Day 60 The Pennine Way

Today was a big day for me. I have been very apprehensive about the Pennine Way. Tales of waist deep bogs, mist obscuring the path and long daily distances have all conspired to terrify me. Not helped by the guidebook which describes it as “a tough walk for tough walkers”. Thank you Paddy Dillon.

It started easily enough, no issues with route finding and not too uphill.

But of course, it changed as we climbed Jacob’s Ladder which I think from my memories of the Old Testament went up to heaven. This one only went up to Kinder Scout, which was far enough.

As we got higher, the terrain changed, large outcrops of rock appearing.

We passed Kinder Downfall, a waterfall, which can blow upwards if it is windy. Today it was definitely flowing down. The rocks made for a good lunch spot but, feeling it was too early, we pressed on. We did stop for a few minutes only to have some brazen sheep come over to investigate us. They realised we hadn’t got any food out so headed over to some other people who had. Must make a change from all that grass

The terrain changed as we came downhill to cross Ashop moor. The path was flagstoned to prevent bog-sinking horrors. This was great, as the moor was fairly monotonous. We went on and on. Karen told me she had staged a murder in a peat bog. I would have felt slightly unsettled by this, had it not been for the fact that we had been talking about Lindow Man, aka Pete Marsh, about whom Karen (being a science/nature film person) had made a film. He was an Iron Age/Romano-British man found in a peat bog in Cheshire with injuries suggesting murder or ritual sacrifice.

We both felt uneasy some time later (yep, Ashop moor went on and on) when we were approached -and passed-by a man in camouflage carrying a camouflaged gun. Also unsettling, until we guessed he was a gamekeeper. Eventually (10miles in) we reached Snake Pass, crossed it and stopped for lunch. Karen was a bit miffed that our lunch spot was on a sunken road, not that far from Snake Pass, with no view. I, however, was not going any further without lunch.

Once we had eaten our sandwiches, we headed off. The path was now in a gully, at least some part of which was known as Devil’s Dike according to the map. Be that as it may, the path criss-crossed a small stream many times before we reached Bleaklow Head.

By this stage we were getting weary. The day had been hot and although it had clouded over, it was definitely above optimal walking temperature. Even hearing curlews (“peewit”) and seeing golden plovers, including one plover with her three chicks, was not enough to cheer us up. Moreover, path had now become what our guidebook described as “rugged”. Very stony and uneven. Hard on both the feet and the ankles.

We were ready now to reach our accommodation. We could see the reservoir a long way below us, but the path didn’t descend at all. It just contoured around the hillside. I was very glad I had Karen to urge me on.

At long last we saw a couple of people toiling up what looked like a steep hill. We figured they must be on the path and indeed when we reached them (they were having a breather) they did look distinctly hot and sweaty. Yes, steeply downhill, they said. We staggered downhill for what seemed like an interminable time before reaching the road. 600 yards the sign said. It felt at least that long to us.

We arrived to find a warm welcome. A cup of tea outside, an offer to give us a lift to the pub, and a shower. We had dinner outside (albeit on a slight slope) at the Peel’s Arms in Padfield. It is named after Robert Peel. I’m not quite sure why. Once back at the B and B we spent the evening sitting out on the decking until the sun went down behind the hills and we got a bit chilly.