Stoney Middleton, Eyam, Highcliffe, Abney, and Brough

I travelled to Stoney Middleton today and started the walk by taking a few photographs of the rather unusual church there; it's the first time I've been inside. 

I then took the footpath up the grassy hill to Eyam; there are always plenty of opportunities to take photos there.

The church at Eyam is always open, there's a small museum inside.

I climbed up through the woods to Highcliffe, then turned left and walked along the road for half a mile until I reached a bridleway heading towards Bretton Clough. I went down into the clough and then climbed up the other side to Abney.

I stopped and let a large group of women and girls on horseback pass me at Abney; they looked like the same people who I encountered a couple of weeks ago at Shatton. Today though, both horses and  riders were all trimmed up for Christmas, decorated with tinsel, ribbon, and flashing fairy lights...and wearing garish seasonal jumpers and Santa hats.

Finally I walked across the moors and then joined Brough Lane, a wide track which took me all the way down to the road. I caught the bus outside The Traveller's Rest pub. 

I was a bit disappointed with the weather today - it drizzled most of the time and the forecast sunny intervals were very brief.

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.

Calver, Stoney Middleton, Eyam, Highcliffe, Leadmill, and Hathersage.

I was fortunate that I wasn't in a rush to catch my bus at Sheffield this morning. The train almost overshot the platform; a short one carriage train and the longest platform at Sheffield Midland. This meant that I had what seemed to be like a walk of several hundred yards back along the platform...and then when I finally reached the main concourse area, the most convenient doors for accessing the bus station were blocked by an advertising hoarding.

As I was travelling on the bus I noticed that there was still a lot of snow on the ground - especially the higher, more exposed areas. It was fine when I got off the bus at Calver Crossroads though, and I walked along the road to Stoney Middleton. The sun was shining and was just at the right angle to illuminate a particularly attractive cottage as I walked by; if it wasn't for the snow you might think it was in the Mediterranean somewhere.

I then walked over the fields to Eyam, the snow being quite deep in places; I noticed that there were some deep footprints where people must have sunk in up to their knees.

The views along this section are always nice though.

As I entered Eyam I greeted the milkman: he wasn't using a milk float though. (We haven't had our milk delivered in Doncaster for many years.)

I then climbed up towards Highcliffe, passing another Peak District alpaca farm. The higher part of this footpath was quite slippery, and so I put on my ice grippers; which then remained on for most of the rest of the walk. At times later on in the day snowshoes would have been more useful though. 

I passed a couple of gates; easily stepping over one because the snow was deep, but compacted...but nearly tripping up over the next one.

I walked along the road to Highcliffe and then continued  towards Bretton. This road, like all of the roads I walked along today, had been ploughed, but snow was piled very high at the side...much higher than I am tall...and looking quite precarious in places. 

I turned off the road before reaching Bretton and took a track to the right. Farm vehicles had been using this track and so it was easy to walk along, but as soon as I arrived at a point where several footpaths and bridleways met I knew I would have to modify my route: the path that I had intended to use was blocked by three foot of snow. So, I climbed over a stile next to a locked gate and went along another farm track, which then became merely a footpath across fields which were quite deep with snow in places, but just about passable. It was hard work though walking through 18ins deep snow, made slightly easier by using the deep footprints already made by other walkers.

A few minutes later I reached the western edge of Eyam Moor and the snow was even deeper, and after a while I was really struggling - each step was such an effort.  I noticed that the snow on the lee side of the wall next to the footpath wasn't anywhere near as deep and so when I found a spot where the difference between the height of a snowdrift and the top of the wall was at its lowest, I made a beeline for it, and with the combination of a Fosbury Flop inspired jump and a commando-style roll I ended up in a clump of heather on the other side of the wall - just where I wanted to be.

A bit later on I had to negotiate a stretch of undulating snowdrifts, each about twenty foot high; scrambling up to the top and sliding down the other side on my backside.  I reached the bottom of Bretton Clough at Stoke Ford and then followed various paths to Leadmill. The snow was still quite deep in places, and some stretches were icy; but I coped okay, reaching the road at Leadmill unscathed.

I arrived at Hathersage twenty minutes before the bus was due, just as a few snow flurries started falling.

  

Great Hucklow, Abney Grange, Bretton, Highcliffe, Eyam, Stoney Middleton and Calver.

I got off the bus, crossed the road and walked up the bridleway which goes towards Great Hucklow Wood, passing by the school en route to the road which leads to the Derbyshire and Lancashire Gliding Club.

Although not marked on the map I noticed a footpath which might give me an early view of the airfield. Indeed it did, as soon as I reached a convenient viewing location I saw the last seconds of a glider's approach and landing; somewhat obscured by trees though.

I was able to capture images of another glider just lying on the grass (I'm assuming this is perfectly normal) and the windsock and weather station...I'm guessing.

