150 metres of ascent over just 1km was testing, but was eased by meeting up with my godparents Chris and Graham. Graham dropped off Christine to walk the last few miles with me to their house in Cowgill. As usual, Marv was given snacks a plenty and as we descended into Dentdale the view was stunning. The railway line ran through a long tunnel under the hill (the one we had climbed) to reappear at Dent station (the highest in the UK at 350 metres) which we passed by on the steep descent down the Coal Road. Two miles on, we arrived at East Stone House, where I had stayed many times as a child, en route on our many trips to Scotland for holidays. It was unusual arriving by horse and from a different direction. Chris and Graham didn’t have a field but Marv was allowed free access to their garden (a brave choice), and he happily roamed around the house nibbling grass and looking in at us inside. I grabbed a bath and a siesta before being able to be more sociable and catch up with my hosts properly. I turned in early after dinner with a headache and sore feet and a need to make the most of the bed.
(L) On the bridge by Dent station with Chris, (R) Marv in East Stone House garden
Day 34 (Cowgill to Stainforth, Nr Settle - 16 miles) After breakfast we set off and were joined by both Chris and Graham for an hour and a neighbour’s West Highland terrier Missie. We passed alongside a fabulous limestone bedded crystal clear stream, where the rocks had been eroded away leaving amazing natural shapes. I said farewell to Chris after passing under the viaduct and Graham walked me to the top of Newby Head (411m), before I turned south for Ribblesdale. This road was just as scenic as anything so far, with the Settle – Carlisle railway line joining us again across the Dales. It was certainly dry stone wall territory, with walls to be seen enclosing sheep in every direction.
The road was popular with touring motorbikes, but Marv had by now realised that they were nothing to be afraid of and just ignored them as they passed by. The day was sunny and bright with loads of people picnicking in the vicinity of Ribblehead viaduct. I took the opportunity to call James, a good friend from University with whom I had also spent five months backpacking, to congratulate him on his recent Mt Everest ascent. We had almost met up when I passed nearby a few days earlier, but he wasn’t back in the country until I was out of Cumbria.
Ribbleshead viaduct We passed the nearby remote railway station which was buzzing with tourists and continued to follow the railway line south passing Ingleborough hill (724m) which lay to the west of us. We pit stopped in Horton in Ribblesdale, which was quaint and certainly geared up for the summer tourist traffic. The B6479 we were on was getting busier with an increasing number of speeding lorries servicing a local quarry. I was now quite concerned about our safety, as these lorries were flying along going over blind summits and we could not get out of the way very quickly. We trotted on as fast as we could all the while keeping an ear out for the next suicidal HGV to potentially run us over. Finally and with great relief, we got off the road into the village of Stainforth, the scheduled village for tonight. I asked around and a kind Mr Hennigham allowed the use of a field for us both. The field had very long grass, and at times I couldn’t even see Marv as he worked his way around the field sampling Yorkshire’s finest greenery. It was no fancy food for me tonight, just the tried and tested noodles in a mess tin. Marv was heard later that night snoring deeply, so he must have found the deep grass to his complete satisfaction.
Day 35 (Stainforth to Barnoldswick - 17 miles)
The last day of week five and a final push to Barnoldswick. Marv woke me early with his nose coming into my bivi looking for his breakfast. All I had was wine gums, which he took anyway, but I think he was missing the muesli mix which he had enjoyed for many days in the early weeks. I managed to get off the nasty A road and find a scenic single track west of the River Ribble (it was called the Ribble Way). This sleepy road was ideal and we passed through the edge of the town of Settle early on Saturday morning. There was no one around and the place felt uninhabited, but we just pushed on south staying on the quiet side of the valley. We passed through Wigglesworth where we spotted a horse spa and it was tempting to check Marv in for a treatment. It was soon after that, being a hot day, I stopped at a pub and asked for a bucket of water for Marv. He simply turned his nose up at it. You can lead a horse to water.........
