Barnsley to Broomhill. Industrial wastelands
The morning starts with a mile downhill through Barnsley to negotiate the busy traffic at that large roundabout.
Barnsley Town Hall
Then I’m back on the line of the Barnsley Canal, still in an urban setting. The Barnsley area had rich seams of coal and was home to many collieries; the mass closures in the Eighties must have devastated the local economy and morale. I don’t think the rest of us understood the gravity of the situation. Most of today’s walk is through that landscape made bare and taken over by nature, either naturally or by the creation of Nature Reserves.
There is little water in the canal, mostly it is reeds or has been filled in.
The way crosses the river down below and enters a larger park area, more like the countryside now.
The downloaded information sheets are not detailed enough to follow the route, and waymarks have been lacking. Hence, I’ve used my phone’s GPS far more than usual. But I do come across this lone wooden post in the park.
Some interpretation boards are less useful than others. 
Crossing a road, I come across the Transpennine Cycle Trail for the first time. But what’s that building hiding behind the trees? 
This is the site of Monk Bretton Priory and is worth a diversion.
Founded in about 1154, it was a daughter house of the rich Cluniac priory at Pontefract. But it wasn’t an easy partnership, and in 1281, Monk Bretton became a Benedictine house. The Priory owned properties in South Yorkshire had rights over five parish churches, and worked ironstone and coal. After the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1538, the priory was swiftly plundered for building materials. The priory site changed hands several times before coming under state ownership in 1932. The ruins are now managed by English Heritage.
The arched entrance was up a side street, the Priory now surrounded by housing. 
Most is in ruins, but the gatehouse is mainly intact, as is the separate administrative block. Little remains of the church, but the cloisters are evident with the monks’ refectory. Uniquely, much of the drainage system is preserved; running water from the Dearne flushed the latrines and kitchen area.
Gatehouse.
Gatehouse.
Administrative building.
Site of the Church.
Intact drains.
Intact drains.
One advantage of keeping the mileage down is one is free to explore more, But I’m now back on track, literally, as I follow old rail tracks down the valley. I should look into the history of where these rails went and for what purpose. I assume, perhaps erroneously, that coal transport was involved. I leave one abandoned line to use another. This one is heading to a prominent arched viaduct across the valley.
Leaving the railway, the path becomes indistinct in rough fields alongside the Dearne; concrete barriers have been constructed to keep the quad bikes out. To my right in the trees is the line of the Barnsley Canal again. I’m sitting on one of the barriers having a snack when a couple appears, the first I’ve seen. This is their regular walk, but they are worried about the cattle in the next fields. They are a friendly pair with much knowledge of the area and its wildlife. We walk on together, there are no cows. The canal is mainly empty, but he, being a fisherman, is keen to show me an area where it is flooded and a frequent haunt of his. I would have walked past without knowing it was there. He fishes for carp here and often sees a kingfisher perched nearby. Today, he doesn’t have his rod but has brought some bait to scatter.
I loved their Yorkshire accents; the further east one goes, the longer the vowels become. The lady reminded me of Lucy Beaumont, the comedienne from Hull.
@comedystans #lucybeaumont #taskmaster #jonrichardson #meettherichardsons #hull #northsouthdivide #northerncomic #standupcomedy #standup #netflixisajoke
♬ original sound – comedystans
I leave them to their peace and walk on to brave the cattle. The frisky bullocks were all down by the river, so I passed safely. 
Still on the abandoned railway, the river appears below and down there somewhere is an old packhorse bridge.
Time is passing, so when I reach Storrs Mill Lane, I follow it for about a mile rather than the wandering field paths. For the whole length of that mile, the verges were covered in litter. I have never seen so much on a country lane. Why here? Do people make a special journey to throw away their cans and takeaways?
I leave the lane at Edderthorpe and walk across newly hoed fields to rejoin the river where it puts on a bit of a spurt to loop around Middlewood Hall.
A diversion up the hill into the village of Darfield, and then I am back down on the Dearne flood plain, managed along here as a nature reserve.
As the light is fading I emerge onto the Trans Pennine Trail, virtually on the doorstep of my Premier Inn for the night. Déjà vu.
Why is my room always at the far end of the corridor? 
***
