It was a beautiful winter’s day as we shut the gate, left the garden and our locked-down ducks, behind.
A dry and sunny Tuesday was the perfect mood-lifter and I was feeling particularly upbeat: today my walk was going to be fun.
I had company.
My youngest son Jake was back for Christmas from university and the boys intended to ‘play out’ for the full day.
I tossed a virtual coin and asked him: “Left or Right?”
So it was that the landing of that invisible coin determined that we took a right and headed onto the Calderdale Way link path past our horsey neighbours in their field and onto the ridge-hugging path that overlooks Copley and ultimately connects Greetland with Norland.
2 of Georgia’s horses galloped across the field to see us and skidded to a halt by the wall. We are already very well acquainted and they looked expectantly at me.
Those expectant expressions diminished rapidly when they saw that today, for the second successive week, I had come empty handed.
Those horses are clever.
They easily recognise a ‘gift horse’ when they see one and they know that I usually carry horsey treats: vegetable peelings perhaps, or maybe a carrot or an apple. Today, I had let them down.
Just like last week, I felt bad. I made a mental note to make full reparations on Wednesday.
I could see the abject disappointment in their eyes and I felt like the ‘Boris who Stole Christmas’. I swiftly soothed my conscience by blaming Jake and I immediately felt less guilty!
After all, in the current times, it seems a very British skill to blame someone else for something, everything, anything. The truth was we were already half an hour late leaving home for this walk, so we needed to crack on.
Jake as is his want, had faffed around looking for his gear and I had forgotten the horses their gift. I realised as we reached the viewpoint across the Copley valley, that I’d also forgotten the bananas for our second breakfast!
Our oft trodden path to Norland was covered in thick gloopy mud meaning that every point of elevation seemed to take 3 steps instead of 2. We warmed up quickly as we waded.
It felt good to have company.
Jake is my most frequent walking buddy. He and I have walked a lot over the 22 years of his life. We had completed the famous 500 mile Camino de Santiago across Northern Spain back in 2017 after he had recovered from a serious illness. This August, after Lockdown 1, he and I had walked the 84 mile Dales Way in just 4 days. We like walking together. I love my boy! We have an ability to ‘talk ‘n walk’ all day long. Jake chats a LOT.
We also walk at a similar speed. The Moorman Boys have long legs and we can walk fast.
We had no real defined target for today’s walk except the Post Office at Triangle.
We had 2 parcels to post and had arranged to meet Jake’s best friend Freddie and his dog, Moby, there at 11.30. Given Boris has robbed us of more pleasures in recent days, it was good to know that we could at least make that rendezvous legitimately.
Norland Moor was a glorious sight in the sunshine.
The brown of the moorland heather blended effortlessly in the watery sunshine.
The morning air was cold and delicious. I thought again about the supreme irony of this pandemic. This addictively fresh air that I was so happy to inhale deeply, could also carry such a dangerous, yet invisible virus, that had mutated dangerously in just a few days.
Tragically, even as I relished the freshness of that air, I knew there would be many people for whom today’s fresh air would also prove to be their final breath.
In just the 4 days since my last walk, and blog about ‘The Angry Bird of Elland’ (https://wordpress.com/post/mjemoorman.wordpress.com/114), chaos has reigned and Britain has seemingly become ‘the sick man of Europe’.
As Jake chatted, I felt a deep sense of relief just to be away from the incessant noise of the national news: the never-ending gloom and dooms that seems to fill our ears, day after day, week after week.
The fact was, that the only noise I wanted to hear today, was the soundless beat of nature at its best, accompanied by the chatter of young people like Jake, talking about the more important things in life, like the relative fortunes of our respective Fantasy Football teams!
Wainhouse Tower stood reassuringly solid and secure in the distance.
I wondered just how many ‘doomsday’ events had that local folly seen over the last hundred years?
Spanish flu, 2 World Wars……. It’s solid stability reassured me.
Wainhouse Tower was a silent witness to the fact that our world has been shaken before and it will no doubt be shaken again: a reassurance that life still goes on.
Despite everything that has hit us in recent months, it remains a good life: ‘and it’s worth fighting for’ as Sam tells Frodo in the JRR Tolkien classic, ‘The Lord of the Rings’.
We chose a new path down to Triangle: via the minor road running down the side of the Moorcock Inn. I had never walked that way before: another reminder that despite lockdowns and restrictions there is so much to explore and enjoy right on our own doorsteps.
The steeply angled descent to the Ryburn valley was ridiculous: at least a 25% incline. The stone setts on the bridleway were treacherously greasy.
Repeated wayside notices warned potential motorists that this was a vehicular dead end and that their expensive ‘satnav’ systems were leading them into a one way trap.
Impressive Yorkshire stone farmhouses clung to the hillside: testimony to man’s ability to construct, even when all geological logic suggests it can’t.
My instant thoughts defaulted to accessibility. I guess when you are in the throws of a house-move yourself you become super sensitive to the thornier issues of life: like how to clear the saplings firmly rooted in your guttering when they are fixed at least 30 feet above that 25% incline.
It was a relief for our knees when we reached the sanctuary of the beech woods above the now redundant railway that, in part, links Ripponden to Sowerby Bridge.
Our path was now clear and firm but it was freezing cold on that north westerly hill side.
