Private Thoughts Made Public

We finally did it. My sister-in-law and I had tried walking up Pendle Hill before, on a very wet day last year, but we only made it round the foothills. Today, we had a determined effort to get to the top. Here’s a potted photo-diary of the day. Click on each image for a larger one if you’re so inclined.

An example of picture-postcard Britain.

If you look at the large version of this image you’ll see a diagonal “scar” running up the side of the hill. This is the path to the top!

My sister-in-law and nephew at the base of the path. As you can see it’s mainly a staircase of stone steps. Didn’t make it any easier though! We ended up walking for 20 yards, stopping to get our breath back, walking another 20 or 30 yards, stopping again……. and while we were resting by the side of the path we were being overtaken by people with dogs, people with kids, people wearing work shoes, people not breaking sweat – it made us sick, sick I tell you!

Finally at the top! A well-earned lie down and a spot of lunch (not pictured). However when we stood up we nearly got blown over by the force of the wind up there!

The view from the top, looking down. It’s a pity the view was a bit hazy, but whether I’m going to go back up there on a good day remains to be seen! While we were having our lunch we were passed by three men out jogging (to the top of that thing! Are they crazy?) and by a man carrying a three-foot long remote controlled model glider aircraft. It was all we could do to haul a few sandwiches and bottles of water up there!

Self portrait of a man sheltering from the wind.

We could have been on the surface of a different planet.

Portrait of the author in the middle of nowhere. This picture was taken before we got lost, as you can see, we’re still following the path by the stream. A bit further on, we started asking people “Is this the way back to the village?” and were getting answers like “No, this is the way to the town. The village is way over yonder” and watching them point over our shoulders back the way we had come.
So a three-hour six-mile walk turned into a six-hour nine-mile walk. I must admit I was getting frustrated near the end, especially when I thought we were completely lost, but we made it back in the end. They’ve got some very steep roads up there in Lancashire. It’s bad enough having to drive up them, let alone walk or (gasp) cycle.
I’m not doing that again in a hurry, although I guess I did manage to walk off last night’s dinner. I think I’ll stick to the flat from now on, though. Until the next time.