I find myself walking along a slippy rocky ledge just above the fast flowing River Roeburn. I have long since lost the path if ever there was one. Then it all stops at a steep landslide. Go back or try to climb out into the woods above. Chapter 8, of Cicerone’s Walking in Lancashire, ‘The Enchanted Valley’ of Roeburndale had promised so much.
I have battled with the paths down here before. This time coming in from the south with detailed instructions from the guidebook it should be a doddle. I’ve had my lunch in the little Methodist Chapel at Lower Salter and I find the ladder stile into fields above the Roeburn. There are helpful ‘Concessionary Footpath’ signs although for some reason a map presumably showing them has been vandalised. The vague path keeps above the gorge and its trees until a way down is found to the river at a footbridge I recognise. But the guide says “remain on the west bank”. I try to but the path just disappears in the undergrowth and tree cover. I retreat to the footbridge and try the east bank. 
A path comes and goes, I ignore the obvious path we had descended from this side to get here last time. I battle on by the river hoping a better path may appear, but it doesn’t. I enter a rocky gorge and spot a vehicle ford across the river. Awkward side streams need careful attention. There are some footbridges but with their wooden slats missing, presumably only in use in season by the shooters or fishermen. I don’t know where they lead to anyhow, so I don’t risk crossing them commando style. There is even a pulley cage across the torrent a little farther on, I certainly wouldn’t risk that. There was a serious accident near here in January 2022 involving an all-terrain vehicle pulling a trailer when a bridge gave way
The last post.
Maybe I should turn back, but my stubbornness drives me on hoping to find a way that might correspond to the guidebook. The gorge deepens and my only way of progress is at the water’s edge on those slippery rock ledges just above the water. I even contemplate walking in the shallows but they are fast-flowing. This is the river that flooded in 1967, taking out all the bridges and demolishing many cottages downstream at Wray. 
The camping bothy appears on the other side, it’s marked on the map so I know where I am. But the landslide looms ahead and this is where I realise my best way of escape, not necessarily the safest, is to climb the couple of hundred feet up a steep bank above me, knowing there are paths along the top edge of the woods.
It is steep and slippery and I make frequent use of tree roots, clumps of grass and my knees on my slow progress upwards. Not a place to have an accident, especially alone. I reach the top and the wall into fields but find no trace of the paths we had used in reverse last time. So I just continue following the top edge of the woods inside the fell wall. Roe deer scuttle in front of me. The GPS on my phone keeps my position up to date. 
I eventually have to climb the fence into the fields when I become hemmed in by a deer fence and then can meet up with right of way coming up from the river. This deposits me onto the lane which I nonchalantly follow back to my car parked in Wray. 
All’s well that ends well. With hindsight I should not have bushwhacked for so far searching for a path by the river. After crossing that footbridge I should have taken the path heading out of the gorge and walked back through the woods. The OS map doesn’t have the paths marked. Certainly the Cicerone guide book chapter is totally misleading for this section down Roeburndale and anybody using it will soon become lost. Undeterred I want to revisit these woods later in the year for their spectacular bluebell display, any takers? This post has some good photos.
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The day had started out better, walking out of Wray using little lanes and crossing Hunts Gill Beck by a bridge which narrowly avoided destruction by a falling tree.
Wray Bridge.
Then above Alcock’s Farm a long series of fields to Harterbeck Farm. A family are out for a pleasant Spring stroll, why didn’t I do the same? Lambing has been in full throw. The way was clear but the ground was boggy, which became rougher the farther I go, it would be just as enjoyable, probably more so, to walk up the quiet road leading to the farm without losing the views or the curlews calling. Next time. Great Coum, Gregareth, Whernside and Ingleborough were constant companions on the NE horizon. Ingleborough always wears the crown and demands to be photographed.
Harterbeck is a lonely farm by any standards. It obviously has a problem with moles and the windows inserted into the back wall must have involved ‘Bob the Builder’.
I’ve been exploring Lancashire for years but I have never been into the steep-sided Pedder Gill and seen the waterfalls of Goodber Beck. Must have spent too many times abroad in warmer climes and neglected my own doorstep. From the farm, after crossing a small beck, the track drops down to the little footbridge and a bit of scrambling down the gorge gets me in close with the waterfalls. A hidden Bowland gem! 
A stroll down the fields and I pass through Lower Salter farmyard. The farmer is repairing his drystone wall, must be the season, but he is not as chatty as the one in Lunesdale the other day. What an isolated life they live up here. 
At the road is the little Methodist Chapel. I go inside for a sit-down and snack.
Built in 1901, the land given by Mr Francis Skirrow of Lower Salter Farm, the cost of the chapel was £180. Mr Skirrow intended the chapel to be used as a school room during the week. This is evidenced by the fact that the pews have holes for inkwells. However, his idea never materialised owing to an inability to hire a teacher. There is a commemorative plaque to Flight Lieutenant Thomas Dirk Bayliss who lost his life on July 3 1979 when his Jet Provost trainer aircraft crashed into a field near High Salter Farm after the pilot became disorientated in heavy mist and flew off course.
Down the road and with spirits high I cross the stile onto that permissive path down Roeburndale… A walk on the wild side.
We now follow the quiet lanes for a mile or so, at the high point Pendle comes into view again. There are lots of cyclists, presumably from east Lancashire clubs, using this switchback route. A majority of the properties seem to be holiday lets, is this the only future for English farming? See below. 
From this elevated position the Three Yorkshire Peaks are just visible but too hazy to photograph. It is a slightly better view down the Ribble Valley towards the Parlick and Fairsnape group of Bowland. And of course you can’t get away from Pendle in these parts.
Soon we are on the return leg, again on quiet lanes, through the hamlets of Howgill, Newby and Stopper Lane. Lots of interesting buildings are passed and we guess at their original purposes.
Here abouts is the village institute hall, a good half mile out of the village proper. But it does have an information board which tells us, all too late, about the Heritage Trail we have almost followed. 
The temperature is hovering just above zero, but we must be under a high pressure there is no wind and the sun is shining. Perfect. I don’t carry a camera for these two days, I’m trying out my new phone.
The quarry is hidden away just before the road starts its winding ascent. It’s late morning when I park up under the old Sykes Lead mine and the roadside Lime Kiln. The quarry faces west so should be sheltered from the easterly wind. A regular procession of motorcyclists pass me as I walk up the road to the gate.
