
I play back the dashcam footage of the hill climb from Waddington, up the fell, past the ancient Walloper Well. For a time, all you can see is the road in front of you, but then it opens out, and the Forest of Bowland is arrayed like a revelation of paradise. There should be music. Vaugh Williams’ – Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis would be perfect.
But the disjoint between the all seeing mind’s eye, and that cold, wide-lensed, dashcam evidence, is too great. The hills look distant and underwhelming. I made a movie of it anyway and posted it with some bouncy music that isn’t exactly Vaughn Williams. You have to drive it, really. There’s no other way to appreciate it. If you imagine it, you’ll be closer to the reality. Imagine it in a little blue car, with the top down, and the sky and light, and the scent of the moor, and the sound of birds, and you’ll be closer still.
This is one of the most beautiful roads. It takes you from the roaring ribbon of the Liverpool to York A59, and leads you through some of Lancashire’s most remote and beautiful places. Today it takes us through the still relatively thriving little town of Clitheroe, over the fell, to the Gisburn Forest, and finally the Stock’s reservoir.
Unlike the car, I’m not firing on all cylinders. I’ve had mild stomach cramps for days, also a lack of energy that’s had me nodding off in the afternoons. I’m negative for Covid, which is a plus, but whatever kind of bug it is doesn’t help. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come out but, even when you’re retired, you find some days are taken up by routine, and then you’re watching the weather forecast for the best day. It was today, or put it off until next week, and next week I have other walks planned. So here we are.
The plan is for a simple circuit of the Stocks Reservoir. It’s a popular route. The forest is also a favourite destination for cyclists, there being a multiplicity of trails here, and I did wonder if we’d struggle to park, but we arrive late morning, and all is quiet. I’ve only been able to scrape together sufficient coin for one ticket machine, which is disappointing, as I’d also wanted to park in Slaidburn, later, on the way back, for coffee. We’re in luck, though, the ticket machine here is broken. Coffee is definitely on.

That said, it’s not the best of days for visiting. Reservoirs are attractive when they’re swelled up with winter rains, and fully reflective of the light, but by late summer most of that has gone, and you’re left with an ugly tide line, and threats of hose-pipe bans. Judging by how low the Stocks is today, we’re not far from rationing. This is my first time in the Gisburn forest and I have the sense of having missed out. I’ll be back in the autumn, when colours will be awesome.
So, we set the route on the GPS app, and while I’m fiddling with it, Google sends me a message wanting to back up more of my phone to “the cloud”. It assures me it’s doing me a favour, that it makes things easier when you change your phone, which is true, but I’m not stupid. I give it permission anyway. They snoop on our stuff, whether we like it or not.
We don’t actually need the aid of any fancy navigation tools here. The route is well-marked, along good paths, right from the car-park, so there’s little chance of going astray. Summer is in full flush and bursting with fruit. There are wild raspberries growing in profusion, which slows progress with a little foraging by my companion for the day: number two son. I’m mindful of my naggy stomach, and manage to exercise restraint, though he declares them mouthwatering.
My head is already swimming with the heat, and the humidity. Cloud cover is more or less total, and slow moving, but with dramatic texture, and colour variation. The fells around are rendered flat and green, just the occasional pool of soft light to brighten them. There is no air. Every shot I take with the camera is off somehow. Better just plod my way round while thinking of coffee in Slaidburn, and trying not to think how empty the reservoir is.

It’s tempting to read the emptiness in a metaphorical way, possibly encouraged by my spirits, which are flattened by this bug. A broad splash of sparkling water would certainly add an attractive focus for the day. But everything about it speaks of something tired and drained. The bits of shore we can get near to, are parched, dusty and post apocalyptic. We could pile the metaphors on and say the surrounding fells are timeless, beautiful, the light ethereal, while the reservoir, man-made, is wanting and reflective of the parlous state of Albion’s future. But that’s nihilism, and if I were feeling any better, I’d say we’re all doing our best under trying circumstances, though without competent leadership. It’s possible to still be positive, but requires taking a complex position, one somewhat removed.
In the I Ching or Book of Changes, there’s a hexagram which has the image of a lake, and clouds rising over it, and it says: “the clouds rise, but no rain falls”. It’s about anticipation, and waiting on the rains, waiting for deliverance. In the meantime, there’s nothing you can do. It’s all in the hands of the gods, and we do better to spend time improving ourselves, than beating our chests over what we think is lacking in the external world.
And for me, the biggest lack is energy. At over seven miles for the circuit, I find it a long walk, and I’m very glad to return to the car. Then it’s a short drive, back to Slaidburn for coffee. Slaidburn is one of my happy places. I’d bring the kids here when they were little, and we’d picnic on the green, feed the ducks. Number two son remembers it, but vaguely. To me, it’s clear as yesterday.
We park next to a newer model of the little blue car, and admire its lines. A lady sitting out by the green with coffee says the car is hers, and how she used to have one just like mine, and how much she loved it, but it rotted away, so she got a new one. I’ve had lots of conversations like that over the years, with fellow enthusiasts, though the thought of mine rotting away does not improve my lack of spirits, having just spent a fortune on doing her up, and thinking she was looking pretty good.
