The seasons slow to turn, early October stayed warm and sunny. We took a Friday afternoon walk in warm sunshine. Town packed, we visited a couple of shops before finding pies for lunch. We ate in the park, noting slowly turning trees and bemoaned the mowing of wildflower patches. Heading up Wood Top, Boar goats grazed in lush fields. We cut through the farm buildings onto the beautiful grassy lane where unripe brambles clung in the hedgerows, and turned left onto the top of the old quarry where impromptu streams and nettles made the going tricky. Striding ahead, Phil came back to help me, getting stung in the process. Hot and sweaty, I squatted on a wall to recover before going down to the oddly empty waterfall.
Shady Crow Nest Wood displayed a few signs of autumn in the form of acorns and beech detritus but disappointingly no fungi. We kept to the top line all the way to the druid stones. Deep shadows gave the treeline an eerie aspect and elongated our profiles. After taking the scary rutted path home, I collapsed on the sofa, feeling slightly out of breath which was meant to be good I believe!
Two days later, we enjoyed a pootle in Nutclough. Having the place to ourselves for a while, we explored the swamp, noted new streams and tried to capture leaves falling in the gentle breeze before crossing haphazard stepping-stones. Oak sprigs scattered the shrunken small islands. Tiny fish swam beneath layers of decaying leaves. Rotting mushrooms of ivory and tan sprouted from deadwood.
The sunken bench now almost totally submerged, I found it rather trickier crossing back to sit on the higher bench. A passing hiking group speculated on creation of the landscape. I confirmed it was once a millrace. Walking up the top path, crimson leaves littered the path. Clumps of pink fungi clung to thick trunks. Foaming water gushed beneath the stone bridge. A thoughtful man with child and dog stepped aside for us.
We climbed up Sandy Gate, savouring sun and wind in our faces and kicking crunchy leaves in the gutter. Cutting the corner off using the small steps at the Birchcliffe Centre, the same man ascended giving us chance to return the favour. The old chapel no longer advertised a free school but a ‘to let’ sign for the hostel left us wondering how that worked? Town heaving as ever, we ducked through an arch for supplies from the convenience store.
Life conspired against us meaning no walks for the best part of a month. At the start of November, we re-visited Lumb Bank (see Copperopolis) and the following week, caught the last two hours of sunshine on a glorious Saturday. Hurrying through the ridiculously heaving town centre, we hiked up School Street and into Common Bank Wood. The mellowing canopy visible from our street, it didn’t disappoint close up. Predominated by beech and oak, fading greens and pale yellows were punctuated by golden oranges. Branches coiled upwards straining for the blue. Foliage rustled in a gentle breeze. Saplings sprouted on the loamy banks.
Stopping often on the almost-black muddy path, we stepped aside as a pregnant woman in pagan apparel, accompanied by a man and a woman with a camera, tripped downwards. The latter smiled at us: “A lovely day for pictures!” Was it a belated Samhain photo-shoot? The full stream easy to navigate using large stones and a wooden bridge, we continued up between fields of large goats and sheep with curly horns. Two Asian women stood near the top gate, doing selfies and giggling. “We’ll never know why that’s so funny!” observed Phil. Finding the climb up Wadsworth Lane taxing, we took a breather on the bench at the corner before continuing to Rowlands Lane.
Below us, sunlight glinted on treetops in the valley. Ahead, fluffy clouds sailed above Old Town mill. Capturing the views, Phil clambered on a wall and cut his hand on the barbed wire. I helped him patch the painful gash with tissue and hand gel which stung mightily. I distracted him from the pain by pointing to the ground “mini apples!” “Oak apples.” “Do oaks have apples as well as acorns?” “No, it’s caused by a parasite.” “How odd. I’m not sure I’ve seen that before.”
At the end of the lane, we curved round onto Sandy Gate and took a slippery path into a squelchy Nutclough, looking markedly different a month on. Carefully watching our footing, we got scared at the sight of two fierce-looking dogs but the family held them as we past. Avoiding town, we went home via Valley Road. I helped Phil unload so he could treat his injury more thoroughly.
Cool Places - Our Back Yard 