Crag

Our hike went off as planned despite glowering skies and spots of rain.

We left the house at nine and parked in Ranelathe, a place I dislike for the simple reason that I can never forget the terrible outings we had there with Nanna Beardsall and Reg when I was a kid. We would sit by the river while the latter would drag an unwilling Dad to the White Boar for a round, N.B.’s sandwiches of undercooked bacon and limp white bread getting bigger and bigger in my mouth as I chewed until, finally near to puking, I’d remove the rubbery mass without being seen.

With these memories looming large in my mind we set off over the bridge and on towards Carngill.

The Ainder was in full spate despite the drought, the water racing muddily between its banks. We tried unsuccessfully to cross through fields at Carngill but were forced back by a vicious looking brown bull with a ring through its nose which ignored Dad’s attempts to deter it with his stick. He was angry and “humiliated” at having to retrace his steps past two men repairing a roof who we presumed to be the creature’s owners.

We continued on the road through Raikel Stones. It grew very still and warm despite the overcast and as we climbed up onto the moors near High Edge Farm it looked as if it could thunder. . . .

We crossed a metaled road and continued along a green track emerging high above Whitgarth Reservoir which has recently been enlarged. Mum and Dad showed me a nearby barn that has been thatched with ling and heather by an expert from Northamptonshire at the behest of the Water Board. From then on it was a steady climb through fields to Dry Crag and the road which passes near Whitehill Cave; this we crossed to follow a rough rocky track across the moors, being passed by dozens of trials bikes, some of them quite old. We headed back down a metaled road to High Edge Farm in bright sun and our walk was nearly ended.

We were back at Ranelathe for six and at home within an hour.

Jeremy arrived at eight while I was on the ‘phone to Lee, who’d rung to say his bike has disappeared from the hallway of Maynard Gardens and that he was going round to tackle the prime suspects (from the Philip Street squat) with Gav, whose bike has gone as well, although his was stolen in the first place.

Our tape with the “whispers” has turned up at Radio Watermouth, which is good news as we thought it had been lost. I said to Lee that I’ll see him on Friday as I’ve got to sign on, but will probably come back straight away.

Jeremy is staying overnight.