Dear Readers.  

The match report below was entitled

"IN-SPIRED".

 After receiving my fellow walkers comments perhaps 

"EX-SPIRED"

would have been a better choice.

IN-SPIRED !

WHITEWELL  7 Miles

WALKERS :-  Jim D, Mike, John W, Harry, Paddy.

With several of the group otherwise engaged just five of us set off to Whitewell under threatening skies. Less than a mile from Whitewell our way was blocked by a landslip on the road and we were diverted through Cow Ark . We eventually arrived at the "Inn at Whitwell" where we parked up and clambered into waterproofs. 

From the cars we crossed the road and began the stiff climb up the road leaving it after only about 50 yards where a set of stone steps took us into the fields. The steepness of the route did not diminish as we clambered the short distance to the first farmhouse.  As we passed the farm we were intrigued by an unusual pathway leading to a gated tunnel. 

J

 John W. walked to the tunnel and found a large pipeline emerging from the tunnel floor. We were later told it was a water pipe taking water from Stocks Reservoir to Liverpool (?)

Onwards and very definitely upwards. Our path continued to climb steeply upwards leading to observations that such an immediately steep ascent meant we hadn't had any warm up time. Tough !!

 Sorry about the white object. Have you noticed Mike seems to have lost his feet ?

The next field levelled out briefly and as we crossed it John W. (him again ?) pointed out the entrance to Whitewell Pot" which he and friends had descended and explored many years previously. The tight entrance had been blocked off,  some years ago, by the look of it.

Just before our route crossed the Cow Ark road Mike detoured to look at one of the districts Lime Kilns.

Guess what came next dear reader? Well done ! you're right of course...... Coffee time. But where ?  The field across the road was rough pasture indeed and not far into it was "Ravenscar Wood" and hidden at the base of the "Scar" (cliff)  was Whitewell cave. As we approached this along a deeply rutted tractor track, we found scattered around, "Clay pigeons" some of which had not been hit (Shotguns) and remained intact.

 Mike kept one and used it as a saucer for the rest of the walk. Not for him the balancing of his flask cup on a dodgy bit of turf. Coffee was taken overlooking the cave which was difficult to photograph through the screen of tree branches.

The land continued it's upward progress but now compounded by rough, uneven and pathless terrain. As we climbed ever higher we briefly stopped to peer into a small copse which contained yet another cave/pothole ominously called "Hell Hole" again it was difficult to see. Paddy climbed the fence and took a closer look.

 We eventually arrived breathless at the top of the sloping field and climbed a very large ladder stile and entered a small but thick wood.

The wood had obviously suffered considerable storm damage in the recent past and the way through had been cleared, seemingly with chainsaws.

fallen trees littered the floor of the wood making progress difficult.

 As well as the fallen trees the swamp like conditions underfoot made walking through the wood "interesting".

Once clear of the wood we at last got some relief from the continuous climb. For a while at least our way led us downhill.  HURRAY ! As we  descended to the next road we came across some broken pheasant eggs on the ground. albumen smeared around seemed to indicate that the eggs had been predated rather than hatched. Several dead pheasants encountered throughout our walk also pointed to predators (foxes...raptors ?) as they had been torn apart and partly eaten.

 Our relief was not to last as more upward slopes lay before us. We skirted a large farmhouse and soon afterwards arrived at a narrow public highway. On the other side of the road our route took us back into dense woodland. 

With knees in need of a rest and beginning to feel peckish  once in the wood we found a comfortable spot and settled down for lunch. As we did so it started to hail.

 The legend of "Bigfoot" is not diminished by such photos as this.

Lunchtime over we unfortunately had to make our way UP through the wood. This was at first delightfully soft, dry and cushioned by the deep layer of pine needles. As we approached the top of the wood, however, our path was frequently barred by nasty swampy ground which looked polluted and almost "evil".  It looked like some kind of pollution but there was no obvious cause.

As we reached the top of the wood a stile climbed out into a field which was rougher than anything we had encountered so far. Deeply rutted by the passage of many cloven feet it was going to be difficult to traverse. Before leaving the wood we waited for a hail storm to pass by.

