The Todmorden Centenary Way

28.9.12
Walking with; Nobody

The good folk of Yorkshire must have done something to upset the almighty given the almost Biblical deluge that they'd been on the end of over the last week, none-the-less that was where I headed last week with the express intention of getting a few miles in my legs. I stayed in the Mankinholes YHA, a cosy hostel set in a 16th Century manor house http://www.yha.org.uk/hostel/mankinholes and a mere five minute walk from the excellent Top Brink Inn http://topbrink.com/ where photos of hardy looking Yorkshire farmers and horse brasses adorn the walls. Lumbutts, the neighbouring hamlet, has a magnificent Methodist chapel and John Wesley was once a regular visitor to the area where he preached to the locals.
The Todmorden Centenary Way is a 20 mile footpath created to commemorate the granting of Borough status to the area. With the walk in and out from Mankinholes and the occasional, ahem, detour, I reckon I ended the day with 23 miles under my belt which I think is probably my longest day of walking......there or thereabouts anyway! The walk up to Stoodley Pike set the tone for the rest of the day, muddy and wet underfoot and grey and squally overhead, yuck! I climbed up to Stoodley Pike and admired the view of cloud, cloud and a little more cloud! The monument on the Pike was completed in 1856 to commemorate the end of the Crimean War. It was designed by James Green and replaced a previous monument that was destroyed by lightening. It is certainly a spectacular spot and with the cloud and mist swirling around had a distinctly ghostly feel. I continued along The Pennine Way squelching through the puddles and moving in and out of cloud until I reached the vast expanse of Warland Reservoir where the rain set in.......so far, so good! Walking off the moor into Warland, I crossed the A6033 and past the Steanor Bottom Toll House before heading up the abandoned Calderbrook Road. The road had a kind of post-apocalyptic air to it as nature had taken hold and there were rabbits, squirrels and kestrels not to mention plenty of blackberries and wild roses.
The landscape round here is wild but man's stamp is very clear. Everywhere there is evidence of old mine workings, abandoned buildings, the inexorable column of electricity pylons and in the distance wind turbines slowly turning and dominating the landscape. None-the-less, the moorlands feel wild, exposed, barren and untamed and in 23 miles of walking I only met two other people, not something you could often say in the Lake District! I passed the Allescholes farms and headed up to the ruined farm at Ramsden at the South West end of Carberry Dam. The moors past here grew wilder and more mine workings and ruined buildings gave a real feeling of desolation. The wildlife clearly flourishes here and I saw Kestrels, Meadow Pippits and a flock of the very rare Twite, a real bonus! More moorland walking took me into Cornholme (the only place on the route with a pub as far as I could see) before another ascent led me over the Whirlaw Stones and opened up great views back across the valley to Stoodley Pike.
The last section of the walk took me down through Beech woodland and along the Rochdale canal before climbing through the woodland of Stoodley Glen and back to the villages of Harvelin Park and Stoodley. As I climbed back onto the Pennine Bridleway for the last mile back to Mankinholes the heavens opened for the last time and I arrived back at the hostel bedraggled, footsore but feeling very satisfied at the completion of a job well done.

To see the full photo album, please click on the link below;
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Wasdale in the Wet

