Tag Archives: Bowland

A SNOWY FORAY.

Who doesn’t like a snowy scene?

The other day, I drove up to the New Drop Inn from the Hall’s Arms. Both these long-established locals are now closed, one becoming a business centre and the other residential units. The road was just clear of snow, but there was little room for passing other cars. The temperature hadn’t risen above freezing for a few days. I was hoping to walk around Cowley Brook Plantation to complete my year’s archive of photographs. My usual pull-ins looked dicey. I was afraid I would become stuck, so I turned tail and drove home, probably the most sensible option.

The freeze continues. Thankfully, no more snow falling around here, and the sun shines brightly. I can’t resist another attempt to walk the fell in these conditions. This time, I take caution to heart and park easily at the New Drop crossroads. The side road coming directly up from Longridge past the golf course looks treacherous, and I wish I had brought my microspikes as I walk a hundred yards or so down it.

My footprints are the only ones coming through the waterboard gate by Cowley Brook. Lovely crunching sounds as I pass into the plantation: a couple of roe deer run across my path into the trees, too fast for a photo.

Knowing my way up the hillside, I arrive at my four-way photo spot.

 

I have time to admire the frozen minutiae.

Continuing through the trees to reach my other fixed point.

Mission accomplished, I will put together a montage of the year later or perhaps record another year of changes in the young plantation.

While I’m up here, why don’t I go farther up the fell?  It is difficult walking in the snow in the plantation, so I decide to use the road to gain the fell proper. There is very little traffic. Pendle Hill has become a giant in its winter garb.

Through the gate onto the fell, and I trudge up alongside the wall. Only a few have passed this way. I avert my eyes from the scene of the ‘Grim up North’ tree massacre. Time is a little tight, so I don’t go to the trig point but arc around at the Christmas Tree to take the balcony route back to the Jeffrey Hill carpark. The views across Bowland are spectacular, as are the distant ones into Yorkshire.

As I reach the car park, I see a motorist in trouble on the icy roads below. A notorious blackspot where cars have, in the past, slid off the hill into the fields below. I’m not sure why anyone would have driven up here in the first place. A crowd gathers out of nowhere to give advice.  Luckily, the driver, unprepared in his own words, manages to dig himself out, avoid the drop and continue down the slippery road.

I march along the road back to my car, a great four miles in the perfect Winter scenery.

***

DON’T FORGET TO FEED THE BIRDS.

An overnight dump of snow has transformed the surroundings. My car, which I shall not be moving today, is under four inches of the white stuff.

The back garden looks neat and tidy for the first time in months. I put out the usual ground feed and the select seeds on the bird table. Within minutes the blackbirds are fighting over the oats, and the coal tits are raiding the seeds.

The morning slips away.

I eventually decide on a walk. I am lucky I can reach the countryside directly from my doorstep without using the car. I have no real plan. I walk past the cricket pitch. The road, where cars have passed, is easier to use than the rutted pavement. Up ‘Mile Lane’ is my usual route. I hear the joyful cries of children long before I see them sledging down the field.

Even in the semi-urban landscape, there are sheep struggling for survival.

Someone has been out early in the park and built an igloo. I used to do that and sleep out for the night in the garden.


Everyone is in a chatty mood, so progress is slow. Hence I decide on a short loop around the reservoir rather than the longer fell road, which I did yesterday. From up here, there are views across the valley to Beacon Fell and the Bowland Fells (in cloud).

I peek into Craig Y and share a picture of it on its Facebook page.

As I wander back through the streets, more snow is in the air. It won’t be good if it freezes tonight. Around the corner, a friend, JD, is building a snowman for his grandchildren. All jolly good fun.

A BOWLAND BLAST ON THE BEACON.

Those strange days before Christmas.

I’ve done my shopping, made the stuffing and wrapped the presents. Time for some fresh air, we are not having a frosty winter, the air is mild but the wind is howling. A short walk would suffice.

One could hardly stand upright next to the trig point on Beacon Fell—a strong, cold wind blasting straight from the northwest. I took a photo of the next rainband coming in off the sea and one of Parlick above the conifers, then retreated to the shelter of the trees. Although I was made aware of the danger of falling trees by the groaning noises coming from them in the gale.

There was a brief break in the winter showers,, but not the wind.  I parked at 2 pm in the Quarry; mine was the only car. Most peopla are crushing the supermarkets.  I know, or think I know, every path on the fell, a country park, but today I halted at the new map board installed just after the pond. Why not follow the red route? The Summit Trail sounds about right. Of course, as the walk progresses, I end up using the Sculpture Trail and then the Fellside Trail and probably others.

My red trail takes me through the trees to the information centre and cafe. I was hoping they would have a bedecked real Christmas tree on display, there are plenty of specimens on the fell, so I could get a seasonal photograph to illustrate this post, mot likely  my last before the big day. No luck.

I poke my nose into the building, a little late for a coffee but I join a family at the window seats to observe the many species using the bird feeders. Good to see youngsters enthusiastic about nature. At one time, this cafe boasted that it was open 364 days a year, but Covid stopped that, and now, if you want a brew or a snack, avoid Mondays or Tuesdays.

I climb up to look at Thomas Dagnall’s Orme View – now, who does that remind me of?

I now find myself on the blue sculpture trail, which I happily follow, rediscovering a series of wooden carvings.

After visiting the summit, I head back on the Fellside Trail – a quick hour’s walk. I was still the only car in the car park before heading home to check the drinks.

BREAKDOWNS AND BOWLAND BLUE.