Triangle, Ripponden and Rishworth are undoubtedly beautiful villages, but in the winter time I find their limitations on the valley floor more exposed. They are so much colder: frequently dark and dank, lending more natural adhesion to the moss and algae that clings to those slippery stone setts.
As lovely as it is to walk down that hillside, in my experience a brisk pace is always necessary in winter. A temporary tarry always carries a chilly tariff in the unrelenting cold of a shaded Yorkshire winter.
An old railway cutting through the gritstone that dominates in these parts was a tribute to the navvies of a previous century. How did they manage to cut their way through this landscape armed only with shovel, pick, hammer and cold chisel?
Triangle Post Office was blissfully quiet. There was no queue.
As the 2 parcels were processed I reflected on the satisfaction I felt within that small action. Life carries on. It may take time but those 2 parcels will eventually reach destinations. In a similar way, just as 2020 closes and 2021 progresses, so we can all hope to reach our own better destinations in a kinder and more connected world, post Covid 19.
Amazingly Freddie was on time for our rendezvous, within the context of a 10 minute allowance!.
If you apply the timing schedules immortalised by Ryanair and British Rail where arriving 10 minutes late means officially arriving on time, you will better understand my interpretation of Freddie’s concept of timing.
It was great to catch up with Freddie. I loved meeting his dog Moby, even though I inadvertently kept referring to him as her!
I have never been a particular fan of dogs. This year has changed that attitude.
Previously, I was always put off by the more negative doggy combinations of moulting hair, lick, yapping and poo.
As 2020 has progressed so I have grown to realise that they are actually a brilliant companion: truly man’s best friend.
When we move house later in the Spring of 2021 we hope to adopt a rescued black and white collie. The thought of having a tireless companion to feature in my long ramblings and even longer written ramblings, is a good one.
Dogs are often reputed to be a reflection of their owners and in the case of Moby and Fred this is definitely true.
Laid back, gentle, friendly, humble and fun. It was a pleasure to walk with them both. Best of all, Moby is no yapper and can be trusted to behave when off the lead.
After a steep ascent of several hundred metres above Triangle, our climb became more gentle. However, finding the footpaths so clearly marked on my map was proving a significant challenge.
Today I made no navigational errors: we consistently discovered badly maintained footpaths where some (not all) landowners clearly had no truck with walkers. Across one foggy field a young girl yelled at us to get out of the field. Whilst this was understandable, we found it rather difficult concept to understand and accept especially when the local farmer had directed us into it just 100 metres earlier!
I have total sympathy with home owners who have public footpaths across their land.
It must be so frustrating to have disrespectful walkers tramping and trespassing with an arrogant attitude of ownership. I have much less sympathy when some of those land owners make no attempt to direct the walker clearly or appear to deliberately cover a clear point of access with barbed wire.
In my experience this area was the worst for footpath-care in Calderdale.
Undeterred, we walked on.
Spying a considerable hill on the horizon, we diverted west for the shadowy lump that my map identified as Crow hill (height: 383 metres).
This climb was a boggy slog and Jake succumbed to a full-immersion 2-footed ‘Bog Foot’. The views were so rewarding when we reached the top. A ‘welcome’ committee of 4 hairy Highland cows welcomed us to the trig point that tops this particular hill.
I will confess now that a herd of cows can often intimidate me and this ferocious looking gang of 4 was no exception.
They looked menacing and I tried to calculate how quickly each of those 1 ton beasts could cover the 20 metres of rutted moorland separating us, to gore us with their long and pointed horns.
As ever in life, these fantastic creatures provided living proof that judging a book by its cover is always a risky business.
This shaggy quartet, complete with ‘Beatle-like’ hair fringes (circa 1966) seemed completely disinterested in the human and canine ‘space invaders’ and simply carried on chomping on their grassy lunch.
Seeing them munching so contentedly inspired the 3 of us and Moby to find a wall and start our own picnic.
Nonchalantly, the cows eventually trudged over and joined us.
I poured a mug of hot water out of my flask and added a spoon of Marmite: a brilliant hot drink revitilliser on a chilly winter’s day.
My jar of Marmite, perched on the wall, attracted particular attention and a couple of long tongued licks.
Like it loathe it? Marmite was a clear hit with the cows of Crow Hill!
In the distance we could see the shadowy outline of Stoodley Pike: so tantalisingly close!
Could we aim for it next week perhaps?
I figured we could just about walk to Stoodley and back from Greetland in a day: despite the daylight restrictions of late December.
Reluctantly this was the point where we needed to turn around and start the journey back home. We had walked 8 miles already and with less than 3 hours of daylight we really needed to make our U-turn.
The sights before us were as enjoyable as ever. I was reminded once again that a different direction and a different perspective, on an already familiar journey, never fails to surprise.
So it was that we dropped back down to Triangle and said our Christmas farewells to Fred and then we headed back to Greetland across the expanse of Norland Moor. Hopefully we will reconnect with Freddie next week if we decide to attempt the push for Stoodley.
Winter walking is very much like Marmite. Mud, poorly signed and maintained footpaths and byways can influence your perspective if you allow it. Like it, or loathe it?
We three loved it ……. and so did Moby!
Have a happy and safe Christmas everyone.
Thanks for the read. I hope you enjoyed it? If you did, you can subscribe if you would like to through the WordPress link.
Hopefully see you in 2021 for more ramblings.
Martin x
Martin Moorman 