Then Mark and his girlfriend Vicky arrived from Edinburgh. Mark’s family is from Lancashire (not too far from here apparently) and he was down seeing them and would be spending the night with Marv and I. We had lunch in a nice picnic area with Marv roaming free in the enclosure. Vicky had brought Marv strawberries, one of his favourites, and this left him with a very red mouth and ‘heavy horse’ moustache. As we left the field I dropped my gilet but neglected to pick it up as I led Marv out onto the road. He predictably walked over it, and then I remembered that I had my camera in the pocket. El stupido. It was broken, and Vicky very kindly offered to drive to the nearest Argos in Skipton to replace it. I cussed myself but carried on heading south whilst Mark and Vicky shot off to look for a possible field for the night.
When I was going through the non-descript Barnoldswick they both found me again and Mark was dropped off to join me heading towards Salterforth. They had organised a field there for Marv at a large livery yard run by Jackie and Howard. As we walked into the yard all the stable girls came out to greet us and they rushed over to say hello to Marv. The yard let us use the powerful hose to give Marv his first proper shampoo and clean. Then he was turned out into a large field. He had plenty of other horses in adjoining fields for company as well as us camping in the same field. Mark had also brought down my tent so I could have a night in relative comfort. We pitched the tents in a corner of Marv’s field next to some show jumps, and Mark cooked us a hearty supper using his camping gas cooker. We then headed off to the local Anchor for a drink and blether. Day 36 (Barnoldswick - day off)
Marv was up first, trying my tent for his hard feed, but then spotting Mark, he walked over to his Land rover and spied the bag of feed in the back. Marv waited patiently until the bag was opened and he got his grub. After a well-earned lie in and campfire breakfast of bacon and eggs, Mark’s parents popped in to wish us well. I really appreciated the effort so many people made to see us on the trip and share a part of it. We then headed off to Skipton for a tourists look around (including a barge trip) and a relaxing lunch. It was good to see a well-known town in Yorkshire without worrying where to tie up Marv.
A stop at a chip shop in Barnoldswick was in order before I was dropped off back in the field with Marv. Mark and Vicky left me so they could get back to Edinburgh, and I pitched my bivi using the show jumps for support. I couldn’t use the fence this time as it was electrified. Mark and Vicky had kindly provided my next week’s supply of maps, and I was able to hand over the last set of maps, together with diary notes and a memory stick of photos.
(L) Mark and Marv bonding, (R) my homemade bivi using show jump poles
Week 6 (120 miles) Week 6 (total 120 miles)
Day 37 (Barnoldswick to Blackshaw head - 19 miles) I started Monday morning feeling a bit flat, as Mark and Vicky’s company over the weekend had been uplifting, and it was now back to being on my own with Marv to push south through a part of Britain I hadn’t experienced before. We were going to travel between the two large Victorian industrial towns of Burnley and Halifax. In effect, but not geographically, down the border between Lancashire and Yorkshire. It was a little daunting but also quite an exciting prospect.
Marv had woken me early by sticking his nose in the bivi and sniffing for his breakfast. I duly gave him his muesli to allow me another hour of rest. After getting up and concluding breakfast myself I was keen to get on the move. I quickly dismantled the lean to bivi and packed up the saddle bags. Marv was not keen on standing still this morning for the saddling up process. We were in a field with an electric fence running round it, so there were no obvious tying up points nearby. Being a bit too hasty, I thought that a large rubber bucket full of metal show jump cups would
be a sufficient tying up point, as the bucket was quite heavy. Big mistake. Midway through the saddle fitting, Marv pulled back on the lead rope sufficiently for the bucket to jingle. The noise he took as a signal to rocket off round the field still attached to the bucket. On reflection I can now laugh, as Marv bucked and farted off with the bucket trailing between his legs, spilling metal cups as he went and then the saddle flew off (unbroken luckily). I could only watch feeling embarrassed with rising panic, imagining him getting into a real tangle. We were lucky, I caught Marv, calmed him down and extricated him from his bucket, tidied up the spilled cups and rapidly left. Luckily no one else saw the Benny Hill moment.
