrop. It turned out to be a few cave entrances to a system which looked as though it extended down into deeper passages – not for me alone today. Has this cave a name I wonder?

Down the lane and across fields towards a small quarried outcrop which I remember bouldering on years ago and which is now in the definitive Lancashire Bouldering Guide named appropriately Reef Knoll Crag.

Anyhow, passing quickly onwards I arrive in the farmyard of New Laund where workers are busy sorting sheep. Nobody notices my diversion to Fairy Holes…

… my continuation over New Laund Hill gives views back to ‘The Jaws of Bowland’ with Mellor Knoll, Burholme Bridge and the Whitendale Fells prominent. Ahead is the deep wooded valley enclosing The Hodder with the slopes of Longridge Fell behind. Some creative navigation through Fair Oak put me on the right track to Greystonely, another farmstead with converted buildings, the one whose residents I knew were out so no cups of tea! The bridleway over a ford quickly took me back to my car, and I was home for lunch.

*****

STOCKS RESERVOIR – THE LONG WAY ROUND.

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There is a ‘new’ circular walk around Stocks Reservoir, promoted by United Utilities, from the Gisburn Forest car park and judging from the amount of people seen today very popular. I came across it on a walk from Slaidburn. New paths have been created giving a varied route with fantastic views and close to the water wildlife viewing hides are available. Stocks was constructed in the 1920/30s by the Fylde Water Board by flooding the upper Hodder valley, the surrounding farmland and the hamlet of Stocks-in-Bowland. 500 men worked there and a narrow-gauge railway was built to transport materials. According to the information boards, numerous attractive houses were lost but the church was rebuilt above the water. For more fascinating reservoir facts click here.

I always enjoy the Roman road from Cow Ark to Newton, I drive this way to reach the Slaidburn area and as a scenic route to Yorkshire. As you crest the hill the Bowland Fells are prominent to the west and straight ahead is unmistakable Ingleborough, if you are lucky and the day clear. Today I was debating a walk up Croasdale to Bullstones but I knew I would be tempted onto the boulders which wouldn’t be good for my shoulder so I opted for a walk up to Stocks reservoir.

Slaidburn is an interesting old village to wander around. Most of the property has been owned by one family for over 200 years and little has changed, narrow streets, hand-loom weavers’ cottages, an historic pub, village shop, YHA, war memorial and the River Hodder. I must admit to have not visited the C15th church on the outskirts.

This morning I used the village car park and adjacent cafe as my starting point and walked out on a lane heading to Bentham which seemed very popular with cyclists who have a lot of climbing ahead. A style leads into a field and a climb over a hill which you realise is Limestone, there are a lot of Reef Knolls in the area. A string of Dale’s like meadows parallel the Croasdale Brook, each having a stone barn in various states of repair. These reminded me of the phrase “were you born in a barn?” that was constantly directed at me as a child for leaving doors open.

The farmer from Croasdale was proud of his new concrete access road as he drove around on his buggy with trusted sheepdog.

Climbing out of the valley the views across Bowland improved with every step. Newly sheered sheep were out in the fields creating a loud communal baaaa. The short stretch of road walking was virtually traffic-free and there seemed to be a ditch and dike running alongside, no idea of its origin. Up on Merrybent Hill, Ingleborough raised its head again and the vast extent of Gisburn Forest was spread out below.

Bowland Fells.

Ingleborough.

Gisburn Forest.

A line of Alder Trees followed a stream downhill off the road and this is where I met up with the Stocks Circular walk and a stream of people. Flags had been laid over a boggy stretch and where last time I had precariously crossed the Hodder on stepping stones there was a new [2008] footbridge. Shamefully the stepping stones seemed to have disappeared.

Onwards and upwards past the deserted New House with its outside well. The lane leading down from here gave views of Stocks Reservoir with Totridge Fell in the background. All to soon I was into the forest but the path has been improved and winds its way nicely through mixed woodland.

Alongside the start of the water I went into one of the hides, opening up the flaps I had a perfect view of the Hodder snaking into the lake; unfortunately without binoculars, I struggled to identify most of the birdlife except for the numerous Cormorants. Nonetheless it was a good place to eat my lunch.