I walked along the road for only a few seconds and then took a footpath which went across fields, down into a shallow valley, which seemed to be the head of Bretton Clough. At this point I was able to observe the entire process of a glider being launched; at first I heard the noise of an engine as the winch which drags the tether was started. I wasn't sure what was happening, but a few seconds later I noticed a glider only a few feet above the ground being pulled and hoisted by the tether. A few seconds later it was high in the air and the tether was released and fell back to the ground using a small parachute - I was quite relieved by this actually, since I was only in the next field. I managed to take a few photographs.

I then walked past a recently-disused pumping house, well hidden away right in the bottom of the valley, and continued back up the other side to join the narrow road which leads to Abney Grange. I took a footpath just before reaching the first building and was in a field with a flock of sheep; for some reason they all started to rush towards me; I would have been scared if they were cows though...I've had several bad experiences with cattle - on one occasion nearly being chased into the River Nidd, near Pateley Bridge in the Yorkshire Dales.

I descended back down into the same valley which I had crossed earlier; this time it was much steeper and deeper. To my left I could see an area of unusual landscape features; in the foreground a range of small parallel ridges, and further on, a series of steep, conical hillocks. I don't know what could have caused this disruption; possibly mining spoilheaps or a old landslip.

I climbed up the opposite bank of the clough a few yards and then took the path leading eastwards and was soon walking along the crests of these ridges, and then winding my way around the bases of the conical hillocks; when I was younger I would have probably climbed to the top of the larger ones.

A few minutes later I climbed out of the clough, utilising an easy path which had stone steps for part of its length. At the top I walked across fields and found the line of the footpath...which goes right next to a house at Bretton; literally going right by the front door.

It was only a short walk to the Barrel Inn, the highest pub in Derbyshire, where I bought a soft drink and enjoyed it on the patio area out front - I was alone, but the beer garden at the back was quite busy.

Just as I was finishing my drink it started to rain; there were a few short showers today, so I popped inside for a few minutes until it had stopped. I then walked down the road towards Eyam, taking a photograph of a lovely roadside display of ox-eyed daisies, which I know as 'moonpennies'. The yellow flowers are really pretty too, but I don't know what they are though.

At the hamlet of Highcliffe I followed the track which goes down to Eyam, but after a few yards I took the footpath which leads down to a dell and then through woodland to eventually arrive at the Town Head area of the village.

I walked through Eyam, and briefly popped into the courtyard of the craft centre... noting for future reference that were toilets there. I soon reached the tearooms and had my first cream tea of the summer; the waitress commented that she thought it strange that I had asked for marmalade...I've never come across this before, I always thought it was quite common - just a variant on jam.

I then walked along Mill Lane to Stoney Middleton, a route I haven't taken before, and arrived at Calver Crossroads about five minutes before the bus was due - it was few minutes late though.

Great Hucklow, Bretton, Eyam, Stoney Middleton and Calver.

Today has ended up being an expensive day for me; I broke my camera. I cracked the viewfinder screen, but wasn't aware of doing it at the time. Even though there was a couple of inches of snow on the ground, I certainly didn't fall over or bump into anything; the only thing that I can think must have caused it is when I was climbing over a stile or squeezing through a gap in a wall. I shall have to buy a new camera before my next walk: it will be an inexpensive one though, because there's a fair chance that I'll end up breaking that too.

The walk began at Great Hucklow with partially overcast skies and the threat of snow, which never actually arrived though, and within an hour I was enjoying uninterrupted sunshine.

I walked along the road in an easterly direction towards the gliding club and Bretton, then taking the track that leads to Bradshaw Lane. After only walking a few yards along the track I noticed some substantial ruins of a group of stone buildings. To me it looked as though it could be the site of an old mine; the location certainly deserved an information board and a seat.

The lane leads onto the road which goes to the hamlet of Bretton; just a pub, a closed-down youth hostel and a few farms. I then headed northwards and walked towards Bretton Clough, the views from here were spectacular with woodland in the foreground and the snow-capped hills of the northern Peak District in the distance. The photograph I've actually selected was taken from a bit further along the walk though; looking towards Stanage Edge.

And then a bit further...

I didn't descend into the clough, I chose a path which stayed on higher ground and looped around to cross Eyam Moor, arriving on Sir William Hill Road just to the east of the transmitter.

I then walked down the road into Eyam, calling at Mompesson's Well. I took a couple of photographs of the information board, but I was casting a shadow onto it and the problems with brightness and contrast makes it difficult to read the text - so I haven't posted the details, which should be easy enough to research online.

The last few yards down into the village were through woodland, and then, after a couple of hours with no problems on the moors, I was struggling with the slippery roads and pavements as I headed towards the tea shop for something to eat.

I tried to time my departure to make sure I'd not miss my bus at Calver. The footpath to Stoney Middleton has some lovely views; it was at this point that I discovered that my camera was broken. I could still take photographs with it, but couldn't see what I was taking.

Finally, I  needed to jog part of the last mile along the road into Calver; the bus was a few minutes late though.