I’ve had my fair share of motoring breakdowns in the past.  I’d not been running new cars in later years, more like old crocks. My Mazda Is now 25 years old, but it rarely lets me down. Unfortunately, the last time it did was on a ‘smart’ motorway. The experience has left me traumatised and very wary of venturing onto such motorways. I was fortunate to crawl into one of their scarce emergency refuge areas. A ‘place of relative safety’ you can pull into if you have an emergency and need to stop driving on an all-lane running motorway”. That was only the start of my problems. Using their roadside emergency phone was almost impossible due to the constant traffic noise. Trying to give details of my AA membership and location took an inordinate time over the phone. I was eventually rescued. The next day, I installed the AA app on my mobile. (Other breakdown services are available) 

‘Cometh the hour cometh the app’  to misquote Churchill and others. The hour came this week after a meet-up lunch with my Skipton cousin in the Spread Eagle at Sawley. Leaving the car park, in the Daccia this time, I heard a crunching sound from my back offside wheel. Going a little farther, it became louder, and smoke appeared from the wheel as it locked up; it was time to stop.

Time to call the AA. Simple this time: open the app, press a button on my mobile, enter a few details, and a man is on his way. He arrives in twenty minutes and diagnoses the problem – seized disc brakes preventing the wheel from rotating. He can’t tow me, and I imagine waiting a long time for a low loader to take me home. But no, this man is resourceful. He can’t free the brakes, but with a magic piece of engineering, which I didn’t understand, he fitted a freewheel to the outside of the hub. Thus, I could drive the car, although minus one brake, as he followed behind with flashing lights.

We were back at my garage before it closed. They have a backlog of work at this time of year, so I didn’t expect to see my car until after Christmas. To my surprise, I had a phone call this morning to say the job was done, new discs fitted, and I could collect it anytime. Thumbs up to the AA and my local garage.

*

Thus, I am now parked up at Chipping for a short walk to make the most of this dry, sunny day. The gritters are out in the village, just managing to squeeze through the narrow streets. It is cold.

Several of you will recognise this walk, one of my winter standbys, but to disguise it somewhat, I’m walking clockwise today. Usually, I go anticlockwise, widdershins, as they say in Scotland. Everywhere is bedecked for the season.

Up past the old mills, Chipping was once an industrial hub. The chair works closed in 2011, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirk_Mill The road is surprisingly steep.

Round the corner the lane heads to the fells, enclosed by hedges. Look at that blue sky.

And there is Parlick with its wrinkles highlighted in the low sun. I have climbed some of those gullies in winter’s past when they iced up sufficiently. And there across the valley is Longridge Fell shadowed by its larger neighbour Pendle.

At the end of the lane up to Saddle End farm, I’m pleased to see the hens are still laying, I buy half a dozen.

It’s all downhill from here with time to take in the scenery on the way to the the sheep farm.

This is where you look out over the laund, an ancient deer park. I never tire of this view.

Down through the grounds of Leagram Hall, I stop again to admire some of the ancient oaks. All too soon, I’m back at my car. The day is closing, and the northerly wind is biting deep.

ALL QUIET ON THE FELL.

I stop at the trig point. My anemometer, a licked finger held above my head, records not even a zephyr. I am well away from roads, so all is complete silence, absolute stillness—a rare occurrence in modern times. I absorb the experience and drift into another world, unaware of how time passes. The Bowland Fells look on impassively, and far away, Pen Y Ghent just nods to the occasion. This is somehow special; my regular walk transformed by the absence of sound.

I nearly didn’t make it. Halfway up after stopping for a drink, I became unsteady and started stumbling. Was this the start of a stroke? I thought, and I turned around to get back before anything worse happened. Nobody ever knows where I am. After a few more faltering steps, I realised one of my spectacle lenses had fallen out, and I was temporarily confused and disorientated. Calming down, I stopped, removed my useless glasses, and then retraced my last few metres. No sign of the missing lens, I had to repeat this course several times before I find it in the peat. No damage was done.

So I continued to the trig point. The going was boggy but nowhere near the Lincolnshire mud I experienced last week. However, I did notice a sign has appeared on the fenced-off private land that warns of sinking mud. I’m not sure who it is aimed at now that barbed wire prevents access. Possibly their workers. I see they are at work with diggers farther down the field; we still don’t know what transpires on that land.

Farther on, I found more trees down, probably Storm Darragh. It certainly wouldn’t have been quiet up here in that wind. It’s eery in the forest. Several of you have battled through the forests on Longridge Fell and realise that not a lot of clearance has occurred. I’m never sure which footpaths up here are rights of way or concessional paths, so don’t always complain to the authorities about blocked ways. In any case, would they have the funds to carry out remedial action during these austere times? So, for now, we can all have our own little adventure.

I passed the ‘Longridge Fell Christmas Tree’. I think it’s in a different position from last year. It looked a bit dishevelled, probably after a thrashing from Storm Darragh at the weekend. As I said all quiet.

A VIEW FROM THE ‘RIDGE.

Up here in Lancashire, we missed most of Storm Bert’s venom. There were a couple of days of icy weather and then lots of rain. I escaped from Chorley Hospital yesterday without any serious problems. Time to get out for a walk.

My morning was taken by awkward ‘joinery’ to enlarge the hole for Seth’s new cat flap. There are intruders on the prowl, one particular cat seems to spend most of his time in my garden and has gained entry into my house on a couple of occasions. Not what I want. With all the new houses in Longridge there are more cats about, not to mention dogs. I took the plunge and ordered an electronic cat flap that would only open to Seth’s chip. It’s arrived, and I try to decipher the instructions for programming and installing. It was easy to program, and Seth duly obliged and walked through it. That was yesterday. Today, I started on the installation, and I’m not finished yet.

The day is disappearing and I need to get out and make the most of the forecast. After all the rain, I think I’ll just opt for a road circuit up the fell. One I have done so many times. I bump into JD on the way, and we join forces for a modest stroll.

Here are a few photos taken on my phone as we progressed.

Craig Y in the strange light.

Looking out over the houses to the Ribble Valley and beyond.  

 

A deserted Golf Course was closed because of flooding.

 

Cowley Brook Plantation.   

 

Distant Pendle.

 

Fairsnape/Totridge group across the valley.