The weather was particularly hot today (being the start of June), and there was a fair bit of climbing to be done (up to 392m). Our route took us to the edge of the Pennines, which offered spectacular views. We stopped by Widdop reservoir mid-morning for Marv to get some grass, and I chatted to some young offenders who were out doing community service. They were quite interested in meeting Marv and hearing about his adventure. There were some great place names nearby as we passed through this area: Wicking Slack; The Notch; Clough Foot; Reap’s Coppy and the aptly named Pack Horse Pub. At Gorple Lower reservoir I opted to follow the Pennine bridleway, which is a relatively new route. I have to say Marv did not enjoy some of the terrain, as it was very stony and sore on his feet. The road would have been quicker and flatter, but the views wouldn’t have been the same. More climbing ensued and the bridleway improved to become grassy tracks, where I could urge Marv into some canters. The final climb to Blackshaw Head was quite hard, but worth the effort, as when we located the equine B&B, it offered superb views south over the next day’s route. At the B&B Marv was initially offered a stable, but as he started using the partition as a scratching post and broke it, he was moved outside to a field. I spent the evening chatting to two couples who were walking the Pennine Way before getting to bed early.
Day 38 (Blackshaw Head to Diggle - 18 miles)
A very kind gentleman called Ralph had heard about the trip and had paid up front for me and Marv’s stay at Badgers Field Farm. He was a fellow adventurer and turned up at breakfast on his classic Lee Enfield Bullet motorbike to meet me and share some stories. Ralph walked with me for the first half an hour’s descent down to the Rochdale canal. Marv was quite quiet today and particularly responsive, probably mirroring my own mood. After climbing up the other side and following the Pennine bridleway, passing Todmorden down to our right, we descended back to the valley bottom. It was here I decided to change the route slightly and follow the canal towpath instead of climbing back up the other side on the Pennine bridleway. My logic was to stay on the flat and the average speed would then increase. I was soon to learn that the canal towpaths, designed a few hundred years ago for Marv’s very type of horse, were now very much horse unfriendly. A very sad and demeaning state I would add. The canal path we managed to access was fantastic nonetheless. We were surrounded by classic Victorian industrial architecture, and it was easy to reminisce about the 19th century as we motored along. Marv and I managed many canters and fast trots past the old warehouses and wharfs.
We went under a few canal bridges, but one in particular stood out. The bridge had a very narrow, long dark tunnel next to the canal to go under a major road. Marv just fitted down the tunnel with his saddlebags, but it was a gamble to see how he reacted to this enclosed space. I led him down slowly, and he was calm as can be popping out the other side into daylight again. I was glad Marv still fully trusted in me despite our few mishaps to date. We reached a locked gate later on the canal, and after calling the number provided for British Waterways, I was told they would not open the gate for horses. Oh well, back onto the main road for a spell, to bypass this anti-horse section of canal path.
Great Pennine scenery We did some urban navigating around Littleborough, (not enjoyable mixing with the traffic), and then headed back up the hill past Hollingworth Lake. This was an almost surreal mini water haven with people boating and eating ice creams only a mile from (and overlooking) an industrial town. We had to stop to take it all in and grab a snack. Shortly afterwards, we were back on the Pennine bridleway and passing under the busy M62 motorway, which towered above us on a huge viaduct. This was another seminal moment for me as it meant reaching the centre of the trip, roughly half way now, and putting behind me Scotland and the north of England. We were approaching the Midlands, with the southwest to follow.
