Tag Archives: hedgerow

Hike to the Pike

Erringden expanse

During the Spring Bank Holiday weekend, I had a particularly bad night on the Saturday. I lay sleepless until 4.00 a.m., when of course the sky brightened. The birds began their dawn chorus, annoyingly joined by the cockerel who lives nearby.  I did eventually sleep but fitfully.  Needless to say, I felt terrible on Sunday morning.  Phil wanted to go up to Stoodley Pike but I said “no way”.  I did manage to drag myself out in the afternoon for a bit of sun, noting that even the easterly wind felt warm.  Not really a day for climbing hills.  We pottered round town and the park, ate ice cream, and strolled up the towpath for a canal side pub meal which was nice.

Horses in golden fieldThankfully, I had a better sleep that night and awoke on Monday feeling refreshed.  I agreed to the planned trek, with the proviso that I might not make it all the way up to Stoodley Pike.

We had not reached the top since our mission in 2013 was thwarted by large cows lying in our way, causing an amusing detour up Dick’s Lane and Cock Hill.  Since then, we had discovered the lower delights of Horsehold Wood and Beaumont Clough thus negating the need for a steep climb.

Armed with supplies, we left the house mid-afternoon to climb up Horsehold Road.  Inevitably hard work I had to stop a few times but that gave us chance to look down towards town, where thick foliage prevented us from checking our roof tiles as we usually did.  Further up, the cobbles snaked between lush greenery.  Pretty horses grazed in a golden field.

First gate 2At the top, we followed the curve round to Horsehold Farm, became spooked by vicious barking from behind a crumbling wooden door, and searched for the right lane to go further up.  On locating Horsehold Lane, we were put off by very large cows in a field protected only by a low wall.  Phil swore they were like the bull on his Picasso t-shirt.  We returned to the curve and went left through the gate signed ‘Pennine way’ onto a beautiful path.

Being at the top of the wood, we remarked on the perpetual redness of the ground below on our right, no matter what the season.  Curly ferns emerged from verdant verges as we followed signs to the Pennine Bridleway.

Mysterious stones 2Through a copse and bypassing the cute stone bridge leading to the clough, we continued upwards into grassland. We wondered at the original purpose and location of mysterious stones scattered about – one looked distinctly phallic!

Ahead of us, a line of trees stood along a stone wall.  We turned right onto grassy lanes bisecting farmland and recognised an ancient ruin on the corner from our hike up five years ago.  We rested on a wall, admiring tiny pine cones on a tree opposite.

Noticing Stoodley Pike monument in view to our left, I said it wouldn’t be much further.

Pike in the distanceProceeding along Kilnshaw Lane towards the pike, it never seemed to get any nearer!  Eventually, we wound our way up the rough path as the monument loomed above us like a dark spectre silhouetted behind the early evening sun.  Further up, the path had been recently re-paved.  My camera dropped onto the stone slabs when the strap broke.  I persuaded Phil to wait until we sat down to assess the damage.

At the summit, a few people milled around as we found a lovely outcrop of sloping rocks facing Mankinholes to perch on.  Phil fixed the strap and made sure the camera still worked.  As we ate picnic snacks, a group of lads who had commandeered the monument marred the peace somewhat, playing loud music and commenting on veggie samosas. “How far is it from Hebden Bridge?” I heard one say, before answering himself: “Not far enough”.  Did they mean us? Thankfully, they soon left so we had the place to ourselves.

monument-graffiti-2.jpgI entered the monument and climbed the steps.  It was pitch black and I used my phone torch to light my way.  At the top, I discovered ancient graffiti etched into the granite, providing a foreground for the panoramic views.  I heard Phil calling from below asking how I’d got up.  I descended with my torchlight to meet him halfway.  Having taken in the vistas, we returned to ground level to circumnavigate the base.

I had used google maps to find a different way home and suggested a route staying ‘up tops’ awhile.  We followed the new paving in a straight line across a boggy field.  Our feet stayed dry thanks to thoughtful raised platforms constructed over the worst bits.  We emerged onto an apparently ancient road, separated from a pine forest by neat stone walls.  This stage of our journey was punctuated by the sights and sounds of wild birds.  Curlews wielded overhead.  A juvenile blackbird landed on a wooden fence post before flitting upwards in a flurry.