13/14.9.12
Walking with; Nobody
                 


I am developing another worrying addiction. Since quitting cigarettes, I have had a number of these ranging from Pork scratchings to Charlie Sheen's version of "Two and a Half Men", however, my latest, Wasdale, is healthier than any that have gone before it. I love this valley containing the deepest lake in England surrounded by forboding, scree slopes and peaks with the intimidating look of proper hills. It has become my Lake District go to this year, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the difficulty in reaching it by road, and even in horrendous conditions it hasn't let me down. I left Manchester in sunshine and arrived in Wasdale with cloud blanketing the tops and rain coming down, undeterred I donned every item of waterproof clothing I possessed and set off up Yewbarrow. At 628m it is not one of the higher peaks in the area but it sits above the lake and has a satisfyingly mountainous profile. It is reckoned to be named for the Yew trees that once thrived in the area and it's shape which resembles (with a little imagination) the bottom, or barrow, of an upturned boat. I took the route up through the Great Door, an entertaining little scramble traversing plenty of water and involving an amount of effort that made achieving the cloudbound summit very satisfying in spite of the lack of view! It was cold on the top so I hurried on along to Stirrup Crag from where I dropped down towards Over Beck where I squelched my way back along the valley following the path above Bowderdale with nobody but a few bedraggled sheep for company.
The drying room, pint of Snecklifter and library of the Wastwater YHA provided welcome respite from the weather and a warm and comfortable bed for the night.The hostel is a half-timbered house dating from 1829 and owned by the National Trust and the grounds at the front run right down onto the lake with great views of the forbidding scree slopes of Illgill Head.
I set off early next morning in sunshine, but by the time I'd driven the three miles to Wasdale Head it was raining and the wind was so strong that the car was rocking in the carpark, undeterred I headed off past the Inn (famed as one of the birthplaces of contemporary British climbing) and into the beautiful Mosedale. One of the benefits of inclement weather is that it greatly reduces the number of other people you meet in the hills and I had this fantastic dale to myself. Gatherstone Beck was in full spate so I spared myself the crossing and followed it's Eastern bank up to Black Sail Pass where the views down to Ennerdale and lonely Black Sail were impressive and where the wind funnelled through with such force it was all I could do to stay upright. Wet weather and scree do not make for the most comfortable scrambling companions and the ascent of Kirk Fell was (probably) just the wrong side of scary........it certainly got the adrenalin pumping and made the reward of popping up onto the top at the same time as a rainbow appeared behind me doubly satisfying. Kirk Fell is, however, not the most secnic of tops and with nothing to subdue the force of the wind was not a place to stop and I soon found myself nestling down behind some stones at Beck Head Tarn and watching another adventurerer trying not to be blown off the ascent of Great Gable.

 

 

 The power of a good cheese roll to inspire is not to be underestimated and I had Great Gable under my belt in less than an hour. Standing at 899m it is a truly impressive peak and worth the buffeting and battering the wind had given me on the way up. The lure of the Wadale Head Inn was growing ever stronger and I decided on the direct path down via Little Hell Gate and Gavel Neese, sure the contours were closely grouped on the map and the name sounded a little intimidating, but it was the "crow flies" route.......An hour of scree surfing, slipping, sliding and taking lots of deep breaths my feet hit solid ground once more with my thighs screaming and knees protesting and the odd hole or two in the bottom of my waterproof trousers. It is not a route I'll be taking again.....Lingmell Beck led me back to a pint in the pub and a wander round England's smallest church, St Olaf's. The gravestones bear testament to the dangers of the surrounding hills and also house members of famous fell runner and Wadale resident, Joss Naylor's, family. It's a peaceful little spot to contemplate both an ever growing addiction the splendour that surrounds even when you're soaking wet through!

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Elterwater and Skelwith Force

14.7.12
Walking with; Ruthy

Two weeks since my hernia op and I felt it was about time that I got back out there, albeit in a gentle, non-strenuous manner. This undemanding perambulation in Langdale hit the spot and, in spite of the occasional shower, finished with a pint in the sunshine.....
The name Elterwater is believed to have derived from the Norse for Swan Lake and although we didn't see any swans until the next day in Coniston, the birdlife was good on the walk with plenty of Swallows, Grey Wagtails and a beautiful Redstart all popping up en route. There were also some magnificent Oak and Beech trees occupying some rare, undisturbed patches of English woodland. We set off from the village and left the Coniston Road before climbing up an increasingly rough track that led through the margin of Sawrey's Wood. The woodland opened out and we followed a path that skirted a well flowered hay meadow and allowed great views of the Coniston Fells down towards Little Langdale where the rain started to fall. We pressed onto Stang End Farm enjoying the views of the Brathay Valley and being glad we weren't buried in the thick cloud coating the Peaks that were visible through the drizzle. We continued to follow the river through woodland until the sound of crashing water alerted us to the fact we'd arrived at Colwith Force where the Brathay falls about 40 feet to the valley floor over a series of narrow cataracts.
We continued on along The Cumbria Way and down to Skelwith Bridge where we watched the Wagtails for a while before venturing through the yard of Kirkstone Slate Gallery to Skelwith Force. Whilst the falls here are much smaller than Colwith, the passage the water is forced through is very narrow and the river thunders through here throwing up clouds of spray, even the wettest Summer anyone can remember has some benefits !! From the falls the path meanders along the bank of the Brathay to Elterwater with stunning views of the Langdale Pikes, surely one of the most evocative of all Lakeland views. Leaving Elterwater behind we passed a very angry cow, admired the redstart as he stayed a couple of fenceposts ahead of us all the way to the carpark and then, just as the sunshine made a welcome reappearance, crossed to the excellent Britannia Inn for a pint of their eponymous bitter! http://lakedistrictinn.com/

