Baslow, Chatsworth Park, Calton Lees, and Edensor.

My first walk in the Peak District for nearly ten months since I injured my legs, a nice flat easy walk in Chatsworth Park. I travelled on the Bakewell bus to Baslow Nether End and explored Chatsworth Park, Calton Lees and the village of Edensor.

I managed to capture the open-topped tourist bus as it went over the bridge, this service has been newly introduced as a trial for the summer.

When I reached Calton Lees I was hoping to sit down on a seat, I was convinced I'd remembered there being one, but I was mistaken and so I sat on a small area of grass and relaxed and rested for a few minutes.

Edensor is a stunningly beautiful village; I noticed the posters and banners advertising the village Open Gardens and gala on June 15th - I'm planning to go this year if the weather's nice.

I had originally intended to return to Baslow to finish the walk and treat myself to some ice cream but my legs were starting to ache, not hurt though, so I decided to call it a day and caught the bus back to Sheffield from Edensor.

Chatsworth House, Harewood House, or Haddon Hall?

I'm considering buying a season ticket for one of these three attractions. 

Although I regularly visit Chatsworth Park when I'm walking I've never actually been inside the house, or wandered around the extensive formal gardens. The price of a season ticket is £75, less than the price of four day tickets.  

A season ticket for Harewood House is only £30, but it's not as easy for me to get there, and I don't think it's likely to be as good as Chatsworth.

My third option is Haddon Hall, just down the road from Bakewell, but requiring two buses to reach from Sheffield. A season ticket here is even cheaper, only £28, but it's much smaller than the other two stately homes and I don't think it has the touring exhibitions that there are at Chatsworth.

One additional benefit that Chatsworth House offers is the ability to add a friend to my membership, either an extra £35 for a named person, or £60 for an un-named person. My brother will be visiting me later this morning and I'll ask him if he's interested; the other more expensive option might be useful if my friend wants to go a few times with me...and of course I could also go for a day out with my support worker - although I'm having problems with getting my care package renewed at the moment.

I've not even decided to even sign up for a season ticket yet...anywhere. Harewood House would be the logical choice, taking advantage of the fact that I can use my free travel pass to go on the train to Leeds, something that might not be available to me in the future. However, Chatsworth offer of an additional person adding to my membership at a discount is very attractive and tempting. I shall have to find out what my brother and my friend have to say.

Matlock, Winster, Birchover, Congreave, and Rowsley.

I've decided not to include any photos in today's report; not because I didn't take any, or those I took weren't any good, but because this report will be a long one. A lot happened today and I want to to get it typed up as quickly as possible whilst it's still fresh in my mind.

I got off the bus at Matlock, crossed over the bridge and walked along the Derwent Valley Heritage Way along the riverbank. Looking at the map I thought this section of the walk would be quite industrial and uninteresting, but it turned out out to be a pleasant riverside walk, with the bypass and various factories and warehouses well screened.

After about a mile I took a path which cut across a field, going towards Oaker. I didn't enter the village, instead I took a couple of paths leading across grassy fields which were well populated by cows and their calves. Once clear of the cows I turned on my radio for the cricket commentary. I was a few minutes early; however I was concerned that there might not be any cricket to listen to today...and I might have to cancel the day's walking and get home as soon as possible before public transport would be stopped and the whole country closed down. I thought that the queen had died! The programme being broadcast on Radio 4 LW sounded like a eulogy or an obituary for the monarch: I was glad when the voice of the continuity announcer introduced the start of  'Test Match Special.'  Panic over.

I continued across more fields and then along a pleasant valley, Wensley Dale I think, passing just to the south of Wensley and coming out onto the road which leads to Winster. I walked along this road for about a mile until I reached the village, and called in the shop to buy some confectionery.

I left the village by a hard-to-locate footpath which went through the churchyard, and then across a parkland area where a lot of dandelions were growing, joining the Limestone Way for about a mile before turning off for Birchover. Just before reaching this village I explored Rowtor Rocks for a few minutes: I had read that these rocks were quite impressive...well, I wasn't that impressed: there are many more interesting places in other parts of the Peak District.

I called in at one of the two pubs, the Druids' Inn, for a pot of tea and then planned to get something from the shop. I thought that there was a shop in the village the last time I visited Birchover...well, there isn't one there now: maybe there never has been recently, and I was mistaken.

I walked along the village street and took the footpath which leads through the camping site and then up onto Stanton Moor. When I reached the Nine Ladies stone circle it was very busy there; several dozen people were picnicking or playing games with their children or dogs. I felt uncomfortable as I took a couple of photographs: I felt as if somehow I was intruding.

