I couldn’t really believe it is ten years since we had visited Haworth in West Yorkshire but Mr BOTRA’s diary doesn’t lie! And yet despite this evidence I still think this is a place I am very familiar with and that we visit regularly. Of course, over the years we have spent lots of time walking on the moors around Haworth but somehow it had recently fallen off the list of go-to places. We put that right recently and spent a night with a lovely view over the valley in a lay-by on Cemetery Road underneath Penistone Hill. In the evening light we had a stroll through the lovely village and walking up and down that steep cobbled hill window shopping. As has always been our habit in Haworth we also walked through the church yard and gazed across the gritstone graves and the trees to the Parsonage. There is no doubt that Haworth will always be associated with the three Brontë women, Charlotte, Emily and Anne and the novels they wrote were a significant part of my teenage years and stories I return to. The Parsonage is currently celebrating 200 years since these three and their brother Branwell were born between 1816 and 1820 with all sorts of events.
As it has [apparently] been so long since we had visited Haworth we chose to walk an old favourite and followed the paths to the Brontë Bridge and Falls, most certainly walking in the footsteps of the Brontë sisters as it is known this was a favourite spot. We climbed above the falls and followed the Pennine Way on to the higher moors to Top Withins. Since our last visit this isolated and ruined farmhouse that gives a sense of Wuthering Heights has been somewhat restored to prevent it from falling into further disrepair. We returned on a different route over the moors that was quieter and as light snow flakes drifted around us it was a perfect place to be despite the cold. By the path we found a recently dead hare; we normally spot these animals leaping across a field and to see one so close up revealed the beauty of the animal and the strength in those long back legs.
A brew and a slice of home-made cake back in the campervan soon restored warmth to our limbs before we drove home, vowing not to leave it another ten years before we visit Haworth again.