Down At The Waterfall

We took advantage of the beautiful weather by visiting Lumb Falls near Hebden Bridge yesterday. G has grown quite a bit since our last trip there, but she's still not really big enough to take for a proper dip in the swimming hole. And even if she could stand the chilly water, I'm not sure how I'd get her down the bank to the water's edge and back up again. This was especially true yesterday, when we had the whole place to ourselves.

Well, almost. On the rocky and somewhat treacherous path leading down to the falls, I spotted these two toads enjoying themselves in the grass. They didn't seem particularly impressed as I crouched over them, pointed my phone in their general election, and did my best Attenborough-esque whisper to explain to G what was going on. "Ribbet ribbet" she offered in return, which was more than the toads managed. Hardly surprising in the circumstances.

When we got to the falls, evidently it was time for a picnic. It later transpired that drinking all the water I'd brought was not the best idea, because I then had to scramble back up the aforementioned path to the car carrying G, who decided she didn't fancy walking anywhere in this heat, no thank you very much. As I strapped her back into the car, she looked mournfully at her empty water cup and said "water?" approximately 386 times before I could reach the nearest shop.

I've been told that Lumb Falls is often packed on weekends and during the school holidays, but I've only ever seen it almost deserted. Yorkshire doesn't always look like this. But when it does, it's worth capturing it for posterity.

Perhaps if it had been sunny more often, the Bronte sisters, so famously associated with Haworth just up the road, might have written a bit less about the windswept moors and a bit more about sun-dappled waters. Or maybe they just couldn't be bothered with the rocky path.