Horwich moors

Stonechat, Burnt Edge 

After last week's wanders on the fringes of the Peak District I thought I'd treat my knees to a bit of a walk on level ground around Martin Mere.

Well I got that wrong.

I wanted a lazy morning and had to drag myself kicking and screaming to the station in time for the train. We got held up outside Deansgate because the Southport train was running late (the Southport train and the Warrington train both terminate on platform five; nothing uses platform one) so I missed the Blackpool train. No matter, I could get the Barrow train and still get to Bolton in time to catch the Southport stopper from Victoria and get to New Lane before lunchtime. The Barrow train was packed standing solid (the Edinburgh train had been cancelled and its passengers told to change at Preston) and I was damned glad I wasn't travelling further. Until the Southport train was cancelled. Still, I could wait ten minutes longer and get the next Southport train and walk up to Martin Mere from Burscough Bridge rather than New Lane. Except I couldn't because that was cancelled, too. I took the hint and got a refund on my tickets.

Pied wagtail, Georges Lane

I was in Bolton so I decided it was high time I went for a stroll on the Horwich moors. I got the 125 to Bottom o'th' Moor and started walking up Georges Lane. The day had started a bit chilly but it was warming up in the sunshine and a breeze was keeping everything fresh. Blackbirds, willow warblers and chaffinches sang in the trees, woodpigeons, jackdaws and a pied wagtail fossicked about in the fields, a few carrion crows flew by.

Georges Lane by Wilderswood 

As I walked by Wilderswood dunnocks, robins and whitethroats joined the songscape, spadgers and yet more chaffinches and goldfinches bounced about in the hedgerows, swallows swooped across the road and greenfinches and linnets called from the trees.

Rivington Pike from Georges Lane

Passing Wilderswood and heading for Rivington Pike Café a few meadow pipits flitted about in the fields and skylarks sang above them. I scanned the dry stone walls looking for stonechats and found myself a female wheatear sitting on a stone before she dived into the bracken. A kestrel hovered over the slopes before drifting downhill and two pairs of ravens convened to do aerial acrobatics before going their separate ways.

At the Rivington Pike Café 

Starlings, Rivington Pike Café 

I had a cup of tea by the café, trying to see if any of the lapwings had babies and watching the baby starlings begging from their parents as they ran amongst the sheep with the jackdaws. Swallows swooped around the café, a chaffinch sang in the back garden, God knows where the mallard came from. Down the slope a few black-headed gulls drifted across the fields. It was all rather pleasant.

Swallows, Rivington Pike Café 

Looking down into Horwich 

I walked up the road into Lancashire, scouring the fields below me for stonechats. Great tits and robins joined the willow warblers singing in the plantations and a pair of swifts skimmed the treetops. I was pretty sure I didn't want to walk into Rivington today, I had a yen to walk up towards Winter Hill. Any doubts I had were dispelled by the arrival of a group of young women orienteers with a strong Sing As You Go ethic. I turned and walked back to the café, along the way I discovered that the stonechats were nesting uphill of the road this year.

Rivington Reservoir and Rivington Pike 

Rivington Pike 

I walked up to Two Lads, stepping aside for a large group of young lady orienteers to descend. I bumped into some last week in Glossop, too. Evidently I've missed a trend. The weather was fine, there was a cool breeze to help the climb and the moor was chock full of singing skylarks and meadow pipits. Every so often a black-headed gull would pass by and there were jackdaws and carrion crows by the cairns.

Skylark, Two Lads 

Winter Hill from Two Lads

I walked down to the road, had a potter up towards Winter Hill just so I could say I did then walked down to Bottom Hole to join the path to Burnt Edge. Stonechats, linnets and goldfinches bobbed about in the bushes by the path and willow warblers sang in the mature trees in the hollows. A familiar unfamiliar "kyack!" made me look up as I was negotiating a steep climb and I spotted a female ring ousel flying low up the other side of the gully.

Walking between Bottom Hole and Burnt Edge 
The steps down and up this gulley are hard on the knees, not least because they end three feet above the bank of the stream.

See?

Walking between Bottom Hole and Burnt Edge

Walking between Bottom Hole and Burnt Edge

Approaching Burnt Edge 

Kestrel, Burnt Edge 

Kestrel, Burnt Edge 

The walk over to Burnt Edge was splendid. Willow warblers, skylarks, mipits and chaffinches sang. Swallows twittered by. Blackcaps joined the songscapes in the plantations, whitethroats in the open scrub and curlews over the open moor. It made a change looking down on a kestrel as it preened and surveyed the ground from a telephone pole. A tree pipit singing by the plantation at Burnt Edge was a nice find.

Burnt Edge 

Burnt Edge

Walking from Burnt Edge to Walkers Fold 

Approaching Walkers Fold

The walk between Burnt Edge and Walkers Fold provided more of the same, with a lot more singing goldfinches about in the trees. There was a passage of black-headed gulls flying up to moorland roosts. Swifts and swallows hawked overhead, and a buzzard soared over the farmland below.

The path to High Shore Clough

I arrived at Walkers Fold with every intention of walking down Walkers Fold Road to get the 125 back to Bolton from Chorley Old Road so imagine my surprise when I found myself walking along the rough footpath to Barrow Bridge with the sun on my back and the breeze in my face. Blackbirds, blackcaps and robins sang in the trees, wrens, goldfinches and whitethroats in the bushes, starlings and greenfinches muttered their disapproval anytime I got too close as I passed by.

Marsh thistle, High Shore Clough 

Willow warblers dominated the songscape as I walked across the meadow towards Higher Shore Clough, they were singing from the trees along the clough. There was a huge drift of meadow horsetail, something I don't see often enough to recognise instinctively (I'm all too familiar with field horsetail!). It provided a lacy backdrop to the pillars of marsh thistle dotted throughout. I would have expected a lot of butterflies but I saw none, and not that many bees, either.

Steps down to Dean Brook 

I thought I'd been clever and taken the path avoiding the staircase leading down to Dean Brook and I thought wrong. I considered sliding down the bannister until I remembered the dirty big stone wall at the bottom. 

Grey wagtail, Dean Brook

The brook was running fast and clear, I had a scan round for dippers or grey wagtails, just in case. I checked the buses and found I was fine for catching the 526 back into Bolton. I was just approaching Barrow Bridge Road, thinking to myself that the brook really ought to have dippers and grey wagtails when a dipper flew past me downstream. I hurried to the bridge to see if I could see it and found a grey wagtail fossicking about on the rocks by the bridge.

I walked down to the bus stop feeling pleased with myself. The first chiffchaff of the day sang in the trees with a coal tit and another grey wagtail flew up the brook by the road. Sometimes Northern's inability to provide a train service is a blessing in disguise.

Walking between Bottom Hole and Burnt Edge