Continuing on I reached the car park with all the information boards and more people doing the circuit. The causeway was crossed, on the water little boats used by fishermen seemed to be having a hard time in the brisk wind. In the past I’ve walked on the road past the re-sited church but now a path winds off through the trees to keep closer to the reservoir. The next mile on open ground above the water gave magnificent views across the reservoir with the Chipping Fells ahead and behind to the forest. The signed walk brought me up close to the dam wall with the splendid waterboard house above. Not wanting to cross the damn I found a bit of a path upwards to join the track down to Hammerton Hall, a commanding three gabled Elizabethan house. After Holmehead Bridge crossing the Hodder fields headed towards Slaidburn. I was reminded of a previous trip down the Hodder when not checking the map we forded the Croasdale Brook in a direct line under the view of the farmer who said we were on private land and sent us, humiliated, back across the river. Today I found the correct path to the right to reach the bridge and road back into the village.

Sorry, this has been a long-winded blow by blow account of today’s walk but there was so much of interest. I have every intention of returning soon, with binoculars, to walk that shorter signed Stocks circular.

FAIRSNAPE FELL.

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The phone rang shortly after 7am. It was going to be a very hot day and Dave suggested a walk over Fairsnape, above Chipping, early on. I grabbed a drink and my camwera and we were soon climbing the old track up Saddle Fell with a lovely breeze keeping us cool. I can only surmise that this track was for sledging down peat from the cloughs above. Crossing a fence before the watershed the track has been ‘improved’ with stones and gives a good walking surface to the true summit of Fairsnape, 520m. The last few yards of bog have been paved with slabs though today everything was so dry one could walk anywhere. Taking out my camera to record the summit I found the battery completely flat hence no pictures to accompany this post. The above photo taken later from Longridge Fell shows Parlick and Fairsnape to the left with Saddle Fell central. Below is the village of Chipping and lower right you can see the Steam Fair site which is open all Spring Bank weekend and attracts visitors from far afield.

The walk along the ridge was as dry as I have known it, we cut downhill before the trigpoint. Skylarks were singing and fluttering high above and several pairs of Curlews were flying past with their haunting call. A small brown bird flew up from under my feet and there in the heather was the most perfect round little nest lined with grass and containing four brownish eggs, probably Meadow Pipit. I cursed the lack of my camera.

Skirting round the west side of Parlick we avoided the worst of the steep descent and contoured back under the fells to Saddle End and the car. We were back home for lunch before the hottest part of the day. Only the next day did I discover a tick embedded in my groin which I quickly and cleanly removed with my extracting device. These little menaces seem to be becoming more common in sheep rearing areas and as they have the potential to carry Lymes Disease care should be taken to avoid them. I was asking for trouble walking in shorts.

Around the block.

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I can’t believe I was climbing a few days ago in a T shirt as this morning the cold dull weather continues towards Easter. I rouse myself to do a favourite short walk from home to see what is happening in the countryside. Longridge Fell looks broodingly down on the start of my walk into a field full of seagulls, they are unusual so they must be feeding on something – possibly recent muck spreading.

A glance at the 1:25000 map shows many small ponds in these fields, they are the remains of Marl Pits dug in the 19th century to provide lime rich clay for spreading on the fields to improve the soil. They now provide an interesting habitat for wildlife and plants. One near here unfortunately is used by the duck shooting fraternity, today the mallards were paddling happily. A couple of larger ponds used to keep my children happy for hours fishing for god knows what.

I passed a few metal gates which are for access to a line of aqueducts crossing this area, the Thirlmere aqueduct to Manchester and the Hodder aqueduct to Blackpool. Generally the former has black gates whilst the latter green. A useless bit of information.

On the lanes Blackthorn was in flower before its leaves appeared, the reverse of the Hawthorn, May Blossom. The phrase “Ne’er cast a clout till May be out” was particularly pertinent today in the cold wind. Better information.

Blackthorn.

Sheep were with lambs and the cattle were being let out into the fields. I came across a particularly threatening breed of sheep.

Pit Bull sheep.

Since I was last this way a memorial seat has been erected – “he loved this farm” a lovely sentiment.

Passing three popular hostelries …

Ferraris Country Hotel.

Derby Arms.

The Alston.

… shunning them all I arrived home in under a couple of hours. The weather shows no sign of improving but at least I’ve had some exercise.

A BLEASDALE BLAST.

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Bleasdale.

The forecast was dire – strong easterlies and minimal temperatures.

Enjoying a Sunday lie in listening to the radio I was disturbed by a phone call at about 10am from Mike wondering if I fancied a walk in the prevailing conditions. He had cancelled sailing in Yorkshire [even worse weather – not suitable for rigging up]. Glad of the prompt I suggested a couple of venues and arranged to pick him up at 11am. Quick breakfast.

We plumped for Bleasdale – lowish lying and good tracks. I’ve done this walk many times in all seasons – ie. But something new always crops up.

