Between the Angels and the Clouds

Rosie Gange was one of the first people to invite me to share music with her, before I’d even set off. I think in our mind’s eye, we imagined that we would walk the gorgeous Glossop hills is the sunshine, stopping only to picnic and play our fiddles aloft a hilltop as the birds sang overhead.

My Lovely Rosie – we managed a little walk together, and we managed to play music together, but not at the same time. We have promised each other we’ll do some walks next year.

What we didn’t take into consideration was timing, weather, and availability. The thing I’m realising with my adventures that i can predict where I’ll be for the next two or three days, but beyond that I’m at the mercy of many different factors that can change timings and directions. And that other people have lives and agendas that really don’t circle around mine. And that when the weather is awful, and by awful i mean raining cats and dogs, there’s usually only me who is keen to walk.

Rosie had stuff to do, I arrived at a random time, and it rained.

So, I had a lovely stay with Rosie and Jamie, but i set off on my own in the rain, heading over the hills to Holmfirth, to meet Jan Ansell and her band who were rehearsing that night. I’m sorry to say, but Nakedactionman was tucked up in my rucksack.

Heading along the valley on the Longdendale Trail. It rained.
Heading up along the Woodhead Pass. Yes that’s a cloud ahead and I’m heading into it.
In the cloud
That’s Derbyshire behind me
That’s Derbyshire, same view, when the cloud clears for three seconds
#proudfaceme. I climbed all that way through rain and clouds.
Hahahahaha that’s a frame at the summit so you can photograph the view. Hahaha

This walk was five miles along the Longenden Trail, five miles climb into the clouds to Holme Moss, and five miles descent into the Holme Valley to Holmfirth.

It was a little bit terrifying, heading up the hill realising that I was heading for the cloud bank and I wouldn’t be able to see more than ten yards ahead of me. I remembered an old man who used to tell me that when you were up in those hills it was like being between the ‘divil an’ t’ deep blue sea’. I’m not sure where the deep blue sea came from, but it felt more like walking between the angels and the clouds.

There was something about that sense of isolation and being totally and utterly alone that was calming and exciting at the same time. Yes there were cars passing infrequently, but they didn’t see me. Nobody saw me, not even the sheep.

Note to self: get something hi viz to wear.

But I was an incredibly proud old Hector when I completed the walk. I rang Jan when I got into Holmfirth and she drove down from the hills above Holmfirth on the opposite side, and picked me up.

Jan contacted me some time ago – she’d seen my posts on facebook, looked me up and realised that we both studied at Bretton Hall and even though we were years apart and never met, she felt honour-bound to offer me food and a bed and show me the music that she plays in a band with her husband, Steve (also an ex-Brettonite).

Steve and Jan live with their two children, two dogs and malevolent cat in a house in the hills high above Holmfirth – back up into the clouds again. The views were, apparently, just as spectacular as the views I didn’t see walking over the Holme Moss Pass.

I was fed and watered royally, and the band arrived for their tuesday night rehearsal.

The band, the Good Earth Collective (http://www.goodearthcollective.co.uk/) were preparing for some upcoming gigs. Most of the songs are written by Steve, and it was most enjoyable watching and listening, and they even insisted that I joined them with my fiddle.

Steve Ansell talking about ‘Rust’:

‘Rust was written at a time when my dad died, Jan was ill, and my friend in the band Carl was ill, going through cancer treatments, and he still came to rehearsals, still turned up and played. Music takes you somewhere else to a place you can cope with anything.

‘Southern Rain – I’ve written this song as a sort of composite of images of love songs.’

https://youtu.be/2I22x9wUcGU

I’m on my adventure, but for most people life goes on as normal, so Steve was up early in the morning off to work, Jan did the school run, and offered to take me down into the valley, as soon as she’d made me eggy bread for breakfast. Nomnomnom.

The one thing (and there are many things) that I love about my adventure is how lovely, hospitable and interesting people are.

Jan even made a little coat for Naked Actionman.

Fashion Designer Jan Ansell with her latest creation. Us Brettonites can turn our hand to anything.

