Return to Pecket Well Clough

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.

Up Hollins and Tinker Bank

The first decent walk of 2018 began on a bright, frosty day.  Setting off at 2 p.m., thaw had occurred as we headed through town towards the riverside path.  However, on the unpaved Groove Road, ice on the ground proved tricky.

Just before Foster Mill Bridge, we stopped to examine a dilapidated cart in front of a wood-fronted garage, surrounded by frosty leaves and grass.

On the bridge, mossy walls appeared to have been sprinkled with icing sugar.  A cheery man said “nice day for it” and advised me to take care as we crossed to Salem.

 

We took the steps up to Hollins, surveying the lovely sycamore tree and sunlight on the hills opposite.  Through the eternally dark hamlet and into Tinker Bank wood, a group of walkers asked directions into town.  We paused to consider which path to take and initially elected for the lower one before Phil suddenly took a steep upward path.  I said we had not been that way before but he was sure we had.  It became horribly muddy in places and I was glad I had sensible boots on.

Large stone blocks were strewn either side of the narrow path, suggesting that it had been a vehicle track, lined by walls at one time.

At the top, we emerged onto Lee Wood Road and were amused by the ‘slow’ sign nailed to a tree, beside a newly-formed waterfall.  We walked eastwards towards Bobby’s Lane.  But on encountering a paved lane downwards, we decided it might be a quicker way down to the riverside.

Not sure if it was a private drive, we discovered a dilapidated shed and another shortcut.  This one looked decidedly dodgy though, so we kept to the tarmac, and round a large bend to emerge near the posh horse farm.

A couple walking with a bonkers dog created amusement for a few minutes before becoming rather annoying.

We overtook them, until we were forced to slow down by ice underfoot.  I also wanted to take photos looking up to Pecket Well where sunlight on the hilltops created a contrast with the dark shadows below.

Further down, ice on the path turned to water.  I kept to the edges and trod carefully.

Reaching the river, we spotted more frosty vegetation and a tree branch fallen in the weir.

We took the usual route back along Hebden Water and stopped at the first ‘beach’ to rest.

As we climbed back up to the path, Phil saw someone he knew in the garden opposite and we chatted over the gate before continuing back to town – this time sticking to Spring Grove; a much safer  option.

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtiuo3on4DPPFIIWhcCw

 

A Detour to Pecket Well

Despite the development (yet again) of symptoms that often presaged the onset of sinusitis, I was determined to not give in.   It was the first day of spring and a gorgeous sunny one at that. I looked forward to Marisa coming round for coffee followed by an afternoon outing. She was also suffering. With a frozen shoulder, and we spent some time comparing health notes over coffee and biscuits.

The three of us then set off via the local bakers, for Foster Mill Bridge. I mentioned an article I read in a recent issue of Valley Life about a walk via the path upwards and as we chatted, I realised it led to the hamlet of Hollins on the way to Hareshaw wood. Marisa suggested we walk up that way and although we had only done so three weeks ago, we agreed.

 

We ascended the broad, cobbled steps at a leisurely pace before taking a similar route through the hamlet and the woods.  Descending near ‘little Switzerland’, we  crossed Hebden Water and took the flight of steps up to Midgehole Road and along to the public WCs.

From there, we headed behind the toilet block and instead of going straight into Crimsworth Dean, took a path to the right and descended upwards into Pecket Well Clough. Like Crimsworth Dean, this forms part of the National Trust Hardcastle Crags estate, but feels a world away. The old packhorse trail leads steadily upwards, through beech woods.

At this time of year, the trees displayed a stark beauty. Brown and grey dominated, occasionally broken up with patches of green.  The mostly bare ground allowed impressive tree roots to show through along the route.

At the top of the clough, we came across a lovely stone bridge where two streams conjoined. We picked our way across a mulchy flat bank to find a suitable rock for our picnic. Marisa made several archaeological finds including what looked like melted glass and broken pots. We posited that the area had been used by people going back hundreds of years.

 

Food and explorations over, we climbed another flight of steps to reach the WWI monument. I commented on the tete-a-tetes, which provided a splash of colour as we approached. We rested on the benches and surveyed the vistas. from there, we followed paths along the side of fields, passing newly planted trees, cute horses, and a rather fine old gate.

Marisa had recently discovered interesting facts about the history of gates and I told her she should start a blog about them!

Looking back, the monument stood in the foreground of a landscape with Heptonstall church and Stoodley Pike behind. We proceeded through Higher Crimsworth Farm and eventually onto Keighley Road. Walking passed the Wesleyan church and school house straddling the main road, we availed ourselves of ale and facilities at The Robin Hood Inn before taking the bus down into town.

More photos at: https://onedrive.live.com/redir?resid=2DF4BDD5DCD70A39!111038&authkey=!AL7UCa6R91JVs00&ithint=folder%2c

Wainsgate Wanders

A beautiful summer evening two years ago, we arranged to meet our walking friend for an evening stroll. She suggested getting a bus up to the tops. Finding we had missed one by literally two seconds, we went round the corner to catch another one and discovered there would be an interminable wait. Some random guy at the bus stop asked if we wanted to share a taxi up to Old Town.

The cab dropped us at the Hare and Hounds. We walked up Billy Lane to the other end of the village before turning left up Wainsgate Lane. Passing the historic Wainsgate Chapel, we continued on the path which overlooked idyllic pastoral scenes. Behind the dry stone walls, undulating fields and isolated farm buildings, we espied the church steeple of Heptonstall and the Stoodley Pike monument standing sentinel on opposite sides of the valley below.

At the end of the lane, we dropped down to the small settlement of Pecket Well. We traversed a field containing what might be the actual old well of Pecket (judging by the old stones).

The next field proved rather tricky. Careful foot placing was required to find a pathway down to the road. We ended the evening at The Robin Hood pub. Pints and food in the beer garden – lovely!

Late September this year, we arranged to attend a music event at The Wainsgate Chapel. Unfortunately, I had sprained my knee the previous day making the hill climb up to Old Town impossible. Instead, we made our way towards the bus stop. En route, we laughed at middle-aged people playing dress up that had infested the town (aka Steampunk weekend).

After a scenic ride via Dodd Naze and Heights Road, we alighted outside Old Town Post Office.

We walked slowly up Billy Lane, admiring a variety of plant life. The fluffy thistle flowers proved particularly photogenic.

As we rounded the corner into Wainsgate Lane, I was struck by a beautiful hedgerow of brightly coloured flowers.

 

During the first half of the concert we had seats in a middle pew. Constantly bobbing heads intermittently obscured the view of Emma Sweeney and Jack Rutter as they performed a series of Irish numbers.

 

I spent the interval exploring the back rooms. Antique items in the old-fashioned kitchen looked like still life subjects.

For the second half of the gig, we repositioned ourselves at the side of the hall.

Our friend had agreed to video the performance.

My partner volunteered to take photos.  He moved around a lot and climbed up to the balcony.

Later, he said it was like ‘doing a work’.

“You did offer!” I reminded him.

Afterwards our friend gave us a lift down to the Hare and Hounds. Initially we sat out front to enjoy the evening sun and peruse the menu. We then noticed not one, but two sundogs! And a tiny crescent moon!

A local man joined our table. When we pointed out the sundogs, he said nonchalantly “oh yeah. Seen that before” like it happened every day. Well, maybe it does up there! Personally I had only witnessed this phenomenon once before; outside our local pub bizarrely enough.

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