Tag Archives: Pennine Bridleway

Domesday (Cruttenstall via Pinnacle Lane)

 

On Pinnacle Lane 1

A glimmer of sunlight in early January prompted me to suggest a mission to find Cruttenstall – an ancient settlement mentioned in the Domesday Book.  On a list of sites to investigate as part of background research for Cool Places, I’d not actively followed this up for some time although we did chance across one or two last year.

We set off at lunchtime, bought pasties from the bakers and proceeded up Palace House Road to the familiar path towards Crow Nest.  Taking the diagonal path on the right, views of the north side of the valley provided an opportunity to use my film camera for the first time, pre-loaded with black and white film.  Past Weasel Hall, we continued on New Road, where grey cobbles glistened in patchy sunlight, round the bend to the TV mast.  We had considered a detour for a cuppa at Old Chamber but due to short daylight hours at this time of year, we headed straight up instead.

Sheep and treeA signed path on the right led us through steep, muddy fields.  The climb proved much harder going than I’d anticipated. Out of breath, I stopped to sip water allowing another couple, garbed in proper hiking gear, to overtake us.  I then noticed sheep calmly grazing on the other side of the drystone wall.  Behind a winding dirt path, black branches appeared stark against a pale blue sky.

At the top of the field, a gate led out onto a paved lane I recognised as our return route from Stoodley Pike in May 2018 (the juncture of Broad Lane and Horsehold Lane).  Straight across, signs proclaimed access to Pinnacle Farm only.  Deducing the signs were aimed at vehicles, we strode onto a delightfully grassy Pinnacle Lane.

As we approached the farmhouse, a man disappeared round the back.  I had not expected the downward path so soon but to be sure, I checked with a woman who happened to be in front of the house. “No, that’s our garden” she replied, not unpleasantly.  She then proceeded to give directions to the pike and looked bemused when I informed her that was not our objective.  “We’re trying to find Cruttenstall” I said, then added, “for historical research” (In case she wondered what on earth for!)

PBW gate 2The woman told us to continue to a line of trees further on.  I had already guessed from the map that this would lead down to the Pennine Way but thanked her for the confirmation.  continuing, we eschewed a smaller footpath which would also have led to our destination as looking rather dodgy, and arrived at the line of trees indicating an intersection with the national trail.  Again, I recognised it from visiting the pike.

Through a large wooden gate, the path sloped downwards.  An azure haze dominated the view eastward with Heptonstall church tower appearing ethereal on the opposite side of the valley.  On our right, bright green lichens, dotted with small red flowers, carpeted sturdy stone walls.  To the left, a brook tripped down the slope.  Phil noticed that rocks had been deliberately thrown in to determine its course.  This evidence, coupled with the fact that further down it had gouged out a deep valley, suggested it was an old waterway.  Although the scene was not new to us, I remarked that having a historical objective in mind gave a new perspective to the landscape.  Hungry, we clambered over deep tractor ruts to stop among stones away from any traffic (not that we saw any), quickly ate the pasties then continued.

Tiny bridge

At the bottom of a dip,  the familiar cute arched bridge traversed the brook.  We took a moment to admire its small but perfectly-formed dimensions with shimmering water reflecting thin trees in the fading light.  We then crossed to climb another steep incline up to the fabled Cruttenstall.  Today just a farm, we saw no point getting closer.  As I had suspected, we’d passed nearby several times but gained a better picture of its context thanks to a specific quest.

We continued to follow the steepening valley, now with the brook on our right.   Loud barking emanated from a large house and instead of testing the ferocity of the hounds, we opted for a path through Callis wood, indicated by an acorn sign.  Happily, it was also a shorter route.

Arriving at a very familiar junction, we had a choice of turning right through Horsehold Wood or left down to Callis.  We chose the latter as a safer bet in the darkening afternoon.   We walked quickly westwards on the towpath, except for a short wait while a workman moved dredging machinery to let us through.  Back home, we removed our shoes  at the doorstep.  Along with our jeans, they were clarted in mud.

 

 

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

Detours in Jumble Hole Clough

A last-minute change of plan on the last Sunday of August entailed a rush to catch the bus up to Blackshaw Head for one of our regular walks into Jumble Hole Clough.  The driver failed to stop at the usual place and we alighted at the corner of The Long Causeway and walked back onto Badger Lane.  Taking our usual route down to the clough via the path signed ‘Calderdale Way’, we paused at Apple Tree Farmi to watch the alpacas frolicking with a friendly dog and gaze at attractive clouds scudding above Stoodley Pike.

At the meadow, we rested on the flat rock and it was only after several minutes that I noticed a crane fly right next to me – its grey colouring was perfect camouflage against the granite.

We crossed the bridge and walked down to Staups Mill where we lingered awhile.  Climbing the stony path up, we veered down to the left, following a sign.

 

This led us through a mini forest, past small disused quarries and picturesque boulders creating a gateway to a junction we recognised.  Turning left again we arrived at the clapper bridge.  Hungry by this point, we stopped here for a small picnic then continued climbing up to the ruined hovels.

Another sign pointed up steps atop the ruins.  Curious, we took a detour to find attractive stiles and trees.  Emerging in a field, I wondered if we’d stayed ‘up top’ we could have reached this point from the first field we entered.

