Saturday 9th April
Plans to meet up with some friends over the weekend had sadly come to naught, that certain virus that you may just have heard of being the reason in one case.
These things happen but I was delighted to be invited over to Chester by Sandra – my companion for the first half of the trip – for dinner. The promise of a train journey through nice countryside and good food and company was too good to resist. The weather was looking good too – cold but bright – that would do.
Mytholmroyd train station was about a 15 minute walk from the site, the first bit at least being downhill – this was duly noted for my return later - and there was a direct train through to Chester taking about 90 minutes. Out of interest I checked the ticket machine and observed wryly that booking online in advance had saved me a whole 30p. How generous.
The journey was particularly picturesque through the early part as we passed Hebden Bridge and Todmorden, the landscape beginning to flatten out as we headed south and through Manchester.
Well it was a lovely afternoon – Sandra picked me up from the station and there followed a little bit of shopping for Patsy – nothing more exciting than some metal hooks mind – and a run down to a very busy riverside. It was breezy but bright and nice to see folk out and about.
Whilst dinner was cooking I relaxed with a couple of ales procured by Sandra – the lovely Timothy Taylor’s Landlord – and Final Score on the telly confirmed what I knew already. I was on a losing streak with my miniscule football bets. Both my old and new home town teams won though, so that was something.
Dinner was roast pork which went down a treat – and so did dessert – home made rice pudding. Fair to say I was fit to burst and could easily have had a nap, however in no time at all it was time to head to the station for my journey back. It had been a fabulous day though and the company of a good friend was just what I needed after that little dip at the last stop.
I did indeed nod off on the ride back – my bonce making regular assignations with the seat in front – the train was nice and quiet though and the journey passed quickly, the train pulling into Mytholmroyd station soon after 9pm.
It was a chilly night and I wasn’t relishing the walk back to site but the exercise would do me good and I even contemplated a pint in the pub a few minutes walk from the station, resisting somewhat reluctantly.
Opposite said pub there were a gathering of hoons, resplendent in the seemingly de-riguer grey joggers and puffer jackets (gawd I’m sounding old), complete with what those of a certain age would call a ghetto blaster and the faint but distinct smell of eau de dope wafting across the road. I fully expected my attire to attract their attention and was ready for some cat calling – or at least an enquiry as to whether I had any ‘gear’ – but they were clearly pre-occupied.
Patsy was doing a good impression of a fridge once I had wheezed up the hill and got back on site. Warp drive on the heating was engaged whilst I threw some leftover ingredients into the slow cooker, which would eventually resemble a couple of portions of chilli. The bed was made up and I snuggled down for half an hour of TV, reflecting on what a nice day it had been.
Sunday 10th April
A nice day indeed it was but I was keen to get back on the sightseeing trail, well aware that my time away in Patsy was once again coming to a close and by the end of the week I’d be back home.
Hardcastle Crags – managed by the National Trust – was just a 10 minute drive away, just up from Hebden Bridge. The car park – being NT – was free for members like me which I was most grateful for. There’s almost as many entries on my bank statement for car parks as there is for filling stations, or for ‘research’ purchases.
The leaflet indicated several different walks, both up to and beyond the centrepiece – Gibson Mill. I decided that common sense outweighed a coronary so took the accessible route.
It was as expected uphill most of the way but a very pleasant walk indeed, the area once being described as the Switzerland of Yorkshire. I couldn’t comment, not having been, but it was very pretty indeed. It being relatively early it was also quiet – there were a few dog walkers about and I was passed several times by some trail bikers looking annoyingly fit clad in their skin tight lycra. Ahem. They were courteous though and passed steadily, not seemingly trying to break the land speed record like some. At times there was just me, the tranquillity broken only by occasional birdsong and the sound of the river in the distance. Bliss.
After about half an hour I arrived at Gibson Mill – a 19th century water powered cotton mill and for the first half of the 20th century an entertainment centre, looking beautiful in the morning sun. I procured a coffee and went for a sit, enjoying the peace and quiet.
The mill is apparently off grid and the smell of a real fire was delightful, however there was a large diesel generator parked around the back – thankfully silent. Used for music events and the like I would imagine.
I could have continued up the valley – marked as ‘challenging’ on the leaflet – but knew my knees wouldn’t thank me, so I set off on the return stretch of the river route which would, you guessed it, follow a trail close to the river and back to the car park.
This was certainly more arduous and took about twice as long and towards the end my pesky knees were starting to feel like they’d been dipped in slowly setting glue. Nevertheless, it was most definitely worth the effort. The pictures don’t do it justice but it is an extraordinarily pretty place and well worth a visit in my view.
There was the usual baguette, beer and afterwards a nap followed by a lazy afternoon and evening. The forecast for the next day was still looking good.
Monday 11th April
Regulars will know I like a Treasure Trail and before departing for this trip had sent for one, for Hebden Bridge. Not wishing to drive in case the opportunity for a pint or three presented itself I checked out available buses, there being a stop just a few yards from the site entrance. However the Treasure Trail starting point was the railway station and having looked at both options – and prices – I set out again for the railway station at Mytholmroyd.
