Captain's Log

Heatwave

My thermometer at home was hovering around 26°C when I set off in my car to RSPB Old Moor. It was going to be a hot one. Given that it would be a scorcher I adapted today’s walk so that it was rather shorter than my normal fayre. The plan was to park at the Old Moor carpark and then explore the other nature reserves, namely Bolton Ings and Wombells Ings, that neighbour the RSPB site. At a little over 6 miles I figured I’d be able to scurry back to my car before the sun could cause any permanent damage. In fact, once I’d finished my walk, assuming I had enough energy, I intended to have a coffee at the RSPB café and then take a wander around the Old Moor nature reserve as well. After walking ten yards from my car and feeling the heat reflecting up from the ground, I wondered whether walking on such a hot day was such a great idea. The Trans Pennine Trail runs alongside RSPB Old Moor and I joined it, heading towards the sun in the east. At least the surrounding trees provided a modicum of shade. 

The Role Of Coal

Old Moor, Bolton Ings and Wombwell Ings are situated in the Dearne Valley. Transport yourself back 40 years or more and you would hardly recognise the place compared to today. The Dearne Valley had been dominated by heavy industry, including a network of collieries. People may look back fondly on those ‘good old days’, but all I remember was a landscape of heavy machinery, gloomy looking industrial complexes, an appalling dirty environment and pervading chemical smells. If you’d have told me in the 1970s and 1980s that nearly half a century later. the same land would be converted to a patchwork of nature reserves and linked by a network of nature trails, I’d have probably laughed in your face. Back then, the sheer size and investment in the coal industry seemed as permanent and irreplaceable as the coal-black night sky. The National Coal Board  was so dominant as an employer, that joining them seemed like a natural life progression. In fact, once the education system had finished with me, I even applied to them for a job myself. Fortunately, I turned down their offer in preference to another one located in an  air-conditioned office in central London, rather than a hellish hole a mile underground. It was one of the easiest decisions I've ever had to make. I wondered whether there was a version of me in a parallel universe that joined the NCB, after Thatcher failed in her attempt to restructure the UK’s  industrial relations, and I was now watching coal rattle along a conveyor while I chewed ‘bacca’ to prevent further ingress of coal dust into my diseased lungs. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, even on a scorcher like today. Back in this world, where Thatcher won, the collieries were shut down and now  anonymous industrial units and offices accompany the patchwork of nature reserves. I wonder how many of the current employees working in the surrounding offices would be prepared to work in the atrocious conditions of the mining industry. Not many, I reckon. 

Manvers

Looking at the OS map, you can see that this area of the Dearne Valley  is mostly covered with the housing incorporating the old mining villages. You wouldn’t believe it though as you walk around the nature reserves since the woodland mostly obscures the view of urbanisation. At Manvers lake, a new housing estate abuts against the water. The post mining remediation work resulted in an area that is now surprisingly pretty. Today, the lakeside trail was popular. Walkers and wildfowl competed for space, and a few gazebos and tents had been erected where families had set up camp for the day. I reached the old Manvers Colliery winding wheel that has now been half embedded into a grassy area. A young lad climbed amongst the wheel’s spokes that had raised and lowered thousands of miners into the bowels of the earth. Manvers Colliery had struggled on after the miners' strike until1988, when it was finally closed down.

The Manvers Waterfront Boat Club was situated on the east side of the lake. There was a café there and I took the opportunity to buy a Magnum ice cream. I waited in a queue to pay for the ice cream as a chap in front of me delayed operations by giving such detailed and obscure instructions as to how his tea should be made and delivered, that I felt sorry for the poor girl who was serving behind the counter. By the time I sat at the patio table outside and bit into my lolly, the ice cream inside its chocolate coat had almost melted. Consequently, it didn’t quite deliver the ice-cool refreshing snack that I craved.  The Manvers Waterfront Golf Course was situated a little away from the lake. I followed a track that separated the golf course from the driving range. The track brought me to the River Dearne. 

Bolton Ings And Wombell Ings

The River Dearne starts on the Pennines between Holmfirth and Denby Dale and flows eastwards into the shallow valley that takes its name. By the time it reaches Manvers it seems more than a stream, but less than a river. Eventually it would join the River Don and then continue eastwards to the River Humber. A bridge delivered me to its northern side and I headed towards Bolton Ings on a deeply rutted track. The track was so scarred that I wondered whether it was heavy machinery that had caused the trenches or whether it was the work of trail bikes and 4WDs. The corrugated trail had been baked hard and so it wasn’t difficult to walk along, but I could see that it could suffer from some very deep puddles after heavy rain. I'd hoped to get some good views of the lake at Bolton Ings on this part of the walk, but these were dashed by the surrounding woodland. I did come across a three piece suite that had been dumped and burnt, but this was the only real fly tipping I encountered. The trail took me alongside the northern edge of Bolton Ings and it was a bit frustrating that I didn’t get a view of the lake. Eventually I came to its end and walked under the bridge that carried the traffic of the busy A6195. I’d driven along the A6195 hundreds of times, but this was the first time I’d walked under it. I left the noise of the road behind and crossed the River Dearne again to its south side at Marle’s Bridge. I’d now reached the south-eastern tip of the Wombwell Ings nature reserve. It looked like a wide open space that was free of trees. At least I’d get some panoramic views this time. 

I followed the trail along the grassy embankment that forms the perimeter of the reserve. My first thought was that the grassy track would make a wonderful running route, being quite flat and with an expansive view across the reserve. The housing of the village of Darfield overlooked the area from a hillside. There were a couple of lakes in the middle of the reserve, but the water level was low and had receded, and it was difficult to see the birds that were making a living in the reduced space. At the western end of the reserve I caught a whiff of smoke from the rubbish area next to the gypsy caravan area. I started heading back eastwards and reached a reasonably large hide. It had views of  lakes on either side, but it was perhaps a little too far away from the birdlife for my satisfaction. I ended my Wombwell Ings circuit with a return to Marle’s Bridge. It had been a short, but pleasant excursion. 

Return To Old Moor

The Old Moor Tavern tempted me to enter as I passed it. There were even some free patio tables in the shade outside. It would probably have been a slippery slope if I’d have succumbed. Instead, I headed into Broomhill Park, a wooded area with tarmac trails. A sign warned me that I should not cast my fishing rod or fly any kites in the area due to overhead power lines. Given that any water source was a few hundred metres away and that the shelter from the surrounding trees made any kite flying impossible, it seemed to make the sign somewhat redundant. Better safe than sorry though. It was only a brief excursion through Broomhill Park, before I crossed a road and joined a trail into Gypsy Marsh. This was another RSPB reserve. The path  looked underused and evidently doesn’t receive that many visitors. It eventually met the Trans Pennine Trail, my highway back to the RSPB Old Moor site. 

The TPT went under a couple of bridges. Some colourful murals depicting wildlife had been painted on the concrete structures. Their space was contested by the works of some graffiti artists who wished to display their lack of artistic talent. I returned to the carpark at RSPB Old Moor. It seemed warmer than when I'd set off. I’d enjoyed exploring the area beyond the Old Moor nature reserve. The lake at Manvers was unexpectedly pretty, although due to its inevitable popularity I’d probably avoid it on a sunny Bank Holiday. Bolton Ings was a bit of a disappointment due to the lack of views. Wombwell Ings was more interesting and made a pleasant half hour walking circuit in itself. It was time for a coffee now and so I headed off towards the RSPB Old Moor cafe. Part II of my day, a trip around the nature reserve’s hides was about to begin (see RSPB Old Moor).