During a warm, sunny spring bank holiday weekend, we made a long-overdue return to Pecket Well Clough. I popped in the co-op for picnic food where a scrum in front of the meal deal shelf suggested it wasn’t an original idea. Walking along Old Gate, the riverside steps on the opposite bank of Hebden Water were as crowded as the beach.
We continued to Foster Mill Bridge onto the riverside path, assailed by scents of baking loam and vibrant flowers. Wild carrot and bottle-brush docks bloomed on the water’s edge. Pink anemones shaded between fading bluebells. Creeping buttercup looked much prettier in its natural environment than in the garden. Dappled light made arty shadows on the weir. Yet more families pretended they were at the seaside.
Climbing steps up to Midgehole Road, we found fields of emerald and gold blazing beneath a clear blue sky. Just before Hardcastle Crags, we veered behind the toilet block and paused briefly at the edge of Haworth Old Road. A lush lower Crimsworth Dean stretched northwards. White wood anemones shone white in the hedgerow. In the smaller clough, leafy boughs shaded us from the hot sun and the bluebells from premature bleaching. Descending to the brook, felled trees cluttered a shingled shore we’d hoped to rest on.
We squatted on Kitling Bridge to eat lunch and check the map for a route up to the monument. Unable to discern a path, we proceeded upwards on the Calderdale Way and glanced back to see the structure emerge below. Disinclined to back-track, we continued up Keighley Road to Pecket Well and found a free bench outside The Robin Hood Inn. As we supped pints, traffic continually streamed in both directions.
The cycling couple on the adjacent table made a move to leave and we wondered how their small dog rode a bike. They then put the pooch in a bag. ‘Doggy bag!’ We struck up a conversation encompassing the joys of pet ownership, the state of the world and limited travel options, concluding there were worse places to be stuck. As they headed home over Oxenhope Moor, I thought they’d have been better making the trip the other way round. I needn’t have worried; electric bikes required minimal pedalling uphill.
Speeding vehicles, crash barriers and lack of pavement made the journey down the road trickier for us. We took it steady and observed the surroundings. I poured precious water on grey moss and watched it turn green in front of my eyes. We tried to discern paths in the less-managed Spring Wood, stretching on both sides of the road to the edge of town. A long flight of steps led down to Victoria Road. I’d always assumed unusual roofs on the terraces had dormers added later but Phil informed me they were Dutch houses. The longer day out in extended sunshine had been very enjoyable while stops for sustenance ensured against extreme fatigue.
Cool Places - Our Back Yard 