Next I walked through a wood and down across some more grassy fields until I reached the road that leads to Congreave. This road is a steep, narrow, and winding sunken lane with few places to get out of the way of traffic. A rather large four wheel drive vehicle passed me: the driver did have the courtesy to slow right down, but I still needed to breathe in, in order to ensure that the vehicle's wing mirror didn't gouge a  hole in my belly.

It wasn't long until I reached Rowsley and had plenty of time to call in the café at the Peak Village shopping centre. I judged that I didn't have enough time for a cream tea though: however, the bus was fifteen minutes late..

At the stop after I got on, a woman and her teenage daughter who was carrying a large floral pink suitcase, got on. The daughter will feature prominently in the rest of the day's events.

When the bus reached Chatsworth House about eighty passengers boarded; most of them being Chinese students studying at the two universities in Sheffield. This is something that I've often observed; the fact that Chinese people seem to love Chatsworth - I think many of them must visit several times during their stay in the area. Despite the driver doing his best to tell them that they couldn't stand up on the upper deck, several of them did...there wasn't any room for them to stand downstairs.

It was fortunate that only two more passengers got on before we reached Sheffield.

As the bus was struggling up the hill from Grindleford, travelling no quicker than a walking pace at times, the engine started to overheat and smoke was filling the saloon: several people were coughing...and I sucked on a menthol sweet, just in case.  

Back to the mum and her teenage daughter....

The daughter had a very loud voice and I could hear almost everything she was saying. She was sitting right at the front of the bus with her mum and immediately started talking  to the driver, including her mother in the conversation. It was soon obvious to me that she was acting as a matchmaker, trying to set up a date with her mum and the driver, getting them to exchange phone numbers (she seemed to write them down on two pieces of paper.) At times her language was quite risqué when she was hinting at what her mum's preferred sexual activities were. As far as I could work out, the mum and the bus driver were going to meet for a drink at the end of his shift.

The bus reached the top of the hill at Fox House. The stop at Fox House can sometimes get quite busy with hikers and climbers returning to Sheffield; however, there was no room onboard for anyone else today. 

We turned the corner and right there in front of us was a broken down 272 bus with steam or smoke billowing out of its engine; the climb up from Hathersage is a long, steep one too. Our driver stopped and explained the situation to the other driver and his fifty of so irate passengers. Some of them weren't happy and charged towards our bus. The driver jumped back on, and fortunately the bus managed to pull away...I feared a riot if we had broken down too.

As the bus descended down into Sheffield the driver seemed to be concerned about the brakes overheating now. As we drove along Eccleshall Road, people were struggling to get out of their seats and reach the front of the bus in time to get off at their stops. The teenage girl took some initiative and took charge, becoming our 'bus captain' - making sure that the driver didn't drive off too early before everyone who wanted to, had got off. Well done to her, both for this, and for acting as cupid for her mum, she made the world a slightly better place for a an hour or so today.

Although a lot of people had got off the bus before my stop on Paternoster Road, there were still a dozen people standing in the gangway and if I'd tried to get off I think I might have had to charge into them to move them out of the way. So...I stayed sitting down until the bus reached the bus station. The walk back to the railway station isn't a long one...only about a couple of minutes. 

Grindlow, Bretton, and Hathersage.

The Buxton bus and the Matlock via Chatsworth bus are both timetabled to depart from the same stand at Sheffield Interchange at the same time, the one right next to the sandwich shop; and this is what happens: too many people blocking access because there aren't any seats...or even anywhere for them to queue in an orderly manner. People are already queueing to get food, gathering in groups to go walking or visit Chatsworth House, and many of them don't really know which of the two buses to catch...and then of course, there are the people dragging heavy suitcases who are going down the ramp just to the right to catch the long distance coaches, weaving in and out of the throng like demented rugby players. I think things were a lot better when the Peak District services went from separate, but adjacent stands, right at the other end of the bus station.

Although the number 65 arrived on time it took quite a few minutes for everyone to get on; there was then an additional delay when an unsavoury character tried to sneak upstairs without paying, and the driver had to go and remove him.

I had intended starting today's walk at the hamlet of Windmill, just beyond Great Hucklow, but I got off early because my knees were hurting me. Despite the bus being quite full I did manage to get a seat to myself, but there still wasn't much legroom though. I would have preferred one of the sideways facing seats at the front of the bus, but I don't think this vehicle had any.

I got up and pressed the bell in plenty of time for Grindlow Lane End, the driver stopped the bus almost immediately though. It wasn't exactly where I wanted to be, but I got off anyhow; I told him I'm going walking and so it doesn't really matter.

I walked along the road hoping to find a path across the fields leading to Grindlow but there wasn't one. I turned right down the lane which leads to the village and then looked for the path which I needed. I ended up having to double back though; I missed the path because it wasn't signposted and it looked like it led up a private drive leading to some posh houses.