We came back down to continue homeward.  At the mini moor, we needed another rest to recover from our climb.  I clambered the rock festooned with heather, reflecting that it had become much more overgrown since our early visits.  We continued down to Mount Olive chapel and onto the Pennine Bridleway.  On the descent, we spotted quite a few ripe blackberries t pick.  As the bridleway became cobbled, we said hello to a man working on his porch and paused again on the nearby broken bench.  Continuing down, we turned left onto a smaller path and followed it to ‘Wood view bridge’.  We crossed the road and onto the canal for a quick return home.

Note

i  http://www.appletreefarmalpacas.com/

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtishnQq0dSxwwteLNHQ

 

Jumble Hole (eventually)

Sloping stream 2

 

Long Causeway 3The day after our trip up to Midgeley Moor also started sunny.  We packed a picnic and caught the bus up to Blackshaw Head.  Alighting at the last stop on the Long Causeway, we walked up the road to Harley Wood Gate Farm in search of a path leading to the top end of Jumble Hole Clough.  Passing scruffy sheep and ramshackle ruins, we found a public footpath sign pointing to the farmhousei.

 

 

As we approached, a man gardening intercepted us.  I said we were looking for the marked public right of way.  He directed us round the house and through a bog!  We picked our way through tussocks and more bog, following the path first West then South.  Because it was not always clear, we made sure of the next stage of the route before continuing over each field.  Eventually we were thwarted by a fence that had been put up in front of a stile, beyond which even worse quagmires lurked.

Thwarted 1Retracing our steps, Phil managed to step into a swampy hole, soaking his sandaled feet (making me glad to have persisted in wearing sensible boots).  On the way back, I took photos as evidence of the obviously deliberate ploy to put walkers off.  I refused to cross the bog in front of the farmhouse and walked on the path through the garden.  There was no sign of the man.

We returned back down the causeway to Davey Lane.  This led easily to the clough, via Bullion Farm (Phil insisted on calling it ‘Bull Lion’ farm), the familiar stone trough, the friendly alpacas and the attractive field above the clough.

Here, we noticed some deliberately-placed stones for the first time; as if someone had started building a bridge but gave it up as a hard job.  We made use of the flat rock for our picnic.

White anemones 3It had become rather windy.  We took the steps down, bedecked with yellow flowers, and crossed the sloping stream into the sheltered clough.  At Staups Mill, two couples stood around chatting, hampering our photography.

Further down the clough the tree line opposite resembled clouds as they sprouted new growth.  We took a path down on the left to the small clapper bridge, pausing to admire wood anemones.

 

Ruined hovel with bluebellsWe then climbed up to the ruined hovels and imagined the grim lives of those who once dwelt there.  With careful footing, we found our first bluebells of the year and an excellent crop of wild garlic to pick.

As we rested on a nearby wall, mist appeared across the valley.  The air became decidedly chillier as if a storm was a-coming.

 

Keen to return to civilisation, we carried on climbing to the higher path, then South along the ridge.  When the PBW ii became steep, we veered off to the left along a smaller path edged with flowers and hawthorn blossom.  Emerging at Wood View we noted the ‘danger balsam’ sign indicating poisoning had taken place in the futile battle against the plant.  We crossed the road and metal steps onto the canal towpath, walking home fast as the air had become even more chilly.

i The next day, Marisa said she knew the dodgy path we had attempted and told us that a better route to the top of the clough could be found further up the Long Causeway.

ii   Pennine Bridleway

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtiqVW9-VESIP-IhW29g

Blackshaw Head and Rawtenstall

blackshaw-head-snowy-gate

 

Mid-January snowfall rendered the landscape picture-perfect.  While the snow looked scrappy down in the valley, we guessed it would still be sparkling ‘up tops’.  We took advantage of a sunny Saturday to plan an outing with Marisa.  Armed with coffee and cake, we caught the bus upwards and chatted to an old friend as it made its way up Heptonstall Road.  As she alighted, Marisa got on.  We continued upwards, admiring the snowy scenes in the lovely sunshine.  At Blackshaw Head we paused to look at a black and white sheep in front of a barn.  They stared back at us until they got bored.  Next to their field, we noted a beautiful old gate and tracks in the snow.

blackshaw-head-marsh-lane-4We entered the chapel grounds opposite, enjoying the feel of ‘proper snow’ under our feet before emerging onto Badger Lane.  Continuing on the now-familiar route down Marsh Lane and Winter Lane, we took in views of scudding clouds and Stoodley Pike while avoiding icy patches.

We continued along the Pennine Bridleway towards Lower Rawtenstall as far as the ‘stone doorway’, to sit on a bench overlooking the valley.

Phil commented that is was a gorgeous view of the sewage works!

 

rawtenstall-manor-2We ate our supplies before going back up to the corner where we turned right onto Dark Lane.  The way proved dodgy in places with ice, snow and mud meaning I lagged behind the others.

En route, Marisa pointed out what was once Rawtenstall Manor.

 

 

 

At the second farm along, we dropped south again onto a lovely grassy path edged by hawthorns (thus obviously pretty old).  It wended down, skirting Knott Wood, to Turret Hall Road.  I looked back to note that the shrubs created a picturesque arch over the path.  From there, we took Oakville Road down to the main road into town.  A rise in temperature meant that ice on the main routes was no longer slippy making for a speedy last leg of our journey.

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtie9MFLKWh7EzLl61IQ

rawtenstall-path-with-arch-1