Читать книгу The Pennine Way - the Path, the People, the Journey онлайн

17 страница из 86

In the end, of course, the Pennine Way did indeed go up Grindsbrook Clough and across the centre of Kinder Scout, without signposts or a prominent line of cairns; and despite it being switched to Jacob’s Ladder, the original route is still a public right of way (and it’s all designated open access land anyway) so you can still walk it if you choose. But, as I tried to shelter from the gusting rain to check the map, shivering slightly despite several layers of clothing, I couldn’t help but think that the bigger challenge for the novice Pennine Way walker is simply getting over Kinder Scout in the first place.

There were some other ramblers dotted about the Downfall, huddling in slender rock crevices munching soggy sandwiches and looking stoical. I decided to power on through the murk and get off the summit. At the far north-western tip of Kinder Scout, the path descended steeply to Ashop Head and, all of a sudden, I dropped below the cloud line, the rain stopped and at last I could see. Below me, the Pennine Way veered right at Mill Hill on a long, slabbed path across Featherbed Moss. To the left, a path came up a small side valley called William Clough, on its way from distant Hayfield. It was along here, on Sunday 24 April 1932, that a group of ramblers answered a blast on a whistle by leaving the established right of way to scramble up the slopes in defiance of a line of gamekeepers. It was to become one of the most celebrated moments in the history of the outdoor access movement and, looking back now, was inextricably linked to the ensuing long fight to create the Pennine Way.