 

Looking out over Longridge reservoirs and the Fylde.  

 

Sainsbury’s sunset.  

A short walk of under five miles, the sun was setting by the time we returned. Nothing dramatic but we put the world to rights, which is a good thing.

I’ll finish off the cat flap tomorrow.

Bleasdale with BC

Tuesday 12th November 2024 Kemple End has been a fantasy location for a number of years with its quirky name tickling my imagination. Bowland Climber has mentioned it many times during our years of walking together but it has remained a kind of mystery for me, even to my questioning its actual existence, and somehow we…

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Bleasdale with BC

I didn’t have time to write this one,  so I’m grateful for Sir Hugh’s version.

I have one photo to add. Sir Hugh on the slippery slope. It is more straightforward to climb back up than descend.

FUNGAL ABUNDANCE?

Am I pleased I didn’t set forth on the Sarsen Way down in Wiltshire last week? They have had more than their fair share of rain. Pottered around at home, took delivery of a new cycle (more of that later), done a bit of easy bouldering in the quarries, and had a few walks up the fell on the better days.

My eldest grandson came to stay for a couple of days and we ventured onto the now, once again, boggy fell. It will only get worse as the year progresses.

What struck me was the amount of fungi already springing up amongst the trees. Using the phone’s aps we tried our best to identify most of them. We have been short of insects this year so let’s hope for an abundant fungal autumn.

 

I have made it my intention this autumn to become more proficient at fungal identification, did I say that last year? There are plenty of trees down in the woods for them to grow on. Must remember to take my camera next time. 

WHAT’S HAPPENING ON LONGRIDGE FELL?

The rockman comes to Longridge for a short walk, where else would I take him, apart from up Longridge Fell?  I have an ulterior motive. Some new groundwork has been carried out on the fell, and I want to investigate.

It promises to be a hot, sunny day once more.

A new dog-poo bag bin has been installed by the gate, courtesy of Thornley and Wheatley Council. I hope someone empties it regularly, as it is not that large. The first two pieces of littering on the track are guess what?

Steadily up to the trig point, which is already occupied, we get employed as official photographers of the couple on their first visit. The views are stunning with Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent clearer than usual.

We warn the couple of some difficulty getting along the ridge in the forest due to all the windblown trees. Some have been cut back but more seem to have come down in the most recent winds.

Just the other day, my son sent me a picture he took in 2002 when I camped up here with my oldest grandson, who was about five or six at the time. He remembers it well, particularly the baked beans and the deer that wandered past as it became dark. Today, as we snake the easiest way through the carnage, I recognise the very spot where we had camped. A WhatsApp photo is sent to the family.

I head for what used to be ‘Sam’s Best View’ if you remember it. But new growth is obstructing what was a Bowland panorama. Time for a drink and snack anyhow, the day is heating up. The rockman is checking for additives.

We loop the loop and start heading for home. More tree debris is circumnavigated and eventually we come out onto the south side of the forest where the fell drops away to the old Clitheroe road. And there it is, right in front of us, where before was all open land, a five-foot wire fence topped off for good measure with two strands of barbed wire. I have previously reported drainage ditches being dug on the moorland, ponds being enlarged, and lots of heavy machinery damaging the fragile surface and trees. A drainage ditch has been dug on land in different ownership, on the north side of the wall, whether with permission or not.  The owner, for whatever reason, doesn’t want us on his land. I won’t go into the legal wrangles that are transpiring or local speculation about what he is up to. Does he not realise deer roam this open moor and their leap will probably result in serious injury from the unnecessary barbed wire?


On the way off the fell we pass the spot where my ‘Grim up North’ pine tree stood until it was mown down by the ditch digging, It had been lying on its side and I had hopes of some regeneration when I passed it in  March. Those hopes were dashed today as it has been well and truly logged up. Criminal.

So more questions asked rather than answered. I have a feeling that this will become an ongoing saga on which I will report back from time to time.

FAR END OF THE FELL.

P1070440No new ways today but I enjoy revisiting others and seeing what has changed since last time, bear with me. I’m up and ready early (for me) as I have an appointment at the hospital late afternoon. ( Junior doctors working on a Sunday to get the NHS back up to speed. Hope they agree to the new governments pay offer). Driving along the Chaigley road a fleet of vintage tractors is coming towards me, I pull in to get a photo. It is then I realise I have left my camera and phone at home. Some days I’m not fit to be let out.

So its back to the start, the tractors are gone and by the time I park up at Kemple End the morning is all but over. I wander past the few houses making up this community. Most are old cottages but the last house I encounter is a large new build, no doubt replacing an old barn. P1070442P1070445P1070448

Once in the fields I pick up the old sledge way for taking stone from the Kemple End quarries down towards Stonyhurst for construction of the Shireburn family home. Cows are thankfully docile in the heat. The building at the bottom was the stable for the sledge horses. It has been derelict for years but now after major refurbishments is a holiday cottage. P1070451P1070453P1070454P1070455

Up the road is one of my favourite Stonyhurst Crosses. The Pinfold Cross is a memorial to a former servant at the College and fiddler, James Wells. It was erected in 1834 after he died in a quarry accident. On the front is inscribed the telling ‘WATCH FOR YOU KNOW NOT THE DAY NOR HOUR.’ Above this is written, ‘OFT EVENINGS GLAD MAKE MORNINGS SAD’ perhaps suggesting drunken escapades. On the left is ‘PRAY FOR THE SOUL OF JAMES WELLS’ and on the right, ‘DIED FEB. 12TH, 1834. P1070458P1070459

The next fields have some of the meanest looking sheep around. Plenty of cows but the bull is far enough away to let me pass. P1070463 P1070464

The building you can see in the distance is marked on the map as Higher Deer House, a reference when this was the deer park of the Shireburn family who built what is now Stonyhurst College. The buildings are empty and being replaced by those ginormous agricultural sheds that are springing up everywhere. Soon will all livestock will be under cover and our fields redundant? P1070466P1070468

I often have trouble finding the hidden stile across the field, today is no exception.

