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    Raising funds for the Charity
                 ‘Young Minds’

Walking the Canals - Manchester  to Kidsgrove via Hebden Bridge &  Huddersfield     24-30th May 2019

 

Day 1 Friday - Manchester to Littleborough - Rochdale Canal - 18 miles

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​Once again, I found myself at Castlefield, staring at that huge block of pink sandstone on which stood the Roman Fort, Mancunium, the very origins of Manchester, now surrounded by mills, waterways, gardens, 18thc. houses and 21st century blocks of flats, with the usual pubs, bars and restaurants and the huge looming presence of the Science and Industry Museum nearby. 

This time I was looking down on it from the semi-reconstructed Grocers’ Warehouse where coal was lifted from the barges below by water-powered crane up to street level, a revolutionary idea at the time dreamed up by James Brindley, our resourceful engineer, in 1765, thus avoiding a time-consuming drag up the hill by cart and horse!

I had arrived early the previous day to visit the Whitworth Art Gallery* which I had missed last year.  I was rather more intrigued by the new extension at the back, sun-drenched and glass panelled, over-looking a beautiful garden, than the content which varied from comparisons of Hogarth and Goya drawings through to a launch of a book about one street and its occupants in Manchester – thanks for the glass of wine by the way – and a lady tap dancing to live music silhouetted behind a back-lit screen! 

It also had a display of ‘outsider’ art by artists who are self-taught and marginalised by the mainstream art world which intrigued me, archaeological finds and memoirs from the Reno Nightclub, now closed, a soul and funk cellar club in Moss Side for mixed race young Mancunians in the ‘70s and ‘80s and a collection of textiles from the Andes dug up from graves, beautifully preserved, some dating back to 300BC! 

I felt quite exhausted after that!  Apparently, the Whitworth is pursuing a policy of ‘Art for Social Change’.  And how!

*
Sir Joseph Whitworth bequeathed his fortune to the people of Manchester and part of this bequest was used to fund the museum.  A famous industrialist and engineer, inventor and philanthropist.  The Whitworth screw thread became the first nationally standardised system (BSW = British Standard Whitworth).
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I then walked up Oxford Road which for those of you who have been, or had children at, Manchester University, will know well.  I was duly impressed.  What an array of buildings and learning!  Very energising!   I could have doffed my hat at Whitworth Hall, if I had known, named in his honour for his contribution to education.  10-15 scholarships are still being awarded every year by the Institute of Mechanical Engineers.
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​I had forgotten how the canal mostly passes under Manchester in stygian gloom!!
It was coming up for 8am.  I had met my ‘walk friend’, Susie Agnew, over the breakfast table at the Premier Inn, Deansgate and now we were setting off from Castlefield Basin where the Rochdale Canal meets the Bridgewater Canal.   
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We walked out through Oldham and Rochdale, notoriously familiar names!  Just large yellow areas on my road map with a thin blue line between!    The canal was wonderfully serene and peaceful, making its gentle climb into the Pennines to the north, blissfully unaffected by modern intrusions on either side.
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We chattered our way to Slattocks Top Lock and the Ship Inn for lunch.  No food though!  Luckily, a handy mobile sandwich van supplied.    Rake Tapas in Littleborough was our overnight stop which turned out to be a delightful ‘boutique’ hotel in a 17th c. Grade II coaching inn.  Our rooms were accessed round the back with their own garden, front door and definite ‘wow’ factor.  We were very happy, especially when we sat down to slow-cooked rib of beef and a glass of wine after hot baths in our Jacuzzi !

​Day 2 Saturday – Littleborough to Hebden Bridge – Rochdale Canal –
14 miles
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The Rochdale canal was the first of the three Pennine canal crossings, completed in 1804 and ending at Sowerby Bridge.  It makes use of a perfect gap in the hills at its summit.  See below! 
​The other two pass in tunnels.
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Highest Broad Lock in England
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This canal is a hard task master.  3 locks per mile over the relatively short length of 32 miles, over 90 locks. That would explain why we saw hardly any narrow boats!  The last working barge carried 20 tons of wire from Manchester to Sowerby Bridge in 1937.  The canal was closed in 1952.  It was the M62 of its day with 50 boats a day passing through. 

