I lived near Pendle Hill in Lancashire, for some twelve years, and would visit several times a week with my Gang of Four; Seamus, Shannon, Minnie and Duncan. Walking the dogs there was always one of my favourite occupations if I wanted to think, or paradoxically, if I wanted to clear my mind. As a friend of mine put it, it was where I would go if I wanted to 'fly'.
The hill is breath-stealingly steep, but the views, once you reach the top, are simply stunning. A broad flat(ish) plateau a couple of miles across gives views over Clitheroe from one side and beyond to Longridge Fell, with the crown of Inglehead in the far distance to the East. To the West you can see the sea over Blackpool on a clear day. From the North side Sabden and Barley are laid before you, far below, and then beyond to the skies.
Pendle has real 'Spirit of Place' and a moodiness that I have found nowhere else. In sunshine it is harshly beautiful, but if the weather turns you know where it earned it's reputation for witchcraft and the occult.
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