The stile leads into a jungle at the bottom of which is a footbridge over Dean Brook, then back up through more jungle to emerge onto the bridleway next to Greengore, an old shooting lodge. The raspberries are sweet.

P1070477Renovations are going on at the old house so I take a picture of the new build in the back garden. P1070482

Now starts my long gradual ascent to Spire Hill some 600 ft above. It is a hot day and I take it slowly. More of those new metal gates keep appearing. The cyclist is a friend of mine trying out his new electric mountain bike. His wife appears as I enter the shady woods, no mountain bike for her – just taking the dog for a walk. P1070484P1070485P1070488P1070491P1070498P1070500It was good to get a bit of shade for a short time before walking up to the trig point, 350m.  The views were a bit hazy but all the Yorkshire three peaks could be made out but perhaps not on camera. Looking down into Chipping Vale is always a revelation, spotting individual farms and lanes from on high. P1070503

I continue along the ridge into the trees still devastated by a storm a few years ago. This is a concessionary path used my many and should have been cleared by now. A black mark Tilhill Forestry, a letter is being sent off to them. They should consider the recreation value of their holdings as well as the commercial value. Its a jungle up here, it would only take a couple of blokes with a chain saw to clear a way through. P1070510P1070507

Mountain bikers have marked a blue trial through the worst, Thank you.P1070509

At least the forestry people have cleared their own forest road eastwards, it was a nightmare before. But what a desolate mess they leave behind but given a  decade or so all will look good.P1070512P1070511P1070513

Along this stretch I come across a cyclist enjoying the view. Pendle is always prominent from this end of the fell. I compliment him on his Brook’s saddle, a cycling thing, and we get into conversation. Turns out he lives just round the corner from me and we have several mutual acquaintances. P1070515

I escape from the forest road and take an almost hidden path through the trees back to my car at Kemple End. The shade was welcome in the heat of the day. P1070518 P1070519P1070520

With all the stopping and chatting I was a little behind schedule and had to rush off for my hospital appointment. At least I had made the most of the day, as I should every day, but sadly often don’t.

***

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CHIPPING IS STILL BLOOMING.

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Bowland is a good place to be. I have friends around me today to isolate me from the worst of world affairs, did you listen to PM Netanyahu’s (a potential war criminal) vile speech to congress yesterday?  We, five former colleagues all in our dotage, set off from near that iconic Bowland red phone box in the hills beyond Chipping.  I don’t know the plan but I’m in the hands of the resident local ‘guide’, sometimes it’s just good to go with the flow, even for me having a somewhat ‘in control’ psyche.  P1070401P1070402

It is all familiar for most of us but none the worse for that as we tramp westwards across the base of the fells. A posse of cows watches us from the hilltop. This is curlew country par excellence and I’m pleased to report we saw and heard several. P1070400

You may remember this ford crossing from the other day, again no one fell in. P1070404

There are eggs for sale today at Saddle End, I have brought some loose change for half a dozen. We go through a gate helpfully signed Chipping, I don’t think I’ve used before, this is exciting. P1070406

Our ‘guide’ leads us down a vague path, over a footbridge and up again to suddenly find one of those favourite P&NFA signs in the middle of a field. All well off the beaten track. 

We drop down to the imposing house above the mill dam, once the house of the millowner. Yes I have been this way before. P1070412

The party straggles out as we wander through the old chair works, due for some sort of redevelopment. I’ve often wondered what the steps were going down to the brook, Ian doesn’t know but says he will ask a friend living here the next time he sees her. Well the next time he sees her is a few minutes later when she walks up the lane. She remembers her family going to the brook to wash clothes. Another one of life’s problems solved.  P1070413

We catch the others up and dive into the busy Cobbled Corner café for pots of tea, soup and sandwiches. Well recommended. P1070415

I repeat my tour of the grave yard to visit Lizzie Dean’s grave under the ancient yew. Have a look at my last post on Chipping for the video tale of the whole tragic episode.

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Casting aside the sadness we enjoy the blooms in the village, It has reached the finals of the competition. P1070417

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All is very familiar to many of you as we leave the village and enter the grounds of Leagram Hall with its lovely trees. That’s Pendle in the background. P1070428

We don’t continue to the sheep farm but cut across the park to pick up a footpath to Knot Hill. I often find this difficult to follow but today our local ‘guide’ leads the way unerringly.

All that remains is to follow the bridleway down to the ford and up the hill to our ‘guide’s’ house. A mooch around his garden and then coffee before we all disperse after yet another enjoyable Bowland walk, about 6.5 miles. P1070395P1070398

Interestingly our one lady member is leading a walk tomorrow of friends, they call it the Chatterbox Walk. I’m thinking us men should form a group for more regular walks – the Silent Saunter.

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CHIPPING IN BLOOM.

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It must be that time again, when our local villages vie for the best in bloom. Chipping was all aglow this morning with some stunning displays, helped by the bright sunshine. I think they often win as the community makes such a good joint effort. 

But we hadn’t come to see the flowers, we had a short walk in mind in the hills above the village. Our more ambitious trip to Ilkley Moor was delayed to another time. I had strained my side in a difficult balancing act at the top of steps attacking my overgrown hedge a couple of days ago. JD suggested this as a gentler stroll, and it was forecast to become very hot, which did transpire.

The basic straight forward walk out of the village through the grounds of Leagram, up to Saddle Side farm lane and back via Wolfen, Tweedys and Kirk Mills has been done so many times, often described here for example. Ideal for the wounded. Parking up at the village hall, JD announces he won’t bother with his boots – everywhere will be dry underfoot. I suggest boots could be better if we decide to go ‘off piste’. I am already plotting a cross country variation if my injury wasn’t worsening. Old habits die hard.