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The Old Man of Coniston

14.5.12

Walking with; Nobody

I think it is the name that has always made me yearn to climb the "Old Man", it has a benign sounding feel at odds to the exposure to the elements that summiting it can chuck at you. The peak itself is at 803 metres which means it just squeezes into the top forty mountains in England! The peak is supposed to be the inspiration for "Kanchenjunga", the mountain climbed by the Swallows and Amazons in Arthur Ransome's book "Swallowdale". It is also a mountain very much shaped by man (as indeed is most of the Lake District). It is estimated that slate has been quarried on the mountain since Norman times, not to mention sheep being grazed on the slopes and copper mining which began towards the end of the 16th Century. Coniston itself is a pretty village, less busy than Ambleside and Bowness, but well supplied with pubs and nowadays famous for Donald Campbell and his tragic attempt on the World Water speed records. Many years before Campbell though it was John Ruskin though who bought fame to the village and who lived in the spectacular Brantwood on the shores of Coniston Water, the third largest lake in England.

I set out from the village green in reasonable sunshine and ascended past The Sun hotel, the path ran alongside the fast flowing Church Beck and up towards the ruins of the old coppermines now home to a YHA and some beautifully situated holiday homes. There were plenty of Herdwick Sheep and every stream was full of water swelling the falls into picturesquely spectacular cataracts. The steady climb upwards took me through the abandoned slate workings and up into the clouds before stopping for lunch at Low Water, a well situated tarn at the bottom of a bowl below the Old Man. The path to the summit took me into the clouds as it zig zagged up the side with occasional views back towards the village and the lake. The summit was wind blasted and the cloud was down so after a brief stop for the obligatory photo it was onwards along the ridge before dropping down to Goat Hause and then after a steep descent to the moodily situated Goat Water in the valley between the Old Man and the forbidding rockfaces of Dow Crag. I continued onto Little Arrow Moor and across the Walna Scar Road before hitting another quarry (complete with spectacular waterfall) and then continuing onto the village of Torver.

Torver saw the heavens open and I pressed on in the pouring rain towards the lake. I passed through the beautiful woodland of Torver Common where the Oaks and Birch were coming into leaf with the vibrant pale green that only comes with early spring before emerging on the lakeside at the exact spot where a group were barbecuing under a huge tarpaulin and the smells of cooking meat hurried me onward. The path hugged the lakeside with fine views of Brantwood until I hit Coniston Hall and cut inland back to the village through fields of Herdwick Sheep and their lambs to The Crown Inn for a pint and some welcome shelter from the deluge.

I had planned to stay in the YHA for a night and attempt another walk the next day but car problems meant I had to leave Coniston behind and head home a day early, however my appetite is now whetted and I can't wait to be back in this part of the world!
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Malham Tarn

7.5.12
Walking with; Ruthy

Malham is a tiny hamlet at the Southern end of the Yorkshire Dales, but it has a big reputation and attracts a lot of visitors. There  has been a settlement on the site for over one thousand years and it is named in the Domesday Book as Malgun. It's main claim to fame are the limestone formations in the area, the notable limestone pavements and the magnificent curving amphitheatre of Malham Cove. The village also found cinematic fame when it was used as one of the filming locations for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One. We were heading towards a well known but slightly less popular sight, about three miles from the village down ever narrowing lanes, Malham Tarn, the highest lake in England at 377 metres above sea level and a site of Special Scientific Interest. The limestone has made the lake very akaline and this has led to an unusual habitat. It is said that the Tarn was the inspiration for Charles Kingsley when he wrote "The Water Babies" and it certainly has a certain mystical quality to it.
   After parking up near the Tarn we headed across to Malham Moor and across the rough, tussocky access land to the Smelt Mill Chimney, a restored reminder of the industrial past of the area and a notable local landmark that made for an easy target. The chimney was used to remove poisonous fumes from the smelting of lead, copper and zinc carbonate, but the bitter wind blowing off the moor was a lot purer today! We carried on along the ridge with views of the Tarn before dropping down across Dean Moor and crossing the road at Water Sinks onto The Pennine Way. The Way loops round the lake and we had good views of a Curlew sheltering in the lee of more impressive limestone cliffs. The path led through some woodland (helping to provide a little protection from the rain) to the Tarn House which is now used as a centre for Field Studies. The house was originally a hunting lodge for the Lister family. In 1852 it was bought by James Morrison, a prominent MP,  and then five years later inherited by his son, Walter. Walter loved the house and spent a lot of time there and extended the building considerably to something approaching the current form (http://www.kirkbymalham.info/KMI/malhammoor/tarnhouse.html). We headed down from the house and after a brief, but fruitless, stop at the bird hide we pressed on to the newly constructed boardwalk winding for nearly a mile over the top of a boggy moorland liberally sprinkled with Marsh Marigolds, the occasional Early Purple Orchid and home to a couple of beautiful Pheasant. By this time the rain was coming down pretty hard and we were glad to make the sanctuary of our car. We drove back through the throngs in Malham and away damp but content and en route to "The White Bull" in Gisburn for an excellent fish and chips.
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Tideswell and the Seven Dales

