Tag Archives: wind

Puddling in Colden Clough

Bridle way puddle 3

A bright but breezy start to March prompted us to re-visit another familiar haunt.  Getting ready seemed to take ages, making me quite impatient.  Finally, we left the house and walked westwards up the main road.   Several cars parked on the pavement at Bridge Lanes made me wonder if they had different laws in those parts.  Seeing a woman come out of one, I was about to have a go when she said hello.  It was an ex-neighbour, laden with groceries, poised to cross the road. On enquiring about the pavement parking, she suggested it was for unloading purposes.

Chimney from the back 1Past the Fox and Goose, the cold wind blew straight in our faces.  Feeling buffeted, we wondered how long we would be out.  But it eased off as we turned into Church Lane.  We took the easy way up to Eaves, via the play park and steps to the bridle track.  Already, my legs began to tire.  Hearing me sigh, Phil said “don’t start getting grumpy.”  To which I retorted, “what do you mean start? I already am grumpy! I haven’t even taken any photos yet!”  He chuckled and challenged my claim that I had not yet seen anything inspiring.  Then, I noticed reflections in the puddles occupying every pothole.  In small watery worlds of black and blue, branches and sky appeared trapped, framed by displaced hardcore.

Cheered somewhat, we continued to Lumb Mill and explored the ceaseless torrents, almost full-to-bursting streams and derelict ponds. Underground gurgling indicated yet more water beneath our feet.  We started to climb up to the higher path.  Pausing at the top of the small arch, I  spotted a smaller path behind the chimney.  Having tried it from the top end in autumn, I wondered if we may have more luck from this end.  I stepped in the stream without thinking, making the bottom of my jeans sopping wet.  The path came to an abrupt end just beyond the chimney where a chunk of earth had fallen.  Thwarted, we at least gained a different perspective.  Tall thin trees stretching up to the sun way overhead created ebony shadows on the yellow stone.

Red and green 2We returned to the standard route which  proved hard going.  Large rough stones were replaced further up by the remains of dead trees and deep patches of sticky mud, requiring several small detours off the path.  above the glade, we climbed a strange mound which Phil comedically named ‘the ‘escarpment’, for a higher vantage point.  Square stones,  that had tumbled from the raggedy cliffs opposite, so long ago that they were now adorned with thick green moss, lay stranded amidst a permanent carpet of scrunched copper beech leaves and discarded nut husks.

Proceeding, we descended the steep wooden steps to land in the worst patch of mud so far.  Carefully picking our way through the earth and debris, we stopped on the flat rock to fend off dogs while we ate the wraps we’d brought with us.

As it had taken almost ninety minutes to get that far,  I guessed we only had an hour of daylight left.  We called it a day to get home before dark.  It was only then that I noticed that as well as being soaked through, the bottom of my jeans also had gravel caught up in them!

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/u/s!AjkK19zVvfQti9tvFGnnr5q8QZCxXw?e=Fsf6pZ

Cascade force 3

 

The Highest Beach

Saltway view 1A sunny mid-July Tuesday, I arranged to meet Marisa for a long-overdue trip to Gaddings Dami.  We caught a bus to Todmorden bus station and had a short wait for the Mankinholes circular. Initially, the tiny bus took us the way we had come but then turned right to climb Shaw Wood Road.  Round the houses, through Mankinholes, past the Top Brink Inn, we arrived at Lumbutts.  We alighted opposite the Shepherds’ Rest and went through the gate.  Marisa consulted me on a choice of three paths up.  She was not keen on the straightest and most popular option, heading steeply upwards and I did not fancy the ’quarry path’ which she informed me was quite a bit longer.  We settled on the third option, taking us along an ancient saltway.  Old stone paving became rough gravel further up.

The impressive boulder took on different aspects circumnavigation, looking decidedly like a chicken from the other side.

Stone feature 3

A little further on, we caught sight of the steps leading up to the dam.   Although we had almost reached our destination, the buffeting north wind blew across Walsden Moor making the climb arduous.  At the top of the dam wall, the wind became fiercer and I really wondered what on earth I was doing up there!  I walked away from the water’s edge to escape the worst of it.

Turning a corner Marisa spotted her friend J in the water who invited her to jump in but we walked on to the beach.  Guessing which person was her friend’s partner, we introduced ourselves.  I parked on the beach created by the yellow sandstone to rest while Marisa changed and went straight into the reservoir.  P sat at water’s edge adamant it was too cold for swimming.  I tentatively paddled and agreed it was bloody freezing!  Then he took the plunge and lay face down in the water.  “that’s brave!” I said.  He then badgered me to do likewise but I stuck to my guns.  After the brave ones had swum, we spent an enjoyable hour or so on the beach, chatting and sharing snacks.  A line of hikers marched across the moor, silhouetted against the western sky: “It’s a Lancastrian invasion!” we joked.  In truth, it was probably an end-of-term school outing.

Whos that coming over the hill

We consented to return via ‘the quarry path’.  It proved incredibly picturesque with fine views of the surroundings and birds of prey circling above.  However, I did not find it as gentle as Marisa had suggested.  Being sheltered from the wind it became hot necessitating short stops for rest and water.  The descent took easily twice as long as our ascent.  Back at the pub, we said goodbye as J&P retrieved their car.  Luckily, we discovered a bus due.  It took us via Walsden back to Todmorden.  An interminable wait ensued at the bus station as three buses in a row sailed past displaying ‘not in service’ signs.  Eventually, one arrived to take us home.  I asked the driver what was going on.  “They’re all lazy” he said dismissively – very helpful!  During the journey I was so tired that I started falling asleep.  Marisa declared “It’s such a lovely evening I think I’ll go for another walk”.

Quarry path

Notes

i               http://www.gaddingsdam.org/

ii              https://www.calderdale.gov.uk/wtw/sources/themes/plugriot.html

More photos at: https://1drv.ms/f/s!AjkK19zVvfQtisFruK7X-PY8kM_4iA