Winter Hill

Wheatear, Hole Bottom

An early start to the day, occasioned by next door's builder getting the heavy power tools to work first thing. I decided to get away by having a walk up Winter Hill. The bright, sunny morning of eight o'clock became grey and gloomy by nine, which bode well for a comfortable walk on the moors.

I started off from Georges Lane, hopping off the 125 from Bolton. It was a quiet morning with just a few magpies and woodpigeons in the fields. A lone house martin flew over as I approached Wilderswood. I thought there were a few more over Wilderswood itself but it turned out to be 150 or more sand martins.

Walking up to Winter Hill

I turned off onto the path that goes up to the maintenance road for the Winter Hill transmitter. The only birds along this stretch were a couple of meadow pipits. I'd walked up the road as far as Hole Bottom when I noticed a wheatear flitting about on a bit of old wall. As I was watching it I noticed a couple of others further along.

Winter Hill, looking towards Manchester

That was the lot until I was almost at the transmitter station when a couple of red grouse shot up from the roadside and magically disappeared into the short grass not ten yards away.

Wheatear, Winter Hill summit

There had been reports of black redstarts around here so I had a close nosy round, with nothing for my efforts save a couple more wheatears. A circling figure on the horizon turned out to be somebody's model plane. 

I weighed up the options: I could carry on down to Belmont or I could turn back and wander towards Burnt Edge. The biting North wind had some wet about it, which didn't make the trek over to Belmont for a bus that runs every two hours very appealing. 

So I retraced my steps and bumped into a chap who told me he'd just seen a couple of black redstarts at the edge of the transmitter compound. Typical of black redstarts to select the only bit of industrial brickwork in miles of open country. I selected a block of concrete to sit on and have my lunch (a peanut bar and a Capri-Sun) while I kept an eye out for any small bird movements. Most of the small bird movements turned out to be ends of duct tape and similar fluttering in the wind. A male pied wagtail bobbed his head out of a gutter outflow. He emerged and watched me awhile then retreated whence he came. After quarter of an hour I was starting to be glad I'd put my heavy jacket on. 

I decided to move on, whereupon a small bird flitted across the compound and landed on one of the windowsills. A female or first-Winter black redstart which flicked and fanned its dark red tail then promptly disappeared. A second bird flitted over and lingered even less.

Taking one last look around the place I thought I spotted the model plane flying about again. Luckily I looked twice: it was a kestrel.

Rivington Pike from Winter Hill

I walked back down and took the path that goes from Hole Bottom to Burnt Edge. The walk and the scenery made up for a lack of birds. A few carrion crows and meadow pipits flew about in the heather while half a dozen swallows flew overhead. Closer to Burnt Edge there were a few woodpigeons and a couple of house martins.

Walking towards Burnt Edge

I had a rummage round the small conifer plantation on Burnt Edge and found nothing but a couple of uncharacteristically quiet wrens and a shy robin.

There were more swallows overhead on the way down to Walkers Fold. There was a lot of timber cutting going on in Walkers Fold Woods and that drowned out nearly all the bird calls.

I stopped for a few minutes in Walkers Fold car park to look at the map. Along the way I'd bumped into a chap who said a black-necked grebe was showing well on High Rid Reservoir. I reckoned the walk down was doable so I set off down Walkers Fold Road. Which turned out to be still closed for roadworks so I headed off on the footpath along Dakin's Brook to try and get round them.

A couple of ravens circled overhead, one of them holding some indeterminate object which must have been food of some sort given the other's attentions.

Sheep's bit scabious

The path through to High Shire Clough ran through a meadow seething with sheep's bit scabious. Even on a dull day like this they attracted lots of bees, hoverflies and large white butterflies.

Dean Brook

The woodland by Dean Brook was very quiet. I got to Barrow Bridge Road and decided not to dogleg back past the golf course to get back onto Chorley Old Road. Frankly, I didn't fancy the steep inclined plane up to the golf course. I walked into Barrow Bridge in time to just miss the bus into Bolton so walked down into Smithills and caught a bus there. I'll have to hope the black-necked grebe lingers awhile.