High Bradfield, Low Bradfield, Rails, and Malin Bridge

I got off the bus at High Bradfield, took some photographs and then walked down a short footpath from the church to the steep road that goes down to Low Bradfield. According to the map there's another footpath a little further down the road which then would have taken me across the fields to Low Bradfield: I couldn't find it, so the road had to do.

I followed the southern shore of Damflask Reservoir for a few hundred yards until I took one of several paths up to the road. I was hoping to locate the path that would lead me uphill to Oaks Lane. This turned out to be the second footpath I missed and so had to do about an extra quarter of a mile walking along the road until I reached Low Woodhouse. Low Woodhouse is just a farm, but it's quite interesting; the footpath goes through a couple of homemade gates and then you're in the orchard where you have to make your own way towards the back garden and then up the drive and away from the property. The reason why I state that this part of the walk is interesting is because the owner of the property has positioned several interesting displays of old agricultural equipment and implements in the garden; for people to look at I presume - there must be at least a dozen, all painted in bright colours.

The next few miles until I reached Rivelin Valley required me to regularly consult the map. There's a complicated network of footpaths, byways, green lanes, tracks and minor roads to be navigated. In places there are some nice views though, my particular favourites are the views towards Hillsborough.

When I started walking down the Rivelin Valley I noticed that some new information points had been installed.

I was ready for a pot of tea when I reached the cafe, which is run by the 'Pudding Ladies.' There were a lot of delicious [I should imagine] and very well presented cakes, but since my diabetes diagnosis I have to forego this little pleasure. As I was sitting at my table I had an excellent view of one of the young women who works there, she was very lithe and petite and was sitting in the lotus position on a high, narrow shelf and occasionally moving her hands when she was writing all the different types of coffee that the cafe sells, on a large blackboard. I was intrigued as to how she would get down; I thought it would be rude to stay when I'd finished my tea...and anyhow I wanted to get back to Sheffield before the rush hour.

A few minutes later I arrived at a chair that I wouldn't be able to sit on, a piece of outdoor art positioned on an inaccessible rock in the middle of the river.

I got a seat on the tram to Sheffield Railway Station, but I had to stand for most of the way on the train back to Doncaster.