Edensor, Great Longstone, Hassop, and Baslow

I caught the Reading train to travel to Sheffield this morning as I quite often do; there was no room for reading or for doing anything else though today. It was crowded, as it always is at this time, but was especially crowded today - I was tightly wedged in the space near one set of doors, together with another seven passengers. There wasn't enough room for me to take off my rucksack without poking out several people's eyes...even if I could find any room on the floor to put it. As the train moved I had to steady myself by holding on to one of the internal doors, pushing up against it with the palm of my hand, unfortunately it looked like I was some old pervert making a move on the young girl standing right next to me. She understood the situation though and never said a word; I suppose it was better than me keep bumping into her.

It was very hot on the bus travelling from Sheffield to the Peak District, but not quite so hot when I got off at Edensor; it was mild all day though. I took a few photos in the village; each of the houses is built to a different design - it's an interesting story.

In many villages in the Peak District local residents put out tables at the side of the road, selling local produce which people purchase by means of an honesty box. Someone was selling parkin, fudge, and jam this morning.

I walked through the village, then up a lane and along a country road. A few minutes later I was startled by heavy gunfire, several volleys of it coming from not too far ahead of me. As I'd assumed, it was a shooting party; I took a photo of the temporary notice that had been hung on a tree; luckily I wasn't heading that way today.

The next section of the walk was downhill along a rocky track that had turned into a fast flowing stream due to the recent rainfall. There were some nice views looking down towards Bakewell, but Bakewell didn't photograph well today in the mist - this tree did though.

Just before reaching the road which I needed to walk along for a few yards before climbing down to reach the Monsal Trail, I stumbled on some loose rocks and fell. I know how to fall properly so as to minimise any potential injury and so the only consequences were a ruined pair of trousers and a a bit of grazing and a couple of small cuts on my left knee...and most likely some juicy bruises showing up tomorrow.

I stopped to eat my sandwiches at one of the picnic tables just before reaching the old station at Hassop and called at the café to finish off with tea and cake; and to inspect the damage to my knee, and clean up the wound a bit in the toilet.

I continued along the Monsal Trail for a while and then crossed the fields to reach Longreave Lane at Great Longstone. I then walked up to the junction with the road that goes to Hassop and had a decision to make. Should I continue with my planned walk taking in Rowland and Pilsley, or should I take the quickest possible route back to Baslow? Although my knee was fine I didn't want to fall again and possibly re-open the wound and introduce an infection, and so I decided on the latter option...additionally, the sooner I got back to Doncaster, the more likely the NHS walk-in medical centre near to the railway station would still be open, and I'd be able to get my knee looked at; just a quick cleaning up of the damage with some antiseptic.

I was hoping to get to Baslow to catch the 13:40 bus: I saw it passing through the village as I was only a couple of fields short. I had nearly an hour to wait for the next one and so popped in to the Café on the Green for a mug of tea and some shortbread. It was possibly the best shortbread I've ever eaten; buttery and quite moist...absolutely delicious. I told the proprietress and she told me that it was home baked...by her. I always compliment people on good service or a nice meal; I also complain a lot though when I'm not satisfied.

Back home in Doncaster, I walked past the Flying Scotsman Clinic, as it's known. It was still open and so I went in. I was informed that it's not actually a walk-in medical centre - the nearest one of those is in Rotherham.

When I got home I smeared some antiseptic cream on my knee, and threw away the ripped trousers. 

Lodge Moor, Redmires, and Whirlow Bridge

The number 51 bus was ten minutes late today: during the thirty minutes I was therefore waiting for it on Arundel Gate in Sheffield nearly a dozen number 120 buses going to Crystal Peaks must have passed me - they seem to be everywhere in the city centre.

I rode on the bus all the way to the terminus at Lodge Moor and then took the path which leads northwards and downhill into Fox Hagg Nature Reserve. After a few minutes I turned left and headed towards the Peak District. The path remained quite high and I had occasional glimpses of the Rivelin Dams through the dense silver birch woods, which had now nearly lost all their leaves.

I reached the furthest west point of the walk, and was briefly inside the boundary of the National Park for a few hundred yards, in an area that I know as Redmires; local Sheffield people might call it by another name though. I came up from the woods, crossed over Redmires Road and walked along Soughley Lane - I don't know which pronunciation is correct, a quick look at the Google search results didn't help.

I walked in an easterly direction along Brown Hills Lane, passed Bole Hill, where I got a decent photograph a bit further on, and then turned right at Bennett Grange.

I then turned left down a very narrow enclosed lane where I would have had a lot of trouble if a car had been needing to use the road at the same time, fortunately none did.

I arrived at a small group of buildings which isn't named on the Ordnance Survey map; there's a Methodist Church, an old school which is now an environmental study centre, a postbox, and a row of cottages a few yards away down the lane I took, identified as 'Workhouse Cottages' - I've not come across this term before; maybe this being a rural area, these cottages were used as the actual parish workhouse. I'm quite interested in workhouses; I was actually born in one: in truth it was a local hospital by that time...but if no-one asks for clarification, I don't volunteer the additional information.

