Monday, September 24, 2018

Castleton, Slackhall, and Chapel-en-le-Frith

I rushed to get ready this morning so that I could catch the 07:45 bus from Sheffield to Castleton; I arrived at the village for nine o'clock hoping to get some good shots with a low sun.









I walked to the west, heading for Winnats Pass; I don't think I've ever walked up the pass previously but I've hurried down it several times, rushing to catch the bus.







I continued up on to Rushup Edge.





A short stretch of road was next and then a footpath which was marked as a track on the map, going down to Slackhall, from where it was only about a mile and a half to Chapel -  I didn't realise it was actually so close to Castleton.



Chapel-en-le-Frith is a dump; as far as I could tell it has no redeeming features, it doesn't even seem to have a proper town centre. I only spent about fifteen minutes in the place before catching the first bus to Buxton, from where I made my way back to Sheffield, via Bakewell, and then home to Doncaster on the train.

I had time to take some photos in Buxton but many of my angles were ruined by the hoardings and scaffolding that seems to be everywhere at the moment.





As the bus from Bakewell was travelling into Sheffield a young woman got on with a hockey stick protruding from a shopping trolley. She lifted up the trolley and placed it in the luggage stowage area next to the doors. At the next stop some more passengers got on but then the doors wouldn't close properly because the hockey stick had slipped and become wedged in the doors' opening mechanism; the driver couldn't continue because there's a safety override. So, he had to leave his cab and attempt to free the hockey stick by pulling it, pushing it, twisting it, and then trying to prise the doors open. The young woman rushed down from the back of the bus and tried to help him, but actually made things worse by doing exactly the opposite of everything he was attempting to do. After  few seconds the driver had had enough and pulled at the doors with everything he had; he was quite small and getting on a bit so it probably wasn't a lot but it was enough for the door to suddenly come unstuck, springing forward and slapping him on his shiny bald forehead. It was so funny, literally slapstick comedy; the driver said he was alright, but I think he was quite shook up by the experience. All that was needed to completely set the scene would have been a ragtime tune being banged out on a piano.









Saturday, September 22, 2018

Selby, Wistow, and Cawood

When I found out that there's a castle, an old church, and an interesting bridge at Cawood, and it's not as far away as I thought it was I knew I had to go there. Well, this morning I caught the bus to Selby and then walked down country lanes and along footpaths across fields to first reach Wistow, and then Cawood.

I've taken plenty of photographs of the abbey at Selby on previous visits and so I just took the one today, as I was walking by.



At the start of the walk a new housing estate has been built and the footpath diverted, but it's clearly marked and I had no problems.

I soon reached Wistow church.





As I was leaving the village I noticed that at one of the houses they were giving away apples and grapes; I took this large red apple from the box at the side of the road...thank you for that.



I ate it as I walked through the countryside; I didn't recognise the variety - certainly it was like nothing I've bought at Doncaster Market. It was delicious; sweet and juicy, very refreshing with a tangy flavour, very soft and delicate as I bit into it exposing its bright luminescent green tinged colour. Wonderful.

A few minutes later I photographed these ink caps; I think they're edible but I'm not eating them...I don't like mushrooms of any description.



The path then cut across a field of sugar beet - I found this one on the ground already uprooted.



There were plenty more free apples, and pears, on offer in Cawood, including my pick from an entire orchard, but I didn't bother. Cawood is lovely, but it wasn't looking its best in the cloudy weather.


















My favourite part of the village was the attractive walk down by the river; as I was standing here taking this photo I got talking to the local postman who told me some interesting things about the area.





I continued to the church.











I found a footpath to take me across the fields back to Wistow by a different route but then used the road to head off for Selby - I wanted to ensure that I'd arrive in time to catch the 3:22 bus back to Doncaster.



Just as I reached the outskirts of Selby the postman who I'd been speaking to earlier stopped and offered me a lift in his van; I accepted - it meant that I had enough time to have a glass of Pepsi Max in the Wetherspoon's pub, The Giant Bellflower.

The journey on the bus to Doncaster takes nearly ninety minutes - fortunately I found a newspaper on one of the seats to read.






Friday, September 21, 2018

Totley, Holmesfield, Millthorpe, Unthank, Baslow...and Sheffield

I caught the bus to the Cross Scythes pub at Totley this morning and walked down Totley Hall Lane; at the bottom I had a choice of two footpaths to take and I chose the left one, taking the route of the Sheffield Country Walk. After a couple of fields I'd crossed over into Derbyshire and continued heading south for Holmsfield, leaving the Sheffield Country Walk at Woodthorpe Hall.






As I was walking through a wood I noticed thousands of small acorns on the ground; they were tiny, no bigger than my fingernail. The acorns in my back garden must be four times larger.

As I approached Holmesfield I had to punch an aggressive tarpaulin on the nose - it wouldn't let go of me.





The church  is late Georgian [1826].









It was a pleasant walk in the sunshine continuing southwards to Millbridge and then heading west towards the tiny hamlet of Unthank.







I passed a couple of properties at Unthank before turning south again but went the wrong way in Meekfield Wood. I easily managed to walk over to the road though; this road marks the eastern edge of the Peak District National Park here. 



At the junction with the next road I turned west and entered inside the boundary of the national park and kept on walking until I reached a footpath that goes across Big Moor and then another footpath which eventually leads down to Baslow, passing by the Wellington Monument. On the way I didn't miss the opportunity to photograph this unusual road sign; I'm sure it will start off a good discussion thread on the 'Geo Geeks' Facebook page when I ask them if anyone's got a similar photograph with two destinations with only the one letter different in their names.





The Highland cattle are very good at posing for the camera.






It was a relatively early finish today before the rain set in; I got some bargains in Sheffield and then took some photographs in the rain.