July 22, 1982: Crowden-in-Longdendale to Marsden
Jay has tucked the Ordnance Survey map into the strap of his backpack as he, Rich and Keith pose in the mist atop Black Hill. Not surprisingly, the map went missing soon thereafter. I used a version of this photograph as an illustration in A Walker’s Alphabet.
Jay and I had done the washing up at the Crowden Youth Hostel the night before, so, after breakfast, we were ready a bit earlier than the A-level scholars, Rich and Keith – whom we had agreed to walk with after discovering that we four had the exact same destinations for the new two days, The New Inn at Marsden and the Mankinholes Youth Hostel. I was quite glad for their company this day for Jay seemed to be rather glum and spent much of the time either ahead of us or well behind. Also, the weather looked threatening and there was a distinct possibility of rain. What this might do to the peaty surface of Black Hill I did not know and it seemed unlikely that, having escaped that sinking feeling on Kinder Scout and Bleaklow, that we should escape on Black Hill as well.
Already it was misty – with rather poor visibility – though there was not enough moisture to warrant rain gear. We headed north on the west side of Crowden Great Beck and ascended Laddow Rocks on good paths cut into ferns and bracken. There were several times when Rich and I paused to compare notes on which of several local paths to take – in fact erosion had foreclosed one of our choices anyway. The steep cliffs of Laddow Rocks were quite exciting to walk along – the path close to the edge, mist blowing violently up through the pinnacles, the stream far below us for some distance. It was quite exhilarating.
We descended to the valley bottom eventually and followed a good path to a point a little more than a mile from our day’s summit. Jay had been well ahead on this portion but I kept trying to call him back – with the help of the others – since I didn’t want him to disappear in the mist without a guidebook. The trod up Black Hill was much easier than anticipated, however – days of dryness had left a nice springy surface that was not very wet at all. Our worst problems came from the mist. I hadn’t experienced worse visibility – not even in the Cheviots. When we reached what appeared to be a summit cairn we still had a little way to go – which I found simply by trying to see if the next hillock weren’t slightly higher than the last. Thus we eventually found the O.S. column on top.
We intended to take the Wessenden alternative from this point, but it was not easy to tell how to begin it and “the dry stony channel” mentioned in Wainwright seemed to be taking us too far to the east. We all had our compasses out by now and when we proceeded north to reach the head of a large ravine I argued that we should be on its left side rather than on its right. So we moved over a few degrees to our left and, sure enough, picked up a descending path heading in the right direction. We were quite relieved to get off Black Hill, but strangely enough, as we reached the boundary ditch, the summit behind us started to clear and from this point on there was a gradual improvement in the weather – which once again became fairly warm, though overcast.
There were several ups and downs on the way to the A635 and I proposed Dean Clough as an appropriate lunch spot. Unfortunately Jay began to eat his on the height above us and I had to call him down to the stream since he had all of the food with him. Worse problems were to come for somehow my pack rolled backwards over my wire frame glasses during this meal and so bent the metal that the left lens popped out. I had to do some re-bending and use some of my adhesive tape to get it back into position.
The Wessenden Valley
After reaching the highway we made a descent to the Wessenden Head reservoir, startling several grouse in the process. I found the walk along the reservoir roads to be quite tedious – though we were hardly in a rush and could have rested more often on this eleven-mile day. Water levels were low everywhere and there seemed to be none at all flowing over the “falls” opposite Wessenden Lodge – which turned out not to be offering refreshments any more, to our disappointment. While we were sitting at its gates Jay noticed the loss of our Ordnance Survey map, which he had been carrying – an event which did nothing to lighten the mood.
Wessenden Reservoirs
We continued past the PW turnoff to the west – in order to follow our gravel road down to Marsden itself. The last reservoir was quite attractive and the view of the sprawling town quite inviting. A steep descent on sidewalks brought us by the closed youth hostel – where we were directed to the our hotel by a builder. The Old New Inn, which we soon discovered, was in fact closed – it was just 3:00 – and we weren’t able to rouse anyone, but Rich (in search of more sun cream for his burned legs) discovered that a few yards below us on another street (and even closer to the gasometer I had been told to look for) was the (New) New Inn – which was where we actually belonged. It was disgorging its last lunchtime patrons as we were admitted. We were offered a room for four or separate accommodation for the pairs – and we chose the latter, mostly because of Jay’s sleep-talking propensities.
I had a nice bath. Jay discovered that, as residents, we could purchase lager outside licensing hours, so we each had a pint – followed by a nap. At 5:00 our proprietress served a dinner of meat pie and vegetables – quite good and filling. I decided to stock up on some provisions for the next day’s lunch and Jay directed me to a Co-op he had spotted down the street. I arrived fifteen minutes before closing and dashed around buying pretty much the same things I had purchased in Sheffield, plus plenty of liquid refreshment.
It was now brightly sunny and I did a tour of the town and took some pictures. I spent several minutes watching the old men at bowls. We had our choice of town pubs and Jay and I finally selected the quietest of these – The Swan. A local darts player was practicing for the next match with great intensity. The jukebox and the space invader machines began their thrumming. We smoked our cigars and drank our pints and went back to the New Inn at about 10:00, pausing to pick up a snack of greasy chips on the way. These we consumed while watching a brief documentary on Hitchcock on the upstairs telly. Jay apologized for being so grumpy this day and so all we had to worry about were those clouds rolling back over the valley as we went to bed.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: