A slight change of order to things today, as we return to one of our favourites. Due to the changeable weather across the day, we decided to begin at what is usually the halfway point on this route, The Rock Inn. We arrived for midday amongst some drizzle, and stopped in for a lunch of toasties, soup, some chips, and pre-walk drinks. By the time we had finished, the drizzle was passing and the day began to grow a little lighter. This was the beginning of a forecasted three-hour window of reasonable weather, in which we would cover the miles – go, go, go!
We headed down the road and right down the first footpath, crossing a stream where we came across the day’s first collection of bluebells and wild garlic. By the time we had crossed into a stretch of woodland, the sun had already begun to peak through the clouds, and we started to feel hot. This stretch of trees and farmland went by smoothly, and we arrived at the road, where I took my (new!) coat off, surrendering to the surprising warmth of the day. Things were all very calm and undramatic until we were walking down a little path, and suddenly from behind me came a shriek. I spun around to find a wide-eyed, panicking Beth, pointing desperately at the ground.
“I trod on a frog!”
I looked down to where she was pointing, and did indeed see the little frog in the middle of the path. I knelt down and scooped it up. It sat motionless in my hand. I gently moved it about, trying to prompt some sign of life. Finally, he stretched out a back leg – he was still alive! I carefully continued to encourage movement, as Beth poured a little water on him. Slowly, his eyes began to look a little brighter, and his movements more deliberate and stronger. Finally, he took a flying leap from my palm and into the undergrowth at the footpath’s side, where we watched as he snuck away. Hopefully, he was just stunned and will now go on to live a long and happy frog life! This was a fortunate result, as I very much fear that the alternative would have resulted in an understandably miserable remainder of the day. Thankfully, we moved on, relieved, toward the rest of the walk.
Five minutes further on, when we were walking along Cow Lane no less, did we hear a large amount of mooing nearby. I looked over the hedge to the left and immediately found the source. A large herd of cows were congregating around the gate at the foot of the neighbouring field, clearly on the move somewhere. Much nearer to hand were two cows who had missed the signal, as they were busy fighting. As they swung their heads together and took lumps out of each other, the farmer came flying up on her quad bike, shouting, “Excuse me! Stop fighting, that’s enough!” The pair then obediently turned their attention toward their fellows and trotted away to rejoin the herd. This was also good timing, as we then crossed the back end of their field minutes later. Such an occurrence would make Beth nervous these days, but as we knew that they were safely far across the long field and departing, there was no need for fear. We descended and crossed beneath their electric fence without incident.
Continuing downward through a sunny glade alive with butterflies, we then entered a small patch of flowery woods which ran along a stream. This then brought us out to the road and Cowden station, the normal starting point for the walk, and the halfway mark of this one. As we headed up the steep road away from the station and turned the corner onto another quiet lane, the sun came out in truth, and the sky became more blue than grey for the first time. The timing here was expert (and not an accident) as we approached the best stretch of this route. We left the road and headed across the farmland, where we knew the cows would not be on this occasion, and entered a large copse. Beneath the trees and sunshine, we found sweeping banks of bluebells, which then led to a long, narrow field, with trees on either side. As we walked, blossom fluttered down around us, some nestling amongst Beth’s hair.
A familiar path then appeared on our left, and we descended back into woods. At the bottom, we came across a wild garlic glove, a few starry flowers on display, although not yet fully in bloom. What did appear to be (almost) in full bloom was a large, sweeping bank of bluebells rising before us. We spent a bit of time here, as the sun shone down and made the leaves glow brightly, the scent of spring thick on the woodland air. Bluebells and bursts of garlic continued to line our path, before finally we waved goodbye to this idyllic stretch. Shortly after leaving, we passed a beetle going along the footpath in the opposite direction, off to spend a bit of time amongst the enchanted trees.
At the top of the hill, we turned to cross along the edge of a field and came face to face with a disaster. Here had sat a tall, lightning-struck tree, half black and half white. It was distinctive and a key marker of the route – it had also featured on our wedding table markers! And the keyword there, was “had”. We looked sadly at the tree now lying quietly on its side. As we approached, we could see that it had not been cut, and had evidently come down in a storm. After years of being battered by the wind, it had finally had enough. It will now begin a new life, and provide a home for thousands of insects and fungi.
We made our way across one last open field and past a few final patches of bluebells, before finding ourselves back on the road at the end of which sat The Rock Inn. We made it back to the car at about half past three, two and a half hours after leaving. It was a lovely walk once more, and we absolutely made the best of a day containing varied and changeable conditions. We also noticed, as we passed the station, that the car park is now for “service users only”. As starting and finishing at the pub worked really well, and with this development in mind, this could be the new plan going forward.
Matthew G. Huggins 