Day Six

 I mentioned the other day that Simon Armitage has written six poems that have been carved into stone in the Pennine landscape – the Stanza Stones. Well, Mary Seaton is leading a guided walk along the Stanza Stone trail over three days, starting today. This first leg started in Marsden and finished in Hebden Bridge and took in the first two poems, Snow and Rain.

I don’t know if the weather gods up there have been reading the Walk and Ride Festival programme and deciding to theme the weather. They didn’t provide any snow, but they certainly turned the temperature down a few notches. And they brought some rain too, but then that’s nothing new. It was cold this morning. I ran with Izzy, but once I had showered and was back in warm clothes the prospect of outside just wasn’t appealing. It was the sort of day to curl up with a book.

I’ve visited both the Snow and the Rain stones. The only two I’ve seen so far. Snow is in an abandoned quarry on Pule Hill near Marsden. It is carved into two big old stones in the quarry wall and if you’re up close, you have to walk along the poem to read it. I liked that. I liked that the words gradually appeared as you walked along. When you read on a page the words are all visible, you just chose to focus on them in order. Here, you have to move your whole body, not just your eyes. You become physically involved so that your movement is part of the poem. And when he repeats the word snow, you really get the feeling of snow falling and falling.

I went up there with a group of young writers who’d been working with Simon as part of the project, and they climbed on the stones and up the quarry and read poems and had their photos taken. There wasn’t any real snow.

The rain stone we happened upon by chance. Johnny, Wilf and I had gone for a walk with Bet from Littleborough to Hebden via Blackstone Edge. We’d come down to the White Horse Pub and set off past all the reservoirs which lead you across the tops to Stoodley Pike. Ahead of us two people were stood still staring at a rock. We wondered what they were doing, and as we got nearer we heard one of them saying ‘Is it a poem?’ Of course it was, and a poem I knew and which was carved into the rock and signed SA, the Rain poem. It was kind of exciting to come across it unexpectedly. It wasn’t raining when we were there, but I expect it was for Mary Seaton and her walkers today.

Bet and I made a break for it at threeish, just after school finished. We didn’t go desperately far. Along Burlees Lane, up through the woods to Raw Lane, back along the brow of the hill until it hits the road to the Hare and Hounds, then down to Nutclough and home. I was warm going up the hills but cold coming down again. I like Burlees Lane because of all the animals. There are mules, buffalo, patchwork pigs and tiny horses. We met a friendly cat sitting in the middle of the road and a white goat. It feels like a visit to a rare breeds farm. 

Raw Lane is much rawer.The road is rough and potholed and it’s higher up the hill so the wind is keener. When you reach the highest part after it crosses Wadsworth Lane, you can see across to Stoodley Pike and watch the weather sweeping in from Rochdale and Littleborough and Saddleworth.

It was beautiful and atmospheric up there. I thought about armchairs and paperbacks and mugs of steaming tea. I thought about cooking a pan of soup over a warm stove. I’m such a wuss in the afternoon, a little bit of stinging rain being blown into my face by a sharp northerly wind, and I run home with my tail between my legs. I bet Mary Seaton  is made of stronger stuff.