The gloom lifted for a cold but dazzling Tuesday. A rare day off for Phil, he smiled on seeing the sun. I suggested a walk to Lumb Bank, wrapped warmed-up pasties in foil and swathed myself in layers to insulate from the crisp air before we took the customary route via Church Lane and Eaves. The climb to the first iron gate arduous, we continued up through the canopy where reds were normally guaranteed. The season’s foliage predominantly mellow due to the prolonged summer and late autumn this year, even here the colours were muted although emerald moss and jade lichen glowed.
Forgetting to continue onto the next iron gate, we climbed further but soon realised we were mistaken (will we ever remember it’s up, down, up!) After debating carrying on to the top, we decided to backtrack to the dicey Victorian job-creation steps. The narrow treads slippery with leaves, I descended sideways. We waited in a sunny patch near the garages for two men dawdling towards us, then headed straight onto the lesser-trodden Old Gate to the poet’s house. Agreeing the adjacent cobbled path was the nastiest in the valley, we got hot from the effort and panted up Green Lane to the link path shortcut, noting it was newly fenced off in the second field – had someone been worrying sheep?
Proceeding into Heptonstall, Phil’s colleague waited at the bus-stop. As we stopped to chat, she conceded the bus wasn’t going to show, rang a taxi and offered us a lift. “No thanks, we’ve got pasties!” Finding a sunny spot in Weaver’s Square, we squatted on a low wall to eat. For dessert, Phil opted for a snowy Oreo while I chose a healthy apple, then my guts rumbled alarmingly. Conscious of the man who’d appeared to fiddle with wires behind us, I whispered urgently: “I need to move.” Why? “Tell you later.” Thankfully, no disasters unfolded as we wandered into the graveyard to listen to organ-twiddling from the church and search the ruin for the poshest grave near the altar (unsurprisingly, the inhabitants of Greenwood Lee). We took the ridge path down via Hell Hole Rocks to enjoy misty views of Stoodley Pike, beautiful hues of green and gold, and the last of the afternoon light on the path along the ridge.
Cool Places - Our Back Yard 