The path was twisty and undulating with numerous climbs still to be tackled. We reached the A672 and near Denshaw I attempted to shortcut using a bridleway, which turned out to be impassable. This was to be a recurring theme and I soon tired of trying to use them, unless obviously usable. We then passed between the two Castleshaw reservoirs where I met up with Roger. We had first met Roger back at the campsite in Cottonshopeburnsfoot. He had offered for me to stay at his house in Diggle when we passed, and he had sorted out a field for Marv. Roger then joined us for the last few miles of the day. Roger’s friend Lynn had kindly offered to look after Marv, and her friend Linda offered to wash the numnahs and other items. Fantastic. I left Marv at their yard and Roger drove me to his house nearby. Roger and Anna’s house was beautiful and I was treated to a long hot bath, an amazing meal, and then a James Bond movie with Malt whisky to boot.
Day 39 (Diggle to Little Hayfield - 16 miles)
After a hugely comfortable night, and a ‘monster’ cooked breakfast, I felt fresh and raring to go. We drove back to the yard and thanked the ladies for their equine hospitality. Roger joined me for the first hour of the day, which followed the Pennine bridleway and former disused railway line, so it was fast, straight and level, the best you can get. Roger headed back at Greenfield, and we carried on the bridleway, making good time. The bridleway here is also named Tameside trail and Moor Edge road, which fairly described the route. We could see to our right the River Tame and Huddersfield Narrow canal, Mossley and Oldham and to our left the moors stretching out for miles. One of the best sections of our route I would say, as the scenery was picturesque, not too taxing in terms of gradient and the weather was fair. I then took another detour at Walkerwood Reservoir and headed south on minor roads through Matley and Mottram instead of going on the more circuitous Pennine bridleway loop which climbed to 311m. What I gained in time I certainly lost in views.
I met a guy called Dick when I stopped to buy some lunch in Mottram, and he kindly gave a donation and offered to find Marv a field for the night. I thanked him and we parted. He later called to say that he had sourced a field next to the pub in Little Hayfield (very helpful indeed). As we passed through Broad Bottom and passed under the railway viaduct, I then took a route that looked tempting on the map. This soon ended up becoming an impassable footpath and footbridge. A very tight U turn was needed and then Marv ripped his saddle bags getting out of the dell in which we had found ourselves. I was doubly annoyed by an incurred waste of time and by taking a path I probably knew at the time, was too tight for a horse. This was a repeat of an earlier mistake in the Borders with the same consequences. I still hadn’t learnt. We continued on by road.
Marv keeps guard at Mottram while I buy us lunch The day just got hotter and hotter, and the roads continued to be rolling, making our progress slow. Through Charlesworth, where Marv took a great drink out of an old trough, and then up to 379 metres on the Monks Road. We both were getting a bit too tired to appreciate the views, and I was grateful when we started our final descent down to the A624 to get out of the sun. We found the Lantern Pike pub and I went in to introduce myself. They were expecting us and we were shown round the back to a field adjacent to the pub beer garden. There had been a funeral that day of a popular local man who actually owned the field we were in. The wake was being held in the pub, and I was asked back later to join them for drinks. The departed gentleman’s wife offered to fix my saddlebag and duly left to go back to her nearby house to get the sewing machine out. I put up my bivi in a sheltered corn
er of Marv’s field and had some noodles and a wellearned siesta. The lovely lady came over later with the repaired saddle bag, and with my spirits lifted from the repair, I dropped into the pub to join the throng. They all were very interested in the trip and thought it fitting that I was here on this day. The departed gentleman was apparently very keen on horses and would have been proud to know that Marv and I had joined the wake. I went to bed that night in a very positive mood after meeting so many friendly and generous people, I was discovering that many people are intrinsically kind and helpful even to wandering strangers. Day 40 (Little Hayfield to Blackwell - 23 miles)
We got up early, with a long day to complete, and walked down into Hayfield where we picked up the Pennine bridleway again, this time following the south side of the Peak District National Park. After a climb up to around 400m we contoured round the hills with an awesome view to the west. The bridleway was excellent here, and the miles flew by. This was ideal terrain and the going was much better for Marv. There were many gates to go through, but all were horse friendly. The bridleway passed through the small village of Peak Forest, where the Post Office was unfortunately shut. I was forced therefore to have lunch at the local pub instead.
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