During the hot August Bank Holiday weekend, we headed for Nutclough in search of shade and tranquillity. Bright green grass reflected in impossibly blue water. Large seed heads rustled in the shade of the leafy canopy. As we dingled amongst the islands and streams, the peace was disturbed by a crowd of insta-types trying to get the perfect selfie. One of them said “it’s beautiful here” to which I was tempted to reply, ‘it was ‘til you showed up!’
Phil clambered over fallen trunks and dodgy slopes to get nearer the waterfall. Still mindful of my tendonitis, I declined to follow and waited on the sunken bench. As the large group departed, a woman with two children and a lively dog appeared putting paid to any idea of enjoying a picnic in solitude. I realised I had totally lost sight of Phil and waited for what seemed an age until he re-appeared.
We proceeded further up the clough and took the left-hand path leading to the meadow where clumps of pale purple heather grew beneath beach trees bearing nut clusters. As the scrub thinned out further up, a refreshing breeze blew softly. We squatted on the grass to eat flatbread and drink sarsaspirilla.
Before crossing the stile, we cautiously checked for cows that had spooked us on our last foray in the area, then continued slowly upwards following the just-discernible grass path between field boundaries marked by drystone walls and the odd hawthorn. The meadow was denuded of flowers. I wondered if the cows and eaten them all before moving on to pastures new.
We followed the line of the path to a small gate leading to a lovely lane, where late summer blooms bobbed and thistle fluff floated in the mild wind. An incredibly shiny fly buzzed atop golden flowerheads. At Club Houses, we Continued to Billy lane and through Old Town. We stopped at Lane Ends for a pint in the beer garden. I had to move round a lot to avoid heatstroke, even though evening fast approached.
We took a top route back down. On Rowlands Lane, we looked across at the route we had climbed, observing it was a long way round to Old Town. Yet more downy fluff adorned the hedgerows with tall willow herbs stretching beyond walls into the clear sky.
We descended via Dodnaze into Common Bank wood where the waning sun filtered through the trees and made puddles of light on the dry path.
Approaching town, very loud music assaulted our ears. It turned out to be emanating from the White Swan which seemed slightly bizarre. We chatted briefly to a friend outside the Shoulder of Mutton but were not keen to linger for Bank Holiday mayhem, returning home via the Chinese take-away instead.
More photos at: https://1drv.ms/u/s!AjkK19zVvfQti8F79NjMPwOJ-eADkw?e=hCKpef