Kinder Northern Edges and the Woodlands Valley.
Walkers:-
Lunch was to had here on the path high above the Snake pass….Lunch breaks are usually the que for some light hearted banter and general ribbing. Val and I were asked if we’d had one of our infamous ‘fratching’ moments…to which we started arguing…I told her if she carried on like that I WONT SEND YOU ROSES anymore. After lunch, we took the path on the northern side of the Snake that brings you out above the pub after some gentle climbing through fields and plantations. Val was telling John all about our holiday home and started laughing about my new found interest in the night sky and the various constellations. I just thought JESUS CHRIST Val, Sirius A is a SUPERSTAR and just mumbled on behind her. The next few miles took us up Ashop Clough.. the Valley we were previously above earlier in the day. Although the valley is quite picturesque it does appear to drag on a little. I pointed out the ‘Boxing Glove’ stone high on the skyline to John stating we went past it earlier….but we were shifting so fast we must have missed it. The final few hundred yards is on a SANDY track that leads you onto the coll between Mill Hill and Kinder.. where we were earlier in the day. Even Tom was relieved to have a break here and eagerly scoffed down some chocolate. All that was left was a quick jaunt over Mill Hill and Burnt Hill. The pace quicken here and we were soon on the road back to the cars. Passing the rather welcoming(but closed) Grouse Inn, I noticed a sign in the window saying they were having a saxophonist on later in the week…But I’m not into ALL THAT JAZZ and stuff….We got back to the cars just as daylight was fading. Footnote….Anyone reading the above may think ’what’s this drivel Glenn is writing’?….well, At the first break John threw down the gauntlet that I had to namedrop as many 70’s musicals or references I could muster in the report…so there you go….I wish he said the 60’s…there’s bloody loads in that decade. NB…There was no Saxophonist at the Grouse.. that was just poetic Licence. |
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