Adventures in wet boots

After a false start due to the early morning weather including sideways rain, I managed to go for my planned walk this morning - a four and a half mile moorland trog. I parked at the end of a Yorkshire Water access road near Stanbury which doubles as the Pennine Way, to be greeted by a gaggle of other hikers getting ready to set off. Luckily I was going in the other direction so I got the hills completely to myself for a few miles. 

I set off towards Ponden Clough along the farm track, which was pretty level walking along the side of the upper Worth valley, overlooking Ponden reservoir with some pleasant hill farming countryside framed by the dark fells across the valley bottom. After a while a gate led on to the open moor, leaving the Pennine Way. I followed the footpath uphill along the side of a stone wall, puffing a bit as the exertion dislodged the last of the crap from my lungs. As the path reached the top of the escarpment the scenery opened right up - a panoramic view of Ponden Clough in the sun, with a rain swollen Ponden Beck cascading down the crag in a yellow torrent ahead. Off to the left was the large rectangular rock known as Ponden Kirk, wedged at the top of the clough, and the heights of Crow Hill looming on the horizon. In the other direction was Ponden reservoir glittering in the sunshine. I really need a camera.

This gem savoured I carried on along the hilltop path and dropped down into Middle Moor Clough, a smaller valley feeding into Ponden Clough, crossed the wooden bridge and followed a faint path along the side past a row of stone grouse shooting butts, and paused in one for a breather and to check my guide for directions across the moor to the Alcomden Stones.

…at this point, things got a bit soggy. The path along the side of the clough got boggier, becoming tussocky and then sedge and spaghnum moss, suggesting the going was going to get decidedly wet. I opted to scramble up the clough side and tramp across the side of Middle Moor and then drop down towards the Alcomden Stones I could now see on the horizon at the top of the fell above the far side of the clough. The route up was boggy as hell, with deep runs of muck between the tussocks, resulting in a few mis-steps and wet feet and ankles.  Once out of the bog I was able to pick a drier route trudging through the heather, which while a bit aerobic was easier to progress through as it was alternated with burnt-off patches. After much puffing and swearing under my breath I reached the side of the clough again near the top. It was narrow enough at this point for me to attempt something really dopey - the bottom of the clough was covered with long flattened sedge grasses, I figured they’d provide enough spread to cross the clough without sinking into the mire. I figured wrong.  A couple of steps in it became apparent there was a couple of feet of mud soup lurking beneath the sedge and that the vegetation would in no way support my weight. So I splashed back out again and scrambled up the bank, folowing the edge of the clough round to the very end. A couple of hops over the remaining small channels had me on the other side and climbing the fell towards the stones.

The Alcomden Stones are a rocky outcrop at the edge of the high moor top comprising about a hundred boulders of various sizes, including as its centrepiece a boulder perched horizontally across the top of two vertical rocks, like a stone table. Once at the top of the stones, the views were spectacular in all directions thanks to the clear dry weather, again camera please.  I followed the footpath around the top of the moor to the trig point and on around the top of Delf Hill, enjoying some cracking views of the Bronte moors and across into Walshaw Dean, and the Boulsworth Hill ridge and Crow Hill to the west. I scrambled down the bank to Top Withins, going inside the ruin for a drink and to catch my breath, before picking up the Pennine Way and following it back over Stanbury Moor to the car.

All in all, it was definitely worth the paddle. 

Tags: Hikes

Got out for a couple of hours this morning, the sun was out after a couple of days of rain so I thought I’d better make the most of it. I’m still shaking off a cold so I went for a four mile walk over fairly easy ground, setting off from St Ives, a council-owned country estate near Harden. I passed the stable blocks and set out along a gravel bridleway across the golf course, and up the lane towards Druid’s Altar. There were one or two dog walkers but headphones made it easy to be unsociable.

After some steady uphill trogging I reached Altar Lane at the edge of the estate, and crossed over following a muddy path through the nettles and out onto the top of Altar Crag, and Druid’s Altar (a large flat-topped rock forming part of the cliff-edge, reputed to have been used by prehistoric folk). Altar Crag itself is a high millstone grit outcrop with panoramic views across Airedale to Rombalds Moor. After admiring a large orange Fly Agaric mushroom, I lingered here for a few minutes checking out the view in the cold clear morning air, before continuing along the track to Transfield Top through bracken and heather, which gave way to a birch woodland. This stretch was a bit sludgy underfoot thanks to the path being churned up by horses, but the pleasant autumn colours of the wood made up for it. The trees thinned out providing more dizzying views of the valley below and the moors beyond, and after a heathery stretch a stile led across steeply sloping pastures.

I squeezed through another stone stile and up a farm track in the company of a couple of inquisitive bullocks and a rather grumpy looking farmer returning home in his milk truck. When I reached the top I found a sign on the gate which may have explained why he didn’t seem too friendly - ‘A DOG WALKER HAS BEEN LEAVING CRAP IN BAGS. PLEASE STOP.’  Inconsiderate pillock - no wonder landowners don’t like us much. I followed the stone wall uphill dodging cowpats until I reached a large boulder at the top of the slope which had been topped with a low circular wall, ideal to pause and catch my breath - someone else had obviously had the same idea, judging from the litter left behind. I crossed the next field and walked down Altar Lane back to the top of St Ives, traipsing back down through the woods to the car. Must get camera. 

Went for a bit of a misadventure this morning. 

The forecast was sunshine and showers, and having been out to drop the sprogs off I knew the weather had been bright on the tops if a bit chilly and windy. So I planned to park at Penistone Hill, and head for the cairn at Stoop Hill following the track across the south edge of Haworth Moor. It was raining on and off on the drive up there, then while I had a cig in the car the sun came out. So I set off. Unfortunately after a couple of minutes the sun scurried off and was replaced by driving hail, sideways. 

Assuming it would brighten up soon, I got to the end of the track on to the moor, to be greeted by a red flag and an unambiguous sign warning walkers that since some tweed clad berks would be taking potshots at grouse today it might be a good idea if they went in a different direction. I concurred, particularly considering that the stinging ice balls were still blasting me, and set off in the opposite direction across Penistone Hill instead. 

Ths shitflinging settled down to steady wind blown rain as I scrambled over some rocky paths past the old quarry, which now forms a green valley between heathery crags. I squelched across the top of the hill, trousers now wet through, and ruefully observed that I could do with adding waterproof pants to my shopping list. After a little plodding an interesting temporary water feature appeared over the crest, where the bottom of another quarried area had filled with runoff from the fell above, with spiky tufts of sedge poking out here and there. I skirted the pond and headed west around the north side of the hill, towards Haworth Moor. The rain was easing off now so I thought bugger it, I’m already pretty wet, and decided to head for Enfield Side and follow the track along the side of the valley to Bronte Bridge. On cue, the sun came out again, so I splashed my way down a racing stream disguised as a bridleway towards the Oxenhope-Stanbury road, filling my boots with water. A bit more trogging brought me to the edge of the moor, and finally the cattle grid, whereupon the heavens opened mightily. And yea, it did piss it down majestically, and the roads became as rivers. 

After a bit more splashing I thought better of it, considering I was now so wet there was water running over my balls, and paddled off back uphill towards the car about half a mile away, splashing through the torrent now pouring down the road. I dumped my soggy gear and set off home to get dry, at least I got a couple of miles in.   

Tags: Hikes