Tag Archives: treeline

Spring Alive

Trunks and Bluebells 1

The last Sunday in April, the weather looked changeable but we really needed to get out for some air and exercise.  We walked aimlessly towards town, and stopped to chat to a neighbour on her doorstep on the way.  The town square was almost as lively as the Easter weekend.  As we emerged with pies from the baker’s, Phil reckoned he heard a peacock.  A sighting had recently been made in Old town and wondering if it had descended from there, we walked down Albert Street.  With no sign of it, I proposed it was a dog yelping.

Dandelion Flower 3At the main road, we walked on to cross near the rail station and took the track down past the stoneyard.  We stopped on the bridge, where a small bird swooped down, apparently washing something in the river.  It then flew under the arch.  We climbed up broken steps and peered precariously from the edge, but the bird eluded us.

Continuing up Wood Top Road, lush greenery surrounded on all sides.  We followed the curves to skirt farm buildings and reach Carr Lane.

Revelling in having the place to ourselves, we dawdled to examine the hedgerows.  Delicate white and purple flowers contrasted with deep green grass. Dazzlingly yellow dandelions started going to seed forming perfect clock circles.

Birdsong of myriad species made the only sound.  A very loud chaffinch dominated the chorus.  At the next group of buildings, we searched for a way through but could discern none apart from down to the railway bridge.

Grassy Lane 3

Returning to Wood Top Farm, we took the beautiful grassy lane towards Crow Nest Wood.  As we headed down, tiny forget-me-nots lay in a clump at the corner.  Oak trees sported shiny leaves and pendulous blossoms.   A mouldy stump had become almost dust in places, the culprit an iridescent turquoise.  At the quarry, we stayed on the top path into the wood.  Afternoon sun filtered through leafy boughs, making soft shadows on carpets of bluebells.

I suggested a customary stop near the stream, but as the air cooled, thought better of it.  However, a bit further down, we started flagging and rested on a moss-covered rock.

Phil tried to persuade me that stones had moved uphill since his last visit.  I was sceptical about the idea of inanimate objects having a life of their own.

Roe Deer 1We then took the shortest route down, noting trees looking even more dead and rotten than a few months ago.

As we approached the path behind Palace House Road, a roebuck grazed on shrubs.  It stared right at me, enabling a good shot.

Verges displayed a variety of life, different from the dark woodland.  Insects and spiders waited patiently for prey.  Golden Welsh poppies escaped from nearby gardens.  A cacophony of tits hopped between treetops.

Back home, we ate the re-heated pies with coffee and agreed it was much easier than picnicking perched on a rock in the woods.  I felt very tired, my legs ached and an Achilles tendon issue flared up.  But I was glad we had been out.

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Waiting 1

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Early Spring in Common Bank and Nutclough

Common Bank Trees 3

The mild weather continued into late February.  On the last Sunday, we took one of our familiar circular walks, starting out along Oldgate, over the packhorse bridge, up Bridge Gate and across Commercial Street onto the historic cobbled route towards Birchcliffe.  At the top of the steps, we proceeded upwards on School Street to the start of Common Bank Wood.

Common Bank Bark Close Up 4We could hear a dog barking from within a house when a woman with a dog came past.  She thought we were spooked by her hound, put it on a lead and walked ahead which was considerate.  However, the dog kept stopping to sniff interesting things!  We made the most of being held back on the narrow path to examine the interesting shapes and shadows.

Sycamore bark reflected filtered sunlight.  Shadows of tree trunks fell on the ground still littered with autumnal leaves.  A flawless blue sky framed tightly-packed twisty branches.

At the top, the bridge over the stream looked more precarious than ever but fortunately the water level was low thus not difficult to navigate.  Up the path between the fields, a jay (aka pink crow!) flitted from tree top to post.  We crept along to try and capture it on camera but we had more luck with the magpies and jackdaws.

Blooming 6Opposite the residential area of Dod Naze, low-hanging catkins swayed gently in the breeze.  We paused briefly on the corner where a smattering of spring flowers grew behind the bench before turning up onto Rowland Lane.  Mist topping the uplands created eerie scenes with the church towers of Heptonstall emerging ethereally from a grey landscape.

At the end of the lane, we waited for a group of walkers accompanied by a dog with stick to pass by then curved round sharp left down Sandy Gate.  Buds adorned small trees and shrubs, some appearing like miniature flowers.

Budding 6Part-way down, Phil had problems with his camera and I had a bit of tummy ache so we took a breather on the low wall.  A passing driver shouted through his open window at us as he raced up the hill, which made me jump.  Both feeling irritated, I decided to remove myself from the situation and marched off.  I had calmed down somewhat as he caught up with me.

