Actually the pun in the title is inaccurate, as the Fiddlers’ Ferry power station, on the banks of the Mersey between Widnes and Warrington, has been decommissioned; the cooling towers are scheduled for demolition at some point in the future. This view will pass into history at that point. I doubt the horses care, though. Taken on the way to bag my 111th County Top, that of Warrington.
These impressive crags would grace any mountain in the Lake District or Scotland, but instead can be found, perhaps unexpectedly, in Leicestershire — specifically on Bardon Hill, the County Top of that territory. However, as is probably obvious, they are not natural formations. Instead this is the gigantic artificial hole of the Bardon Hill Quarry, source of, apparently, some 15% of the UK’s entire output of crushed stone (for roads etc). From the summit of the hill there is an immediate, and fortunately fenced-off, drop of at least 400 feet straight down to the quarry floor, as seen here. Is it ugly? I honestly don’t know. Interesting, anyway. (For more pictures from today see the latest County Tops blog post.)
As part of the contract that is Being Married to Drew, Clare occasionally gets dragged up remote moorlands, like Meikle Says Law in the Lammermuir Hills — the top of this (a County Top) being somewhere in the vague brown moorland to top right. This was the final stage back to the car. I call it the ‘last climb for now’ because I assume she might be motivated to do another one or two in the future before one of us dies…. though who knows for sure?
This is the last of the shots from the current road trip in Scotland, a passage of time which has seen it overtake Australia as the second-most depicted country on here after England.
The lump to top right is Ben More. Its Gaelic name literally means “Big Hill”, and it can join the ranks of places that have clearly been named for their physical characteristics. On the left of this shot, the start of the path up it, and it’s representative of the whole — a 3,000-foot climb, all like this. Imagine climbing one of the staircases up the Eiffel Tower, three times in succession. Do I do these things for fun? Yes, I suppose I do. (See also the other blog.)
At 3,156 feet/962m, Yr Elen — it may just mean Helen or Eleanor, or it might mean “The Leech”; you decide, that’s Welsh for you — is apparently the ninth-highest mountain in Wales. The last of five biggish lumps of rock that I negotiated today. More details on the other blog, as ever.
Ascension Island is greener than I expected, although this is mainly due to the spread of an invasive weed, Mexican thorn, which authorities are trying to control (with some recent success it seems). But the peak in the centre of the island has long been known as Green Mountain for good reason. It was on this mountain that, in the 19th century, botanist Joseph Hooker embarked on a giant horticultural project to plant a forest and bring more rain to the island — and the jungle in the foreground of this shot is evidence that he succeeded. In fact, as far as I can tell this view is shrouded in cloud most of the time — some more is just visible drifting in from the right, but I nabbed the shot in a rare clear spell on my Sunday morning walk up to the island’s summit. Note also the Perfect Crater — that’s its official name — visible to the right of the cone of Sisters’ Peak.
I was certainly enjoying the sunshine today — a glorious day. Whether the horse was or not, I can only speculate, but it looks contented enough. Taken towards the end of my first County Top walk for over two months: the houses in the background are part of the village of Huthwaite, the highest settlement in Nottinghamshire.
Well, I didn’t have anything better today, and by the signs of it, neither did he. I hope he enjoyed his bout of exercise as much as I did. (For more details see my other blog.)
Most of the kids who live in Hebden Bridge, but attend Calder High School about 2 miles away, get the bus there. But these three look to have decided to walk it — and good for them, it was a very beautiful morning, and there’s no need to walk along the main road.
The Pennines are, definitely, the vertebrae of Britain (supporting the large, shaggy head that is Scotland). And today I, definitely, walked from one side of them to the other, starting a hike in Greenfield on the west and ending it in Marsden to the east: with the town seen in the background here being Huddersfield. Today, therefore, I definitely crossed England, in watershed terms anyway. The two guys seen here may or may not have done the same.
Can I note, though, that a lot of England’s spine is comprised of peaty, boggy shit. Get it cleaned up, England!
Being 42 