22.2.12

Walking with; Nobody

This was the first proper outing for the knee since the operation in mid-January and it passed it with a few creaks and groans. Tideswell is famous for the Church of St.John the Baptist which is so impressive in scale it has been named "The Cathedral of the Peaks". It was built during the latter half of the 14th Century on the site of an old Norman chapel (parts of which were incorporated into the current building). Sir Samson Meverill, who fought against Joan of Arc, is buried in a magnificent tomb in the chancel and also laid to rest there is Bishop Robert Purseglove who became rich during Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries and whose estate still pays a small stipend to Tideswell school to this day. It's well worth a visit and a handy spot to get out of the rain. The village is also famous for a fantastic bakery, "Tindall's of Tideswell", one of the best refuelling stops in the area.

I left the village with the rain coming down and headed through Tideswell Dale, the site of an old basalt quarry with sculptures along the flat, pleasant riverside trail. There is an avenue of magnificent Beech trees and there were plenty of finches and long-tail tits darting in and out of the vegetation. The path continued into Miller's Dale and the picturesque hamlet of Litton Dale. The original mill sited there was notorious for the conditions in which the indentured "apprentices", usually children from the work house, were required to work, but the hamlet now has an air of gentility with woodsmoke curling from the chimneys of the stone cottages.

Leaving Litton Dale, the path climbed through woodland before crossing The Monsal Trail and continuing a steep ascent into Priestcliffe Lees Nature Reserve. The paths were wet and muddy restricting the pace of progress and making a coffee perched on some old lead workings with a view of the valley below a welcome respite......until the rain came again. I pressed on to another tiny farming hamlet called Brushfield, now mostly holiday lets by the look of things but with some beautiful snowdrops in the woods. The path continued on above Taddington Dale, a densely wooded valley, before dropping down to rejoin The Monsal Trail at the spectacular eponymous viaduct which has great views of the River Wye and Monsal Dale and on a better day would have been ideal for some lunch. I followed The Monsal Trail for about a mile, it runs along the route of an old Midland Railways line (complete with tunnels), passing the ghostly abandoned platform of Monsal Dale station before leaving it at the Cressbrook tunnel and dropping down to Cressbrook Mill at the head of Hay Dale. The mill is now a very smart conversion, but the mill-race still flows alongside the footpath and it isn't hard to imagine it in it's prime producing textiles for Richard Arkwright and, later, McConnel and Co.

The rain was coming down even harder now so the relative shelter afforded by the woodland in Cressbrook Dale was a welcome relief. Cressbrook is evidence that the rain is not an occasional visitor here. Every surface of wall, tree, root, even the ground itself is covered in lush, spongy, vivid green moss and it gives the wooded dale a distinctly Middle Earth feel to it. Leaving the woodland I followed the river up the valley before crossing the stepping stones and climbing the short, steepish ascent through Tansley Dale, home of more abandoned lead workings, to be met with spectacular views of the area. Dry stone walling is still a craft much in evidence in this part of the world and the fields are neatly parcelled up by some fantastic examples of this slowly dying art.

Last stop before Tideswell was Litton, a picture perfect village with a green, characterful cottages and a pub, The Red Lion, that was such a perfect approximation of a country inn that it would have been criminal to pass it by, so I didn't. Log fires, quiet, relaxed atmosphere and a pint of "BG Sips" gave me the fortitude to head off on the last mile of my journey back to Tideswell and a visit to the bakery..

To view the full photo album for this walk, please click on the link below

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