CHIPPING

IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER   7 Miles

WALKERS :-  John R, John W, Anthony, Vic

                        Paddy, Danny, Martin, Jim D, Harry.

With a ghastly weather forecast and a cold wet Wednesday, John W.  had virtually decided to cancel this Thursday's walk. A round of telephone calls, however, left him in no doubt that the walkers wished to WALK. 

"Oh B****r," He thought. "This could be a big mistake." but no ! The forecast heavy rain/snow and gale force winds never materialised.

Our walk was to be an old favourite. One which some of us had been doing since our teenage years.

We left Chipping and were soon passing the now derelict site of "Berry's Chair Works. The road climbed quickly but steeply through the old works buildings and levelled out as we passed the "Mill Lodge". 

"No Hills" had been the promise but of course steep inclines on roads don't count and we were soon labouring up the next one.

The road then continued gently upwards before levelling out just before it ended and we took to the moorland track.

Throughout the summer we looked forward to dry walks. Never happened ! .... and now the winter is not going to do us any favours. We were soon tackling WETNESS. It would not improve.

The rough track we were following soon dropped steeply down to a narrow valley through which a lively brook was racing.

This turbulent little stream was crossed by a remarkably sturdy set of stepping stones.

Once across we settled for our coffee break and Martin once again produced his ever welcome "Firewater".

There's snow on the tops !

We left the valley and climbed briefly to follow the increasingly wet but but nevertheless wildly beautiful moorland. To our left were the snow-peppered Bowland Fells but we had to keep our eyes straight ahead as the track gradually became filled with water.

With the Bowland Fells as a back drop Danny stands next to the path which rather more resembles a stream. The track continued for perhaps half a mile before turning abruptly right at the edge of the next  valley

then continuing it's ankle twisting way down to Lickhurst Farm.

As we walked the weather continually threatened to turn nasty. In the distance behind us we could clearly see the columns of water as showers dropped out of the thick grey clouds. Then a glorious sight appeared to or left. A rainbow.   A promise of better weather.

It lied !!! Nothing changed.

Lickhurst was a rather untidy sprawl of a farm with the old traditional stone farm buildings corralled inside a variety of new ones. It had the usual clutter of farm implements including this monster which I think is called a "Tedder" ( might be wrong )

From here the track became a tarmacked road which dropped sharply down into a narrow, confined valley through which a larger stream was bubbling. As we entered the valley an unusual sight greeted us. An elderly tree was playing host to a large growth of ferns and within it's first fork was a small holly bush.

The holly bush is not easy to distinguish but you will be able to make out it's thin main stem as a straight line in the fork of the tree.

We were now looking for a stop for Lunch. Vic, ever the individualist chose to occupy a restored Limekiln. Perhaps he has a bit of "Hobbit" in him ?

Whilst the rest of us walked a little distance further to where the stream tumbled over a weir and a set of salmon leaps.

Lunch was taken overlooking the rather tumultuous Fish Ladder. I have fished this steam as a boy and know that it contains Salmon (?) Brown trout, eels, loach, Bullheads and more than likely other fishy species.
To continue our walk we crossed over a sturdy footbridge whose claim to fame is not apparent  until one realises that it is made of a single piece of stone (some weight that) crossing the stream in a single span.

Another steep little rise took us up to a junction where a board told us that the land beyond belonged to the Queen (Why ?)

A right turn now took us to Higher Greystonely farm (or greySTUNly as Vic insists). This is the farm where several of us camped as Boy Scouts  many, many years ago.

It is now a trio of "Des Res's. Passing through this "Hamlet we followed a decidedly dodgy track back down to the stream.

On one side of the track we came across the remains of an Albino Pheasant. Being albino is not good in a wild environment.

The stream was in spate so we took the bridge rather than wade across the ford.

Once across the river we slipped our way up to Lower Grestonley (STUNLY !) farm. Where a delightful board greeted us.

Not sure which one of us was a "Sweet Child" and it is debatable if any of have ever "Run Wild"    (Oh I don't know I think some of us have had our moments.)

We finished our coffees in the confines of a restored Limekiln. We tried to "Confine" Vic but he insisted we let him out.....Spoilsport !

You may have noticed a distinctly blue theme to the Meanderthals attire. John tries very hard to inject a little colour into the day. Most "Garden Gnomes" wear red.

Whilst Danny sat as patiently as ever waiting to see what the next move might be.

Caffeine topped up we set off on the last stretch of our walk. At last the weather really began to deteriorate as we tramped the last mile with, to our left,  the aptly named Longridge Fell pointing the way home.

So............ after initial thought of cancelling,  our day turned out to be more than acceptable and was, I think, enjoyed by everyone.

THE END