 

The storm over we clambered over the stile and plodded of in the direction of the "Spire". An extremely rough, pathless stretch still climbing steadily..... and then

SNOW !!!  a real blizzard swept over us and all of us felt the bitter cold....    APRIL ??? 

 The snow begins to fall on this ROUGH terrain.

 Jim D (and the rest of us) takes a well earned rest as the snow continues to fall.

Just a few more yards and another stile and we arrived at the "Spire" a strange wall with no apparent purpose.

 

 From here our walk once again led us downwards, this time over "reasonable" terrain, until we eventually arrived at another public highway. Here was the site of "Browsholme Hall" which was some distance from the road and hidden by trees. Only the gatehouse was evident.

Now we had to follow the highway past Cow Ark until a right turn would take us back into the fields. As we arrived at Cow Ark yet another lime kiln held our attention.

  The lime kiln held our attention.  Oi ! you two. I said "The lime kiln held our attention."

"Oh No ! not upwards again ?" " 'fraid so. " We were on the last lap as we toiled upwards a large and magnificent farmhouse on the horizon.  Called the rather grand name of "Radholme Laund" it had once been the property of Matthew Brown a local brewing magnate.

As we passed through the farmyard a delightful young farmer came out with a cheery greeting and showed us the way to go next. He even went back into the house to get the 'phone number of the gamekeeper whose permission we must gain if we ever want to visit "Fairy Holes " the cave we had considered visiting on a previous walk. What a nice man.

 Here he comes with the telephone number,

Another twenty minutes in what was now fairly relentless rain and we had finished our seemingly endless ascents and now a knee-wreckingly steep descent and we were back at the cars. Phew !

This was a challenging walk but the length of this report shows how much of interest it contained. 

A few more Photos :-

 Paddy at lunch time. The way ahead lies through the wood behind him

The phrase " As old as the hills" springs to mind.

 I know a bank whereon the Wild Thyme blows

Where Oxlips and the Nodding Violets grow. 

                                                                              "Shakespeare"

Violets. but not "nodding" just keeping their heads down in the rain

 "Those blue remembered hills"

                                                      "A.E.Houseman"

 Another unusual stile.

 Final stop to finish flasks

"BRONTE" !

HOWARTH -  8.5 Miles

Walkers:- Paddy, Frank, Mike, John R
                 Anthony, Jim C, Jim D, John W
........and by special arrangement... Martin.  

Today's walk was approached with some trepidation by the older members of the group,        ( Ahem... We're all OLD !) as it was planned to be 7.5 miles with some tough and at times steep moorland terrain. Nevertheless nine Meanderthals gathered in Fulwood for an early start as we were driving more than our usual distance to celebrate Charlotte Bronte's 200th anniversary. 

 

 Once we had arrived in the vicinity of Howarth there was plenty of parking available and we chose a roomy lay by overlooking the valley. From here it was just a short walk, first along the road and then across a field, before we entered the busy and famous centre of Howarth. 

 Almost before we realised it we had passed the Bronte's home, the  "Parsonage" (vicarage ?) which can be seen here behind the group and were virtually in the main street. 11 o'clock was now upon us and we soon succumbed to the blandishments of a cafe proprietor and and found ourselves seated in front of a variety of beverages. Below you will see the first mountainous challenge that Anthony was to face and conquer .

 As we left the cafe we were accosted by a couple of ner-do-wells loitering on the church steps outside who begged to be allowed to join us.

Now it was time to get a move on and start our walk proper. The path led us through a remarkably well populated graveyard before a sharp right turn pointed us in the direction of the open moors

Far from being the lonely and isolated moorland of the Bronte sisters novels, the popularity of their writings meant that the area was quite busy and within the vicinity of the township well visited - particularly by Japanese tourists who seemed to be everywhere. 

The path was broad and well trodden and at first led us gently upwards away from the crowds but never away from the groups and individuals who shared our destination.

Those of us who tended to loiter and talk became momentarily lost as we encountered a crossing (of a road) and the leading group had disappeared over some very near horizons. We took the road ahead until a helpful young lady walking her dogs shouted after us and pointed to where the leaders were waiting for us some distance down another route. The stragglers followed them down towards a reservoir but turned sharp left as they met up and followed an even clearer path still rising gently upwards towards our target "Top Withins".