The effort that went in to campaigning, raising millions of pounds and then restoring these canals in the ‘60s to ‘90s is incredible.   It was a massive task often carried out by volunteers with boundless enthusiasm!  How I thank them as I walk along.  
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The canal at Hebden Bridge before restoration!
On a weekend in September 1968, 600 volunteers cleared more than 2000 tons of rubbish from the 6 miles of the Ashton Canal!
I am now a member of the Canal and River Trust.  We were whingeing to a couple of their volunteers out canvassing at Todmorden, about the tarmacked towpath which is so hard on the feet, put down for those tiresome bicyclists.  Why couldn’t they have left a nice soft margin for walkers instead of smearing the whole damn thing in nasty black stuff?  Unfortunately, there are very few of me and rather a lot of those lycra-clad demons on two wheels.  Before I knew it I was signed up, all done in a flash on an i-pad!!

Here, we discovered the Incredible Edible Community Garden Project.  A local woman planted her front garden with vegetables, knocked down her wall and put up a sign saying ‘Help Yourself’!  The Incredible Edible was born, the first of its kind to share veg in the community, now spread to over 700 groups worldwide.  We chatted to a girl picking some chives for her lunchtime salad from beds planted up alongside the canal.  WHAT A GREAT IDEA!  See www.incredibleedible.org.uk.

As we approached Todmorden, we noticed some very elegant classical stone buildings and an elaborate gothic revival Unitarian church steeple, all thanks to the local benefactors, the Fielden family.  It was due to John Fielden, MP, that the Ten Hours Act of 1847 came in, limiting the maximum working day to ten hours for under 18s and women over 18!  No snowflakes there then!

The canal turns east after Todmorden descending to Hebden Bridge which we made in time for lunch.  As we neared, we smelt weed wafting out of some old dilapidated mill given over to artists’ studios.   We knew nothing about Hebden Bridge except some TV series was filmed there.  Our eyes were about to be opened.
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We ended up in the park by the canal with Saturday crowds, sitting on the grass eating lunch from the café, watching female Morris Dancers dressed up as Mrs Mops.   This was followed by a group of sexually indeterminate persons performing a disco-ordinated shambolic hopelessly amateurish ‘gyration’ – I can’t call it a ‘dance’ but I think that was what it was supposed to be.  What had us in stitches were the two little girls next to us trying to copy them.  Anyway, these persons were as pleased as punch to receive a round of hearty applause.  Not from us, I may add!
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Susie had never seen Morris dancers so this was a bit of a revelation!
​We both felt we’d been transported back to some hippie age.  Where were the flowers in our hair, the bells at our necks, the flared trousers and the kipper ties?

​To add weird to weird, the historic narrow boat festival was in mid-flow for two weeks, with some very impressive boats dating back to the 1890s, covered in paintings of fairy-tale castles, romantic views and garish flowers and lots of odd canal folk dishing out herbal remedies and strange teas.
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These original workhorses of the canals had tales to tell, including one which carried empty shell cases from one factory to be filled in another during WWII.  Other commodities carried included coal, corn, stone, cotton, wool, cement, lime, salt and timber.
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​Researching later, I discover that Hebden Bridge is listed in British Airways High Life as one of the quirkiest places to live.  It’s the lesbian capital of the UK with more lesbians per square foot than anywhere else and the TV series that is filmed here is Happy Valley.   Apparently, in the 1970s lots of ‘creative’ folk arrived here as houses were cheap! 

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Say no more!
​Once a strategic crossing over the Hebden river, it became, in its heyday, a centre of the textile trade, particularly in fustian.  Mills and houses tumble down the hills all around.  According to the website of Hebtroco, a company started up in Hebden Bridge in 2016 to make corduroy trousers again, the town used to be called trousertown and made over 20,000 pairs of trousers a week!!

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large scale replica of a fustian needle, used to cut the loops in the weft to make ribbed corduroy
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Because of all these goings on, there was no room at the inn.  So we found ourselves climbing up beside Hebden Beck to Pocketwell and the Robin Hood Inn, a hill of 11% and at least a mile of road with no pavement and an alarming amount of traffic.  I was glad to sit down with my pint on the bench and listen to the curlews calling, thinking I would call a cab for the return journey.
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This inn had always been a drinking place on the road to Howarth, slaking the thirst of folk climbing up that hill.  Didn’t I know!  At dinner, we sat in a huge stone barrelled vaulted room with massive meat hooks hanging from the ceiling for the days when we weren’t so squeamish about eating meat!