Old top road 1Arriving at a junction I checked the map. Google insisted we had gone the wrong way and suggested we backtrack.  But I felt confident that the old road wasn’t on the maps and knew that a left turn would join the suggested route.  I was further encouraged in my instincts as Heptonstall and Old Town were clearly recognisable ahead of.  We descended a desolate moorland path, beneath a wide blue sky scattered with small, fluffy clouds.  Reaching Whittaker Road, we walked eastwards until we came to a gate on our left.

Passing through, we discovered the gorgeous ‘Rake’.  Grass and flowers again surrounded us, as a sheep family grazed in a field and an archetypal farmhouse lay in front.

Rake 4As we descended, I was interrupted by a phone call which I curtailed as politely as possible, and suggested a stop to fully appreciate the scene.  As the lane curved round, we rested on the corner, looking westwards for a different view of the pike and ahead of us at the profusion of bilberry bushes.  I said it would be a good place to harvest when the fruits appeared.

Further down, the name of the lane changed to Broad lane.  Again, we were awestruck by beauty!  Trees in full leaf gave an avenue-like effect as the hedgerows were lined with cow parsley, their tiny white flowers swaying gently in the breeze.  We could hear people on the other side of the hedge.

Phil realised it was a campsite, then I spotted a poly tunnel and joked about illegal immigrants living in tents (maybe I watch too many Spanish dramas on Netflix).  As we wound down, we found ourselves on Horsehold Lane and had no option but to pass the field of large cows we’d avoided on the way up.  They looked quite docile and in spite of being eyed warily by a sheepdog, we passed through the farm without incident.  Back on Horsehold Road, I preferred going down rather than up, unlike Phil. I remarked that we had probably chosen the worse route possible to reach the pike. Maybe next time we should choose a less steep way.

 

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtivtiSIs2Eb13PL8GzQ

Broad Lane

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Nutclough in May

Bluebells on a cliff edge 2

A glorious second week in May was marred somewhat with recurring bouts of sinusitis and an alteration with a neighbour, raising my anxiety and stress levels.  Following an exhausting Saturday afternoon hacking shrubs and clearing up outside, we were determined to have some R&R on Sunday. I suggested a short walk as I was still not strong enough to go far.  We walked to the very end of the street, noting lots of hedgerow flowers, then round and down to the buttress.

Bluebells and leavesAt the bottom, we took Hangingroyd Lane to climb the steps opposite the little park and along Unity Street into Nutclough.

The stream was very low, with additional crossing points to the ‘islands’.  I was able to get much closer to the small waterfall than usual and marvelled at how much difference a short dry spell could make.

We spent a considerable time surrounded by the beautiful colours. Trees displayed an array of greens; bluebells topped walls and ridges; smatterings of yellow punctuated the palette.

The water was so blue and the reflections of trees so still that it looked like the sky.  The area became busy we families as we relaxed on the bench.

Tree reflections 7We escaped up to the top path and walked along to the stone bridge, where we debated which route to take.  We opted for the second path on the left, up towards the meadows.

A dinky craggy path led between small trees and bushes which I deduced had been planted since we last came this way.  At the top, two guys with dogs sat next to a steep stone stile.

On crossing, one of the dogs started following and pestering us.  We started up the grass path bisecting the flower meadow, resplendent with dandelions as a precursor to summertime blooms.  Put off by wandering cows, we backed down and searched for another route avoiding the canines but failed. Clambering back over the stile, being pestered again, we started to follow the line of the wall.  It became very tussocky and the darn dog followed us!  Defeated, we made our way back to the proper path.   I picked up the pace as we descended.  Phil called me to wait for him (makes a change).

Top field 1I didn’t realise it but I must have taken a right-hand fork somewhere and emerged at the bottom of the cobbled lane leading up to Hurst Road.  We jumped down a bit of a drop lay where there might have been steps once.  A smaller, unexplored path opposite looked enticing and we decided to be adventurous and follow it, only to soon emerge onto the original top path!  Phil thought it was hilarious.

We headed towards the main entrance when I suggested that as it was a day for exploring new paths, we should try the small flight of stone steps leading further up.   We found ourselves in a small wooded area, carpeted with bluebells and garlic flowers.

Garlic flowers 1Continuing up to a gate, a passive/aggressive notice on the other side declared it part of a private garden – it’s aright for some!  We emerged onto a long driveway, curving round yet more bluebell woods.  At the bottom, the stone gatepost displayed the name ‘Arnsbrae’.  How many times had we past that without noticing it? We walked down Keighley Road and into town.