The wind was blowing at 30mph when we left the car but we were sheltered by that magnificent beech hedge along the road. Turning right into the estate road at the desirable small lodge views opened up of the Bleasdale circle of fells. We walked through the estate houses and workshops and headed straight into the wind. As you go into a shelter band of trees there is a tall arched bridge across a small stream, I’ve never taken much notice of this before but today clambered down the bank for a better view. On the parapet downstream is a crest with the stonemasons’ tools highlighted but no date or name.On the open stretch of track the wind was fierce blowing sleet into our faces, we didn’t hang about. The hills disappeared into the cloud and we were glad we weren’t up there. We were passed by a girl on an electric mountain bike with the widest tyres I’ve seen on a cycle. Battered by the wind we passed the track to Bleasdale Circle.

Mystic Bleasdale circle.

On to the isolated church and school. The wind turbine was hurtling round and no doubt providing electricity to the grid via the community centre. Things have changed here since my last visit – the well-insulated parish hall has connected to the turbine and also installed an ecological wood pellet burning boiler. Quite a step forward for this small community.

All is not necessarily rural idyll in this area –

After 4.5 miles we were glad to be back at the car and home for soup and rugby on TV.

BEACON FELL CIRCUIT.

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It was one of those out of body experiences – I was 11years and cycling as fast as I could around the Teesdale lanes getting strong for some time trialing; then I was in my teens touring various parts of Britain with my mates; now I’m 30 and exploring the Trough of Bowland and further afield doing 100 mile days; next I’m 50 and cycling across Europe on endless adventures. Now I’m off my bike and having to walk up a steepish hill onto Beacon Fell. Bugger.

Today’s circuit from home is about the same distance as the Preston Guild Wheel which I’ve been using recently but with HILLS – over a 1000ft of ascent. Your are on your own here.Still the roads are quiet, the sun is shining and I’m wrapped up against the freezing temperatures.

Beacon Fell is a local landmark and popular with strollers and families. It is one of my regular haunts usually walking as previous posts detail. I had forgotten how impregnable it was on a bike. Still the cafe is open all year. Despite the icy roads it was mainly fast downhill from here on the long way round to Chipping under the Fairsnape Fells. There were a few more hills I’d forgotten about!

and then I’m sprinting to the finish on the Champs-Élysées.

***

As an aside I passed several laneside garages long since abandoned, they were a feature of the countryside 50 years ago. They were never open when you needed petrol on a Sunday afternoon but their skilled mechanics kept the locals cars and tractors on the road. No plug in diagnostics in those days.

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES WALK – Caton Moor to Lancaster Castle.

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Our final stage of this fascinating walk began high on the Caton Moors. The well known, when viewed from the motorway, wind turbines were rotating rapidly in the strong wind as we passed. Up here today we had extensive views of the Bowland Fells, Ingleborough and Pennine fells north, the Lune Valley and Morecambe Bay, an exhilarating start to the day. In a picnic area we found our first tercet of the day, No 6. A lane coming from nowhere brought us down into Brookhouse and we explored the back lanes and pretty houses of the village, roses seem to be a specialty of the gardens here.

Across the main road we joined the Lune Valley Ramble into Lancaster along an old railway. All of a sudden humanity appeared – dog walkers, joggers and cyclists supporting the idea of good exercise and being able to participate in a safe and beautiful environment. Well done Lancaster with the help of European money! Two men were setting off cycling coast to coast to Bridlington, a route my son speaks highly of. They were an odd couple one young and fit on a classy bike, the other hoping to rely on his electric motor to get across the Pennines. I hope their enthusiasm saw them through although I suspect they will have been very wet at the weekend. We crossed the famous Crook Of Lune [painted by Turner] on an impressive bridge. More cyclists were passing the next tercet. For a break we sat on the banks of the river below a weir near Halton old station. A fisherman engaged us in conversation about all things Lancashire, No fish were caught. it was about at this time that the zip on Sir Hugh’s shorts malfunctioned causing great hilarity to the fisherman and great embarrassment to the wearer. Apologies to anyone in Lancaster whom we shocked or offended.

A pleasant stretch on a lane parallel to the motorway followed, large puddles where evidence of recent rainfall. We were heading for the castle but first we visited the prominent hill forming part of Williamson Park thought to be the site of the witches’ gallows, and now the site of the 9th tercet. We wandered through attractive parkland and climbed up the baroque Ashton Memorial for views over Lancaster and the surrounding areas. Then it was down busy streets across town passing the Golden Lion pub where the witches were supposed to have been offered a final drink on the way to be hung – an unlikely tale. Incongruously two walkers in shorts, with walking poles, marched through the shopping area and eventually climbed up to the impressive castle gates and the last tercet. A lot of restoration work is going on so we didn’t linger.

