On leaving the house, I usually glance up at Darwen moor to get an idea of what weather is heading our way. Last week, to my surprise, the trees below Darwen Tower were standing out white with hoar frost against the darker moorland. Intrigued, we changed our plans and made our way up the hill so we could witness the effect up close.
My favourite routes follow the footpaths that criss-cross the moor rather than the main ones. Underfoot, imagine a slender, uneven path that suits itself to the contours of the land, leads over the crests; around miniature valleys; skirts streams, drops and denser vegetation; and heads straight through a series of boggy crossroads.
While the paths are easy to make out, they’re almost always muddy (which means slippery) and are littered with uneven stones. Ideally designed to twist an ankle.
The ground rises and falls underfoot to take account of an unassuming patchwork of mosses, heather and other low-growing, tufty, moorland plants which together make interlocking little mounds, broken up by ferns and grasses. The frost was giving them highlights, but my locally attuned eye delights in them on the drabbest day.
Strategically placed stepping stones make it possible to cross the worst of the waterlogged bits. Historically placed by fellow walkers, not local authorities, most ‘crossings’ show signs of just-in-time planning, providing the bare minimum needed for passage. Excess provisions will, over the years, have been repurposed to help navigate a new worst bit.
On a winter’s day, the stepping stones don’t look much different to the rest of the mud, and may or may not be loose underfoot, but have faith: barring a new, recent landslide, there will be a way.
While we hardly see anyone else during our climb, the mud offers proof that we’re never really travelling alone up there. A hodge-podge of footprints, pawprints and hoofprints show how many have recently passed this way.
Today, the trees are stealing the show. Darwen Tower is wearing a white scarf of frosted birches.
Close up, the effect is remarkable. I hope you can feel some of the magic.
We passed above farmland on our way up – you might just be able to pick out a white horse, recently immortalised in a video about the town. We’re really not all that high or far from Darwen, but it always seems like another world.
I’ll leave you with proof that we reached Darwen Tower. Sadly no cakes or hot chocolate were on offer. It’s grim up North.
Shared for the lovely Jo’s Monday Walk.
Susan Rushton 
Pure magical enchantment! 🤩Thank you for sharing your beautiful photos with us. 🙏🏼
My pleasure, Eliza. It’s a treat better when shared.
My heavens. That’s an entirely magical landscape. How long does the frost last? Obviously it would depend on the temperature, but if I saw even a hint of it, I’d be off on a walk, too — just to see as much as I could before it melted away.
It didn’t last long – less than a day, I’d guess. We have plenty of moisture but the air is not usually still enough for hoar. I’d have gone back up the day after, given the chance, but it was gone.
Beautiful, strong yet delicate trees and grass.
The frost picks out lines and patterns we don’t usually see.
Your photos are magical. Lovely tour. It must have been an exciting walk.
It’s hard not to enjoy it if you’re used to the climb. Not many days like that one, though, which is why I wanted to capture it.
Well described and beautifully photographed. Nice grim up North statement 🙂
My grim up North statements should always be read with a smile, as you correctly interpret.
Yep.
A lovely walk with some beautiful spots.
It’s a great place to be familiar with. Google makes it look flat and featureless, but to local eyes, it is anything but.
Gasp! How unreal the real! Yes, we do seem to be thinking along the same lines! I got six minutes into the video and will continue it later, when I will have a word or two more (when don’t !?) but right now I can say that the guide in it has incredible energy! The moor and your writing are beautiful!
When Wandering Turnip goes on to the tower you’ll be even more impressed by his energy. Seeing the town might remove a few of your illusions that it is all trees and flowers though!
Indeed it isn’t all trees and flowers, but the trees and flowers are there!
Handsome and beautiful photos of a winter wonderland. Glad you made it up and back safely.
Me too! We did not want to add to the woes of our health service by doing ourselves an injury, so avoided the really treacherous routes – there are a few!
I just finished watching the video. The Wandering Turnip?? He’s hilarious! But he gave me a stomachache as I watched him run up and up after that huge lunch! It was especially fun to watch after having visited there through your blog. Darwen looks nothing like where I’m from, and yet it is much like it with its remnants of industry. Darwen has done a better job of holding onto its personality. I enjoyed his praise of the old.
Ah, I see you are well acquainted now, with the Turnip and the town after making a coffee, perhaps? I liked his framing of the old town too. I will not be taking up the offer of a pint to try to beat him to the top, but perhaps not running up after loading up with carbs is where we are going wrong.
Not sure I’d call that “going wrong.” Loading up with carbs and then running/climbing like that? Pass the oxygen. Even when I was his age, I couldn’t have done that. I’m glad to hear you aren’t taking up his challenge — I’d have to think there are less risky ways to earn a pint! A fun video, for all that.
We met a man from Sheffield this weekend whose granny was offered 20 cigarettes and 3 pints to be an extra in The Full Monty when it was being filmed near to where she lived. She’d turned them down.
I’m shaking my head here. An insult to all grannies!
A magical winter wonderland! Thank you for a refreshing morning walk.
It certainly was refreshing, even though the air was unusually still.
Beautiful. Thanks for posting!
My pleasure – I’m glad you enjoyed it.
A gorgeous collection of frosty photos Susanne!
Thanks for your encouragement, Anita.