 

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Day 3 Sunday – Hebden Bridge to Huddersfield – Rochdale Canal, Calder and                      Hebble Navigation, Huddersfield Broad Canal – 22 miles

We woke to pounding rain on the rooflights and wind whistling in the eaves.  Oh dear!
We let ourselves into the kitchen to forage for breakfast while we waited for our taxi.  7 am was too early a show for our host!  20 minutes later we were out in the rain walking back down that dastardly hill with a ‘no show’ from the cab.  By the time we got to the canal, we were soaked.
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Hebden Bridge early on a rainy morning!
​A few miles on, Sowerby Bridge welcomed us with the church bells ringing which cheered us up.  Here the Rochdale canal joins the Calder and Hebble Navigation at Tuel Lane Lock, the deepest lock in the UK, and Sowerby Bridge Wharf, a hive of boat activity and attractive warehouses put to modern use.
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​Sowerby Bridge Wharf
We had been lucky with the first two days – cool, nice breeze, some sun – but our luck had run out and by lunchtime at Brighouse we were like two drowned rats.  Desperate for shelter and sustenance, we fell into the Black Bull, nearest to the canal, and pulled off wet clothes.  I asked where I could recharge my phone and could we have a menu.  ‘Oh we don’t serve food here’.  I looked at the line of men crouched along the bar drinking pints of beer and munching on crisps.  No wonder we have a health problem in this country.

We tried the Richard Oastler* pub next which turned out to be a Wetherspoons in an ex-Methodist Chapel, ironically, where William Booth, founder of the Sally Ally, had been a minister.  It had an interesting interior of circular double height space and gallery with the original organ still in place but nowhere to charge our phones.

*Oestler was another reforming Yorkshireman who campaigned against child labour and excessive working hours.  His campaign caused such a furore he was gaoled for debt by his employers.

Third time lucky and we found Mezze, a Greek restaurant, full of charming Greeks, or certainly foreign looking gentlemen, who took our phones for recharging and clothes for drying.   And we had a delicious reviving snack of soup, dips and pitta bread.  I asked the boss what on earth had brought him to Brighouse.  He replied, ‘It’s a long story’.  I bet it is!
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​I took this photo little knowing what I was looking at.  It turned out to be an old flour mill where Thomas Sugden first milled his flour back in 1829 and supplied barges at his chandlery.  It is now Rokt Activity Centre, home to UK’s highest man-made outdoor climbing wall, with indoor climbing wall, bouldering area, Nerf* arena, spin cycle studio, escape rooms, yoga studio, pub and restaurant.  I bet they serve food.  WOW.  As www.rokt.co.uk says, ‘Your gateway to adrenaline’.   

*‘Kids, get ready.  It’s time to hide and shoot your way to success in our indoor Nerf arena, dodging over, under and around obstacles as you take down your opponents.  Join our crack team of Nerf warriors in our specially designed arena, complete with obstacles and target practice wall.  The game? To hide, aim and shoot your way to victory.’   What fun!  I wish I had known.  Susie and I could have had some fun here!!
 
The 'blobs' are the hand-holds for the climbing wall.







We now followed the River Calder to Coopers Bridge.  Being a river, the towpath can disappear  leaving you wandering through industrial sites and back streets hoping your ‘bump’ is keeping you right.  I had also mislaid a page of the map which didn’t help.

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Huddersfield Broad Canal, known as Ramsden's Canal, completed in 1780.  Sir John Ramsden owned Huddersfield at the time!  He also owned a chunk of land where the canal was to run
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Turnbridge Loco Liftbridge 1865.  The roadbridge is pullied up for the narrow boat to pass under
It was a four mile hop into Huddersfield where the Premier Inn is conveniently right on the canal welcoming us with open arms.  It had been a damp 22 mile hike and a hot bath was calling.