Thus we had completed a trail full of interest which deserves to be better known.

The complete poem

‘The Lancashire Witches’ by Carol Ann Duffy

One voice for ten dragged this way once
by superstition, ignorance.
Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

Witch: female, cunning, manless, old,
daughter of such, of evil faith;
in the murk of Pendle Hill, a crone.

Here, heavy storm-clouds, ill-will brewed,
over fields, fells, farms, blighted woods.
On the wind’s breath, curse of crow and rook.

From poverty, no poetry
but weird spells, half-prayer, half-threat;
sharp pins in the little dolls of death.

At daylight’s gate, the things we fear darken and form. That tree, that rock,
a slattern’s shape with the devil’s dog.

Something upholds us in its palm-
landscape, history, place and time-
and, above, the same old witness moon

below which Demdike, Chattox, shrieked,
like hags, unloved, an underclass,
badly fed, unwell. Their eyes were red.

But that was then- when difference
made ghouls of neighbours; child beggars feral, filthy, threatened in their cowls.

Grim skies, the grey remorse of rain;
sunset’s crimson shame; four seasons,
centuries, turning, in Lancashire,

away from Castle, Jury, Judge,
huge crowd, rough rope, short drop, no grave
only future tourists who might grieve.

Sir Hugh’s own blog tells a similar tale of our progress – http://conradwalks.blogspot.co.uk/

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES WALK – Clitheroe to Slaidburn.

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The scenery changes today as we leave the Ribble Valley and climb into the Bowland Hills. Rain is forecast and its rather dull in Clitheroe. Canoeists float downstream as we cross the river at Brungerley Bridge and a group of youngsters are on the field path learning navigation. We soon leave them behind and cross fields around Waddington, most of the farms/barns look hundreds of years old but many have had expensive makeovers. Looking back Pendle Hill is in cloud. The hay meadows we pass through are full of flowers and brighten up a dull day. I have a painting at home representing the same scene. As we climb onto the moor on a drove road we realise we have been here together before whilst exploring Easington Fell last winter.There are no views today in the low cloud which is a shame as this is a wild and desolate moor. On the map are marked The Wife and Old Ned but they turn out to be disappointing piles of stones. A good track, presumably shooting, takes us down the fell to a shooting lodge marked as Fell Side. Dogs are caged up and greet us excitedly. At the moment we arrive the rain starts so we are lucky to find shelter and tables outside the lodge, lunch is taken. On the approach I had stuck my walking pole under a stone and a metal trap snapped shut almost breaking it, I couldn’t imagine what it could do to fingers. What are they trying to catch? Our lunchtime was enlivened by a ‘turkey’ parading about in front of the windows. The rain stopped and we continued on our way over a hill and down into Slaidburn, usually seen with a backdrop of Bowland Fells, but not today. Our tercet was in the carpark. The village was busy hosting a small steam fair which kept us entertained for awhile though the crowds and vehicles detractied from the normal tranquility of this lovely village. Familiar paths through woods and then open fields gained height, Curlews and Lapwings became a constant sight and sound. On past a graveyard for farming implements which looked like a ‘herd’ of dinosaurs across the land. We finished the day under the Bowland Fells just before the start of Roman Road over Salter Fell. We will want better visibility for that next section.

THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES WALK – Slaidburn to Caton Moor.

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As we wandered up the Roman Road to Salter Fell I was expounding to Sir Hugh about the remoteness of this track and how one hardly meets another person when we glanced behind to see about 20 walkers bearing down on us. A charity walk was in progress, from Slaidburn to Lancaster on our route, they all seemed cheerful enough and we managed to keep our own solitude for most of the day. In truth they were going far quicker than us.

Charity walkers.

