Future Plans

As from June 8th I'll be able to use my ENCTS travel pass to travel for free on the train to Sheffield again, thus making it so much easier, like it was before, for me to go walking in the Peak District. If the weather forecast turns out to be promising I'll be on the first train to Sheffield on Sunday morning; using my pass at the earliest opportunity.

I'll be glad to get back to the familiar places that I've missed for these past two months. I did manage one trip out to the Peak District though when I met my friend from Leeds,  and travelled to and from Sheffield on the bus...it was very tiring though.

At the end of July a couple of new bus services will be running out to the Peak District from Sheffield. I don't know what routes they'll be taking yet, but I'm hoping that they might open up some new areas for me to go walking.

Apart from the walking I'm also planning visiting more of the towns in Derbyshire: I can reach Buxton direct from Sheffield, and Ashbourne from Matlock. Buxton is pretty, I've not visited Ashbourne before though,, I've only seen it from the coach on the way to Alton Towers many years ago. I remember being impressed at the time, and I've not been disappointed by the photographs I've seen online.

I'm also keen to visit the Wirksworth Open Gardens Festival - I've not checked the details online yet though.

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.

Blackwell, Flagg, Sheldon, and Bakewell.

Unusually, for a day I had planned to go walking, it was raining when I woke up this morning. The weather forecast was for plenty of warm sunshine later; and I wasn't disappointed.

I got off the bus at Blackwell: the bus doesn't actually go into the hamlet, but the houses are only a field away from the bus-stop. I took the road which leads towards the settlement of Priestcliffe Ditch, following a path across the fields though before I sighted the buildings.

I soon arrived at the main Buxton road, crossed over it and continued across more fields, this time climbing rather steeply uphill though, until I joined the Limestone Way.

I quickly walked along this section of the Limestone Way, mainly along country lanes, until I reached Flagg. What a strange village Flagg is, it must be nearly a mile from one end to the other, but there are actually very few houses. Very little must ever have happened there...well that's my assumption after reading the inscription on this memorial stone...there may be other reasons I suppose.

There were a couple of other strange things I noticed in the village. At the site of the former pub called The Plough there is now a private property inexplicably called 'Plough Station' which consists of a chalet-style bungalow set back from the road and something which I would describe as an art installation; consisting of a small forest of unused flagpoles, a ship's wheel, and random pieces of old agricultural implements and machinery. A few yards further on there's a concrete dog half-buried in the grass verge.

After taking what seemed like a very long time to walk through the village I took the road which forked to the right, and then quickly located the path leading eastwards across grassy fields. I then had a very short length of road to walk along before taking the track the leads down into Deep Dale. I didn't go down into the valley, although it looked very tempting, being perfectly illuminated with the sun being at just the right angle.

I took the path to the right and soon arrived at Sheldon - there were good views of Magpie Pine all along this section. I'd barely entered the village last year on a walk which incorporated a visit to see the substantial ruins of the mine, and so today I got the chance to see all of Sheldon; the one thing I noticed was that the occupants of several farms and smallholdings were offering eggs for sale at the roadside...the eggs were stacked up in cartons and  jam jars or saucers were left to put your money in.

After passing through Sheldon the road led down into Kirk Dale and I took the footpath leading up the other side of the valley. There was a final couple of miles to be covered before reaching Bakewell, arriving in the town just by the church.

Miller's Dale, Priestcliffe, Taddington, Ashford-in-the-Water and Bakewell.

Not a good day for public transport.

My day got off to a bad start when I arrived at Doncaster Station and saw a coach parked in the car park; I went into the concourse and the departures board was showing a bus replacement service for the first train to Sheffield. As usual I'd arrived early and had time to walk over to the bus station and catch the 07:45 X78 bus. Although it's an express service it still takes 75 minutes to reach Sheffield: it was a few minutes late and so I missed the 273 bus.

So a change of plan was enacted; the next suitable bus was going to Buxton and so I decided to do a walk from Miller's Dale that I had already planned to do soon.

As I was waiting to get off the bus I could see that one of the information notices was bilingual; printed in both English and Gaelic. Obviously this bus had  previously been used in the Scottish Highlands.

It was still very misty as I began the walk, and it didn't start to clear up until mid-afternoon. I began by walking up some steep steps through woodland; this would otherwise had been very slippery at this time of year with the fallen leaves on the ground. Once I'd reached the top it was open fields and then a country lane to the hamlet of Priestcliffe.