Susie was leaving me here so we called a cab to take us to the railway station.  I took the cab on to Edgerton and Thornhill Road to the house where my paternal grandmother grew up, expecting to see a gated community of five chic executive homes that had been pending when I last visited in 2006.  I got a shock when I saw the house standing neglected and forlorn with builders' junk lying around, windows boarded up and a riot of weeds.
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The Gables, Thornhill Road, Edgerton
​I didn’t venture into the centre of Huddersfield this time, remembering my dismal experience last time.  However, driving through the residential areas past substantial elegant stone houses in leafy streets, I realised it would have been quite a different town in my grandmother’s day, as her diaries and press cuttings infer.  What a shame that these once proud and wealthy cities have such problems with their town centres.*

*Funnily enough, as I write this, there is a programme on BBC 1 on the drug, gun and knife problem amongst the Asians in Huddersfield.  I felt it strongly last year that this was not a happy place to be. 
 

               

                     Day 4 Bank Holiday Monday – Huddersfield to Dukinfield –
                                    Huddersfield Narrow Canal      23 miles


I woke up to rain but plenty of breakfast in the dining room.  Fully water-proofed, I headed out on the canal passing those imposing university buildings.   I still haven’t heard of anyone attending Huddersfield University!
 
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Last year I saw this university building being built!
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This warehouse was built prior to 1778, oldest surviving example of such a building which is the precursor for the large multi-storey warehouses of 19th c.  It is now used by the University.
​I headed up the Colne Valley to Marsden, retracing my footsteps from last year.  The sun was now out and that pretty valley with its hills set back, its hay meadows and the Colne River meandering along made my heart sing.

In Slaithwaite I stopped again, this time for a warming cup of coffee and my marmalade sandwich.  I sat looking at the enormous ex-mill, once Globe Worsted Co.Ltd, positioned in the heart of the town.   It looked further advanced than last time but was silent and empty.  I asked a passing man what had happened.  Apparently, an asset stripper had bought it as a going concern and then proceeded to strip it and sell it.  He knew this as his wife had worked there on the winding until it closed in 2003!  He said it would eventually have a doctor’s surgery and Kirklees Council would take some of it.  Maybe it’s the project that didn't get planning for New Mills in Marsden and just moved down the valley to the next abandoned mill! 
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Globe Worsted Co.Ltd, 36 bays high x 9 wide, 5 storeys high
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I love this little building.  Ex-bank, so proud in its classical raiment, once sitting on piles of mill owners' money, now Tourist Information

​I then met an enthusiastic four-legged friend who jumped all over me wagging his tail until his owner appeared, very embarrassed, and got him under control.  I just laughed.  I walked on and was busy reading a story board when along came the dog again, having done the circuit.  I got chatting to the owner who asked me who I was walking for.  I told her and she dug in her pockets and brought out 35p, apologising for not being able to give me any more.  I said I would buy a cup of tea in Marsden and thank her on behalf of Young Minds!  I was very touched.  And the dog wagged his tail.   

I love those story boards.  Here I learnt that the Colne Valley was the epicentre of the Luddite revolt.  The shearing frame was invented in the early 1800s and threatened the mill workers’ jobs.  The Luddites would break into mills and smash the machines.  Unfortunately, they went too far with one Marsden mill owner, a certain William Horsfall, which resulted in his death.  Three millworkers were hanged for his murder.

What about this one for the pub quiz?  What is the world record of making a suit from sheep to wearer? 
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2hrs 10 minutes set by Bank Bottom Mill in Marsden in 1931.  This mill was owned by John Edward Crowther who was in partnership with my great grandfather, Edward James Bruce, at the other mill in Marsden, New Mill, which I was to find in the same state as I had left it last year.

Looking at a story from the Examiner in January 2018, there is a move afoot to convert these two derelict mills in Marsden into near on 600 homes.  They are so huge and such eye-sores.  So sad to think how these mills of the Colne Valley were world famous for their fine quality woollen cloths, worsted and tweed.  Now these behemoths stand empty and silent with no viable use.  I felt sort of
embarrassed as I took yet another photo of the deteriorating window etched with Crowther Bruce & Co.
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New Mills belonging to Crowther Bruce and Co, derelict since 2002.  There are estimated to be 1,350 redundant mills in West Yorkshire!
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The weather was looking extremely dodgy for going over the moor.  I was very happy to sit in Riverhead Brewery Tap for a couple of hours while the weather cleared.   It had a charming restaurant upstairs, all peace and quiet, with a couple of oldies and a dad and his young daughter playing cards.  I could hear a baby yelling downstairs.  How lucky I was to be upstairs.  Then, to my horror, another baby appeared en famille looking for lunch and sat down beside me.  Luckily, it only gave the odd screech when it couldn’t get what it wanted!
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I set off at 2pm, just about remembering how to get onto the moor.  Coming the other way, I had had Marsden as a reference.  Going west I just had open moorland.    Several wrong turnings later and much consultation with trusty compass, I finally got to somewhere I recognised and started the long descent to Diggle.  Sadly, no curlews and their chicks this time.  Just a few peewits.
 