This is a familiar way for me, I must have walked it dozens of times whilst approaching The Bullstones a favourite remote moorland bouldering area of mine. The extensive rocks were clearly seen across the valley and I scanned some of my favourites with binoculars. Below in Croasdale is a barn with unusual stone sheep pens, I have bivied there with my grandson and watched Hen Harriers before their demise. We soon passed today’s tercet no 6. A good pace had us over the watershed and looking down into Whitendale, another remote valley with Wolfstones high above and the Chipping fells in the background. To add to the splendour the Yorkshire Three Peaks became hazily visible as our track stretched across the moors. This is the place to be on a summer’s day and we stopped for lunch. Black clouds appeared and it was raining over The Lune Valley, but we stayed dry for now. Leaving the main track at Higher Salter we plunged into an unknown world of deep hidden cloughs at the head of Mallowdale. A roller-coaster mile or so past remote farms, wooded valleys and uncut meadows,. A haphazard route where we had to keep checking our navigation, the preceding charity group had left a trail that helped. Waterproofs were donned but by the final rise onto Caton Moor we were drying out and reflecting on a great days walking full of contrasts.

Longridge Fell – better late than never.

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I don’t like to admit to many deadly sins, or virtues for that matter, but SLOTH was on the list today. I hadn’t got round to arranging a walk in the Lakes or in Yorkshire with friends and sloth set in whilst I was having my morning coffee back in bed. One voice said get up and going, the other persuaded me to linger listening to the radio. The morning evaporated whilst the sun shone outside. Something stirred in me and after a quick brunch I was parked up on Longridge Fell. I stopped to take a photo of rubbish dumped in the car park, picked some up later, and noticed the passenger door of the red car next to me was wide open with lots of articles on the front seat. Not daring to touch anything I closed the door and hoped no opportunistic thieves were about.

I have written about Longridge Fell many times, so what was new today? Some more large chunks of trees have been felled whether because of the Ramorum fungus affecting the Larch or routine forestry work. There are forest roads which give good walking but I can’t come up here without visiting the trig. point, Spire Hill 350m. This diversion involves muddy tracks which today were semi frozen allowing one to break unexpectedly through the crust into the icy depths. Haziness over the Bowland Fells and Pendle precluded decent photography. Once I was back on the main forest track I strode out to Kemple End, I don’t normally go this far as it entails road walking back to the car but today I fancied the extra few miles. Sun glasses would have been useful against the low sun in the west. I caught up with a sprightly walker, he had been out all day having caught the bus from Preston and done a circuit of Longridge Fell and the Hodder. At the age of 75 he was out regularly and knew the Bowland area intimately, a true fell wanderer. He obviously declined my offer of a lift into Longridge. Wish I had got his name.

At the end of my walk I came through the small bouldering venue of Crowshaw Quarry and I’m itching to get back on some of the problems in Spring. Talking of itching my friend John phoned me last week suggesting a trip back to Gran Canaria where we have unfinished business on the GR13. Needless to say flights are booked.

PS The red car had gone – hope all OK.

Croasdale – but not as we know it.

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I think it rained another couple of inches last night, the forecast was average and I was prepared for a lazy day to recover from my duty as a removal man. But no, Mike phoned with an improving forecast and was keen for some exercise. Where to go – all the field paths round here are waterlogged or flooded. It’s times like this when at short notice you fall back on the memory bank, “I’ll take you up Croasdale, it will be dry” . He had not been there.

Getting there via Chipping wasn’t that easy with more flooding of the lanes and then land slips at Whitewell. We made it through but will come back a different way.

The hills were white with snow, the lane into Croasdale more like a river and painful hailstones welcomed us. I have memories of this lane being a sheet of ice on sunny winter days when Alan and I first started exploring Bullstones as a Bouldering venue, we were super keen. But even better recollections of sunny days on the heathery hillsides watching the Hen Harriers, will they return? The Roman road was dry, despite the full streams, as was most of the fellside so that part of the plan worked. The white bollard with poems we passed reminded me of The Lancashire Witches Way, a 50 mile walk planned from Barrowford to Lancaster, maybe spring would be better. There was no bouldering today, the rocks snow covered and a freezing wind keeping us well wrapped up and moving. Following the rim of rocks I found that wonderful stone trough hewn from a boulder, Mike was impressed. Not lingering we found the tracks down to the ford but were of course confronted by a dangerous raging stream and it took us some time to find a way across to safety. A wild and exhilarating few hours. The only casualty of the day being one of my [cheap] ski sticks which I managed to snap in a slip.

For normal conditions check out –

Bouldering and diversions in Croasdale.

Heart of Bowland – Croasdale. Bullstones bouldering.

BULLSTONES BOULDERING GUIDE.

STYLES OF STILES.

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Ancient bridleway out of Grindleton.

This summit cairn is not regularly visited and it’s years since I’ve been up here. Any ideas as to its location? ……………..