In search of a refreshing pop, the cafes in the square were packed and the nearby shop shut.  We found spaces at Rendezvous on Bridge Gate.  Phil secured an outside we discovered while I went in for drinks.  Then he decided he was hungry.  We were given both daytime and evening menus.  I settled on a wrap when we were informed that the daytime menu had just become unavailable.  We shared a hot meze off the evening menu – very tasty albeit rather more food than we had intended.

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtivlkNDXZiRdvlHh4cg

Small waterfall 2

Jack Bridge to Colden*

Strines Bridge 2

Early August had been a bit of a let-down.  I spent the first week ill in bed, watching the changeable and showery weather through the window with only intermittent and non-dependable sun.  Fortunately the second weekend stayed fine.  After a hot Saturday, Sunday brought a few clouds, cooling the temperature down a notch and creating ideal conditions for a walk.

Bee on thistleWe caught the bus to Colden and alighted at Jack Bridge.  Walking alongside Colden Water, we made frequent stops to examine wildlife in the hedgerows: bees hovered on purple balsam; strange orange insects came out in force to mate; thistle flowers gave way to downy seed heads.

Beside a barbed wire fence we spotted a wooden step ladder.  On the other side, a dilapidated caravan surrounded by outdoor furniture made us speculate about the al fresco living conditions of the less-fortunate locals.

 

Nearing Strines Bridge we detoured round the posh house and gardens into the field for a closer look.  Maybe it was my imagination but it seemed in more of a sad state than in our visit last spring.

Further up the lane we climbed a stile into a different field.  Causey stones led diagonally to a small wood.  A muddy path, churned up by mountain bikes then ran alongside the pine wood to the bottom of Rodmer Clough.  Signs of cultivation appeared in the hedges as we reached the corner of Land Farm.  From there, we had a hot, uphill climb to Edge Lane and along the top.

Hot StonesThe grass path we usually sneak up to reach High Gate Farm had become too overgrown necessitating a return to the road.  Passing ‘Hot Stones’, we noticed a lone standing stone.

At May’s, I commandeered the bench looking down the lane while Phil entered the farm shop to order hot cheese pies and tea.  As we waited I was being eaten alive by midges.

 

Crack Hill 2After eating we walked down the road to Crack Hill, still finding amusement in the name.  Proceeding to Slack and through Popples Common, we admired the bright new heather.  We rested on the bench just before Heptonstall, contemplating the landscape.

A dad passing on the road with two young girls on bikes amused us.  “Come on!” he shouted, in typical competitive parent style, as they struggled up the hill.  Bypassing the village, we descended Green Lane into Slater Ing.

Slater Ing 2A bit confused at first, as we had never walked this part in reverse before, we soon started to recognise the familiar rock features.  The muted light was particularly good for capturing their characteristic shapes.  The rocky path took ages to navigate and felt like hard work.  Eventually we reached the easier part above the large flat stones, again struck by the beautiful display of heather lining the route.  We took the steps at Hell Hole Rocks.

 

As we travelled through Eaves Wood and out onto Heptonstall Road, I said it was a long way to go for a cheese pie – like the olden days!

*The walk from Jack Bridge to May’s is the reverse of the ‘Edge Lane detour’ we took with M&M in April 2016.

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Purple heather 3

Up and Down to Stubbing’s

Saint James church tower

A gorgeous July evening, Marisa arrived for an evening stroll and dinner. With no firm plans, we stepped outside to admire hydrangeas in the garden until Phil was ready to join us. After some debate, we settled on Stubbing’s the long way round.  We ascended the Cuckoo Steps a short stretch, entered ‘Robin’s Park’ and took the path to Heptonstall Road.  Crossing the road, we continued to Church Lane and commenced the steep climb.  At the corner of Bank Terrace, I had to pause for breath and noticed the lovely view of St. James’ Church tower framed by green leaves and lilac.

Signs of doom 1We discussed the chimney of Bankfoot Mill – quite a way from the mill buildings that sat in the valley bottom.  Marisa told me that what looked like an overgrown path by the side of the chimney was the original flue.  We continued round and down Savile Road.

We agreed that the ‘danger keep out’ signs were probably designed to deter trespassing on private land rather than for any concern for the general public.

 

 

Wall with poppy plantOn the opposite side of the road, a red brick wall arrested our attention: optimistic ferns and poppies had populated the cracks and niches while some housed snails.

A little further on, Marisa suggested detour to a picturesque small wood nearby.  Up a lane, opposite ‘Treetops’ bungalows we found a gap in the hedgerow.  Crouching to avoid being pricked by holly bushes, we entered the lovely woodland of oak and silver birch.