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Standedge Moor looking east
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Standedge Tunnel - west side
Again, I am bowled over by this feat of engineering - 16 years of gunpowder blasting and pick and shovel work through solid stone, opening in 1811.  A prime example of  'When you put your mind to it .............................'!
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It was now 4.30 and I still had nine miles to go!  I headed west down the Tame Valley, taking a last look at the Pennines and remembering my cousin Lesley’s stories of intense brass band rivalry at competitions in Diggle, Dobcross and Delph!  On a bank holiday Monday, it was a much livelier canal than last year with dog walkers, leisure walkers and bikers. 

Scout Tunnel, under a spur of the Pennines, was a challenge for exhausted legs and tired mind.  616’ long, very spooky, low tunnel with great chunks of rock hanging down, pitch dark, dripping wet, with uneven cobbles underfoot.  Very strange thoughts entered my head as I clung to the guardrail.   I was glad to see the light at the end of the tunnel!

 I finally reached Stalybridge at 7.30 and decided to get some food, then a taxi to my B&B at Dukinfield about 2 miles away. 

Stalybridge is not where you want to be at 7.30 on a bank holiday Monday.   There is only one word for it – GRIM!   Even Tesco was closed.   So my first thought of sarnies and a beer in my room was dashed.  I found a tiny, standing room only, doner kebab take-away and asked where I could sit and eat a meal.  They sent me up the top of the town to a pub where a sign proclaimed, ‘food now being served’.  Yippee, I thought.  I had been thinking of nothing but what I was going to eat for the last couple of hours!!

I found yet another bar full of men holding their pint pots and munching on crisps and a barman gleefully telling me food was off as it was bank holiday Monday.    I could of head-butted the bastard but instead asked where the nearest pub was that might be selling food.  He sent me back down the town to the canal.  By this time my feet were screaming to be let off and my legs were on automatic pilot. 

​But I had found the hottest ticket in town – a Wetherspoons pub, full of life, noise, warmth, food and drink.  Tim Martin, God bless his cotton socks - there’s a publican who knows how to give his customers what they want.  I sat down to a pile of food, served quickly and efficiently, and a long pint and a glorious feeling that I didn’t have to walk another step.  A taxi was on its way to take me to a hot bath and bed.


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Jack Judge wrote 'It's a long way to Tipperary' and sang it first in 1912 at the Grand Theatre, Stalybridge. 
Grand?  I couldn't see anything 'grand' about Stalybridge!
​                                                     Day 5 Tuesday – Dukinfield to Whaley Bridge -
                                  Ashton Canal and Peak Forest Canal - 19 miles


I woke late, never heard the alarm, perhaps never set it!  Legs gave me hell in the night but an ibu did the trick.  So, after a leisurely breaky, I set off at 8.10 wondering where the canal was.  I saw a bike disappear off the side of the road, and like Alice and the rabbit, I quickly followed.  Sure enough, there was the still, silent canal hidden far below and the bicycle dashing away along the towpath.

The Portland Basin where the Peak Forest Canal leaves the Ashton Canal was very close by with a further 14 miles to Whaley Bridge.  Or so the signpost told me.  My fitbit that evening was to tell me 22 miles.  Blissfully unaware, with legs ready for another day, I was raring to go.

What a delight this canal was, very quiet and rural, lots of trees, paths deserted, plenty of bird song and not a ripple on the water.  Trains and roads are always near and I could hear bangings and crashings of industry on either side but somehow they do not disturb this tranquil scene.

