Royd Edge

The dogs had a blast this weekend on the moors.

We have to walk past the derelict mill first though, the graveyard of dead footballs. We found four this weekend.

It is rough under those paws, but the broken glass and dangerous spots are confined to the far corners, so the dogs can play. The road provides access for the mill, which nobody goes to, and for the one lonely farm, so the only traffic is dog walkers and horse riders. The people mad enough to go out in the rain.

From there it’s a quick walk up to the moor proper, and we took the top route, walking up the side of the valley before dropping down to the river.

The heather and ferns are knee to waist high all up the hillside, and it’s so funny to see the dogs bouncing through it. There’s just no other way to travel, and the tiny narrow path just isn’t any fun! I find it extremely entertaining that Kim is the most at home here. She used to walk here all the time when she was young, and she also used to go to all the fell races to watch my sister, so she finds this kind of terrain a breeze. Mollie uses her usual tactic of just barging through, and Dylan struggles, despite being the leggiest. He found his feet eventually though.

The river was running fast. It’s not deep, but the current is very strong in places. Mollie and Dylan had to fight to keep their feet a few times, but nothing dangerous. We used to come here in the summer when my sister and I were young, and swim in the river. The rocks are very smooth and slippy, and we used to slide down the river from pool to pool. Dylan learnt this game as well, although it appeared to be unintentional.