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It had been a wet and windy night and it was a wet and windy morning. Lying in my tent, dry for now, I thought this would probably be my most testing day of the walk. I had one goal, to make it to Hebden, 25 miles away. I managed to pack away my things without everything getting wet and set off, visibility very low.

I was confronted with my first problem almost straight away as I approached the first stream of the day. It was running very fast and I could see stepping stones submerged a foot or so beneath the water. There was nothing for it. I took my boots and socks off and carefully waded across, up to my calves, without falling, thank God. Shoes back on, feeling quite the adventurer, I then had to repeat the exercise to cross the same stream 50 metres later. 

Finally past the stream, I walked for the next two hours on flagstones, up and down Black Hill until I reached Snake Pass. It was very wet still with water cascading down the path and the rain going sideways. However, I was making progress, albeit slowly, needing to take time to find a safe route where the path was completely submerged. 

About 10 o’clock as the path rose high above reservoirs, conditions worsened still further as the wind became stronger. I was walking in a northerly direction across the tops and the wind from the west seemed to accelerate across the ridge, buffeting me and throwing me sideways as if it wanted to pluck me up into the sky and deposit me 100 miles to the east in the middle of the North Sea. 

For the next three hours or so, I struggled on, walking diagonally against the wind to be able to proceed in a straight line. I imagined this to be a test. This was the Pennines biting back, showing its malevolent side. To enjoy the Pennines in glorious weather as I had yesterday requires you to submit to an ordeal by water, wind and sometimes worse on other days. 

As I continued into the afternoon, the rain started to fade, even though the wind did not. I said hello to a couple of fell runners, the first people I’ve seen all day. Shortly afterwards, I met 14 more, a party of hikers not afraid of a bit of wind. For my part, I was feeling hangry. I’d not eaten since breakfast. There was nowhere to stop except the possibility of a burger van a couple of miles further. It had been open the last time I was here when the weather had  been finer. There was also a pub just past Black Edge rocks, shut during the day, last time I passed. Neither turned out to be open today. I vowed to carry more emergency rations. I’d eaten the last of them the day before.

As I approached Black Edge rocks the clouds dissipated and I could see much further. While the wind continued its incessant assault, my mood brightened. At Black Edge the views across Lancashire were stunning. The weather in Oldham Rochdale, Blackburn etc. looked much better than up here. I imagined the people down there thought it quite a pleasant day, “bit windy in the afternoon, a bit of rain in the morning”.

As the afternoon approached and went, I walked past Black Edge and several other reservoirs, then to Stoodley Pike, much more impressive from a distance than up close. Finally, I walked the last mile or two down to Hebden, past their impressive chimney (I imagined Fred Dibnah waving at me from its top) down its very steep hills arriving finally at about 6 o’clock. My first port of call was to the Co-op for chocolate milk, sandwiches, cans of Diet Coke and all the other things I had promised myself over the proceeding 11 hour walk. 

Then I was off for a shower at my hostel. My rest day was tomorrow, I was looking forward to seeing Mikey and everything was good in the world again.

Day Summary

Ordeal by water and wind. A day to remember. A day to make the fine days seem even sweeter.