Tameside

Walking to Denton Station

It was another wet and dreary morning but I was desperate for some exercise to try and get some movement back in the joints after a largely inactive week so I thought I'd combine a walk with an exploratory exercise. Audenshaw Reservoir bugs me: access is permit only but permits are like yetis: everybody's heard of them but nobody has seen one or even knows where to look for them. And yet, whenever I pass by on the bus there are people walking round it. I got to wondering whether this was one of those "permit only" sites where it's possible to get child-looking-through-a-sweetshop-window views. Well, no it's not and I spent a couple of hours finding that out.

I got the train to Guide Bridge and the heavens opened. I had a quick look at the canal in the rain, there was nothing on today. Jackdaws and woodpigeons flew about the spire on St Stephens and black-headed gulls flew to and fro overhead. I've already tried and failed to find a way in from the Northern side down Audenshaw Road so I decided to look at the Eastern and Southern approaches (the West side is the M60). 

Audenshaw Ponderosa 

I headed down Guide Lane, dropped down the steps onto Churchfield and followed the road round to the bit of open parkland that Google Maps assures me is The Audenshaw Ponderosa. It's a few acres of grass with a few trees on it. The rain stopped as I walked along the path by the railway line but it stayed rather dark and gloomy. (This is the line between Guide Bridge and Stockport that has one train a week running on it.) There were lots of magpies, woodpigeons and carrion crows about. The flock of bullfinches I accidentally spooked out of the brambles by the line was a nice surprise, at least two males and two females flew into the trees and a couple of other birds darted into the gardens on the other side of the line. A goldcrest bouncing round in one of the trees by the path gave cracking views but wasn't inclined to stay still for any photographs.

I followed the path down to Stamford Road, crossed over and started walking down Corporation Street parallel to the reservoir, the high banks of which rose over the back of the industrial estate on that side of the road. I noticed that there was a footpath at the corner of Mansfield Avenue, one of the side roads, which ran alongside the railway at the side of a field, crossed the line at the Southeast corner of the reservoir then ran down to Denton Station on Hyde Road. This looked promising. The field was flooded but the path, mercifully, wasn't. More crows, magpies and woodpigeons and there was a blackbird fossicking about the side of the path every fifty yards. Overhead there was a steady passage of black-headed gulls, lesser black-backs and cormorants heading out from the reservoir to who knows where. 

Crossing the line and walking down the path there were plenty of gaps in the fence obviously used by kids but nothing that would permit entry by a portly old man who can read "No public access" notices. Halfway down the path became a vigorous little stream about three inches deep, the path only drying out when the stream leapt to one side to pour down the railway embankment at the station. There were dunnocks and robins and blackbirds in the hedgerow and a flock of forty-odd pigeons wheeled about the other side of Hyde Road.

It was evident that the only way to see any of the reservoir was to go in via the waterworks gate and, presumably, present your access permit. I admitted defeat.

I crossed the motorway and headed up the road towards Debdale Park, thinking I would walk through the park over to the Gorton Reservoirs for a nosy round. "Let's not," suggested my knees. The hedges by Denton Golf Course were busy with long-tailed tits, blue tits, magpies and woodpigeons. I got as far as Debdale Park and agreed with my knees, pavement traipsing on cool, wet days starts to take its toll after the three mile mark. I got the 7 to Stockport thence the 23 home to avoid the city centre.

The day wasn't a complete bust: I'd got some exercise, it hadn't been completely birdless and I can now definitely completely ignore the lure of any and all records from Audenshaw Reservoir with an entirely clear conscience.

There was literally just me standing at the entrance to the station.