Category: Travel / Out and About (Page 8 of 18)

I knew today would be difficult. It’s 8 years ago today that my mum died. I’d been thinking about it all week, and I knew that I didn’t have anything pencilled into my calendar for today, so nothing to distract me. Speaking of calendars my wall calendar (the one that just looks pretty above my desk) has a photo of Heptonstall in the distance and a steep cobbled path in the foreground. Hmm – I can’t think of where that would be.

Yesterday’s walk in Pecket Well

I did some quilting, sewing, knitting, and even went to buy a couple of new canvasses in case I felt inspired to paint. But by 3 o’clock I was looking for some distraction and thought I’d go and buy some pasta from the Coop. Yesterday I’d had my second grocery delivery since moving in so I had mussels and prawns and salmon so I decided to make seafood pasta. It takes about 5 minutes to walk to the Co-op. Though when I set off from home I thought I might end up checking out a certain path that goes above the Coop that my ride home from band had told me about last night. Apparently it has great views and is paved, so it’s possible to do it without sinking to your knees in mud. So I took a map and some water and set off. Three hours, 7 miles and 61 flights climbed and 61 flights descended I got home with my pasta, having climbed to Stoodley Pike and back  – right from my apartment!!! Or maybe I should say right from the Coop.

I passed a lady from Horsehold and a man from Kilnshaw Farm, some pheasants and  one new born lamb. Oh yes, and a dry stone waller who told me all about ‘throughs.’ Well, I did ask him! It was a fascinating hike. There’s a whole community perched way up on the hill across from my apartment. The man told me that this area had once been a

model farm which explained why the stone walls and therefore paths are all at 90degree angles – so unusual for these moors. He also explained that beneath the fields is a whole drainage system which delineates the grazing pasture from the moorland. I’ll have to find out more about this.  I did, after eating the pasta! And, you’ll never guess what. The man in charge of the archives  in Hebden Bridge, where I’ll be helping out tomorrow, did his Phd thesis about this area and goes into great detail about the division of the land . Most of it is gobbledy-gook to me, but with a bit of time I should be able to get the gist of it. Back in the 1400’s the whole area was once a deer park and so when it did eventually get divided into fields it was done so in a methodical way, all around the same time – hence the geometrical field shapes and unity in the wall construction. AND looking back down to Heptonstall I realised I was on the cobbled road that is on my wall calendar that I looked at this morning. Of course all along the hike  I was thinking of the time I climbed up to Stoodley Pike with Sarah last summer and was wondering if my daughters would like to do this hike. The farms, especially Horshold is

amazing – a tiny community perched high above Hebden Bridge. I was the only one on Stoodley Moor as a reached the tower. I was both amazed and proud of myself as I thought about my mum. It was her love of the countryside and hiking that stays with me in all my hikes.

Great use for old supermarket trolleys.

The guardian of the path.

We’re looking at you!

https://www.nationaltrail.co.uk/sites/default/files/stoodley_pike_hike2.pdf

 My glass of wine is finished. Time to make the seafood pasta

[wpvideo U25woJyq]

                                                The quiet of the countryside??

A couple of months ago I received an email from the Alumni dept at the University of Sheffield inviting me to participate in an alumni weekend of the music department. You could elect to be in the orchestra or the choir. Saturday was to be a day of rehearsals,and after another rehearsal on Sunday morning the joint forces of choir and orchestra would give a public concert in Firth hall, where I had performed when I was at university there. So I signed up to be in the choir.

Firth Hall

Friday evening found me a little daunted by the whole event, but I understand that that’s how I always am before something new – whether it’s flying to Ireland,  giving a talk to 160 school children or running a choir rehearsal in Hebden Bridge. The weekend would require me to go to Sheffield by train, find Firth Hall using public transport, check in to an AirBnB, find the restaurant where all participants were invited to have dinner on Saturday evening, get back to Firth Hall for the Sunday morning rehearsal, find somewhere to have lunch and then get changed for the concert. I’d invited my brother-in-law and his wife who live close to Sheffield to come to the concert and have dinner after and they’d agreed to come.