I was walking through Haughton Dale Nature Reserve along the valley of the River Tame.  It’s a mix of ancient woodland and meadows, with new trees colonising the footprints of old industrial sites, with all sorts of wildlife to be found and plenty of access for walkers, cyclists and horse riders.  So the story board told me!
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I saw nobody and not much wildlife, apart from a few herons, the ubiquitous Canada geese and a black-headed gull dipping for water.  I soon realised I was back in swank land - fat cat country with lots of big gates, signs saying, ‘Private Road, Keep Out’, glistening cars, houses well-hidden, with lampposts in the garden, always a sign of vulgarity!   So different to the high country where weavers’ cottages brood in the hills, with bands of high windows, echoing to the bleat of sheep and the call of the curlew.
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The ubiquitous Canada Gees and their hordes of goslings, this group huddled together against the chill.  Mallard, heron, moorhen and a few swans were the sum total of visible wildlife on the canals.  I am always surprised and disappointed how little wildlife I see.  But the birdsong is fab.

​I had to leave the canal at Hyde Bank Tunnel(308 yards long) and walk half a mile over the top.  Always something I dread.  My maps are for narrow boats, not for wandering off into the countryside.  Apparently, the horses found their own way over the top while the boats were ‘legged’ through.  Well, I’m not a horse and I needed a sign of which there were none.  So I found myself down some farmer’s track heading in the wrong direction and not a soul to ask. 
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I eventually found the end of the tunnel and was very excited to hear the noise of a boat coming through.  I put my knapsack down and got the camera out, ready for the picture until I realised the noise was receding!  So back on went the knapsack, camera back in pocket and, then to my horror, I smelt that awful aroma of dog shit. I looked down to see a squashed pile at my feet with the rest smeared all over the bottom of my knapsack!  Luckily, there weren’t any dog owners around to hear my blasphemous rant against them.  Having washed everything in the canal and got wet in the process, I set off, thoroughly pissed off.
 
I was soon distracted by the most amazing bit of engineering I have seen on any of the canals.  The Marple ‘Grand Aqueduct’ opened in 1800, designed by engineer, Benjamin Outram, carries the canal 100 feet above the River Goyt and is the tallest masonry-arch aqueduct in the UK.


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Marple Aqueduct with railway bridge behind and River Goyt in the valley below
​I was bowled over, all dog shit forgotten.  Seven men lost their lives in its construction.  It is now a scheduled ancient monument and listed Grade 1.  British Waterways wanted to demolish it and close the canal when one of the arches collapsed in 1962.  It was saved by the intervention of Geoffrey Rippon, then Minister of Public buildings and Works.  BRAVO!  It has to be one of the wonders of our canal system, along with Pontcysllte Aqueduct.  I was awestruck.  All that effort just to get over a river far below, looking small and insignificant!

My lunch stop was to be Marple Junction where the canal joins the Macclesfield Canal after a flight of 16 locks.  Bound to be a nice pub to sit and watch the boats go through.  No such luck!  Not so much as a bag of crisps to be seen.  So I retraced my footsteps down the hill to find yet another pub with no food.  What is it about these Yorkshire pubs?!!  So I had fun in Greggs, eating my tuna sarnie and drinking black coffee, watching all the fat folk of Marple buying food that would make them even fatter.  Still, sustenance and rest was what I was looking for.  Ambience was not high on my list of priorities.
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The walk up to Whaley Bridge was lovely, with great views of the Dales to the east and out to Manchester to the west.  Nice and sunny, too, for a change, plus the usual peace and quiet except for delicious birdsong.  I passed Swizzles factory at New Mills, famous for its love hearts.  Apparently, they come personalised now!  Love hearts were included in the Millenium Dome as an icon of the 20th century!  I could certainly smell the sweeties and everything along the canal was coated in a fine white sugary powder!
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​Lifting and swivelling bridges on farmland on rural Peak and Forest Canal

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​I made a detour up to Bugsworth Basin which brought the canal as near as possible to the quarries in the Dales.  The Peak district is divided into three distinct landscape areas – White Peak providing limestone, lead and barite, Dark Peak good stone and sandstone, and South West Peak coal.  Another story board!
They all meet near Bugsworth Basin which was a hive of activity in its heyday with boats loading up and carrying off all these resources to the booming north west.  It is now a haven of peace and tranquillity with a few narrow boats moored up and the usual dog and leisure walkers.
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Bugsworth Basin lower basin - upper and middle basins out of shot
​Picked up my copy of the Canal Boating Times.  Always glad to catch up on the latest boating chat!!   8 million pounds to be spent on dredging and a big drive to collect rubbish!  Bravo.