We stroll through the village, as I said resplendent in bloom, past the old watermill and out on the Leagram road. P1070347P1070348

Walking into the estate is always a joy with the beautiful aged trees,  although I see one oak has succumbed. The southerly hill in the background is Longridge Fell.P1070351P1070354

I have been reading ‘How to read a tree’ and can recognise on this tree the south side branches growing horizontally towards the sun whilst the northern side grow more vertically to try and catch the light. What do you think? P1070353

At the sheep farm JD knows the farmer and we have an extended chat with him on all things sporting, village related and political. He never mentions his sheep which produce some tasty cheese. 

Soon we come to the sign Lickhurst and Stanley, one of those classy P&PFS, which would give us an option of visiting the hidden Burnslack valley, which neither of us has done for awhile. Decision made we set off on a good surfaced lane going to Park Gate, (this was all a deer park in the past) and heading for the fells. But we leave it on a non existent way to a forded crossing of the brook. I take a photo half expectant of a dipping, but JD is as sure footed as a goat. My poles help me across. P1070358P1070356P1070360P1070362

I won’t describe our onward pathless progress across the next fellside, except to say we arrive on the Stanley track some time later. Cutting back I have another attempt to photo JD’s potential soaking. No luck. P1070365

Burnslack farm, now houses, must be one of the remotest inhabited properties on this side of Bowland. The path is sensibly diverted to give them privacy. Two owls keep an eye on us as we pass through. P1070367

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Looking back to Burnslack Farm.

An ancient way leads to the next farm, Saddle End, along the base of the fell. There are the remains of several barns along here, traces of cobbles, and fresh water springs. Sir Hugh will appreciate the in situ taps on one of the farmer’s baths collecting he water.  P1070372

Up here we find a place to sit for the highlight of the day, JD’s hand crafted vegetarian pasties. One can’t call them Cornish, they are well and truly Lancastrian. My neighbour gifted me a jar of home pickled red cabbage this week so I have brought some along as a perfect accompaniment. We eat like kings with a view to match. P1070371P1070369

Sheep shearing is progressing at Saddle End.P1070373

The afternoon is steaming hot so we take the easy option down to the lanes leading back to Chipping. I am hoping for some farm eggs at the lane end but I’m out of luck. Mills line the Chipping Brook telling of iron foundries, bobbin making, cotton and chair works. All gone.  The ‘millowners’ house overlooking the pond is perfect for the situation in contrast to some of the new housing creeping up the valley. P1070375

In the churchyard I show JD the grave of LIzzie Dean, behind which there is quite a tale. To tell it I suggest you watch this video.  

Needless to say we have a pint in the said Sun Inn to celebrate a lovely walk and a cautious return to summer weather. 

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SOME LANES AROUND LONGRIDGE.

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You may have been down some of these lanes with me before, several times in fact. Hopefully there is always something new to be discovered. I’m staying local and taking it easy. My follow up with the eye surgeon was all good news but he advised me to avoid over exertion and keep using the drops. So a gentle walk around Longridge seemed more sensible than going climbing. I take a shortened, six and a half miles, version of my Around Longridge Walk trying to keep it rural.

Several lanes are encounted – Halfpenny, Green Nook, Shay, Pinfold, Happy Alley, Lower, Tan Yard, Forty Acre, Mile or Lords, Clay. A wonderful selection of names reflecting their historical origins. 

There are no blocked paths or awkward stiles today. I am free to enjoy and photograph the flora lining these lanes. The one disturbing thought is that there are very few insects out and about. We have had a miserable early summer and today is cold and overcast, not conducive to fluttering butterflies or other insects for that matter. What is going on?

Halfpenny Lane, an old toll way towards Preston. Nobody remembers Halfpennies these days, nor Farthings, ‘fourth’. A house at the far end has called itself Farthings. 20240714_164643

Whittingham Road is a race track. Past the new housing developments I escape down Green Nook Lane with its more pleasing stone cottages. 

Cutting across industrial Shay Lane I’m into the football fields, no matches today. Onwards over that dodgy wooden footbridge which won’t survive much longer and through infant maize plantings. The path created across the set aside wasteland takes me through uncut meadows which if left alone should provide a rich habitat in the future. 

Down Pinfold Lane, don’t forget the ancient cross base in the field. Chiffchaffs, Goldfinch and Robins keep me company, but I don’t see the Little Owl that lived here. There is little to see across the disused reservoirs apart from Black Headed Gulls and Lapwings on the island. A new wire perimeter fence has appeared  to keep the belligerent dog walkers out of the reserve. 10702961070302

Up towards the church on Happy Alley (Church Brow) and then across the fields bordering Alston Reservoirs. I take the easy option of walking up past the ecolodges onto Lower Lane, where I lived in the long and distant past. Soon I’m off the busy road and walking up Tan Yard leading to the quarries but the name suggests an ancient tanning operation. 1070309

A new diversional track utilises those modern galvanised gates with the obligatory yellow latch. It’s up here that one can look out over the Ribble Valley and the reservoirs supplying Preston. Pendle is just out of screen. 1070322

The first cows of the day soon disperse as I approach. Phew. And I’m into the caravan park. My path is choked with Himalayan Balsam, sweet smelling but so invasive.1070329

 I emerge onto the housing development originally passed by the indolent planners as a ‘tourist attraction’. The change of government is obviously welcome but I do fear for our green spaces. Time will tell. There is nobody bouldering at Craig Y so I move on around the Upper Dilworth Reservoir. The grebes unfortunately have not been successful this year, another worrying sign.  1070330

The view from new built Bowland View is obviously good.

Then on down Mile Lane, no more than half a mile, from Billingtons. 1070337

The Chipping Road is busy and I’m glad to escape onto Clay Lane, there  was once a tile operation going on here making field drains. It was also the drove route into Longridge and then the halfpenny toll towards Preston.  That’s where I stop today, content with an easy walk. 