Dinner with family

Saturday morning was quite sunny and by the time I reached Sheffield it was a lovely day. I needed to travel very light since I realised there could possibly be a considerable amount of walking so the backpack that I won in Rachel’s raffle got to be used for its first outing. I was surprised to find that there are now trams connecting the railway station to the centre of the city so I jumped on one. I had clear memories of my first arrival in Sheffield at that very station as an 18 year old, but the station today  was unrecognisable from its 1970’s self – unsurprisingly. A helpful lady suggested M&S as being a handy place for lunch before I went up to campus for the first rehearsal. I got off the tram by the

Downtown Sheffield’s new look

cathedral and recognised the central part of the city. The place was full of construction, massive cranes dominating the skyline, and lots of new architecture all over town. Needing to stick to a schedule I made straight for M&S and found the upstairs cafe, and fortunately there was one window table available.

As I ate lunch I found myself compelled to write:

The Hole in the Road has gone

Eaten by piranhas she said.

Perched high amidst the pigeons I spy below

A moving Daffodil, with hands and feet,

Which sends my mind spinning

To my own Daffodil Lady – forever colourful.

She brought me here and returned to Affetside, alone.

What thoughts she had I never stopped to ask.Her pride, her one and only

Striding out uncertainly into a world beyond her scope.

I ride the tram, memories obscuring the present,

For now is a  time to sing, and remember with love. 

I arrived at Firth Hall and was directed to the choir rehearsal room, where there was precisely one other person!!! Horror of horrors. Now I’m not a singer. I had merely signed up to be a member of the choir because I wanted to participate in the weekend’s event, which was in honour of Peter Cropper, founder of the Lindsay String Quartet, and whose vivid and charismatic playing I remembered so well. I’d presumed that there would be 50 or more singers, and I could hide and position myself next to a strong alto. I had been conscientiously practicing the alto part in Haydn’s HarmonieMasse all week, but even so . . . By the time the rehearsal, under the very capable, and always jovial George Nicholson, the choir was 15 strong. Golly, with just one more we could have been The Sheffield 16. I was SO glad I’d practiced!

After the rehearsal I went for a wander round Western Park, checked out the Arts Tower, the boating lake bordered by blooming crocuses and daffodils and then had a snack in the Museum cafe. I went back there the following day with a few other alumni and we all remarked that when we had been students we had never looked around  the park. As someone commented “We were too inward looking to be interested,” So true.

I had a couple of hours to spare before meeting the group at 8 downtown so on a whim I caught a #51 bus to Lodge Moor, a place a lived in for a while as a student. It’s perched high above the city, and there was still some snow remaining in sheltered nooks. Having spent 6 months living in Calderdale I found that I have no interest in living in the suburbs. The way of life seemed so isolated – you can’t walk to any  shops, or places of entertainment apart from a local pub. The Shiny Sheff is still there! The bus passed through Crosspool and even passed Selbourne Road where I lived for a while. It dawned on me that the hall of residence I’ll lived in was called Halifax Hall. How strange that I now live within a stone’s throw of Halifax!

I got off in the centre of Sheffield and explored the Peace Gardens and then found The Winter Gardens, a new(ish) indoor garden – quite wonderful. I rather liked the talking Benches, which are specifically reserved for people who want to be talked to. Quite an innovation. I tried it out, but there were too few people around to find out whether it worked. The Peace Garden has a set of fountains – quite fun to play in  (with my camera!)

I checked into my AirB&B, a little out of the way, off London Road, but it was lovely, and my host had even been to Santa Cruz last summer! The stairs were amazingly steep, typical of Yorkshire terraced houses.

Breakfast

I got an Uber to and from Akbar’s restaurant in the centre of town. The downtown area was buzzing with people at 8 p.m. I’d like to spend more time looking around there.

Dinner at Akbar’s

Next morning I woke up to a totally blue sky shining through the skylight – something I don’t think I’ve see since November. The clocks had changed so I had to get a move on. My host had left breakfast for me on the table, telling be that the milk was in the fridge behind the cellar door – oooo. Spoooooky down there.

I decided to walk into the city centre in spite of that meaning carrying my backpack.  It was so warm that I didn’t need to wear hat or gloves. I passed through areas of new construction where I found myself completely alone on this Sunday morning, and at other times I was in the centre of areas that were just cafes upon cafes selling food from around the world including   ASalt n Battered fish and chip shop. A Sainsbury’s grocery store is an interesting building – once a cinema and later Tiffany’s Nightclub.

