Day Twenty Three

Monday 29 March - Crowden to Diggle.

Crowden Youth Hostel is a great place. It doubles up as an outdoor education centre for the youth of Rotherham, but youthful hordes were in short supply when I was there. There are no self-catering facilities (hooray!); instead, the very cheerful warden knocks up a delicious three-course evening meal, gets a bit of kip, then provides a full breakfast and packed lunch – all bases covered! I had a comfy bunk in a single room, thus keeping my snoring to myself.

From Crowden, the Pennine Way heads North up a valley between Rakes Moss and Bareholme Moss. The climb to about 1600 feet is tough, and the path along the edge of moorland is rocky and fiddly – it was impossible to get into a decent stride – until it becomes boggy. A chap at the youth hostel predicted that I would be grateful for the start of the slabs, and he was absolutely right. By the time I reached the paving, I had slithered and dithered through black puddles and oozy mud, shipping water into both boots.

Black Hill is merely the highest point of this particular lump of moorland. By now I was in the clouds -the trig point was not visible until I was within a 100 yards of it, and it as quickly disappeared behind me. Rain, which had been a desultory presence up to now, started to fall more steadily, with just a little snow mixed in. The wind was strong and blustery, cooler than yesterday without being exactly cold.

The traffic on the A635 was fast but sparse. Beyond the road, the PW followed a vehicle track through the National Trust Marsden Estate. The dominant features were the two Wessenden Reservoirs.

In case I has been taking things too easily, the path dropped precipitously down to the level of Wessenden Brook, before climbing unmercifully up to the top of the moor. I was jolly glad I was climbing up this particular bit of devilment – coming down it must be terrifying. Another moorland trudge, some of it paved, led to two more small reservoirs built, at the cost of six lives, to provide water for the Huddersfield Canal. Soon I was walking over this canal – not on the water, but over the hill (Standedge) through which the canal passes via a long tunnel, a parallel tunnel carrying the railway.

Temporarily abandoning the Pennine Way for a route which triples-up as the Standedge Trail, Oldham Way and Pennine Bridleway. I reached Diggle, my stopping-place for the night. Diggle is part of Saddleworth, a town in the Metropolitan Borough of Oldham, itself part of the now powerless entity of Greater Manchester. So I was in Lancashire. Oh no I wasn't. Saddleworth has published a leaflet which hotly refutes any such suggestion. They are part of West Yorkshire, they cry, but they are definitely not part of Lancashire or Oldham or (shudder!) Manchester. Whether Diggle is ambivalent about being part of Saddleworth is not recorded.