***

Here are a few of the flowers I noticed today.

 

***

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ABOVE WADDINGTON.

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“A pleasant  ramble through the pastures above Waddington and up onto the fell for breath-taking views over the Ribble Valley before returning via pretty wooded ghylls”.

Another in my present summer series based on pubs in the Ribble Walks with Taste – Visit Ribble Valley 

This time we have a choice of three pubs in the picturesque village of Waddington and I combine two of the walks starting from here. I do have my favourite pub which will become clear towards the end. JD and I pick up KP from Chipping and manage to find a challenging potholed narrow lane through Bowland to Waddington. How come it’s raining after the last few days heat wave? The village is alive with early dog walkers.

We first take a well used lane from the back of The Lower Buck past glacial deposited Pinder Hill, the site of a Bronze Age burial mound, and then a farm where sheep shearing is in full progress.

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Unusual wall – leaving Waddington.

 

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Newly shorn.

 

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Longridge Fell in the distance.

Then we dive into rural paths where few tread, although the waymarking is reassuringly good. A concessionary path takes us around Lower New House and into an overgrown tunnel of shrubs. Page Fold looks impressive with Porche and Ferrari parked in the court yard. We take to the fields and skirt Colhurst Hall which I was hoping to see. 

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Do you remember? They used to run together.

 

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Emerging from the tunnel.

Down Rabbit Lane to the ancient Braddup House, dated 1669, where a bridleway heads north in rather wet plantations. Would be a nightmare in winter.  Even when we come out of the trees the going is rough in reedy marshy fields. Height is gained onto the lower slopes of  Waddington Fell. It would have been good to have carried on up to the summit but the footpaths run out before the open access begins and beside we didn’t have time. One of those iconic P&NFS signs appears, we take the path towards the fell road.

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Braddup House 1669.

 

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The boggy bit.

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Waddington Fell.

We are looking for a spot to have a break but the cold wind deters us. Around the isolated Daisy Hill which I see is a listed C17th farm house, should have had a closer look. The next few fields are a little overgrown with no obvious path, well we don’t find one, but do reach the road. This is the road going over the fell to Newton. We spot in the distance houses where the Moorcock Inn used to be in the past, do you remember it? We reminisce on meals there and friends departed.

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What path?

Looking at the map the next section along Mill Lane and through properties looked complicated but in fact is well signed and the natives are a friendly lot. Not sure how the planning permission process works for all these upmarket houses. We drop down to Waddington Brook but don’t follow it directly down what looks an interesting ghyll but climb back out to above the woods. The cattle have churned up the ground and therefore the going is not easy, we are glad of our overdue break taken on a large log. It is from up here that there are views across the Ribble Valley over Clitheroe to the ever present Pendle. We are coming up to a General Election next week and there have been some boundary changes, Gerrymandering comes to mind as Clitheroe, at the heart of the Ribble Valley, has been transferred to Pendle, I don’t expect the residents were consulted.

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Rough ground. Pendle and a murky Clitheroe

As we loose height towards the covered reservoir at Feazer Farm we have a grandstand view of four walkers trying to find a way out of the enclosure. Our instructions tell us to skirt round to the right and we emerge into the farmyard with no problem. The four flustered lady walkers, on holiday from York, are glad of our directions. The question often arises on these outings – why don’t the farmers make it easier for us, and hence them, by adequate waymarks?

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Spot the ladies.

A hidden path goes over a high stone stile and then easily down the field towards tall sycamores and Waddington. We come into the village alongside the ‘Hospital’ Alms houses. Their history is worth a read. Ladies only may apply.

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The right direction.

 

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Alms houses’ gardens.

Waddington is always full of flowers.P1070201

As I said there are three pubs to choose from in the village, we choose the friendly Lower Buck for an after walk drink in the sunshine. 

A good day out with friends though not the easiest of walks to follow from this series. 

For a little more information on the area and pictures have a look at my post from July five years ago.

***

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A RAMBLE AROUND CLITHEROE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Did an architect actually design this.

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

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Looking down onto the fish ladder.

 

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Fish ladder in construction.     ribbletrust.org.uk

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

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

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

*** 

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A NATURE TRAIL IN THE MAKING?

When I was up in Bleasdale the other week I noticed signs to a ‘Nature Trail’ with an attached map. P1060121

Time to investigate.

A sunny Saturday afternoon was perfect for a gentle stroll. I park at the church as usual and there is the first finger post directing me alongside Church Wood, recently replanted. The woods are alive with birdsong – a good start. Chiffchaff, Robin, Bullfinch, Willow Warbler, Chaffinch, Wren, Redpoll and Song Thrush. I only see half of them. P1060120P1060123P1060124

What a backdrop of Fairsnape and Parlick.P1060126

Not many people have come this way as yet, there is no path through the reedy fields. Occasional wooden posts sign the way and new gates have been installed at important junctions. I take a wrong turning or two, not always sure which side of a fence I should be on.

The occasional Pheasant struts across, the call of the Curlews is in the background and Lapwings put on a display above me. The floral display is only average – Lady’s Smock here and there, a confusion of sedge, reeds and grasses. Buttercups, Speedwells, Stitchwort and Mouse Ear.

At the seat I aimed across rough ground to reach the edge of Bluebell Wood with Beacon Fell straight ahead. The Bluebells were past their best.

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There are some owl boxes on the estate but then along the edge of the wood, spanning the ditch is one of those awful small mammal traps aimed at killing stoats or weasels, possible threats to breeding pheasants. In my book you can’t have a nature trail if you are killing the nature on it, totally incongruous. And what will the owls feed on if the small mammals are trapped? I don’t like it when shooting estates pay lip service to conservation.The trail map even features a stoat as one of the animals to be seen. Screenshot 2024-05-18 230201
P1060147P1060148Moving on. I cross the access road to Lower Fairsnape Farm and take a short diversion to visit a bird hide marked on the map. It is a shed with a few observation slots looking out onto the fields. Information is provided about the area. The farm is working alonside the RSPB to improve the environment for wading and ground nesting birds.