For the rehearsal we were joined by the orchestra in which the alumni were augmented by  students from Sheffield Music Academy that had been founded by Peter Cropper. Unfortunately the only person who graduated in my year didn’t show up but there was one other singer whose name I recalled, and I ended up having lunch in the museum with her and her husband. They live in Buxton, where I once won quite  big piano competition when I was a student in Sheffield, so I’d like to go back and visit sometime, and now I have a contact there. The choir and orchestra had come from all over England for this event.

My brother-in-law and his wife came to see the performance and then we went to a local Wetherspoons close to the University in the former home of a cutlery manufacturer with lovely grounds.

The performance! I’m just below the conductor’s left elbow.

All dressed up . . . and nowhere to go 🙁

I’m getting a little cabin fever now. Basically I’ve been stuck in my apartment for 4 days now. It’s not that I haven’t got anything to do. I actually feel as if I’ve got more than enough fun things to occupy myself with indoors but I need exercise. With this in mind I decided to brave the weather and take a tour of Todmorden Town Hall, including afternoon tea. At least it would give me a reason for wearing something different than what I’ve been hanging around in for the past few days. Since it’s only about 50 paces to the bus stop from my place I thought I’d risk it. About an hour before I was due to set off snow was coming down heavily but I could see from my window that bus were still running, so off I went.

Todmorden town hall is a magnificent edifice that quite dwarfs the rest of Todmorden town centre. A large banner on the railing was advertising a Wedding Fair from 10-4 today. I knew about this already so I wasn’t too concerned, but on entering the building there was no sign of a tour, or even a sign cancelling a tour. So I had no alternative but to gatecrash the wedding fair. It was a small collection of stalls running around the perimeter of a truly magnificent hall, but it was all so sad. There couldn’t have been more than 10 attendees, totally outnumbering the number of vendours. I chatted to one vendour who said there had been a sign outside earlier in the day cancelling the tour but it had been obscured by the Wedding Fair sign. I suggested a small sign on the door would have been useful, but it wasn’t her concern. I was niffed that the organiser, who I’d called and left a message with asking about any cancellation, had not had the courtesy to reply. However, I was here now, so I needed to make the best of it. I chatted to several vendours including the Todmorden lady who makes this adorable bears:

and the ladies that make these:

I sampled the fig bread – delicious

There was even a string trio advertising their availability for playing at weddings:

Next, I went in search of icicles and frozen canals and found both

before heading back to Hebden. I did consider walking back along the canal (5 1/2 miles) but it looked just too slippery. Back in town there were a few people in the square heading for hot coffee in the cafes and just a few brave souls were noseying at the 6 stalls that were open (crazy) on the outdoor market.

The best Indian food in town

Home of the Stoodley swirl

I often buy a bacon butty, cooked to order, from this stall

There’s a new stall on the market today. I sampled the elderflower gin: just the thing for generating some warmth today.

Local butcher’s signs

And then I headed for the co-op where the  shelves were pretty empty!!!!

Enjoying what had turned into a fun photo opportunity I went in search of some of the buildings my ancestors lived in, some of which I discovered yesterday in the archives.

One of these buildings is #1 Crown Street, directly across the street from my abode. From 1871 to 1891 Thomas Wrigley, (the husband of my 4th great aunt)  ran a photographic studio from here. In 1841 he had been a resident of Lily Hall, living with his new wife, the former Sally Wrigley (my 4th great aunt). Which means that my gt gt gt gt grandfather was Sally Wrigley’s father!

Some time last week I’d found that an ancestor had lived in Oxford House. I found it today. It currently houses a vegetarian restaurant that I wrote about in my journal a couple of weeks ago, saying that I’d like to take Anna there.

For the past two days the weather has stopped being fun, a novelty to explore and  capture on camera. There’s been no sunshine, just a dirty white cloud cover. From my kitchen window I’ve watched hour by hour as the icicles on the roof grew, melted when the temperature got above freezing for a couple of hours in the afternoon, and

View from my kitchen window

Our mailboxes

then refroze. Choir was cancelled. The director was snowed in. The recording of a CD by the wind band I joined was postponed since the recording engineer couldn’t get over the

[wpvideo 9aQmMWnP]

Pennines. I’d changed my travel dates for going to Ireland so that I could do the CD. Now I’m thanking my lucky stars that I wasn’t meant to be heading to Dublin yesterday. Many airports in the UK are closed. Less than 1/4 of the flights are leaving. 3000 people were stranded in their cars on the M62 overnight. That’s the main motorway between

[wpvideo OU2pUhdw]

Lancashire and Yorkshire over the Pennines. The only road open over the Pennines is the A646 which runs directly past my apartment. Ah, that explains why I was woken by lorries passing in convoy before dawn. The news channels have relegated Mrs May’s Brexit speeches to second place as we see farmers digging sheep from show drifts as tall as houses and doctors walk 10 miles to get to their work.

