The art of bad timing seems to be a particular skill in our house. The odour from the fluffy one was becoming ,at best , noticeable, at worse  so the decision was made. 15 mins later the carnage was complete, wet paw marks lead across the floor and onto the cream sofa, the bathroom a scene of mass destruction and the net result of one slightly less smelly and without doubt fluffier terrier flashing two claws in our general direction  from his bed .

Fast forward 16 hours and FW’s Crufts like turnout had gone for a burton, lost in a potent mixture of Yorkshire’s best horizontal rain, thick mud and heather undergrowth and topped off with a heady perfume of stagnant water and sheep dung. Like I say bad timing …

We’d taken to the bleak unforgiving landscape above Haworth, the smallish rugged village 5 miles from Keighley that was happily pootling along keeping itself to itself till the mid-1800s when the arrival of a new Vicar and his family to the village somewhat upset the apple cart and things were never quite the same again.

From that moment Haworth would forever be associated with the Brontes and the bl**y miserable sodding sisters who’s presence always loom large over Haworth’s famous cobbled main street.

‘Haworth,  is a particularly agreeable place to spend a dog day out’

At times the sheer volume of visitors particularly at High Summer weekends and at Christmas can make the place a bit manic especially for our 4 legged friends, and probably best to avoid but midweek or especially on cold winter days when the place is is a little less busy Haworth,  is a particularly agreeable place to spend a dog day out

Forget the range of Jayne Eyre themed toilet accessories , the Branwell Bronte Junior Opium Set or the life Size inflatable Heathcliff’s (Tom Hardy version) on sale at the numerous tat (sorry gift) shops on the main street and head for the moor tops above the village and you’ll find some spectacular walking for mutts and their owners with lots of different routes of varying length and intensity.

The most obvious are those connected to our Victorian Friends, the ruins of Top Withens and the Bronte Waterfall especially, but get out a map and head away from the honeypots and solitude with breathtaking views can easily be yours. It being winter cold and raining during our two hour wander we passed just on other solitary walker and their hound , peace indeed !

‘head away from the honeypots and solitude with breathtaking views can easily be yours’

For this particular day out we set off from the bus in the small hamlet of Stanbury. There is little to see in the village but it has an hourly bus service to and from Haworth plus a couple of watering holes.On this occasion being mid-morning even for a weekend . refreshment stops were not yet on the  agenda but on previous trips we’ve found theWuthering Heights particularly dog-friendly and worth a visit should you find yourself ‘stranded in Stanbury’

As I said at the start of this post proper crap timing seems to be the order of the day in our household and true to form alighting from our charbang the heavens opened and the usual Yorkshire Monsoon was upon us .think Mumbai but about 40 degrees colder

Wandering from Stanbury towards we passed the magnificently mistily erie Lower Laithe Reservoir .The sign that proclaimed ‘this water is cold’   ‘ thand past the worlds most useless bus stop who’s timetable proudly announced that the sum total of zeo buses actually stop there ..

As the bottom of socks begin to take on a dampish sponge like consistency and the waterproof clothing already having surrendered to the driving rain you start to begrudgingly slightly admire the sheer stoicism of the Brontes .Let’s face it they were wandering the Haworth Moor top 150 years in all weather in less than appropriate attire , Berghaus had not quite got round to producing its own Bustle and all those layers petticoats could have done better with the addition of Gortex breathability . The buggers must have been made of stern stuff., though in hindsight  that may explain their perpetual state of gloom ….

Despite the conditions nothing was set to stop our four pawed hero who ploughed through puddles and squelching mud with the pulling power of the most advanced 4 x4  The little git who’s idea of morning exercise is to sporacdically raise one eyelid momentarily given an open morland path sudden burst of energy put down to nothing more than the scent of rabbit and sheep shit …

Plod

Plodding on our destination was the Penistone Hill Country Park , 180 acres of rough moorland that is leased out as public access land by the local council .Part of the site are the workings from the days when it was

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