Or maybe that should simply be: “in excelsior!”

The walk of Saturday March fourth, 2023

One of the highlights, visually speaking, of last weeks sampling of Anglezarke moor had been the apparent proximity of the lesser summit of Noon Hill which had seemed tantalisingly close at times.  With this in mind during the week I set about putting a route together which would take in this hill and maybe one or two others, namely Winter Hill and Rivington Pike. Conveniently from my point of view, these peaks all sat on the same moor, Rivington Moor, it was high time to do a tour.

I set off on route at 10:03 and headed up the stony path in a northerly/easterly direction, whilst rejoicing in the quiet, there was nobody on my route all the way up to the furthest car park where I would turn right and onto the long bridal way. Eventually, after crossing the section referred to as “The Great Lawn” I met with a man in his mid twenties (and his dog) who was out and about enjoying the fresh air and for a couple of minutes we exchanged walkers’ tales of why we were here and what we hoped to gain from the day. This being done I altered from my original route (the chap had set out in the same direction I was planning on going and it’s just weird to walk near someone to whom one has just bade farewell!), so I rounded the corner – a long corner, and ended up on the little path which took me to the great bridal way which changes its name on occasion. The toilets that were, around twenty years ago, are now a café – which in spite of being fairly well advertised (on my route at least), was closed, much to the disappointment of two ladies who had strayed within earshot.  Maybe this will become a financial success – I’m hedging my bets on this as the one very obvious sticking point is the supply path which could be described as a suspension wrecker and another being that people by and large only frequent this locale in great numbers at weekend, during the week it’s echo hillside! I continued my journey in a northerly direction, choosing not to call in at the Pigeon Tower which was having an open day. To me the thought of queueing up for admission and being in close proximity to other people and their kids, and their yapping little dogs and their inherent stupidity, was just abhorrent! I’d have sooner gouged my own eyes out! Plus by now there was already a degree of mud on the souls of my boots and that mixed with wooden or stone flooring would have been a recipe for tripping! I turned right and headed in the direction of Catter Nab, I could practically feel Noon Hill calling me. It would be some time before I came across ‘stile number three’ which according to Bing’s interpretation of Ordnance Survey maps gives access to the quickest and most direct route from the main bridal path to the summit of Noon Hill.

I anticipated the route would be wet, I was not wrong, but then not as wet as I had feared, which was a blessing and the views afforded to the immediate environ were a real treat. It was joyous to be away from the screaming kids and yapping dogs, which were by now receding gently into the distance, if you want solace on the moors you have to work at it and at times this rang true ascending the direct and easy to follow path up to the summit. I stopped a number of times, the going was relatively good but the promised bounty of the summit, when all was said and done, was at the top of a hill! It is only now, as I write this, I am able to bask in the success of having yomped up the slope from Catter Nab to the summit in just seven minutes, unless the timestamp on my photos are wrong but let’s assume they are not.

I am too experienced in the lore of walking to fantasize that the next stretch: from the summit cairn of Noon Hill to the trig point on Winter Hill, would be anything other than an arduous and sticky slog over typically west Pennines peaty and boggy terrain. And how accurate was this prediction?  The clue was evidenced ahead of time by the width of the track, I deduced farmers had driven over this area on quad bikes – given the width of the tyre tracks and that of the path. I’m pretty sure this is dedicated United Utilities land so the only real reason for the farmers’ presence would have been for leisure – cheeky buggers! Nevertheless this was a fantastic guide practically all the way to the service road at the very top of Winter hill except for one very minor section where the path degraded into a complete mud-fest leaving me with no other option than to backtrack to a drier section and turn off towards one of the numerous sub-buildings of the Winter Hill Antenna Complex – where I spied a number of hang gliders in varying states of flight.

I hadn’t factored in a touching of the ordnance survey column but given what I had just spent the last hour traipsing  through it seemed futile not to do so on this occasion. The trig point sits in isolation on a muddy piece of land adjacent to the service road. I’ve had reason to call here no more than ten times in the last twelve years but this was the first time that I noticed that there are three stiles to access the northern slope here – I had never noticed more than one. Interestingly, on every ascent of Winter Hill from the northern approaches I have always managed to access the summit by routes which omit even the stile that is no more than five metres behind the column! I re-joined the service road and ruefully passed the meeting of the ways which could offer me a chance to wander over and bag Counting Hill and a circular (square) route back to the main Winter Hill road – it’s another two miles onto the route so I declined the chance in case of rain. Within a matter of a handful of minutes I was boldly stepping from the road and onto the great wide, muddy track across the greater expanse of Rivington Moor.

If there’s one motivating phrase to retain in mind when crossing this path it’s this “keep the faith”. If there are signs of a lot of footprints ahead, you’re on the right track, if you can see Rivington pike dead ahead, you are on the right track and if the path ahead of you suddenly becomes a muddy mess, you are on the right track! The way to lose the track on Winter Hill is to try and chase the dryness, that is not going to work and not only will you end up in completely the wrong direction but your feet will be soaked too, if not your ankles and shins. Don’t get me wrong, no matter how much the ‘friends of Rivington’ might piss about uncovering ‘secret’ paths, nothing in this area is as absorbing and engaging as the crossing of this route, it’s simply exquisite. Yes, it can get the souls of your boots caked in mud / peat and it can make you slow to a speed of less than one mile per hour but if you wanted quicker progress you should have come down via Crooked Edge hill – which is awful! I was taken aback at how many other walkers I saw traversing the moor – most going in the opposite direction. Admittedly the count would probably not hit thirty but that is still 25 or so more than I would normally expect to see. I genuinely felt a pang of sorrow when I reached the short steep little climb to the fence at the edge of the track, it’s just so engulfing! I hopped across the stony road, fearful of oblivious mountain bikers and onto a short pull up to the summit of Rivington Pike, my third and final peek of the day.

As could be expected the summit mound was fairly overwhelmed with walkers, their kids, yapping dogs and all that goes with this hill at a weekend. I’m wondering if I should avoid this gorgeous little lump of a hill for the rest of the year! I stayed no more than two minutes and gingerly made my way down the enormous steps, still wary that at any time an unleashed dog could send me painfully stumbling down. I made my way past the Café at the bottom of the Pike – open Wed – Sun 10:00 – 16:00 – apart from today, which I believe should have been covered! We’ll see! The rest of the walk had me zig-zagging my way back to the car taking in much of my out-going route, mainly I wanted to be free of the yapping dogs which were by now becoming somewhat overwhelming. I made it back to the car by 13:41 meaning just 3 hours and 38 minutes on route, not a bad performance at all.

In summing…

This was a good walk, a much-needed foray back into the world of climbing summits, no matter how small they are! I was already as prepared as could be for the mud, water and marshes on the approach to and descents from Winter Hill – they are somewhat renown in the walking community but I retain that they should be left as they are. We don’t need Winter Hill to have the same kind of restorative attention which has gone on at the Yorkshire three peaks and more recently at poor old Pendle. Keep your bloody sandstone pitched paths to yourself thank you very much. I appreciate that it might be some time before I get back out into the countryside again, owing to weather, but for now this will certainly tide me over.