Around lunchtime I heard the distinctive clip-clop of horses’ hooves and looking through the window I saw the incongruous sight of a Victorian funeral cortege driving along the road. Men in top hats sat atop the carriage pulled by six black horses.

I spent the day quilting, playing with iMovie and writing up my summer journal. I’m up to 19,122 words and I’m only up to July 22nd. It goes to August 25th, the day I flew back to the US. I feel that I really must finish it before I embark on my next trip.

From the chippy downstairs

I ventured outside mid afternoon but although the pavement by the road had been gritted, the passageway from my front door onto the street was literally one sheet of ice. There are two small grocery stores on my block. The first only had the 3 inch tubes of table salt. “No larger sizes?” I asked. “No, all sold out.” Next customer asks for  milk. “Sorry, all sold out.” “Aw,” sighs the customer, “The Co-op’s all out of milk – and all veggies too!” It made me feel lucky that I’ve got milk. So I tried the next store. “Have you got any packets of salt?” I asked. “For cooking? Or de-icing?” I left with a bag of de-icing salt that she slit open for me so that I could spread it around on the ice in the passageway immediately. Supper was fish, chips and mushy peas from the chip shop beneath my apartment, and now I’m going to sit back and relax to Tones, Drones and Arpeggios. Yep, I’m a total nerd! 

. . . . so, crazy Heather decides to spend 6 hours out in the sub zero temperature! My first attempt to get on t’ th’ tops was thwarted when the bus to Haworth didn’t show up. I thought it might not because the route is very exposed but I was actually surprised when I finally decided to call the bus depot, 40 minutes after it should have arrived,  and found that the bus was only running from Keighley to Oxenhope, and couldn’t get over the exposed bit into Hebden Bridge. Not one for taking this sitting down I jumped on the next bus that just happened to be going to Todmorden. Now just occasionally they have double deckers on this route and I was lucky to get the front seat on the upper deck. Next to me were three absolutely delightful sisters, who, for some reason, felt like reincarnations of the Bronte sisters. Presumable that was because I had originally had it in my head to go to Haworth, home of the Bronte sisters. 

Todmorden was VERY quiet. There’s no outdoor market on Tuesdays and there were only a couple of indoor stalls open in the indoor market. This little doggie was in a shop window!

How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the waggly tail
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie’s for sale
I must take a trip to California
And leave my poor sweetheart alone
If he has a dog, he won’t be lonesome
And the doggie will have a good home

Walking on the snow wasn’t too difficult, and I stopped to take photos of the spring flowers just poking their heads through their white blankets. I headed for my favourite cafe, only to find this sign on the window. Really? It occupied the old Co-op building and had retained as much of the interior decor as possible – and it had always been packed when I went.  It just didn’t seem to make any sense. So, next door is my favourite coffee shop in the town, Kava, so I had lunch there – which seemed to be exactly the same as the Co-op menu, so I asked about the closure. Apparently the lady who ran it has got tired and decided to give it up – simple as that.

Nicely refreshed but not yet ready to go home I went to the bus station to see where I could get to, but all the destinations I was interested in had long waits – one or in some cases, two hours, so I got the bus back to Hebden. And jumped on the next bus up to Heptonstall.  I had nowhere to be for the rest of the day, and I could just jump on whatever bus shows up. This feels extraordinarily decadent for some reason.  I’ve never been able to do such things – ever before.

Heptonstall church

Is this a three tier wedding cake?

I spent a couple of hours in the village taking hundreds of photos. One minute I’d be in a snow storm, the next minute in sunshine. Dark clouds to blue sky. Amazing. I was the

only one out and about in the village and as I picked my way through the skeleton of the old church it felt incredibly peaceful. My ancestors had been baptised, married and buried here for over 300 years. The blanket of snow had softened the bones of the old church and the flat gravestones were covered completely. I passed the old school house where, only this week, I discovered that one of my relatives, had attended school. 