Among the low springtime growth, I easily located the path descending into Nutclough and spotted a dead shrew under a tree– fluffy on the top, mouldy on the bottom!  As we crossed the stone bridge, fading afternoon sun glinted on the water’s surface making silvery patterns. The air became noticeably cooler as we followed the well-trodden route through the clough. Feeling disinclined to traverse to the ‘islands’, we rested instead on the top bench before a brisk walk homewards via Keighley Road.  Removing my boots to rest on the sofa, I reflected that I did not feel as tired as I would have a few weeks ago.  Although not a massive walk, it would usually be more than enough for me.

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Misty Field 2

 

New Road to Crow Nest

High roadIt is very rare for me to suggest a walk in Crow Nest Wood during the winter months.  But in mid-February, spring made an early appearance.  Setting off in early afternoon sun, we initially embarked on our usual route: across Market Street, up to Palace House Road and up the signed path towards Crow Nest.  I then spontaneously suggested turning up the next switchback.  The attractive path was no longer signed ‘bar cliff’ as it had been in summer 2017.  As we climbed steadily upwards, we paused for scenic views of the busy town centre below and over to Midgeley Moor and villages ‘up tops’.  The sun disappeared and a few spots of rain fell.  With no protection, I hesitated to continue until Phil lent me his cap.  A few minutes later, the rain stopped.

Field with ridgesAt the top of the path, we passed through the metal gate, skirted Weasel Hall and followed the road round onto the lovely cobbled part of New Road.  Behind stone walls dotted with holes, mysterious ridges lay in a field.  We could only guess at their meaning.

We followed the line of the road west then east, to the TV transmitter.  The grey steel structure keyed in perfectly with the steel grey sky.

Gushing water 1Continuing to Old Chamber, a noisy family inhabited the ‘honesty shed’ outing paid to the idea of stopping for a cuppa.  Water gushed down gutters, splashing into stone troughs.  Bright primroses poked out of ceramic pots.  Further on, we noted several changes.  Among the farm buildings and fields containing very pregnant-looking sheep, some of the old buildings had been demolished with others converted into holiday lets.

Descending the steep incline proved hard work as the square grey cobbles made my toes hurt.  At the bottom we looked back.  The view up towards the line of trees at the top of the hill was marred somewhat by the clouds of smoke.  We kept to the left of Wood Top Farm and turned left, to climb up once more.

Sunlit laneThe sun re-appeared, infusing the scene with a lovely yellow glow. We rested on the edge of a broken wall to enjoy some rays.  On the ridge behind us, a tree covered in flaky green mould looked ready to fall – not the first rotted casualty of the afternoon.  We continued on the grassy lane, sloping gently downwards to Crow Nest Wood.

The old quarry was totally dry – very uncharacteristic, especially in winter.  We then climbed up again, along the rocky path to the top of the wood.  I did not recall ever doing the journey this way round before.   Phil strode ahead with absolute certainty of the route.

Trees within treesHe made me laugh as he used familiar trees as landmarks, many of which he had given funny names such as ‘stone tree’ ‘smelly tree’ – the latter having rotten and collapsed, emitting a distinct stink of sulphur which followed us for some time.  Others sported stripped bark, and desiccated branches hanging precariously and crashing into their neighbours.

We crossed the stream and commented that plants were already poking through the ground in the area resplendent with flowers during spring.   I wondered if the garlic might actually be ready in March for once.  Still unsure of the way down we soon spotted a small gate, marking both the place where the path straight down from Old Chamber emerges and the point where we could descend.

The mixture of loose stones and sticky mud was even worse on the toes than the Spencer Lane cobbles!  Still, at least the dearth of water after a dry winter did not add to the discomfiture and made for a short easy stretch back to Palace House Road.

Before leaving the track, I stopped to admire pussy willows when I heard the sound of tits twittering.  They flitted about so fast they were difficult to keep track of.  I was still trying to follow them from branch to branch when midget dogs barked ferociously at us.  Not even I was scared by them as the owners laughed, although I observed some training would not go amiss.

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Spencer Lane 5b

 

Ice Cold in Colden

edge lane on ice 2

An icy cold day in January, we were eager to enjoy the crisp wintery scenes.  We caught a bus towards Colden and alighted at bottom of Edge Lane.

character

Stark shadows cast from hedgerow trees intersected snowy white lines on the tarmac where the sun never shone.  To our left, smoke rose slowly casting a haze towards Stoodley Pike.  To our right, an archetypal character strode between nearby fields where fat sheep grazed.