This level and broad path soon degenerated into a rocky, tortuous and difficult path which ended in the delightful "Glen" wherein lay the "Bronte Bridge". It was lunch time..

 Once ensconced in a suitable spot and comestibles produced from rucksacks there followed a strange conversation about what were the favoured "Butties" . "Egg" appeared to take that accolade. The sounds of imbibition and mastication "Munch Munch Slurp Slurp !" continued for some while. Perhaps because the road ahead looked rather daunting with "Top Withins" to be seen on the far horizon with a steep rise immediately in front of us and an ever bigger climb towards the "Top" itself.

Eventually we gathered ourselves together, packed gear back into rucksacks and prepared to leave. "The Bronte Bridge", however, was too good a photo opportunity to miss and as we posed upon it a very kind passing walker (young lady again) offered to take a photo so that we could all be on it.  She didn't do a bad job either.

  Shortly after this photo was taken Paddy slipped and the whole group fell over like a row of dominoes ( I Lie ! )

Once over the bridge it was a steep climb out of the valley and up to the fell side.

 As we climbed this path the region's popularity to the Japanese was further evidenced by the  way-signs which very helpfully had been placed wherever the path offered a choice of direction. Mike looks "Hardily" puzzled (Laurel and Hardily.) at the dual language sign post

I hope all you readers have noticed the delightful blue of the sky in the background which blessed us all day long.

Confusion reigned only momentarily and we were soon plodding onwards to "Top Withins" still seemingly faraway on the horizon.
There were few breaks now in the path's relentless upward progress but those that did appear allowed us some interesting breathing spaces.

 But not for long.  "Uppards" was the order of the moment.

We became convinced that someone was moving our target away from us as we struggled towards it. "LOOK ! There it is on the horizon."

 Almost there. The last way post only a couple of hundred yards way from "Top Withins" which I may now reveal, in the best tradition of television reality shows, is thought to be the site of "Wuthering Heights" the desolate moorland hall in Emily Brontes world famous novel of the same name.

In my opinion (I cannot, I'm afraid say, "humble opinion") the reconstruction of the ruin is most unsympathetic and makes the building look modern thus destroying the ancient atmosphere of the place. What do you think ?

The length of our stay was something of a battle between the beauty of the surrounding views and the chilling wind which swept around the ruin. But, after finishing off our coffee/tea, we began our descent. Now it was Down, Down, Down, as we followed a different route back towards Howarth and the waiting cars.

 "Withering Sights at Wuthering Heights"

You may notice the similarity to a range of snow-capped alps.

 A brief upward section in a long downward trek.

 A large solid object on the path !

 What's this on the path ?

In the far distance we could now see a small red object which was identified as Frank's car . Some distance to go yet though and so we plodded sturdily on with knees feeling the burden of going continuously downhill.

Just briefly......... as we arrived back near Howarth we were reminded that today was the Birthday of our Queen and As Mr Corbyn said later that evening. "You may or may not like the institution but the queen herself has done a great Job" (NOT  word for word.) This primary school had celebrated the occasion.

And so we arrived back at the cars. Here dear reader I can reveal (more revelations ?) a lovely surprise. Martin, after several weeks missing, had joined us . Not for the full walk, as his leg was not entirely "Mended" yet   but  to explore Haworth by himself and then to meet us at the end of the walk with a most welcome glass of ice cool shandy.

             Well done Martin  - glad to have you back. 

And well done too to Anthony who led us on a walk that can only be described as MAGNIFICENT !  WELL DONE

p.s. Jim D got "Walker of the Week" for dragging his octogenarian frame all that way .

p.p.s  "What's this on the path" answer ..... Tadpoles !

A few more photographs from the walk.

 An old and unusual kissing gate.

An old and unusual man negotiating it.

Coffee already ? .... Why not.

Jim C posed the question whats going on here ?

The following suggestions came forth.

100 year old telegraph pole miraculously starts  growing again...erm....No!

Witch crash lands leaving bits of broom sticking out...erm...No !

Tree decides to grow in an unusual place....erm...No !

Somebody stuck a twig in it .... erm ......Yes !

Lunchtime at "Bronte Bridge"

Checking the info. board at "Top Withins"

On the way home. The cars are in the wood above the distant reservoir.