 

A rusty memorial to a local architect stood to the left as we carried on into a glade.  Several paths led on up to Rawtenstall but without refreshments, we had run out of steam to climb further.  I declared I needed liquid.  We retraced our steps back to Savile Road and continued down back to the main road.  We crossed over and travelled the short distance to Stubbings.

Stubbings duck familyMarisa found seats by the canal while Phil and I fetched drinks and menus.  We ordered food and admired a family of ducks on the canal.  Just before our meals arrived, a group of women with dogs arrived Oh no! I thought, that’s bad timing!

However, they were quite well-behaved apart from the inevitable begging.  The food was all good but Marisa struggled to finish her lamb and gave some to the black Labrador by her feet.  A breeze picked us as we decided to return home.

We walked along the towpath surveying the stricken weeds that an elderly man had attacked with a stick.  Further on, a pair of geese watched from the water’s edge as their offspring rooted amongst plants on the other side of the path.  Wary of getting between parent and child, we paused until we deemed it safe to continue.  Marisa and I walked quickly past the hissing pair while Phil shouted “what about me!”  I laughed.  A couple walked towards us.  As they approached, Phil snuck by and said to the man “you’re alright, you’ve got a stick”.  I said I would get him a goose stick!

Woodland trees

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New Road through Erringden

New Road cobbles 2

The last Sunday of June, we ascended Palace House Road planning to go straight up to Crow Nest wood.

Purple foxglove 2Initially taking our usual path upwards, we made frequent stops to admire foxgloves in various shades of pink, purple and white and tried to capture bees on camera as they foraged for nectar.  Halfway up, I noticed a footpath leading off from the right with a sign pointing up to ‘Bar Cliff’ and suggested we try it for a change.

Along a walled path, we got different views of the town and surrounds and could hear the handmade parade party in the park.  We emerged near Weasel Hall, and continued up, following the cobbled New Road (well, I guess it was new once) up and round, noting the different coloured flowers.  At the summit, the wind picked up and I held onto my hat until we arrived at Old Chamber.

At the next the corner, we paused to look at grazing sheep: small family groups sat peaceably; lambs bleated and demanded ewe’s milk between munching grass; scruffy adults moulted wool.    We turned left and searched for a suitable stone to rest on, finally settling on the verge.  A woman passed by, with a mincing gait, which we cruelly mimicked behind her back.

But as we continued down Spencer Lane, care was needed to navigate the close-set cobbles and I laughed at Phil’s delicate steps. “who’s mincing now?”

Shiny beeReaching the bottom of the lane we took a shortcut back to the narrow lower path through Crow Nest.  Passing the quarry, we noticed the stream now headed westwards down the middle of the path for a short distance before tipping over the cliff edge.  So that’s where it had disappeared to! We continued until we arrived at the path we had started out on.

Within the hedgerow, a shiny been settling on bramble blossom caught my eye.

 

 

I remarked it had been a long circuitous walk considering the small area we had covered.  Back on Palace House Road, we took the side lane down to the canal and noted very large balsam plants growing amidst the setts of the run-off, safe from the wrath of the balsam-bashers. We walked along the north side crossing at Blackpit lock to return home via Hebble End.

Spencer Lane 3

 

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Notes:Erringden is derived from the Norse Heyrikdene; Valley of Erik or ‘Valley of the High Ridge’.  see:  http://www.hebdenroyd.org.uk/erringden/index.html

Explorations on Lower Midgely Moor

Heights Road 1

A week into April, we deemed it dry enough to venture up to the lower part of Midgely Moor in search of archaeology we had not seen on our visit last summer.  The warm Saturday sunshine had brought hordes of people into the town centre.  Not tempted to join them, we passed by the busy pubs on our way to the bus stop on Commercial street.  As the bus to Old Town turned the corner onto Heights Road, I realised we had reached the golf club.  We pressed the buzzer and the driver let us off a bit further down the road (a tad grumpily).

Midgley Moor quarry 1We took in the views and hedgerow features before walking the few metres back to the club entrance.  At the corner, we tried to avoid making ‘selfies’ while taking shots of the mirror on a pole and watched the antics of chickens.  We walked up the drive and cut across the pleasant golf course to the gate onto the footpath.