We arrived here via this isolated trig point – any ideas? …………

I’d planned a 9mile walk for today as the weather forecast was good, cold and sunny. We didn’t have as heavy a snow fall as predicted and most had melted yesterday. Coffee was on at my house at 9am for the Rockman [travelling from Bolton] and Sir Hugh [travelling from Arnside]. Equidistant planning. I coaxed my car across to Grindleton on the north side of the Ribble Valley, an interesting village with many rows of cottages in hidden back streets. Having left the village we vaguely climbed up through complicated fields onto the fell. We encountered a multitude of stiles on the way, some ancient stone squeeze ones had been over ridden by modern wooden ones. Even the simple wooden ones seemed awkward, either at a funny angle and height or doubled up.

Courtesy of Conrad.

Our creaking stiff joints didn’t appreciate them and we in fact took to a quiet lane to make life easier. Soon we were at the trig point 305m Beacon Hill, a fine viewpoint of Ribblesdale. The ground all around is rather boggy and the forests hereabouts seem different shapes to our map, the result of felling and replanting. Easington Fell, 396m came next with even better views to the Three Peaks and the Bowland Fells. Time for lunch and talk turned to the virtues of Higgidy Pies, the sun came and went. Lanes led down the fell. We were lucky to watch a Sparrow Hawk pluck a luckless Starling out of a flock. Our next objective was the hidden Drakehouse valley, a deep ghyll in the woods. progress was hampered by debris from recent flooding but we enjoyed the almost secret paths down here. A pleasant stroll by the Ribble brought us back to Grindleton, completing a surprisingly varied tramp. My legs are aching tonight after all those stiles and boggy ground. You may get a true record of the day from http://conradwalks.blogspot.co.uk/

CHIPPING IN BLOOM.

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I’ve talked about the village of Chipping several times as I often seem to be passing through. Today I was here again for a short circular field walk that a friend was planning for his walking group. We were impressed by the tidiness of the village and the abundance of colourful floral displays, the village looked reet gradely.

Chipping in bloom.

We didn’t spend a lot of time in the village this morning, but it is worth seeking out the stone-built cottages, 17th century school, churches, almshouses, club row and waterwheel. On the edge of the settlement we left the road and followed an old hawthorn hedge and ditch, all that remain of a Medieval ‘pale’.

Line of the pale enclosure.

This was a wooden fenced enclosure for the deer park of Leagram Estate. There is a rare map in the Duchy Of Lancaster archives by a Roger Kenyon from 1608 delineating the park so that its boundary may be traced still. Not only did the pale keep in the deer but also acted as physical statement of privacy and privilege to the common people on the outside. This is thought to be the origin of the phrase ‘beyond the pale‘

Walking ‘beyond the pale’ with Longridge Fell in the background.

We completed our simple circuit with first views to Longridge Fell and then the Fairsnape fells to the north. The route will need a few tweaks before the group use it – apparently they are not keen on too many stiles or boggy ground! There was intermittent rain and sun and the only other point of note was a ‘Zebra’ in a field.

The Tour of Britain cycle race, stage 2 on Sept 7th, comes through Chipping and has a circuitous journey on the local lanes to Longridge and beyond. Hence all the yellow bikes, what Yorkshire can do so can we. Should be worth a watch.

A Local Weekend.

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Writing this whilst outside is a torrential downpour and distant thunder. The strange summer weather continues. This weekend I’ve managed two contrasting walks.

Saturday. A dull morning but things improved after lunch so I took the opportunity to complete a few more map squares I had signed up to for in the Ramblers ‘Big pathwatch’.

The idea is that every public footpath in England and Wales, all 140,000 miles, should be walked and any problems noted and hopefully duly sorted. I like to do my bit for the local paths around Longridge. No big problems found today – only one electric fence with no safe way through. However it is the height of summer and the height of vegetation is noticeable on lesser walked paths, you certainly need long trousers. So by the end of the walk I had had enough of nettles and brambles, and the Ramblers can’t do anything about that.