Jan decided that we should have a memory lane trip around our old Bretton places – she lived in Denby Dale as a student; I lived in Skelmanthorpe, or ‘Shat’ as it is called locally, and we had a wonderful journey pointing out places where things used to be, where people used to live, where misdemeanours once occurred and this continued all the way to Wakefield. I thought I was getting a lift to Holmfirth, but we were having way too much fun to stop.

I had arranged to meet a woman called Lesley in Wakefield who was interviewing artists for her podcast, on the theme of a sense of home and how belonging affects your art.

I’ll tell you all about it in my next blog. And also my stay with some other ex-Bretton Hall students, this time they were old mates of mine, and the magical night at the Polka Hop, and the trip to Yorkshire Sculpture Park, where Bretton Hall used to be.

And some amazing art and some totally over the top art explanations

Naked Actionman modelling his new coat in the Hepworth Gallery, Wakefield.

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But for now, if you’ll forgive me, it’s actually Friday 28th, The Lovely John is meeting me for the weekend, and I’m not planning on doing any blogging, cos he’s only with me for about 30 hours, so you’ll have to wait til next Monday to find out what I got up to last Wednesday. It’s going to be a heatwave this weekend, so enjoy, walk away from the computer and get the Barbecue lit.

Naked Action Man gets in on the action.

I am still amazed at how near Sheffield is to the Peak District. Like just over the hill near. Like a £2 thirty minute bus ride near. Like twenty minutes in the Stealth Campervan near.

So after leaving my Firstborn to his afternoon of Nyckelharpa and Dulcimer music, myself and the Lovely John headed over the hill in the Stealth Campervan, back to the gorgeous Peak District.

We parked up in the carpark of the Ladybower Inn, and went for a walk. It was 5pm but it also was the Longest Day (21st/22nd June), so we had a good old trot along a valley to somewhere that was supposed to be having a beer festival, but it was just a few pumps of one brewery (naming no names, but I had a pint of Jaipur, thank you very much), and quickly realised that we’d need a bank loan if we were to buy any more drinks. Puh. Overpriced drinks. Puh.

Who knew Ladybower Reservoir had an ampitheatre?
…or is it a portal to another world?

Got back to the Ladybower Inn just in time to sit outside and watch the traffic snarl to a standstill due to a road accident just around the corner, out of sight. Police cars and ambulances arrived after an hour, and they didn’t leave the scene til just after 3am, by which time we’d been tucked up in bed for hours. Makes you appreciate the preciousness of life, and value every moment, cos you never know what’s just round the corner.

But you don’t want to know about road accidents and evening walks, do you? You want to know about Naked Actionman.

Saturday, we parked up at a pub, The Royal Hotel, Dungworth, as we had heard about an event there – a song folkclub, run by an organisation called Soundpost https://soundpost.org.uk/royal-traditions.

As the event wasn’t on til 8pm, we had all day to go out for a walk and enjoy the hills, valleys and reservoirs. A mile or two into the walk The Lovely John spots Naked Actionman, lying in the undergrowth, looking all forlorn. Now anyone who knows me knows that I always take pity on a muscley naked man, so I decided that he should join us in our journey.

I’m not even going to tell you about the walk. I’ll let Naked Actionman do the telling.

Here I am in the woods. They were going to leave me here up the tree, but The Woman decided to take me along with them.
The Woman has found a place for me to enjoy the walk. She’s even found me a stick to fend off any potential attackers. The Man is a little worried about my presence.
Yeah! I’m naked and I’m proud!. It’s a sunny day and life is good. Wooo.
This is a fine place to marvel at a big pipe. It really is. A big pipe and a fine place. Marvelous.
Here’s a group of walkers who wanted in on the action. Everyone wants a piece of me now, and I can’t say I blame them.
The Woman let me have some of her beer. I think she fancies me.
I felt an uncontrollable urge to climb this treacherous rock face. It must have been the beer that gave me the courage I needed. I lived to tell the tale.
Even managed to find a village green that was playing cricket. They didn’t want me to field for them.

