Saturday, July 21, 2018

Clod Hall Crossroads, Robin Hood, Chatsworth House, Edensor, Pilsley, Hassop, Bubnell, and Baslow

I travelled to Clod Hall Crossroads today, an isolated spot on the Eastern Moors just north of Baslow; there's a bus stop there of course though. I immediately walked across some moorland and then climbed up some rocks to reach Nelson's Monument at the top of Birchen Edge. It was cloudier and cooler than it has been for several weeks in the Peak District; it did brighten up a bit at times though...but not much really.

I got the opportunity to photograph the monument and the Three Ships rocks from every angle because I was alone here for the first time - it's a pity that the lighting conditions were really poor though.

I continued down to the road at Robin Hood and managed to find the well-hidden footpath that passes through the Chatsworth Estate to reach the woods behind and above the House. This path and several others in the vicinity aren't marked on the map...I think they are only permissive routes, but many of these are also shown on Ordnance Survey maps.  

After a couple of miles I reached the Hunting Tower, now used as a holiday cottage, and then slowly and carefully climbed down the one hundred and fifty or so steep steps cut into the hillside to arrive down at the Farmyard and then the cafe, restaurant, and shops located in The Stables, having first to open a gate with the most complicated latch I've ever had to use...I struggle with it every time.

I then passed Chatsworth House itself and headed off for Edensor.

I didn't enter the village proper, I just stayed on the road until I reached Pilsley; I still passed a couple of pretty in particular had a very attractive garden.

On the footpath to Hassop a large tree had recently fallen and blocked the path; I could climb over or crawl under. I chose the former and regretted it because as I was balancing on one of the recumbent branches it collapsed under my weight and I fell and landed on my back, the impact fortunately being cushioned by my rucksack. Several coins spilled out of my back pocket - I'm glad I looked down and noticed.

I sat and rested for a few minutes at Hassop before leaving the village by walking along School Lane, followed by the path that goes through Bank Wood. Just before reaching the wood I caught up with a nice woman with a nice dog called Percy who was covered head to paw with seeds and pieces of broken off bracken. I chatted to her for a while and threw the yellow tennis ball for Percy to run after, catch, and retrieve.

It was an easy walk down the road to Bubnell and then over the bridge into Baslow.

At the moment I've got a bit of a stiff neck because on the bus travelling back to Sheffield I had to hold my head up at an uncomfortable angle otherwise I'd be blatantly looking straight down at the clearly displayed ample cleavage of the young woman who got on at Abbeydale. I think she was an exhibitionist because she kept messing with her hair, always turning away from me so that I could look towards her without it being obvious what I was looking at...she was also always pushing aside the flimsy material of her blouse and kept re-adjusting her bra...always when turned away from me I wasn't made to feel uncomfortable all of the time. I think she must have been French, and a youth leader, because she got on with about a dozen teenagers who were speaking that language. She got on first, spotted me and quickly walked down the bus to sit next to me. Maybe it's true what they say about French women that they're far more open and easygoing about their sensuality and sexuality. In truth, it made the journey a lot more pleasant for me.

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