Friday, 21 July 2023
The Festschrift for John Foggin arrived today, and this was very much on my mind as I ran across the wide open moors above Haworth, to Ponden Kirk and then Alcomden Stones.
John passed away recently, and he was someone I knew from my poetry days. I was very kindly asked if I would contribute to a Festschrift for John, and I was very happy to put forward a poem that reminded me of my time with John and it was accepted and published by the editors of the Festschrift.
I had an unquenchable urge to run today, an urge that would only be satisfied by running over the moors. I was a little apprehensive because of my hip and the uncertainty of how it would be running what I knew would be a tough route. I had decided to run to Alcomden Stones, a collection of rocks, high on the moors above Haworth and Stanbury. It’s a remote place but a beautiful and magical place and today it exuded a pull for me that I could not resist. The Stones do this sometimes and the only way to satisfy the urge is to go to the Stones and experience them.
Because my fitness isn’t what it used to be I parked at Bully Tree Farm around 2 miles from the Stones and set off from there. The alternative is to park at Penistone Country Park which adds at least 2 miles to the run and at least two more climbs, both of which I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to manage today. I set off running uphill and I felt good. My hip was behaving itself and wasn’t causing me any discomfort. Halfway up I met one of the editors of the Festschrift coming down. She loves in the last house on the road and we chatted about John, the moors and her family history which is entwined with that of Stanbury and the moors and quite possibly the Brontës too, her great, great grandparents having lived at Top Withens the remote farm made famous by Emily Bronte in Wuthering Heights.
Pleasantries concluded I carried on with my run. The weather was overcast with intermittent bouts of drizzle which merely added to the atmosphere. I took a trail that runs above Ponden Reservoir and Ponden Clough and leads to Ponden Kirk. Halfway on the trail I stopped and looked around me. My senses have been heightened since I stopped drinking and I have a renewed appreciation of nature and all it has to offer. I wondered who had been on this trail before me? The Brontës definitely but who else? I wondered what the two friends who have passed away this year would make of it, both of them immensely fond of nature and all it has to offer. I took everything in that I was surrounded by, the moors, the hills, the cottages, the farmhouses, all with their own tales to tell of people, animals and nature through the years and the seasons. It was a beautiful, magical experience.
I carried on to Ponden Kirk and Alcomden Stones although I was reduced to a walk because of the bogs and hills I encountered and my lack of fitness which didn’t help. The Kirk offered stunning views of Ponden Clough and Ponden Reservoir as it always does, but the Stones were as mystical as always. I felt that I was being watched but I couldn’t see anyone. I knew they were there, watching every move I made, hearing my breathing, seeing what I saw, and yet they weren’t there because I couldn’t see them, but they were because I felt them.
The wind and rain intensified a little and I knew it was time to leave the Stones again to the brutal bleakness of the moors. I ran to the trig point high on Stanbury Moor and took a little used path across the moor back down to the main trail that leads to Top Withens. I felt good again on the trail, my hip was moving well, and once I got back on the downhill I gradually picked up pace all the way back to my car.
Home and I treated myself to some cheese on toast before having a lovely bath which was so welcoming and relaxing after my run. At this point I had relaxed to a point where I didn’t even want to go downstairs but I did and that was it for my Friday, no club, no alcohol. A beautiful, magical run over some of the finest moorland in West Yorkshire followed by a relaxing day watching TV. This is how every day should be.
The Autistic FellRunner 