Yeay! More beers! More Views! Sunshine! Could this day get any better?

It got better! I got Morrised by the Wath on Dearne Morris Team. Yes, that’s me in the middle
Me and The Man and The Woman. I don’t think The Man realises I’m muscling in. Heh heh heh
It’s my intense army training. If you see a difficult but interesting rock face, you gotta try and conquer that baby. Just gotta do it. Clothes or no clothes. All I need is a rope. Try and stop me…
The Lovely John, (as I believe he’s called), really wishing he never picked me up and just left me in the undergrowth

Yes, we happened upon the Wath-on-Dearne Morris troupe on our walk, and I caught them on video, which fo some reason refuses to upload. Grrrrr.

The Wath Morris were on a ‘Pretty Villages Tour’, something which they have done every year for the past 20 years. Bert Cleaver – once the Squire of the Morris Ring was with them. The team have been going for nearly 50 years – look the up on t’internet, find out where they are dancing and go see them. A fine bunch of northern Morris folk.

Tomorrow I’ll write about my evening and next morning at the Royal Hotel, Dungworth, where I watched some wonderful singers of all ages keeping the folk tradition alive…but for now, The Lovely John has gone home, and I’ve got to decide whether to keep Naked Actionman…

I don’t think she’s spotted me yet….

To Hathersage and Beyond – feeling good, and paying for the takeaway

I’m busy coordinating my weekend and getting excited about meeting people and walking and lots of things. This week in the southern Peak District has been a real tonic after the relentless rain of the week before.

Don’t get me wrong, it still rained, but it was by and large that gentle moistness that cools down a sweaty hiker, and there was the constant threat of scowley clouds rumbling by but they never stopped to wreak havoc.

I do think about other things apart from the weather, but when you’re out in it all day you tend to obsess for a while, then forget all about it. I am also loving not watching the news. I catch the odd little snippet and shake my head in disbelief at the general state of the once noble profession of politics, now turned into a poodle parade with all the gravitas of a Miss World contest for uglies and fops.

Nobody I’ve met is remotely interested in current affairs. Nobody mentions brexit, nobody mentions the conservatives, or any political party. It’s beautiful, mentally peaceful, and it’s only at times such as these that you realise just how much your mood and mental health can be affected by the media.

Yes, I still get my Black Dog walking alongside me every now and then, but after a month on the road, it visits less and less, makes less and less noise and sometimes even wags its tail and disappears quietly before i even know it’s not there any more.

I’m not sure whether it’s the therapeutic value of walking that helps elevate moods, or the fact that any nonsense that you focus on in your head is your own stuff and nonsense, nobody else’s and you own those thoughts. Nobody sold them to you And when you’re hosting your own thoughts, you can take them anywhere you want. It takes a lot of solitary miles to get your head into gear, but your body gets fitter as well.

Today I walked over the hills from Eyam to Hathersage, a lovely few miles, and it was a breeze. I loved the sights, i loved feeling fit and I loved the freedom.

Hathersage in the distance, calling me
It’s not the best photo but the views, the views…
The leafy lanes of fairytales and adventures…
This is the Music Mill just in hathersage. Thought it warranted a pic as nobody was in.

The message here concerned me for a while; is it a passive/aggressive threat? Is it telling us that the bulbs are dangerous? Is it telling the bulbs to be careful? Ooo the mysteries to be solved. Vera – where are you when I need you?

At Hathersage, I boarded a bus fo a £2 journey to Sheffield, over the hill so I could pop in and see my son for a day or two. I’m arranging the next week or so of meet-ups while I’m here.

£2 – from centre of sheffield and you’re in the countryside. Amazing. Buses are bloody brilliant and far too underused as a way of reaching The Great Outdoors. I know this for a fact cos I see country busses all the time (and get on the odd one occasionally) and there’s rarely anyone on them. Use them or loose them folks.

Right, my firstborn has ordered the takeaway, I’ve had a fab bath and we’re going to watch a film.

Takeaway has arrived and I’m paying for it hahahaha some things never change.

Tomorrow I discover the delights of sheffield….