Ask anyone in my part of West Yorkshire if they would enjoy walking up Ripponden Bank and I’m sure they would think you mad to even ask! Ripponden Bank is steep and long.
It is renowned as the steepest local categorised climb in the 2014 Yorkshire based ‘Tour de France’ bike race. I don’t enjoy riding up it at all. On a bike and halfway up it makes my legs go like jelly, my lungs shriek and my pulse go off the scale. To cycle up or down it is one thing, to walk up or down the parallel footpath just once is best avoided. To do it twice in the same morning is plain stupid!
I’ve had my eye on the weather all week and the forecasters had predicted Thursday to be the best day of the week, cold but with long stretches of bright sunshine! So armed with that knowledge, I was up and out, bright and early with a hairbrained idea to try and walk as near as possible to Stoodley Pike monument high above Hebden Bridge and then back home: all in a day and all along the beautiful Calderdale Way!
This is easily a difficult 25+ mile walk so I knew was going to have to test myself.
Covid’s Lockdown 2 was making me feel listless, cheesed off and lacking focus, so I decided to do something about it. Besides my head torch was packed as a precaution, so what could go wrong?
It was a lovely morning. 8am was chilly but clear and by 9.30 the watery winter sun was starting to warm me up. The walk had an inauspicious start when I realised after 300 metres that my memory card for my new camera was still in the computer at home. Luckily the rest of the household were now up so my swift return without a key for collection of the memory card was not too delayed.
I loved my walk. I saw sheep, cows, horses, birds and squirrels and in a magical moment where time seemed to stand still, I saw 5 young deer dash across the path some 50 metres ahead of me. I stopped to chat on a couple of occasions, the second time on a track just off the top of the famous Ripponden Bank climb out of the small town of that name. I had politely removed my Powerbeats headphones as I approached Paul and Ros who live at the top of the hill and we spent an enjoyable 10 minutes swapping some really nice chit chat.
After a cheery farewell I started the steep descent into the town and continued half a mile up the other side of that steep sided valley. It was only then that my disaster was realised! My Powerbeats were missing! No amount of frantic scrambling and searching of my pockets, hood or rucksack could reveal them. I realised I must have lost them in the preceding mile.
Maybe you might have accepted the loss there and then. For me though these headphones are special. They are my son Harry’s expensive cast offs and I love them. They could easily be my single desert island choice if I ever had to make it.
More significantly though these particular headphones fit my slightly weird ears like a glove. All my life my big ears have been ridiculed. “FA cuphead”, “Eros” and “Spannerhead” are some of the gentler and politer nicknames that I have endured.
Unfortunately, as well as being a tiny bit big, my ears also have an unusual U shaped inner ear (rather than most people’s V shape) which means that almost all conventional ‘bud’ type headphones simply won’t stay in my ears. These Powerbeats do.
You can now perhaps understand why my loss so heartfelt and why search and rescue had become such a personal priority. So I retraced my steps and trudged that steep mile all the way back to the farm of Paul and Ros. Sadly I had no joy: they had not seen them.
I left them disconsolately but decided to repeat the whole journey down to Ripponden just one more time as an act of final defiant desperation. I found myself repeatedly explaining my odd behaviour to the various workmen: window fitters and roofers who I had now passed for the 3rd time in that mid morning hour. 3 other walkers also briefly joined me for the search but soon lost interest and left me when their initial efforts proved fruitless! I was despondent!
Just as the full realisation of my loss started to dawn and as I reached the old bridge at the bottom of the hill, a familiar black corded shape appeared ahead of me; lying openly and clearly visible on a patch of grass next to the footpath. Wow! My beats reunion was joyous.
I turned tail and strode back along that path and up that hill again with renewed vigour, fist pumps a plenty coupled with a frequents heartfelt “Yesssss” that drew strange looks from one or two fellow walkers! My lost Powerbeats were found!
Sadly Stoodley Pike had proved a bridge too far on this occasion. After 20km of upping and downing Ripponden Bank, I was content to call it a day and head home with my loot.
Moral of the tale: always secure your Powerbeats, always try ‘one last look’ even when something feels lost and ………… always remember that things don’t always go to plan. So adjust!
REUNITED NEVER FELT SO GOOD!
I hope the story made you smile….. just a bit? Laughter really is the best medicine
Martin Moorman 