 

Reaching the top, we checked the map and determined that the enclosure we searched should be behind the nearby quarry.   On entering, we sat awhile to enjoy the sun and debated our next move.  Phil thought he had a found a route.  We started climbing and spotted a likely mound.  But the way proved tricky, not being an actual path.  Scrambling back down, we turned left to continue on the proper path.  Just before the next gate, we noticed another path leading up sharply on the left.

Midgley Moor earthworks 1This took us to the top of the quarry where we observed grouse screeching as they flew away from us between a series of mounds.

I wondered if the whole area had been a burial site.  We kept going on small paths in the direction of Lane Ends.

They led us down through moorland vegetation and onto a track churned with mud by cattle and tractors.  We kept along the edge of a stone wall to avoid the mud but had to crouch beneath low-hanging thorn trees.  Eventually, we found a safe course back onto better paths once more and soon found ourselves back on Heights Road.   At the Hare and Hounds, we commandeered a table on the patio.  We enjoyed the sun while eating, drinking and chatting for over 2 hours.

Mill with flowers in foreground 2Deciding to walk back down to Hebden in the ‘golden hour’ proved an excellent choice: the moon rose over the moor; spring flowers adorned the hedgerows.  We stayed ‘up tops’ as long as possible, taking Raglands Lane to Dod Naze then down into Common Bank Woods to witness gilded trees in the glowing light.

I stumbled on a tree branch and landed on my bad knee.  I sat in the dirt for a while recovering but no damage had been done and I said it would have hurt more if I hadn’t had 2 pints!

Back in town, we considered another drink.  However, the sight of people who had been drinking all afternoon put us off so we headed home.

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Trees at golden hour 2

Winding Down Through Rawtenstall

Blackshaw Head - Hedgerow and sky 1

On a changeable November Sunday, we ventured up to the hills. At the bus stop it started to rain but thankfully the bus arrived soon after. At Blackshaw Head the air proved colder and scraps of snow clung on below hedgerows.

Blackshaw Head - Milestone 2We alighted at the last stop to consider the ancient history of The Long Causeway and Badger Lane and the old stone routeway marker at the corner of the churchyard.

We turned right off Badger Lane down Marsh Lane and spotted various features: tiny worlds of moss in the crevices of a stone wall; crows sitting on telegraph poles; a muck cart in a field.

 

Marsh Lane - Tiny mossWe admired views towards Stoodley Pike, providing a picturesque backdrop to the scene.

Fortuitous patches of sunlight falling on the slopes below highlighted glacial scars created in the ‘Calder Gorge’ during the ice age.

 

The ‘ignore your sat nav’ signs still made us laugh as we veered left along Winter Lane. The lane had been re-surfaced since our last visit. At the next junction, we turned right down an unpaved lane signed ‘lower Rawtenstall’.

Rawtenstall - Managed woodland 2After amusing ourselves with photos of giant chickens, we continued down and through what appeared to be a managed woodland.

We surmised it must have been parkland of some kind in Victorian times as the rock cliffs looked like they had been manmade.

The whole scene was too picturesque in a twee way to be wholly natural. I posited it might have been the grounds of Rawtenstall Manor.

Rawtenstall - Stone gatepost 1The path snaked downwards and took us past ruins of old buildings and gate posts until it became paved again and bore the moniker ‘Turret Hall Road’.

We noticed the posh drainage: at one point the water looked as if it was going uphill which of course was an optical illusion “It’s just like the electric bray”, I remarked.

Rounding another bend, I could hear voices coming down the path behind us and when they caught up, I saw it was our old neighbour with a male companion. We said hello and they strode off purposefully ahead of us. Just before the b

ottom of the lane, I spotted a turn off called ‘Under Cragg’. I chuckled at the literal Yorkshire name – so typical of round here.

Oakville Road - Pothole reflections 3

We then proceeded down to Oakville Road – a familiar route back from Jumble Hole. We continued alongside the railway, pausing to examine reflections in the potholes.  Phil commented that they had not done the drainage properly here as they had further up.

When we got onto the main road, Phil stopped to take more photos of crows. An old man at a nearby bus stop came over and told us about a rare talking bird behind the hedge. We peered through and although we could hear a strange squawking, I could only see yet more chickens.

We crossed the road at Stubbings and after some debate, decided to avail ourselves of the pub’s facilities. This led to buying beer and in turn to staying for a late Sunday lunch. Whilst waiting for our food to arrive, we examined a map of the old parish boundaries on the wall behind us. After eating, I started to feel very sleepy. We left and took the quickest way home as dark descended.

More photos at: http://1drv.ms/1lM3d52

 

Marsh Lane - Muck cart