I continued across some fields, going slightly downhill at first and then quite steeply uphill until I reached a road which I walked along for a few minutes until I arrived at the site of the Silence Mine.

There are quite extensive ruins here, but the site is fenced off - it wouldn't be difficult to climb over though. I didn't bother; I was more concerned with the rain, which was getting quite persistent by this time and so I reached into my rucksack for my lightweight plastic poncho. It did the job in protecting me from the rain, but it was quite difficult to put on...and flapped about a lot. There were some press studs which would have fastened it down better, but I nearly pulled a muscle in my back and almost cricked my neck trying to reach them. In the end I gave up the effort and used a length of string which I keep in my rucksack for emergencies such as holding up my trousers.

I continued walking along this path in an easterly direction until I reached another road, which I followed to the Barrel Inn at Bretton. By the time I reached the pub, the highest in Derbyshire, it had just about stopped raining. It was still quite cold and unpleasant and so I popped inside for a pot of tea and a large slice of freshly-baked cake that was still warm.

I sat as close as I could to the open fire, appreciating the warmth, and taking an interest in the paintings and prints on the wall. All of these were by local artists and were for sale, something which I've observed many times on my visits to pubs, cafés and tearooms in the Peak District. I was also intrigued by some old wooden combined skis and snowshoes which were fixed to the wall only inches from my head; these would have come in handy last month when I was walking through deep snow.

The weather was a lot brighter, and warmer, when I left The Barrel, heading northwards along the lane. I took the second footpath on the left, which heads down into Bretton Clough, but I didn't get far before I had to stop. I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my right foot, something like a bee or wasp sting I should think. Obviously a bee or wasp couldn't get inside my boot, but something had. I removed my right boot and took off my sock and carefully felt for an insect, or a thorn maybe; but there was nothing. I examined my foot; there was no obvious sign of a bite or sting, or any rash - it was swollen noticeably though at the base of the little toe, and was quite tender to the touch.

Just to be safe I put my sock on inside out, then my boot (the right way round) and stood up and made a few tentative steps. I was okay; I was still aware of the pain, but it was no more than a mild inconvenience now - as it would be for the rest of the walk. Even now, as I'm typing this, it's still bothering me; the swelling is still there...and it seems harder to the touch now. I wonder what could have done this to me?

I was soon at the bottom of the clough and continued downstrean towards Hathersage, passing a creepy-crawly tree, which, despite the obvious damage, is still alive and thriving.

I arrived at Stoke Ford and took the path which leads uphill towards Offerton Moor. I walked across the access land to reach Offerton Hall and then dropped down to the River Derwent. As I was descending across the fields there were some lovely views up the Hope Valley.

The walk along the riverbank is pleasant and easy and I dawdled as I walked along the  final approach to Hathersage across the fields, knowing that the bus wasn't due for nearly an hour. I had plenty of time to look around the outdoors shops in Hathersage: there are four.

Baslow, Hassop, Rowland and Calver.

I got off the bus at Baslow church and soon left the village by crossing the old bridge and then walking along an overgrown snicket. As soon as I had arrived in open countryside I noticed something in the distance over to my right.

If you enlarge the photo you can see that there are two oblong-shaped copses where some of the trees have been felled to spell out the letters 'E' and 'R' - I will let you draw your own conclusions.

I then continued uphill across the fields and along the road to Hassop. En route I noticed some foxgloves in bloom. These are flowering several weeks earlier  than the foxgloves in my garden; I have noticed this with all the plants in my garden. With me living at low altitude in Doncaster the average temperature is a few degrees warmer than it is in the Peak District and so you'd expect my plants to be flowering earlier, yet this isn't the case...even though my garden has a southwesterly aspect. The only reason I can think for this is that I have a large oak tree in my garden which sucks up most of the available water and leaves most parts of the garden in shade for prolonged periods.

It was only a few hundred yards across more fields to Rowland, a pretty little village situated at the foot of Longstone Edge.

Next I climbed up onto the edge, and was pleasantly surprised how much better my breathing was - I'm hoping I'm finally getting rid of my bronchitis.

The final section of the walk was along Coombs Dale, where there were some lovely displays of wildflowers.

I soon arrived at Calver, where I popped in the café and enjoyed a ten item cooked breakfast in the middle of the afternoon.

UPDATE: I've just received this informative reply from a member of one of the online walking forums of which I'm a member:

Hi there - I live in Baslow - what you saw on the hillside (under what is known locally as Crocodile Wood from its shape) was planted to commemorate the Coronation of Elizabeth II - it was replanted a few years ago. It is not felled trees which create the letters but larch which stand out against the darker trees in the rest of the patch.
Chatsworth did another one to commemorate the Queen's Golden Jubilee (in Chatsworth Park) - this one was done in stone - so far as I know they were made to remove it by the Peak National Park.