Though I’m still tired and off-song, I sense something of a blessing in the afternoon, as I sit out under a now glowering sky. A deep English summer, gloomy holiday weather,… a sense of peace, a sense of anticipation too, perhaps, as the other clientele of the little café chat quietly. One man has come off the M6 at Lancaster and is working his way slowly through Bowland, looking to rejoin the M6 at the Tickled Trout. There was heavy traffic, and hold-ups, he said, and though he’d probably have been quicker sticking to the motorway, he wouldn’t be the first to have taken a detour through Bowland and arrived home late, but all the better for it.
There’s a hint of fine drizzle now, a faint but blessed cooling. There’s a movement of air, a sense of ease, and the coffee tastes like heaven. The lady with the car is moving off, and we return her parting wave. Nice car that. New fangled, of course, and I prefer the spartan technology of my own. I’m glad I did the walk, added it to the map in my head, the one Google doesn’t get to see, but if there’s a moment that drew me into the day, and made it worth the setting out, it’s this right now, sitting by the river, with coffee.
It’s coming up on worker’s home-time, and the roads are busy from Clitheroe. I’m thinking I do well to drive such an old car that’s still reliable enough to get me about, that the arm and a leg I spent on her bodywork was worth it. Then, as if to check my pride, we go hard into a roundabout and there’s a howl from the front nearside wheel. I’ve no idea what that is. It’s a wheel bearing maybe, or something wobbly with the disks. She likes to keep me on my toes, and the garage guessing. Looks like I’ll be leaving her at home next week, while I explore that one.
I’ll leave you with Vaughn Williams. He sums up the day, and all without a single word.
Thanks for listening.
Great post that!
Now I’m partially retired but have quite a bit of freedom over when I have to do the work for my part time job, I know exactly what you mean about deciding what days to go out. I’m currently keeping my eye on the weather this week as I hope to get a day out somewhere 🙂
I’ve done the walk around the reservoir many years ago, starting and finishing at Slaidburn. It’s on my list to repeat, but probably in the autumn.
I went past Yarrow reservoir a couple of weeks ago and it was a slow as I’ve ever seen it.
What a great post and Michael I thoroughly enjoyed the car trip. Brilliant. I’d walk that tomorrow if I could shake off this bug that I’ve had for a couple of weeks! Did the test 3 times and all clear! Trouble was my wife has also come down with similar, again not Covid, all 4 tests clear. Unfortunately because of her health record she is likely to take much longer to recover! Getting there, though. The Vaughan Williams is fabulous, by the way. Hope your little car is safe and well, and you, of course!
Thank you, Ashley. Sorry to hear you’re struggling with a bug as well. We tend to forget it’s not just about Covid, that there are other things still around looking to hitch a ride. Hope you both pick up swiftly.
Glad you enjoyed the Vaughn Williams. One of my favourites of his.
I think you, like many, over medicalise your malaise. Not to say that there wouldn’t be a medical explanation, and nor that a medic might not intervene and save you from some deadly infection or cancer, but I think it most unlikely that the answer would be found in medicine, more likely in rest, and fresh air, and exercise, and in escape from anything that causes stress. A tricky balance though, who knows when we might miss out on some marvellous intervention.
You refer to the shore as “post apocalypse”, but I think we are living through the apocalypse, in the form of a series of degrading disasters and increasing human ignorance. I am sitting in our small garden which is looking sad on account of the drought, but also of our own neglect. But we have lovely shady hedges and trees and they seed all over the place. Self seeded trees seem to do so much better than those we plant!
I never wanted to live through the apocalypse but I find I can keep my head together if I keep things simple.
Sorry,
I thought about that, and you aren’t guilty of “medicaliseing”, (is that a word?), probably the C word set me off, but that was you being socially responsible, not medical. I obviously wanted to say what I said to someone else, and you got in the way!
P.s.
I hope you feel better soon and get at the raspberries!
Hi there, sounds like you were having a bit of a vexed exchange – and thank goodness it was with someone else. I wouldn’t worry. Certainly my malaise wasn’t somehting I’d trouble the sawbones with – not least since he’s become a very elusive fellow. And you’re right, fresh air, exercise, a good night’s sleep (or several) and a positive frame of mind has slain many an ill. I seem to be on the mend now, thanks, getting the energy back at least.
Your garden sounds like mine this year. You can’t beat a comfy old chair in a shady spot, outdoors and the sound of bees. We do seem to be living through the apocalypse, and it makes you feel quite dizzy at everything going on. I’ve stopped saying the only way from here is up. So, yes, keep things simple and minimise the intake of current affairs.
I think that’s true about self seeded trees. They get themselves into all sorts of unlikely nooks and crannies, and thrive, while the seeds I nurture never do.
All the best!
Have just been transported around Stocks in 17 minutes thanks to you and Vaughan Williams.
I often have his symphonic music in my ears on country walks, he seems to capture the mood so well. Your recording is one of his most famous and that string orchestra was spot on. A wonderful discourse between the lead violin and viola .
On a more mundane note I was shocked at how low the reservoir was. In past droughts the walls of the submerged village have appeared. The little roadside church you will have passed was rebuilt on higher ground when the valley was flooded.
Hope the lethargy is temporary.
Vaughn Williams does seem to get at the soul of the English countryside. Glad you enjoyed it. I thought that recording was one of the best I’ve listened to, and that particular piece is my favourite of his. The Stocks was certainly very low, but not being familiar with it, I wasn’t sure how it compared with previous years. The few people I met on the walk all said it was the lowest they’d ever seen it. United Utilities were carrying out works on the dam, so I did wonder if they’d let some water go as part of that.
I’ll definitely be back in the Autumn for the colours.
I think the energy is returning, thanks.