I took a few of the side footpaths which gave me great views across to Old Town and beyond, where I had hiked last week, and on my way back down I stopped at the Tea Rooms, guided in by a lovely ginger kitty. As I sat and warmed up (the coldest part of me was my face, especially my cheeks) over a pot of tea I perused the Heptonstall News

Enter a caption

magazine. It was filled with village activities. Again, I ask myself,”Where are these opportunities for social interaction in the U.S. There was even a flier advertising a photography project in which ‘participants will capture the ways they think their area is (or isn’t) ‘Age Friendly. Refreshments and travel expenses will be provided – and it’s all free.’! Hmm, that sounds interesting. One of the things that made me actually dive in and make the plunge to come and live in England was a morning I had spent in Todmorden, taking photos of the elderly, the disabled, the parents with toddlers and infants in papooses who were all doing their shopping, and I wondered where all those people are in America. I remember soon after I had moved to Boston, U.S, and i was doing the grocery shopping with my baby twins, and a lady came up to me and said, “Did the Nanny not show up today?” At the playgrounds it was primarily babysitters who were in loco parentis.

I’d skidded and slid down Heptonstall Road passing Lily Hall with its view over Hebden Bridge and was walking back to my apartment along the canal when  the snow  came down in force – what fun!

Choir practice was cancelled because the director was snowed in so I spent the evening making an iMovie of my day – as the snow fell gently outside my window.

Just down the road from Greenwood Lee this house is for sale too.

Just before I saw this new sign I wondered why I was feeling so much joy

Oooo – vandals in Slack Bottom.

So milkmen still deliver milk in glass bottles and leave it on your doorstep in this part of the world

Abandoned but not forgotten. My dad bought one – but it had canvas sides!

Trying a new route into the town – this is Hollins.

A treat after my exciting morning – made by real Italians!

Hmmm – I bought some new shoes at the charity store – but not these ones!

[wpvideo hji0C2ug]

And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood with a ring at the end of his nose

I don’t know who was more surprised – them or me!

‘Rain cometh said the brown cow, Ah, said the white, Grass is very tasty, Grass is alright’

A former baptist chapel – now an Airbnb

A little incongruous in this landscape, don’t you think?

Anyone for tea?

‘From troubles of the world I turn to ducks, beautiful comical things’

‘And I –  I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference’

‘Graceful and solemn as wafted mist’

Even if you live on a canal boat you need to get your washing dry

My next knitting project! Really.

                                                   ‘Out on the wiley, windy moors’

[wpvideo xkcNtXQk]

Having spent the afternoon yesterday browsing through the Gibson documents I had found references to other buildings that Gibson owned, besides Lily Hall, so, waking up to  unexpected sunshine I jumped on a bus to Pecket Well, above Old Town. I took with me an Ordinance Survey map so that I could find some of these buildings. However, it was much, much colder on t’tops that I anticipated and the wild was so strong that I was in danger of being blown over, so I decided to stick to the road rather than the muddy/frozen farm tracks. Even so, every time I took my glove off to operate my camera I felt as if I was in danger of frostbite. It even hailed for a few minutes and the strong wind blew the tiny hailstones into my eyes – ouch.

But the views were fantastic. When I get out of the valley onto the hills with the scattered buildings that were once weavers’ cottages but are now farms I feel rejuvenated in the same way that  I feel about my trips to the desert of the American South West. And if I’m alone, I feel much more connected to the landscape. I think this must be why I’ve not been chomping at the bit to go away for the weekends or longer. Everywhere I go from my apartment is traveling to a brand new place, and exploring a new village or  new road on foot is just as new and exciting as a weekend in Paris or Rome. These photos show the landscape that I can walk to from my apartment.

Snow remains in sheltered spots

[wpvideo vDWJXCrz]

Looking towards Stoodley Pike and Heptonstall church

The boat seems a bit optimistic

Love this ruined building

Below: The Hare and Hounds pub should really be called the Chicken and Pig, I think

[wpvideo HsdunZiD]

I wonder what happened to the owner

The first crocuses I’ve seen blooming

That’s correct. I can’t see any dog pooping near here

Coming back into town I can see that  I’m going to have to join a long line for Paul’s Fresh Fish – my Thursday treat. He brings it all the way from the port of Fleetwood every Thursday morning!

When I got home from the market I find a new level has been added to the building outside my window.