I continued to walk across farmland pastures until I reached the Porter Valley at Clough Lane. There's a waterfall here with a drop of about eight foot, after the recent heavy rain it was looking quite impressive today. As usual my camera's automatic settings couldn't cope with the fast moving water, and I couldn't cope with the camera's manual settings.

It was quite sunny when I reached Forge Dam Cafe; there had been a couple of light showers earlier though. I went inside although there were people sitting outside, and it was pleasantly warm. I ordered a cooked breakfast; I thought it was a bit more expensive than the last time I visited a couple of years ago...in particular, £2 for a mug of tea is a bit much.

It was raining again when I left the cafe, quite a bit heavier this time and so I got a chance to wear my new trapper's hat...it was very warm; probably too warm for a mild day in October. The sun was shining again only a few minutes later though, and this was the best weather of the walk. I found the path that I was looking for that leads uphill towards Cottage Lane. I kept stopping to admire the spectacular views of the western suburbs of Sheffield behind me, spotlit by the sun and framed by a complete semi-circle rainbow: I took several dozen photographs, and here are the best two.

In my enthusiasm to get the best camera angles I lost the track of the path and had to climb over a wall to get onto another path, which fortunately would take me in approximately the same direction.

I stopped to eat some chocolate, sitting on a bench with a nice view towards the city centre. It was right next to horse chestnut tree and conkers were regularly falling about me; one landed on my left shoulder and another landed on my right boot; no damage though...no young boys excited by this easy bounty though either. Do children still play conkers now?

It was a short stretch of road, then a short cut across some fields and I was at the covered reservoir on Ringinglow Road. The path then went dead straight across grassy fields for a few hundred yards; I was quite high up here again and the visibility was good - the horizon was populated by power station cooling towers and several dozen wind turbines glinting in the sunlight - you'd think the cost of electricity in Yorkshire would be relatively cheap compared to other parts of the country; we certainly seem to generate a lot of it.

I had some steep steps to climb down to reach the bottom of the Limb Valley; by the time I'd reached the well-maintained bridleway going alongside the river it had started raining again. I had intended to finish today's walk at Abbeydale, but it was clear that I'd already had the best of the weather and I couldn't imagine that I'd be missing out on anything by not walking through Ecclesall Wood in the rain.

I got to the bus shelter on Ecclesall Road just as the number 272 bus from Castleton was arriving; it looked like that it had been delayed by a couple of cyclists that it couldn't get past.

Perfect timing for me!

Foolow, Eyam, and Bretton

Well...it rained all day; quite a bit heavier than forecast too. If I hadn't made plans to meet Chris and Simon today I wouldn't have been walking any further than the kitchen or the bathroom. As it was though, as usual I was at Fox House just before ten o'clock to meet my walking companions. It was only Chris who turned up in the car though; maybe Simon had already read the weather forecast.

We drove down to Foolow and parked on the green [not literally] and set off across the fields towards Eyam. The rain was making it difficult for me to see the footpath and the the stiles, and so I got slightly lost. I headed for Tideswell Lane, a wide track, having to climb over a wall...but it wasn't difficult. In one of the fields we walked through we noticed an owl flapping about on the ground. It was obviously injured; a broken wing most likely. We wondered what we should do for a few seconds, but both soon decided to just let nature take its course.

We reached Eyam and walked down the main street to reach the information barn: a few minutes respite from the rain. Another opportunity to escape from the rain was provided by the church. Chris wasn't that interested in the displays inside about the plague, and I had seen them all before, so we didn't stay long...Simon would have read every word on the display boards.

It was a bit of a slog uphill to reach Eyam Moor and then Bretton Clough. It was an awful day for photography with very poor visibility and hardly any daylight. This is the only decent photograph I took, just as we were descending into the clough; I rarely took my camera out of its case.

In the bottom of the clough we found a bit of shelter under an ash tree, where we ate our sandwiches. There was a lot of sheep droppings about, and an obvious smell - I think that Chris was a lot less comfortable than I was at this point.

We climbed up to Bretton and then walked along the road back down to Foolow. On the way back to Hathersage, where Chris dropped me off because it's more convenient, we stopped at the café at Calver crossroads. It's under new management since the last time I visited; the menu seems to be pretty much the same, but I think the prices are slightly higher.

I ordered a large pot of tea and a scone; Chris had crumpets.

Bradwell and Castleton.

Not a very long walk today, only about three miles, plus exploring the back streets of Castleton and storming Peveril Castle at the top of the hill. I had planned to walk from Bradwell over to Peak Forest and then loop back to Tideswell, but I left my map on the bus after I had left it on the seat and it must have dropped onto the floor. I was fairly confident of actually making my way along my planned route from memory, but less confident about the pacing; I needed to get to Tideswell for about 3:20 to catch the bus back to Sheffield, otherwise I'd have a long wait or a long walk down to the main road at Blackwell crossroads to catch the TransPeak bus to Bakewell.

Back at Sheffield it must have been the start of the new term at Sheffield Hallam University; there were about a dozen coaches parked on both sides of the road near to my bus-stop, where the Students' Union building is. The only way I could make sure that the driver of the 272 bus could actually see me was to step out right in front of him and semaphore where there was a small gap between coaches where I'd be able to get on his bus.