The train journey took only three minutes and I was soon off and following the instructions for my first clue, through the nearby park and along the towpath of the Rochdale Canal, eventually crossing a bridge and weaving a path through the town centre.
Just the one pint of ‘research’ was partaken of as I had a break roughly half-way around but I must say I liked Hebden Bridge very much indeed, it had an extremely laid back feel to it. Lots of quirky and independent shops too.
The town was apparently lambasted a while back by the author of a ‘best places to live’ guide in one of the broadsheets as ‘full of pot smoking lesbians’. Well, it certainly wasn’t full and while there arguably may or may not have been some of the latter, there was no evidence of the former – not that I could see (or smell). Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. It certainly does have a reputation of being LGBT friendly – certainly I got stared at less than usual. I liked it. A lot.
By mid afternoon I was back at the station for the quick run along the tracks to Mytholmroyd and thence the trudge back to the site. An hour in the recliner outside followed before consulting – again – the weather forecast for the next day and pondering sightseeing options.
Tuesday 12th April
The noise on the roof of the ‘van the next morning suggested said forecast was spot on, however I had a cunning plan. Well, not that cunning but it would enable me to achieve a few things, both desired and essential.
After brekky and preparation of the usual gammon baguette I got tarted up, fired up Hetty and set sail for Halifax. First up was the job of satisfying Hetty’s thirst and a search on the Petrol Prices App revealed the Asda just out of town to be the cheapest by some margin.
Hetty’s thirst having been quenched the next stop was the Bankfield Museum just a few minutes drive away. I’d fancied this anyway but it was the perfect destination for a wet day and both parking and entry were free. That always helps in any decision making.
The museum – and it has been one since 1887 – is in a Grade 2 listed Victorian mansion and you are greeted by an impressive stairway as you enter.
Inside is a varied collection of artefacts, both ancient and relatively modern. They along with storyboards tell the story not only of local mill owner Edward Akyoyd whose house it was but also the history of Calderdale and Halifax. I found it interesting, fascinating and learnt quite a bit about the area too.
Final stop of the day was at the Piece Museum, having located a nearby car park, it’s design reminding me how big Hetty is. With it still persisting down I swapped the long leather coat for my hooded rain coat and headed off.
Whilst you can wander around the Piece Hall itself – it’s largely independent shops, cafe’s and restaurants I wanted to do a bit more than just that so had booked a tour online the previous evening and made my way to the information centre just before the allotted time.
The guide met the small gathering and assured us that most of the tour would take place in the dry and anyway, it would stop raining soon. I’m not sure anyone believed her! There followed an hour perusing various locations around the Hall whilst we were regaled with a comprehensive history from it’s inception, it’s main purpose as a cloth trading centre, it’s later woes and then re-emergence as a shopping and meeting place following a Lottery grant.
It was a fascinating tour, well delivered and I learnt far more than I would have done just wandering aimlessly. Not only that but by the time we had finished the rain had indeed stopped! Just.
Satisfied I had made the best of the day given the weather I headed back to the car and thence back to the site for a late afternoon nap.
Wednesday 13th April
My last full day on site and I had a long debate with myself about what to do – head out again and make the most of it and be sensible and stay at the ‘van, tidying and packing up ready for departure the next day.
I eventually opted for the latter and to be honest regretted it, not least because I didn’t really achieve much – Patsy did get a hoover and a bit of a dust but to be honest I could have done that after a day out or even at my next stop. In my view I had wasted the day – lesson learnt.
Thursday 14th April.
Time to leave and head south. A decent run in sunny weather saw me arrive at my overnight stop in Northamptonshire just a short detour from the M1, along the A428 near the village of Crick.
Foxholes Camping was a Certificated Site under the Camping & Caravan Club scheme. It had good reviews for both location and offering and first impressions were very positive.
The site was empty but not wanting to muck about I pitched right near the entrance so could make a swift getaway in the morning. No sooner than legs were dropped then I was back out again, for a quick run to Rugby to, once again, satisfy Hetty’s thirst - and my hunger by way of a sandwich from the forecourt. And I needed some cash.
Back at the site I had a wander around – there was a large pond in one corner with electric hook up points dotted nearby. The recent looking facilities block had two loos, a shower, a washing up area and a microwave and fridge freezer. It looked well kept and clean too.
The owner came to see me and I handed over the folding and she very kindly agreed to unlock the gate early in the morning so I could make a prompt departure
Friday 15th April.
I was keen to avoid the inevitable holiday traffic and by 6:45am I was on the road back to the south coast. The journey was good and by 10am Patsy was back in her resting place, secured with a plethora of security devices and with the solar panel in the window.
It had been a superb trip – a mix of old favourites and new – sites and sights. I’d also enjoyed the company of a good friend, ate well and conducted some extensive research too thanks to my haul back in Alnwick.
Hetty had proved to be a superb tow car too, dragging lardy Patsy around seemingly with ease. Towing miles totalled just under a thousand – I haven’t worked out the fuel cost and have no intention of doing so!
Thank you for coming along for the ride, I’ve really enjoyed writing these and I hope you’ve enjoyed reading them too.
Until the next time
Rich