On Blackstone Edge

But waved the wind on Blackstone Height
A standard of the broad sunlight
And sung that morn with trumpet might
A sounding song of liberty

Ernest Jones

Last Saturday after a few days stuck inside I was itching to get out of the house. I didn’t fancy driving and looking at the National Rails app most train routes were affected by engineering work or were simply affected by the incompetence of certain Rail Operators (i.e. Avanti). The stopper train from Wallgate to Leeds seemed to be running OK, though, so I decided to go to Littleborough, the last stop in Greater Manchester – which meant I could use my owd gits bus pass with add on GM rail and tram – and go for a walk up on Blackstone Edge.

The Edge is a 1,549 feet high escarpment, crowned with shattered outcrops of Millstone Grit, that looms over the small town of Littleborough. It’s on the border of Lancashire and Yorkshire, the Pennine Way runs across it, and it’s popular with climbers who come up here with their mats to go bouldering.

Its remote location, and relative proximity to the industrial centres of south east Lancashire and West Yorkshire, made it a good spot for meetings of radical workers’ organisations in the past, well away from the prying eyes of the yeomanry. It was particularly popular with the Chartist movement in the 1830’s and 40’s with one notable gathering held on 2nd August 1846, addressed by Ernest Jones, which was attended by over 30,000 supporters. Today we take it for granted that nearly all adults have the vote but I wonder how many people realise that this is a relatively recent right for working people – we had to fight for it and the Chartists were at the forefront of the struggle. They met with determined opposition from the ruling class – Prime Minister Lord John Russell for example pronounced himself completely satisfied with the way the British electoral system functioned, declaring “Nobody else gets the vote, and that’s final” – and they didn’t hesitate to employ the full force of the state against them, which is why they had to meet in out of the way locations like Blackstone Edge.

I wasn’t going to a gathering, though, (athough I’ve been to a few in my time!) and, in fact, I saw very few people on my walk.

I’d been up here a few times in recent years and this time plotted am anti-clockwise circular route going up the edge from the south west

Leaving the station I made my way over the canal and then joined the path heading south in the direction of Hollingworth Lake

I turned west and then north to make my way to the Pennine Bridleway which passes below the Edge

Walking past pleasant fields, the clouds were dissipating and the sun was shining

First glance over towards the Edge – where’s the sun gone?

Skirting Hollingworth Hill I reached the farm buildings at Sykes, with Benny Hill behind (no, not THAT Benny!)

I followed the Pennine Bridleway for a while before branching off on a path and started the climb up towards the Edge – this is the view looking backwards across the valley to the hills and wind farms to the west towards Rossendale

There’s the Edge ahead. Keep climbing!

I eventually reached to top of the ridge and was soon amongst the gritstone outcrops. The rocks look black but there real colour is a mid to dark grey. The black is a coating of ingrained industrial soot and grime emitted from the factory chimneys and domestic coal burning fireplaces over a few centuries. Over time the weathering of the rocks reveals its true colour, but it will take some time for the grime to be completely weathered away.

I was now walking along the Pennine Way. In the distance I could see Pendle Hill on the horizon. I could also see the monument on top of Stoodley Pike peeping over the high moors

Looking back at some of the formations as I passed

Shattered rock

Round depressions in the rocks created by the action of particles of grit propelled by the wind and rain

Starting to descend from the ridge

I reached the Aiggin Stone. A aMedieval waymarker, some 600 years old. The moors here are crossed by several old paths and packhorse trail and a Roman Road was also built over the moors Manchester (Mamucium / Mancunium ) to a small fort at Ilkley (Verbeia). I turned left here to start my descent

I was now walking down what many believe to be the remains of that Roman road. Cobbles set close to each other are clearly visible for a good stretch, There’s been some controversy about this cobbled route over the years, with other theories advocating that it’s either a packhorse trail or an early industrial road. Who knows? Clearly this is a well trodden route used over many centuries by Romans, medieval travellers, packhorses and wheeled traffic. I like to think, though that we can see the remnants of a road laid down by the Romans.

Descending down the hill there was a good view back up to the gritstone formations on the Edge

I made my way back down to the Pennine Bridleway and headed back below the hill, then across the golf course and then back on the path that took me across the path and then along the road to the station. It had turned into a hot and sunny afternoon and I was gasping for a cold drink. I had over half an hour to wait for the direct train to Wigan so I took advantage of the Co-op shop next to the station to buy a couple of cold bottles of diet Coke. I’m not particularly fond of the stuff but the cold liquid was welcome refreshment as I waited for my train.