The footpath which I used at the start of the walk at Bradwell is a bit unusual because it goes right across the bottom of a garden and then up some steep steps which are almost hidden from view if you're walking along the pavement.

I know the paths leading westwards and uphill out of Bradwell well and so didn't realise that I'd left my map on the bus until it was probably too late to rush back down to the village and retrieve it from the bus as it returned to Sheffield; anyhow with it being a Sunday I'm not even sure that all the buses serve Bradwell.

I decided to just walk to Castleton on the high level back lanes; there were some good distant views of Win Hill to be enjoyed...and then later on Castleton itself, nestling beneath Mam Tor.

At one stage I was near to the top of a quite long uphill stretch and a cyclist easily overtook me. He stopped at the top, and so did I a couple of minutes later; myself for a rest and he to wait for his friend who was a long way behind. We started chatting and he explained that he was taking his friend to do Winnats Pass later, one of the longest and steepest road ascents in the Peak District...poor bugger! 

When I reached Castleton it seemed to be rather quiet despite a fell race due to finish there mid-afternoon. I decided to pop into the Rose Cottage Café and Tea Rooms for something to eat; I chose a fish pie from the menu and enjoyed it outside in the sunshine in the large, well-maintained rear garden; I could  certainly taste the cod, smoked haddock, salmon, and prawns.

About forty minutes later, not too far from the castle entrance, I nearly tripped up over the only pair of cat's eyes placed in the middle of the road in Castleton.

I reached the castle unscathed. I didn't have to pay the admission fee because I'm a member of English Heritage and so I could justify the short length of time I spent there; just taking photographs really.

I then had about thirty minutes to wonder around the village before catching the bus. There are many attractive buildings in Castleton; I particularly liked this one today.

Hickleton, Harlington, Mexborough, Old Denaby, and Hooton Roberts

I had quite a late night at Rotherham Civic Theatre last night, singing, clapping and stomping my feet along to a Queen tribute band; so...only a local walk today, taking things easy but still taking advantage of one of the last days of summery weather this year.

Hickleton was looking resplendent in the morning sunshine as I took some photographs of the church and churchyard. The first one shows the 'Hickleton Skulls', displayed in the lychgate - they have a macabre message from beyond the grave for all of us. The Gothic style lettering is difficult to make out, and my photograph isn't very clear either, but it reads, 'Today for me, tomorrow for thee.'

I left the churchyard and went to try and get some photographs of Hickleton Hall, but it's all blocked off because of building work to convert it into executive apartments.

Slightly disappointed, I walked down Barnburgh Lane and then turned left onto the bridleway which leads to Barnburgh Crags, or Barnburgh Cliff as it they are also sometimes called...not by locals though.

Although it was still quite early I settled down at one of my favourite spots, overlooking Barnburgh, and ate my sandwiches; I was hungry, having skipped breakfast earlier.

Barnburgh is a pretty village, but is best known for the gruesome legend of Sir Percival Cresacre and the wild cat ...a salutary lesson for us all to bear in mind after a night out on the town.

There a far-reaching views further along this path, of the Dearne Valley and as far as the Pennines over to the right, and as far as the Vale of York and the Aire Valley power stations to the left. The photograph shows a rather photogenic burnt-out tree stump and the distant view of the Pennines. 

Looking in the other other direction are four recently constructed wind turbines. Some people think they are beautiful...some people don't.

The track through the Crags ends at Hangman Stone, the location of another gruesome local legend. I walked down Hangmanstone Lane for a few yards before joining St. Helen's Lane, a broad track running along the bottom of the cliff, then dropping down into Harlington, where I had a Diet Coke, sitting outside in the warm sunshine at the Crown Inn.

Next, I walked through the village and along Mill Lane to arrive at the River Dearne. I was walking on the top of the levee by now, and a bit later on along the embankment of an abandoned railway. Since this section is part of the Trans Pennine Trail, a long distance cycleway, it was busy with cyclists weaving their way in and out of the walkers.

I arrived at the road, and followed it for about a mile into Mexborough, nowhere near to the town centre though. I remembered that there was a way down through a housing estate to the canal lock and a footbridge over the railway. I hadn't printed out a map, but wished I had; I got lost in a series of fiendish cul-de-sacs - I backtracked and found another route I knew which required me to pass through a very low access tunnel going underneath the railway embankment ..I wasn't on some sort of urban exploration expedition now though - it is the definitive route of the footpath. [Because of the rucksack on my back I had to bend even lower than expected.]

It's a pleasant walk to Old Denaby, mainly through woodland. The village is quite long and it took me few minutes to walk from one end of it to the other, where the footpath leading up the hill towards Hooton Roberts starts. It's quite a steep climb, but the views from the top are good; but I think those on the other side of the hill, going down the track towards the valley just before reaching Hooton Roberts are even better.

My bus didn't turn up at Hooton Roberts, and the following one was five minutes late; as I was waiting three buses went in the other direction to Sheffield.