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View from the hide.

I backtrack to regain the trail which follows close by a branch of the infant river Brock. A heron flies away as I approach. I follow an old enclosure wall away from the stream.P1060151

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Is that a hare pricking its ears up in the field ahead? It is and then there are two. P1060178P1060182P1060186P1060187

That has almost made up for the mammal trap. I walk back up the lane past the school in a better frame of mind. P1060192

This is a trail in the making, if needs more footfall and less animal persecution. But what a backdrop with the Bleasdale Fells.P1060205

***

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A BIT MORE OF BLEASDALE.

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Here I am in Bleasdale again, I walked around a couple of weeks ago.

Mike is  searching for a four mile walk for his, increasingly aging, walking group. I suggest this as an option. good surfaces on the whole, no stiles or steep inclines. a toilet at the start and a pub not far off for lunch. We are joined by Moira who will be leading the walk if Mike is still sailing in Scottish waters. A perfect warm Spring afternoon awaits us.

I am writing it up again as I have come across some additional interesting history of the area, courtesy of Historic Walks around Bleasdale, Dixon and Jarvinen, hidden in my bookshelves from 1988. Anyhow I never tire of this circuit in the bowl of the fells.

As usual we park at the Grade II listed Saint Eadmer’s Church, the only one named so in the country. “There was a church on this site in the C16th. In 1702 Christopher Parkinson of Hazelhurst  gave £5 10s a year for the wages of a minister. It was rebuilt in 1835. Mullioned windows from the original church were incorporated into the tower and decorated stones can be seen in the wall next to the gateP1050362 P1050368

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Nearby is Admarsh Barn, now converted into living accommodation. “Above the door is a date stone 1720 with the initials of the Robert Parkinson” mentioned above. P1050970

The short diversion to Bronze Age Bleasdale Circle is duly taken. It will look better when the replaced circle of trees have grown.P1050982

We walk on heading for the fells. Sheep and lambs are everywhere and we spend time trying to reunite a bleating lamb with its mother in another field, best to let them sort it out themselves. P1050979

Bypassing Admarsh Farm (1814) we climb slowly to Holme House farm, these are remote farmsteads. Now for an interesting historical update. The lane continues to Hazelhurst Farm passing an isolated cottage on the way. this had been derelict for years but is now refurbished and occupied. 

A hamlet known as Coolan once existed here, consisting of six cottages, the inhabitants making a living from wool combing and straw hat manufacturing. Only the old village stocks and a deserted cottage remain today (1988) as forlorn reminders of their industrial enterprise. The wool was transported as far as Burnley and Halifax and the packhorse bridge  was built along the route at Brooks. Careful inspection of the farm walls around Hazelhurst will reveal the remains of mullioned windows, dressed building stone and old doorheads, part of the old Coolan

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We are distracted by the farmers bringing in their sheep so we don’t see the stones – next time I will be on the lookout. P1050997

On through Clough Head, over the bridge built by the boys from the reformatory school, whose buildings still stand along the way. “This bridge was built by the boys of North Lancashire Reformatory School between 1858 and 1859 under the guidance of Christopher Foster, mason instructor at the school. Above the upstream arch of the bridge is a dated foundation stone and above the downstream arch is a carved tablet showing the bridges tools of construction. The school was established by W. G. Garnett, J.P. of Bleasdale Tower in 1857, to give one hundred boys useful employment, principally in agricultural labour, and their farming operations brought many areas of moorland into good cultivation

I managed to take a photo of the downstream parapet once,

We don’t go up to the Tower but follow the estate road left past the Packhorse Bridge, by beautiful beech hedges and the old school buildings, closed in 2019 when only two pupils were registered. back to our car. P1060006

What a lovely walk in the bowl of the fells and now a little more of its history told. 

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FAIRSNAPE FELL.

 

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I’ve used various alliterations based on Fair and Fairsnape in past titles, so lets just keep it simple today, Fairsnape Fell. The last time JD and I were up here was nearly four years ago – time for a revisit. I was pleased with his suggested pick up time of 10 am, even more so this morning with ice on the bird bath.

We were parked up in a little layby under Saddle End Farm at 10.30. The hoards all use the narrow lane below Fell Foot as we were to see later. It was steadily uphill for a long stretch but the sun was warm, there was no wind and the Skylarks were singing. Since my last visit here they have installed some of those green metal kissing gates. We just pottered along chatting, a few fell runners passed us on the way. This circuit used to be my training run, JD had  lengthier projects. P1050475P1050477P1050479

We take the driest way along the ridge and visit the highest point of Fairnsape, 522m. despite the deep mud surrounding it. P1050481

More boot sucking areas were skirted on the way to the trig point, Paddy’s Pole and shelter. There are always a few people about up here. The last time I bivied here for the night there was a crowd of campers. Today there was room for us in the shelter, newly equipped with benches, for a light lunch. P1050482P1050484

I have to admit it’s been a difficult few days with one death after another of my closest and dearest friends. As I intimated, conversation with JD is easy, we have similar interests and political views. But what I didn’t expect as we exchanged anecdotes, as you do, how often my recently departed pal Alan, the plastic bag man, came into the conversation. Al and I went back 40 years with many adventures on the way. We can’t all live for ever. 

As we headed along the ridge towards Parlick the crowds were coming up. I love this stretch with the views down into Bleasdale, across the Fylde and Morecambe Bay. A couple of gliders slid past. P1050489

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Taking the easy traversing route to the west of Parlick we find that it has been very much improved in the last year, what was a badly eroded track was now a pleasant promenade and some more of those metal gates have been added. Yes and there below were the lines of parked cars if you look carefully.P1050494P1050496

We slunk off towards Wolfen Hall after negotiating an old wooden gate held up by string, time for a replacement metal one. Rather muddy paths had us back to Saddle End. It will take some time this year for the fields to dry out.P1050497

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Back at the car I regretted I had no loose change for their excellent free range eggs. Screenshot 2024-04-21 174034

A great day to be out. Good company and warm sunshine. 1300feet in six miles.