Sunday. After yesterday’s field path navigations I felt the need to be free up on the fells. The morning was warm and sunny with the threat of storms later so I was away relatively early to park above Chipping for my usual Saddle Fell, Fairsnape and Parlick circuit. The path goes through the yard of Saddle Fell Farm and steeply up an old peat collectors track. Several WD numbered marker stones are passed – a reminder that these fells were once a tank and firing range back in the 40’s. Saddle Fell also has a tragic past – on a sunny Sunday, 25th March 1962, three teenagers, two brothers [11 and 18] and their sister [15] set off from Chipping for a walk over to Langden Valley. The weather changed with low cloud and a snow storm moving in, they soon became disorientated and hypothermic. Somewhere on Saddle Fell the boys sort shelter in some rocks but the girl staggered on to raise the alarm at the farm. Both boys were dead when found the next day and this led directly to the establishment of a mountain rescue team in this area. As I climb the fell I pass an old stone shelter and often wonder if this was the site of the brothers last night.There was a very strong Easterly wind and I virtually ran along the ridge. With some local knowledge this route can be achieved without any serious bog trotting. The air was warm and the haze hid any distant views but you do experience a strong sense of wilderness and space up here. Today I was really only interested in putting some miles below my mountain boots and a quick 1000ft of climbing as part of getting a bit fitter for a forthcoming trip in the Austrian Alps. A few pairs of grouse startled me as they flew out of the heather, so they haven’t all been shot since the ‘glorious‘ 12th. Strangely for such a sunny morning there was virtually nobody on the fells and the wind was too strong for the parapenters and gliders. Although I did witness the strange sight of a group carrying the model planes up to fly – it looked as though they were carrying crosses up to Calvary.

I was back at the car in under two hours and will return for some more training with a heavy rucksack next time.

Bouldering and diversions in Croasdale.

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I can’t believe that the last time I was up here was Nov 2012, where does time go? Of course I did little last year.

Heart of Bowland – Croasdale. Bullstones bouldering.

What a contrast in weather conditions, today was hot and sunny. Had intended climbing in The Lakes but my partner phoned in sick. Quick change of plan – a small sack with rock shoes and chalk, sandwiches were already made. I always enjoy the Roman road over to Slaidburn particularly the stretch over Marl Hill where Ingleborough and Penyghent come into view. I notice the road surfaces have deteriorated significantly over the last two winters.

Parked up at my usual little spot , sun screen applied and off up the old lane [still the same Roman one]. Almost immediately I came across a new memorial stone relating to plane crashes on these hills in the war and the airmen who lost their lives. Set me wondering whether there are any pieces of wreckage still about and are they documented. Somewhere I have a book – quick trip to the bookshelf unearths – High Ground Wrecks 2 A survey of historical aircraft remains on the hills of the British Isles. David J Smith. My copy was bought in 1979 but has no publishing details, there is a more modern edition. True enough all the local crashes are listed with grid references, expeditions for another day. The RAF Mountain Rescue Service of course originates from those times.

Round the corner another new installation appeared, a white obelisk with witch references. Witch 400 turns out to be an exploration of the heritage of the Lancashire Witches, the 400th anniversary of their trial and execution [1612], and the enduring issue of persecution today. A walk has been established from the Pendle area to Lancaster Castle which coincides with my route today. Another expedition for another day, the list grows. The statues are inscribed with extracts of a poem by the Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy. http://lancashirewitches400.org/

The third diversion was Hen Harriers, this area was a few years ago the English stronghold for these wonderful birds of prey. Unfortunately their prey probably includes grouse – not a good idea on a commercial grouse shooting estate. Hen Harrier numbers have plummeted mi lord. So it was uplifting today to see a dedicated 24hr watch on a nesting site. Camouflaged tents, well done whoever you are, nobody will get near. I saw in the distance peregrines, ravens, buzzards and kestrels. A highlight was watching a kestrel stooping onto some poor vole or mouse – almost got a great photo. Memo,must get a better camera to carry around with me.

At last I arrived at the rocks – time for a sandwich. Sat under the slabs of Taurus Boulders [there is a definite Bull theme here] I notice that some of the pebbles have been snapped off – sign of more traffic or clumsy boulderers. I climbed up the steep tower of Bully Off, this was the first route Alan and I climbed way back when the game keepers were about and we were supposed to be keeping a low profile. Alan couldn’t wait. Onwards I soloed a few problems at the Pinnacle and Cave area but felt intimidated by the Clough End Boulder, looked far too serious. Found the spring for a much needed top up of water.

Made the arduous ascent up to the complex Bullock Stones and headed for the brilliant Ace of Diamonds slab – not a hold on it.

Traverse across to Stirk Slabs , a quick trip up the arete of Bullet Proof and then along to admire the architecture of Pipe Dream, no ascent today. A final flourish on the more friendly Calf Stones and then it was time for home. Sorry about the diversions, the bird watcher was taking a welcome sleep when I passed.

As I type this my finger ends are still sore and I have a feeling I will ache tomorrow.

For further info and a downloadable guide see – https://bowlandclimber.com/2014/02/24/bullstones-bouldering-guide/

THREE DAYS IN JUNE.

