The
days official millage doesn't include the climb back up to Stoodley
Pike which had been bothering me the night before. I woke early and
collected my recharged phone from the bathrooms, packed my stuff and
headed for the shortest but steepest route to the top. I was tempted to
walk along the valley floor till it rejoined the Way but I found I
couldn't miss such a key point of the Way and meet peoples eye when I
claim to have completed it.
It was a stiff and hard climb but once I committed to it it wasn't so
bad and the view from the top was lovely. I also hadn't realised that
the pike was hollow and easy to climb up. I dumped my bag on the ground
and, slightly light headed from relief, climbed to the top. The actual
Pennine Way, if you choose not to camp in Mankinholes, is pretty level
stretching across the moors alongside the valley. You soon cross the
Pennine Bridleway, one of a few times the two walks cross paths, and
slopes down to Lower Rough Head Farm. The navigation is easy and the
path is clearly boarded by a stone wall to the left. You finally wind
down a more zigzag path to Mytholm, crossing a dingy canal and railway.
The towns here look a little desolate and abandoned.
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| Descending from the Pike |
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| Satisfying view of how far I'd traveled |
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| From around Cinder Lane |
Here starts an incredibly frustrating and
unsatisfying hour winding your way back up the other side of the valley
through pockets of houses, stairs going alongside gardens and behind
buildings. There's a interesting abandoned graveyard marked with a
'Wainwright Sign' which gave me a bit of a navigational problem but it
was soon solved and I gained added confidence in my skills.
 |
| Abandoned Graveyard |
Winding up and away from the graveyard the houses
finally grow a tad scarcer, Stoodley Pike still stood in the distance
giving you a satisfying sense of the distance you've covered- if at the
speed of a arthritic turtle. The progress is horribly slow. I think next
time I do this walk I'll do as suggested and carry on past Mankinholes
and onto Mytholm to camp in Badger Fields Farm- its closer to the path
and would get this ugly section over and done with. You pass through
farm gardens, wined between yards and over styles until you're
completely turned around. Some paths are well kept but others are boxed
in by walls and allowed to go wild and overgrown.
 |
| The beginning of a week long problem |
There is a lovely river between the many roads
where a family was having a picnic and would have been a wonderful place
for local families. Up another valley side and a very posh drive I
reached Cinder Lane and diverted to Aladdin's Cave for supplies. Bought
an orange juice, and orange (I sometimes eat healthy when walking) and
my monthly female requirements before plastering the newly formed
blisters on my heel. I should have stopped before it had become so big.
Finally
you break onto open moor land, five or so hours after I started. In
that time I'd only covered five miles, maybe six with the climb back up
from Mankinholes. That left me another ten miles to go which as my
current pace was never going to happen. But as soon as the roads and
houses were left behing and the landscape sweeps up around you my pace
doubled and I began to enjoy the day. I was also very excited about
passing the supposed location Emily Bronte had based Wuthering Heights.
We'd studied Emily Bronte at high school and no other book had hit me
quite so hard. I've read it nearly five times and have always wanted to
see where it might have been set.
There's a wonderful section where you drop into a ravine and crisscross
the stream in these wooden bridges. It a very quaint set up and exactly
as I'd have imagined Monet's garden. I'd hoped to pause around here and
skip the half a kilometer to Packhorse Inn for lunch but time had
gotten away from me. I was taking twice the suggested time of the
guidebook and by the time I passed it had shut till dinner time.
 |
| Path down to Wuthering Heights |
 |
| The ruin in the distance |
Following another dull series of reservoirs you
finally reach Within Heights and my sought after ruin. The land is also
very tame and easy here and the warm weather overcasts everything with a
golden hue. Tourism is big along here, as is evident by the Japanese
sign post indicating the direction to Haworth.
From
here your nearly there, a quick meander down a pebbled drive to yet
another reservoir. You get a real impression of how much work goes into
our water supply on this walk. Through Stanbury Moor and along the rim
of the reservoir to Ponden Guest house took less than an hour. I'd been
walking for nearly twelve hours and felt inadequate when I read in the
guide that it should have been a mere eight or nine.
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| Ponden Reservoir |
Ponder Guest house campsite is not a campsite. Its
another case of a B&B having a spare field, although in this case
its a five minute walk and a stiff climb from the only toilet.
 |
| Ponden Guest House Campsite |
While very picturesque the river had
it's friendly hoard of midges as well as one or two too many campers.
One lady in particular was extremely annoying, loud music and a
lived-in-look to her tent as if she'd been there for several weeks.
Later two more tents were set up by a friendly looking bunch of
teenagers. I'm afraid I showered, cooked and slept without saying a word
to any.
I woke at 6:30 and was out of camp by 7:30 the sun bright and dazzling over the campsite. Following small lanes I made my way towards Bideford, meeting few cars and I enjoyed a mixture of Beethovens Piano Sonatas and Concertos while maintaining an easy trot. I had plans for a big breakfast once I reached the town center. I found myself entering the town on a school street and it felt strange marching past all the school kids walking into school. Not been much of a morning person this was a reminder of just how much my sleeping habits had changed since beginning this hike.
Greasy spoons cafe found I ordered myself an English breakfast and finally found signal! I was so sick of my phone been disconnected from the world. It was one thing to wonder through a jungle and face nature's wildest places with no signal and quite another meandering along between towns and be cut off. I checked my messages, most from mother trying to ascertain whether I was still alive. She'd already phoned campsites and confirmed I'd left when I should, and I made a point of ringing to reassure her in person. There were also a few from a lady called Joanna who used to run Wilmslow Wells for Africa (the charity I am walking for). She and her husband Roger were in Devon for a few days and wished to take me out for dinner. She'd been attempting to contact me for a while but I'd gotten none of the messages. Quickly ringing back arrangements were made and I had the promise of lovely company ahead of me for dinner to spur me on. 
Once across the river your on the bike lane and any navigation, if I'd not been using my app the entire time, is finished with. You follow the path for the next 7 or 8 miles until you reach the town and then climb up into the hills for the campsite. While dull walking, after the excitements of the coastal path, my legs welcomed the relief. My feet however soon took over the complaining. I was wearing my sandals again, as the boots were still wet and on my backpack, and with nothing but flat concrete underfoot my soles were getting a pounding. At one point I tried putting the insoles of my shoes in the sandals but they slid about and were no good. The only thing which helped was to start a new audio book, another Lee Child novel, and allow myself to be swept up in the narrative. Lee Child books are a very slightly more gritty American James Bond style novels, a lot more violent but equally unrealistic. The books were well read but nothing to write home, just good empty entertainment. 