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                                                             Looking back at Parlick and Fairsnape.

***

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SPRING IN BLEASDALE.

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I hear the sound of Curlews in the air as soon as I leave the car. That haunting call across the rough fields.

It had been a toss up this morning, Belmont or Bleasdale. I have unfinished business on Great Hill and Spitlers Edge, but how boggy was it going to be up there. Let’s play safe and use the lanes of Bleasdale Estate for a drier round.

Spring is in the air, but only just after the last couple of days’ hailstorms. Blossom adorns the little lodge. A cheery row of daffodils line the road leading into the estate. Immediately the expanse of Bleasdale opens up with the familiar Bowland Hills as a backdrop. I don’t spot the Curlews but I do witness a few Lapwings performing their aerial display. And what is going on with those sheep and seagulls, with pheasants and jackdaw in attendance? DecoPic_20240416_140813P1050307P1050308P1050316

The wood to the right which was disappearing under foreign Rhododendrons has been grubbed up and the replacement mixed planting is only white tree casings at present, all looking very barren. But around the corner is a similar plantation now a few years old and the bird song emanating from it is orchestral this morning. They are all busy bonding and nest prospecting no doubt. Robin, Chiffchaff, Siskin, Song Thrush, Willow Warbler, Wren, Chaffinch, Tree Creeper. Goes to show how trees are so important as a habitat.

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It doesn’t look much but what bird life thrives in there.

No body is about at the buildings, once a reformatory school, as I turn right towards the more open moor. Everywhere are sheep and their lovely lambs, it is difficult to take a photo without including them. P1050319

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The two remote farms are still operating as such, whereas other properties have been converted to residential use.

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It’s awhile since I’ve been to the Bronze Age Circle. Last time was after one of our winter storms and the place was a mess with fallen trees. Time for another look although I know the fields to get to it will be muddy. All is clean and tidy the debris has been cleared away, the inner circle, indicated only by posts, and ditch are obvious again and there is a welcome planting of trees around the periphery of the site. Does it all line up with that nick in the fell’s skyline? Once the Preston Harris Museum is open again I must visit to look at the artifacts from this site. Persons unknown have been attaching ‘clooties’ to one of the remaining trees.

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St Eadmer’s Church is always worth a look, standing as it does in isolation below the fells. P1050362

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The school is no more but the buildings have taken on a new residential life. P1050371P1050372P1050374

I do eventually get caught in an April shower which looks far more severe on Fairsnape. P1050377

Then on past one of the estate’s landmark beech hedges. P1050376

There’s a bee on the gorse and a pheasant strutting his stuff, it must be spring. P1050390

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As there is nobody staying I have a look around the camping chalets in the field as I pass.  Pretty basic tent sides with an inner living space and log fire. The one I scout around, forgive my nosiness, is called Curlew. They go under the Glamping Hideaway’s banner of Lanterns and Larks. A holiday away from it all? P1050382P1050380P1050381

Sometime I must have a closer look at that little packhorse bridge near the farm. P1050386

That has been a whistle stop tour of Bleasdale, get you boots on and do it for yourself sometime.

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By the way it is more like winter again today. ‘Cast not a clout till may is out’.

***

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THIS MORNING.

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                                                                                               Al.

Today.  This morning the day begins well as I sit listening to a beautiful Blackbird serenading his belle. My spirit is uplifted. Then the phone rings – my climbing friend, Al, had passed away in the night. I’ve expressed my vulnerability here before, possibly cloaked in obscurity. Today I feel very vulnerable.

Yesterday.  We had been out on a gentle walk in the Bowland uplands, I was about to write a post about it. My ex-work partner and I meeting up with a close friend who had recently lost his wife to that cruel cancer of the pancreas. I had attended her funeral last week. We three walked through farms owned by The Duchy of Lancaster. now King Charles. A welcome sunny afternoon after all the rain. We talked of many things. Lambs frolicked in the fields just beginning to dry out. primroses covered the banks surrounded by reef knolls. This is Curlew country.

A chance conversation, or was it destined? at one of these remote properties with a retired teacher. Not sure how it started but at one stage –  “Do you remember Dave? I was his senior colleague for years in Blackburn”  “Bloody hell yes, a lovely bloke I climbed with him for years”  I replied. Naturally more reminiscing followed and I promised to phone Dave and tell him of the meeting and bring him up to date. 

I first met Dave in Preston Hospital when he was recovering from a serious climbing accident. An accident in which Al was influential in saving his life. Despite that accident Dave and I formed a comfy climbing partnership with his wife’s encouragement.

A few years later through Dave  I met Al (1982). I remember the day. It was at Attermire, a limestone crag north of Settle. Barrel Buttress to be precise. The start of a forty year friendship. He has made many appearances in my posts as ‘the plastic bag man’ – a reference to his trade rather than his street appearance. Regular meet ups in the Lancashire quarries every Wednesday night followed, along with the ‘rockman‘ and the ‘pieman‘. Holidays in the alps became an annual treat. Long days on the trails and long nights in the refuges. We lived life to the full is the euphemism.

We all got older and for some, physical activities were restricted. But that friendship continued with catchup meetings for a drink or a meal. Latterly all Al could manage was a phone call and then not even that. Bringing us to this morning. I ended up phoning Dave, not about my chance meeting with his headmaster but with news of Al’s death. Circles within circles. 

Thanks for bearing with my vulnerability, here are some photos of that walk yesterday with friends in Bowland including that iconic phone box, now put into another perspective.. My thoughts are with Al’s family.

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***

In the words of Bob Dylan – It’s not dark yet.