"The Mad Hatter's Tea Party"
Grimsargh/Goosnargh 6 Miles.
Walkers:- Paddy, Mike, John R, John W, Martin
Before we join Alice in Wonderland we must consider our absentees. One mention of Vikings and the Anglo-Saxon excuses start.
"Sorry I can't come the Baron has asked me to dine in his posh castle of four seasons"
"Sorry I can't come. I have an upset tummy. The hedgehog stew we had last night was a bit spikey (Surely Spicey ?)
"Sorry I can't come. I have to slap some daub on mi hut walls. The wife wants a different colour of dung." etc. etc.
Ah Well ! Let's get walking.
We parked our cars on Grimsargh Green with a damp feel in the air and set off along Dixon lane towards Dixon Farm (there are two of them) Here we hesitated a little and pondered the way. A delightful farmer left his work and insisted on showing the way. He took us to the gate beyond the farm yard "Follow this track up to that "silver" gate, he said pointing into the distance. "Then cross the field to a wooden bridge. Cross the bridge into a large field. After that you're on yer own." We thanked him profusely and Paddy congratulated him on the immaculate state of the farm and its'
equipment. Immediately on leaving the farm we encountered the remains of the railway branch line which used to serve the massive "Whittingham Lunatic Asylum"
Once over the wooden bridge (over Savick Brook ) the ground rose steeply before us before leveling out and leading us through several fields to arrive at "Harrisons Farm" This was somewhat more than just a farm with some expensive looking buildings, well manicured grounds and coded electronic gates. The gates opened out onto "Brabiner Lane" and almost directly opposite a signpost told where our path lay.
Over the stile and through the brambly hedge to be confronted by exotic beasts . They came bounding across the field and it was hard to tell if they were being aggressive or friendly.We assumed that they were llamas but as they were hardly a familiar indigenous species we did not really know . Alpaca or Vicuna were the other suggestions. The photo shows John R. trying his best as a makeshift Dr. Dolittle but they merely hissed at him
The field next to this one contained a whole herd of the animals in various sizes and colours. From here our walked dipped steeply down to a small stream with another of the ubiquitous Lancashire County Council wooden bridges and up again towards "Cumeragh Lane" At this point (or was it earlier) a group of four or five Roe deer crossed our paths, This is an animal we seem to have encountered with increasing regularity on our journeyings. We joined the busy road next to Withy Trees Farm. A hill and a bend making this rather a risky spot to cross. Now we followed the road west until we came to the "North Gate" of the former "Lunatic Asylum" long since closed and presently being reconstructed as a major housing development. Refreshment time was now being demanded but John W, as a fully paid up member, led us towards the bowling green next to which was the social club offering us very civilised benches to sit at. (John's Hat blown off !)
We sat chatting with our coffees. Admired the green and the smartly clad clubhouse and John W invited them all to admire the glorious, newly painted white handrails leading up to the clubhouse. (Guess who painted them?)
A short backtrack and then forward once more were we paused to "admire" a classically adorned garden of a house nearby, The statuary was to be seen in profusion, Good taste was not to be seen at all. It was only a short while before we found ourselves outside Chingle Hall. This small moated house was once much vaunted as the most haunted house in England. Here it was that St. Nicholas Owen is said to have constructed one of many priest holes for which he was responsible before being arrested. Coincidentally his feast day is March 22nd - quite close really. He was so good at his trade that it is believed some of his priest holes have still not been discovered.
By now the damply grey weather of our start had been blown away by an increasingly fierce breeze. (John's hat blown off again !) and a beautiful blue sky took it's place (see photo.)
It was still quite early and some discussion took place as to whether we should take lunch soon or even not bother at all. The group, or some of them, thought lunchtime was, of itself, one of the joys of our outings so we looked for and found a sheltered spot with a magnificent tree and a pretty, stream filled ravine. (John's hat blown off for the third time !)
With the wind now very strong but mostly at our backs we continued our journey upwards for a while till we came to an unusually high stile then dropped down at an angle towards a flat farm bridge over a small stream. As we arrived at the bridge we realised that Martin and Mike were not with us. Martin could be seen some distance away on the horizon and appeared to be signalling us by semaphore. No sign of Mike ! We anxiously retraced our steps until we were close enough for Martin to tell us that Mike had lost his hat and was retracing his steps in order to find it. Mike eventually came trotting back towards us. Oh dear. No Hat ! With heavy hearts we abandoned the search (Did we search ??) and carried sadly on.
The direction of the footpath beyond the bridge was confusing. Again we met a delightful farmer who not only spent time telling us about his cattle but actually apologised for the confusing footpath and the lack of a stile. "I will sort it out as soon as the land dries out but the fields are too wet just at the moment." The farm was New Chingle Hall.
A brief but "Exciting" passage along the busy winding Haighton Green lane and then once again through the fields for the last leg of our walk back to Grimsargh. Another short stretch of road at Cowhill and a couple of fields and we were in Grimsargh. We finished our walk with a brief visit to "Nellie Carbis Garden" a wooded garden bequeathed to the village by the said Nellie and now maintained with support of the council and several local businesses, And so to our cars.
MAD HATTERS ? Well apart from JW's hat going astray every few minutes. would you believe that the missing beanie hat belonging to Mike made a dramatic comeback . (Think Lazarus !). As we packed our gear into car boots he discovered it in his rucksack. Where he had put it.
Before I finish I must add that John R, embraced the Viking theme with gusto BUT he insisted in being included in the "Wenching" squad.
A short but very pleasant ramble.
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