Retraced my footsteps and turned south to Whaley Bridge, once a centre of coal mining, calico printing and weaving  It also bridges the River Goyt on the Roman road to Buxton and Manchester.

Springbank B&B turned out to be a joy.  Nothing was too much trouble for our host, John, who took over from his mother to run the business with his family.  Cold milk in the fridge outside our rooms, scissors, needle and thread for running repairs, a plastic container to soak my tired feet in magic crystals and a brilliant Edwardian time capsule of a bathroom with an enormous deep bath, the sort you drown in.  Luckily, my feet just reached the taps for support!!
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Lesley, my cousin, joined me here and we found a local eaterie, the closest, for a delicious meal of local foods.


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Transhipment warehouse of 1801 and terminus for the Cromford and High Peak Railway for transfer of goods from railwagon to boat
​                         Day 6 - Wednesday - Whaley Bridge to Macclesfield 
                             Peak Forest and Macclesfield Canal - 21 miles
​We walked back down the Peak Forest Canal to Marple Junction to join the start of the Macclesfield Canal disappearing under the bridge.  Today was a 21 miler, estimated at 16.5 off the canal map!  I don’t know how I get it so wrong. 

The Macclesfield canal is part of the famous Cheshire ring – that is if you are a narrow boater!  It is a circular route of 97 miles and 92 locks including parts of Trent and Mersey, Bridgewater, Rochdale, Ashton and Peak District Canals.

The 27 mile canal was opened in 1831, one of the last to be built in Britain.  It links the Peak Forest Canal with the Trent and Mersey Canal to the south.  Thomas Telford designed it, leaving William Crossley to build it.  It runs along beside the hills to the west of the Pennines and is a ‘cut and fill’ canal following as straight a course as possible with cuttings and embankments.  All the locks are grouped at one flight of 12 in Bosley where the drop is 3 metres per lock.  It was certainly a delight to walk along, very peaceful, with open country side and views to east and west.  Even if it rained persistently, it wasn’t cold.


Lesley at the start of the Macclesfield Canal disappearing under the bridge.            Typical canal scenes.
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Bucolic scene on the Macclesfield Canal!
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The beautiful stone 'snake' bridges of the Macclesfield where the towpath changes to the other side of the canal and allows the horses to cross without unhitching from the boats
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We were disturbed briefly by a local yokel hanging over a bridge with a hungry looking alsation by his side.  He needed to tell us at great length all about his friend who went to Thailand to pick up a thai girl and now he was thinking of doing the same.  Watch out, girls!!

We walked off the canal at 5.30 at the Gurnett Aqueduct and were at Lesley’s house within 15 minutes, glad to sit in their conservatory drinking a reviving cup of tea with my feet in a restorative bowl of hot water and magic crystals, with the prospect of a delicious supper of lamb casserole, Cheshire spuds and rhubarb crumble to come.
 
                 Day 7 – Thursday – Macclesfield Canal – 16 miles

A mere skip and a hop today!  What joy, I didn’t have to carry my gear as we were staying another night with Lesley.  Such a relief as my back had been giving me gyp.  It rained, of course, but cleared up later. 
Another peaceful day, very calming and therapeutic, legs walking like a dream and feet given up grumbling.  I thought of my chosen charity ‘Young Minds’ and wished all those young folk with mental difficulties just a little taste of what I had experienced in the last seven days.
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We arrived at the junction with the Trent and Mersey at 5 pm where Lesley’s husband, Chas, picked us up.  PK flew up to Barton Aerodrome and joined us for supper at a lovely pub up in the Dales and we flew home to Essex the next day. 

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                                                                    130 miles in 7 days, averaging just under 20 miles a day

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End of the Road and We're Still Laughing!
Britain's first municipal aerodrome with original hangar, passenger terminal and UK's oldest continuously used control tower(1932).  For those plane spotting freaks amongst you!


​ KAW/July 2nd 2019
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