The door to May’s shop was bolted.  Phil said “It’s shut.”  Don’t be daft,” I replied, “It’s never shut.” I started to undo the bolt when a woman appeared to serve us.  I asked for cheese pies.  Shock horror!  They no longer stock them (apparently they came from the historic Granma Pollards’ in Walsden, now closed down).  Instead, we bought ‘sausage croissants’. Thinking we might find a patch of sun to sit in, we asked for tea in take-away cups but we settled instead on the trusty bench facing back out to Edge Lane, sadly in the shade.

moon with flockFeeling rather frozen, we walked back down the lane enjoying the sun on our faces, as far as the ‘Pennine way’.  I had noticed on the way up that the path appeared less treacherous than alternative routes.  At the bottom, we crossed Smithy Lane and followed signs onto the boggy field skirting the large house.  Thankfully, ice kept the mud at bay.

As we went through the last gate, we stopped to take photos of the almost-full moon in the east, as a clock of crows flew by.  A pair of dogs could be heard barking wildly.  I turned to see them running in our direction and became anxious.  Phil reminded me that it had happened before and they didn’t go any further than their own field.  Although the paved path proved easy-going, the steps down to Hebble Hole were inevitably flooded at the bottom.

mended clapper bridge 1

We turned right towards the recently restored clapper bridge.  On closer inspection, we could hardly see the join where the broken slab had been fixed. Over the bridge, felled trees had created fertile ground for clumps of orange mushrooms.  Frosty grass edged the narrow ‘desire paths’.  Ripples of pink and silver gently glided on the stream.  Amber sunlight filtered through trees on the skyline.

Crossing back, we took the lower path down into Colden Clough.  As we came to the area known as the ‘garlic fields’ in spring, I felt tired, out of breath and dehydrated.  I rested briefly on a severed trunk to muster the energy to clamber over another one blocking the path.

Descending further, frozen water globules rested atop mossy cushions resembling miniature worlds.  We followed the line of Colden Water, still dumbfounded by the needless warning signs.  At Lumb Mill, I noted yet more chopped-down trees.  I hoped that my favourite sycamore (aka ‘twin trees’) would not be next.  Phil capered about doing his gnome impression beneath the arching roots.  We squatted on stones at the foot of the tree until our rest was curtailed at the sound of yet more loud barking.  We moved onwards, taking the quickest way home.   I felt exhausted and footsore, after the longest walk so far this year, but glad we had got out during daylight.

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frosty glade 2

Hot May Sunday

Bluebell field 3

Searching for bluebells in May has now become an annual event.  This year, we set off on a hot Sunday to walk up to Crow Nest.  On the way up, we stopped often to examine tree blossom.

Rugged path

We took the longer but less steep, windy path and noticed shale at the edges where the route dropped significantly below the line of tree roots, providing further proof of its age. At the top, we admired the greenery.

Although the bluebells were not quite in profusion, it still created a pretty scene.

 

The path was mainly dry but I managed to get my foot stuck in an unexpected patch of deep mud, causing a small panic attack.  I sat on a fallen trunk to recover and wipe mud off my best walking sandals.  A woman passed us with a cheery “hello”.  Soon after, Phil said he felt funny.  I suggested he was overheated and we stopped again by the small stream.

Bluebell close up 1We relaxed, sipping water, and listening to the tinkling brook as birds flitted amongst the treetops, with leaves rustling in a gentle breeze.

Mentally transported, I failed to notice the same woman appear behind us, until she made me jump by saying “I didn’t want to make you jump”.  She asked the way back to town and we offered to escort her.

 

We chose the lower path into the quarry, which she agreed was stunning, albeit devoid of water following the recent dry spell.  We returned to civilisation via Wood Top Road and past the stoneyard.

It turned out she had come on a weekend visit from Gloucestershire, planning to stay with a friend but had got the dates wrong and had booked into a B&B, determined to enjoy the area.  On reaching town, I advised her on which cafes would still be open so she could get a coffee before she collected her luggage and caught a train home.  We said goodbye and availed ourselves of a bag of chips followed by a few pints in the busy centre.

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Quarry 4

Beyond the Treeline

Crow Nest branches and sky 1

A late April Sunday walk began with a climb up to Crow Nest wood.  We took the most direct route straight to the top treeline.

Crow Nest early bluebellThe previous seasons’ detritus crunched underfoot, broken in places by fresh spring growth.  A few early bluebells pushed up through the brown.   Above us, branches framed a fresh blue sky.  We crossed the glade at the top of the quarry, passing a clump of silver birch and noting fresh green shoots on oak and chestnuts along the tiny path.

 

We navigated the tree roots serving as steps down near Wood Top Farm.  Taking a diagonal path in front of us, we walked along the paved lane for a time, before taking a shortcut through a field into Stubb Clough.

Stubb Clough 1The brook tinkled below as we crossed the bridge and ascended the stone steps.  Emerging onto Wood Hey Lane, we continued to Park Lane.  We rested on the verge with green fields behind stone walls either side, to watch new lambs gambolling and bleating.

From there we carried on until it became Nest Lane and into Mytholmroyd.  We took the quicker way back along the canal, laughing at angry geese and wondering at iron fixtures.

 

 

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New lambs