|
Tuesday 22nd May 2012 Diggle to Hebden Bridge (NB My camera didn't work today so all photos on this page are courtesy of James - thanks, James.) I had a very nice night at the farm having had a meal in the Diggle Hotel. In the morning though I found that the GPS hadn't charged properly. I managed to give it an hour's boost but then had to leg it for the bus which was due at 8.30 - it eventually turned up at 8.45 after I'd been waiting for 25 minutes and the driver apologised by cracking a joke about the bus stop being further up, at the top of the hill - ie I should walk up. Very droll. Nevertheless the lift, courtesy of my bus pass, was well worth the wait as it was 1 ½ miles all uphill to the Pennine Way and my pack hadn't got any lighter in the last two days.
It was a beautiful, cloudless day and at that point still cool enough to be pleasant, although that was to change as the day rolled on. I set off and after a short way came upon James, the Lands End walker. It seemed his pal, Keith had returned home to Kent today so I walked with James for a couple of hours. He was a self-employed surveyor, checking for asbestos in buildings, and promised to send me a CD with his photos of the day in lieu of the ones I wasn't able to take as my camera was out of action. It was a much more level walk today compared to the previous two days, a high-level plateau stroll with stunning views to the left. Over Castleshaw Moor and White Hill we went, getting a welcome cup of tea from the mobile snack bar on the A672, then on and over the M62 at which point James and I parted company. He wanted to take his time today as he was staying at Mankinoles and didn't want to get there too early while I was keen to get on to Hebden Bridge before the shops closed in order to get a replacement battery for my camera.
I plodded on and crossed bleak Blackstone Edge with the temperature rising all the time. There then followed a very level, slightly tedious bit with several man-made reservoirs, but happily this was alleviated by a pub on the A58, the White House, where I was able to get another cup of tea - there were three cups in the pot and they all went straight down, sucked into the dehydrated, ever-more knackered body I was pushing along.
On, on, on I slogged, getting hotter and hotter - Stoodley Pike appeared in the distance but it seemed to take an age to get there. Then it was pretty much all downhill to Hebden Bridge. Nevertheless it still took me ages and it was gone 16.30 by the time I finally stumbled into town. I passed a sign by the side of the road saying 'Hebden Bridge' but from there it still seemed like a long way before I got to the centre. Unfortunately after all my sweaty haste there were no batteries or cheap cameras to be had anywhere, just shops stacked with vast lorry-loads of organic porridge, kaftans and dream-catchers.
Some arty types were walking about the streets of Hebden Bridge, for some reason declaiming in loud voices like phoney Shakespearean actors and a couple of idiots were sitting on Harley-Davidsons posing and pointlessly revving their motors. You can tell I was getting a bit irritable by this stage, eh. More to the point the B&Bs were all full, despite it being term-time and mid-week. By this time I was ready to keel over with dehydration and heat-stroke and couldn't face walking up and down with a 30lb rucksack on my back while I looked for accommodation. Instead I phoned the White Lion whose number was in the guide book, and took a room there despite them charging a whopping £95 (generously reduced from £120 just for me). I just wanted to collapse on a bed, drink gallons of tea and have a bath. I did all that then feeling slightly better I washed some clothes and got the nice waitress behind the bar to put them in the drier for half an hour. I ate in the bar - mediocre, over-priced spaghetti with dill and lemon and a very greasy garlic bread. Nonetheless the body has to rebuild its reserves with something so I decided to be extravagant and have the rhubarb and ginger crumble with 'rose-petal' custard as well. Rose-petal custard…! Unfortunately the last portion of this had been taken by some wandering Harley-Davison-riding actor so I never did get to find out what the rose-petal custard was like. At least I had a big room to stretch out in and hopefully the aches and pains would subside by the next day when I was due to meet Andrew a mile or so out of town. On the phone I asked him to try and get me a new camera from somewhere. Distance: 15.9 miles Average speed: 2.1 mph Total ascent: 2493 feet Total Distance: 47.1 miles | ||||
 | ||||
