The scanner on the ticket machine on the bus leaving Sheffield was a little bit drunk today I think, it kept regularly beeping loudly at random intervals; it was really annoying me and I was glad to get off at Moscar Lodge.
The bus stop is actually situated right on the county boundary: I took a photograph of each boundary sign - maybe the respective messages say something about the differences between Derbyshire and Sheffield...by the way, there's never a 'Welcome To [South] Yorkshire sign at any of the boundary points I've crossed.
Watching the weather forecast this morning it was all about how unseasonably warm it is supposed to be at the moment, and it was definitely very pleasant in Doncaster town centre and Sheffield city centre. However, as soon as I got off the bus I was assailed by a strong westerly wind which was uncomfortably cold. I immediately reached into my rucksack and put on my lightweight cagoule - which certainly did the job in protecting me from the inclement weather.
After only a few minutes I got my first brief view of Ladybower Reservoir in the distance; I've walked along here several times before and hadn't spotted the water before. It was only a brief view though; at normal walking pace no more than a few seconds.
A bit later I branched off along the footpath which crosses Bamford Moor; I'm convinced that this path starts several hundred yards to the south of where it's depicted on the Ordnance Survey map.
I could see Ladybower Reservoir much clearer now and clambered up onto a rock to take a photograph. Earlier, I'd pulled a groin muscle as I stood up from my seat to get off the bus; I'd been aware of it since setting off, but as I stretched my leg out I suddenly felt a sharp twinge...I wouldn't be doing that again. The world's not really designed for you when you're six foot four inches tall and weigh nearly twenty stones.
In places as I crossed the moor it was quite sheltered, however as soon as I reached Bamford Edge I was experiencing the windiest conditions I can ever recall when walking in the Peak District. Fortunately the wind was blowing in the right direction and blowing me away from the cliff edge. It was still difficult though; I had to bend double in places and stumble from the shelter provided by one large boulder to the next.
There are some lovely views though. From most angles the rocky outcrop on the summit of Win Hill looks like a nipple, however in the second photograph, taken from that position I think it looks more like a tent.
I came off the moor and reached the road and had then intended to walk down Leeside Road, which looks as though it might be a 'Byway Open To All Traffic,' although the map is unclear on this. It was securely blocked though, not just to motorised traffic, but to walkers too; there was no way of getting over the metal railings. I've never come across this before; I couldn't see any obvious reason why walkers couldn't use it.
So; I had to walk down the road, adding about half a mile to my route. I took the first available footpath leading down to Bamford. It starts at the bottom of the driveway of a property with an unusual name; at first I thought it was called 'The Veg.'
I'm usually good with languages, at least recognising which one it is, even if I don't know what the words mean. At first I thought it might be one of the Scandinavian languages, possibly Danish, and means something like 'Tea Way' but then I thought it could be one of the Gaelic languages too...but I didn't have a clue what it meant. When I got online at home I checked, and 'Thie Veg' is Manx for 'Toilet.'
As I approached Bamford it was a lot warmer down in the valley and so I took off my cagoule. At the spot where I did this I took a photograph of the lovely autumnal colours.
I popped in to the recently opened c ombined community pub, cafe, and Post Office for a pot of tea and a delicious slice of Bakewell tart/pudding; I'm not sure which it was, it had elements of both.
I crossed over the River Derwent at Bamford Mill, using the combination of stepping stones, two footbridges, and an island, and continued to Thornhill. There are a lot of footpaths in the Thornhill area and I managed to devise a slightly different route to any of my previous visits.
It was an easy walk across the fields to Hope, where I had time for another pot of tea, and a slice of apple pie with ice cream...and a seat near to the roaring log fire [it's supposed to be a heatwave?] I ended up having a bit of fun watching the man on the table opposite struggling with a very large sausage, bacon, and egg bap. He couldn't fit it in his mouth and so had to punch it to flatten it a bit.