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Yes it’s June but one couldn’t be sure.

1st. The first two days I was entertaining my youngest grandson. It hardly stopped raining and the wind was threatening to blow a six year old off his feet. Despite this we built a dam in a stream coming off Longridge Fell

Dammed good fun.

2nd. and we sailed pooh-sticks from a bridge on the turbulent Dean Brook at Hurst Green the next day All great fun and a great commune with nature.

3rd. At last today the wind has dropped and I’ve enjoyed a pleasant day. gardening has taken preference but by tea time I couldn’t resist a quick walk up Longridge Fell. Having parked at Cardwell House I took what I call the ‘balcony’ route onto the fell – it traverses above the Vale of Chipping with views to Fairsnape, round to The Trough of Bowland and the Three Yorkshire Peaks. Tonight was particularly clear.

The path was wetter than I had expected and trainers were not the best footwear option.Leaving the trig point I cut through the trees to the southern side of the fell where the view over comparatively more industrial Lancashire was a contrast. Wind farms seem to be spreading – lets hope the same doesn’t happen on the Bowland Fells seen to the north.

South.

North.

Postscript –

I heard that noted author, naturalist and environmentalist Robert Macfarlane was appearing on BBC’s Spring Watch Unsprung tonight. I was dismayed to find myself watching ‘Top Gear with Animals’ – the three presenters doing a good impersonation on a contrived set surrounded by an apparently amused audience. Not my idea of a nature presentation but maybe I’m out of date. Mr Macfarlane’s contribution was of little importance amongst the general hullabaloo. Shame.

A beautiful moon seen from my room completed the evening and bodes well for an improving start to June.

ARE BLISTERS PSYCHOLOGICAL?

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Strange day really, a good friend called in late morning and after coffee we decided on a walk up Longridge Fell. Whilst putting on my boots in the porch I recounted how I last year I unexpectedly developed a blister on my toe despite having walked for miles in these admittingly cheap boots. He replied that his more expensive well worn in Meindl boots never gave a problem.

Off we went up the fell in a cold Arctic wind, hail storms were blowing in across Chipping Vale and the Yorkshire peaks looked alpine from here, not that you can see them in this photo.

Snow showers across Bowland.

Within 20 mins – ‘Just need to check a sore spot on my foot’ spoke the Rockman. Why? When he removed his boot there was a large sore blister on his heel. Despite my usual systematic preparations I had no first aid kit in my sack. However being an ex scout he had some tape on his poles. Boots off , tape on, boots on. There was no obvious reason for his blister apart from the curse I must have put upon him by our earlier discussion.

A good few miles were then explored through the forest, A bit of fitness for me before a longish walk and for the unlucky Rockman something to reflect upon – are blisters psychological?

PS. Nepal needs all the help we can give following the disastrous earthquake.

Why don’t you donate now at http://www.dec.org.uk

USING MY BUS PASS.

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Windswept Parlick.

This last week I was thwarted on my planned two day walk because I couldn’t face paying a pub £60 B&B! Anyway the weather was not brilliant.

I’ve had some recent conversation with Conrad, he of the long walks, over the miles one drives in relation to actual walking distance. [we used a lot of public transport on our recent Cheshire Ring Walk] I’ve been guilty in the past of driving long distances to accomplish a relatively small walk. Whilst I was ‘Munroing’ this was often a problem with a mad dash up North in the car at a weekend. I partially overcame this by stringing together hills on long backpacking trips, having travelled there by rail. At the time [1978] I had just read Hamish Brown’s book on his continuous journey and was enthused to do likewise on a smaller scale.

I hate to think of the air miles I’ve covered to reach my backpacking jaunts on the continent, again I’ve mitigated those somewhat more recently by using the eurorail network when possible. Rock climbing trips usually meant a lot of [shared] driving. Looking back I could have used public transport far more. No one is perfect.

I’m lucky to be able to walk from my house into the Bowland area and now use my car as little as possible locally. As Saturday afternoon proved to be fairly bright and dry I set off to walk through the fields to Chipping. Time was short so I did a linear walk and then caught the bus back. This made for an enjoyable few hours with time for a coffee in The Cobbled Corner Cafe in Chipping whilst waiting for the bus, money into the local economy. Of course the bus pass comes in handy, must use it more often!

Nothing much happened on the walk. A couple of Buzzards were watched for some time. I’ve avoided the cliched photos of frisking lambs and sparkling snowdrops. Instead there is a strange green corrugated shed, a rotting ?Bedford truck and a farmer’s unsightly silage pile.