Just beyond Priestcliffe I had a painful accident. I was attempting to open a metal gate which unfortunately was unhinged, and as soon as I pulled at it, it started to fall towards me, just clipping my left thigh as I tried to get out of the way...I now have a very tender bruise there.

I rummaged in my rucksack for my torch so I could safely cross Taddington by-pass; a busy stretch of dual carriageway - one of only a few in the Peak District,    I should think.

Because of the poor visibility, it wasn't a good day for photography; but I did manage to take a photograph of a rather pretty milepost in the village.

The next section of the walk was along another lane and then a footpath which led down a pretty valley, which isn't named on the map. I was soon down to the A6 trunk road; and had to walk along it for about a mile, switching on my torch again. The oncoming cars seemed to move into the middle of the road to give me space in plenty of time, so I'm assuming it has a powerful beam.

At what looked to be a fish farm or hatchery, I left the road and walked along a very easy riverside path to Ashford-in-the-Water, popped into the village shop, and then continued to Bakewell...where the bus to Sheffield was ten minutes late. There seemed to be a lot of extra traffic on the roads, so I'm thinking that maybe there was a major event at nearby Chatsworth House.

Darley Dale, Darley Bridge, Birchover, Alport and Bakewell.

At the end of next month many bus services in the Peak District are likely to be cut back due to Derbyshire County Council reducing its level of subsidy. I read online that services to Matlock could be particularly adversely affected; so that's why I chose today's walk...Darley Dale is only about three miles from Matlock.  

I got off at the parade of shops at Darley Dale; which turned out to be a couple of stops short of where I needed to be. So, I just walked down the road towards Matlock, past the church and park and then turned down the road towards Darley Dale; walking over the level crossing  next to the railway station on the Peak Rail heritage line.

After crossing over a pretty stone bridge over the River Derwent at Darley Bridge I continued along a lane towards Birchover, which then petered out into a track; the section through woodland being one of the few climbs on this walk.

I soon entered open country, with expansive views to the left down into the valley, and more pastoral views over to the right. I reached a farm which had a sign prominently sited which stated something like 'Danger. Wild animals. Do not Approach. Keep to Footpath.'

I was intrigued and wondered what it might refer to; all I could see were some chickens. Then...it happened. I'd just passed some farm buildings when only a few yards away, standing leaning over a gate, right next to the footpath, was an ostrich which was taller than me. I didn't approach it to take a photograph.

The route I'd chosen skirted to the south of Birchover,  going by a detached part of the village where it looked like a few council houses had been built.

I then walked along the road to the pretty hamlet of Eagle Tor, then continued for a few hundred yards further before taking the footpath leading towards Youlgreave; sometimes spelled and pronounced 'Youlgrave' by locals.

Yet again I didn't enter the village, denying myself the opportunity of welcome refreshments. I turned right into Bradford Dale; a short, but pretty dale which leads to Alport.

From Alport I walked along the right bank of the River Lathkill, climbed up through the woods to reach Haddon Fields and followed easy-going paths right back to Bakewell; arriving in plenty of time for the bus.

The bus was only a small bus, with a seating capacity of about  thirty I suppose. It was already quite full, having travelled from Buxton, and after picking up its passengers at Bakewell it was full to capacity, with several people having to stand all the way to Sheffield. I was fortunate to get a seat, but as some people moved down the bus to get off, I pulled a couple of muscles trying to move my feet out of the way.

Litton, Cressbrook, Litton Mill, Monsal Head, Ashford-in-the-Water and Bakewell.

For the first time since I started writing this blog nearly a year ago I was let down by the buses; the number 65 service to Buxton departed twenty minutes late this morning from Sheffield bus station.

I arrived at Litton and walked across the fields towards the western rim of Cressbrook Dale; with  the final mile or so right at the edge being through woodland. I entered a part of the village of Cressbrook I hadn't visited before, and then walked along the road and down a track to what is now the pretty village of Litton Mill. The mill buildings are converted into executive flats, but this place has a sad history; in the nineteenth century young orphans from the neighbouring cities were sent here as forced labour - frequently suffering abuse and being treated no better than slaves.

I crossed the footbridge over the River Wye and stopped a while to look at the large trout and busy ducks; and thought about the history of this place...so beautiful; yet so tragic.

There was a short climb up onto the old railway track which is now the Monsal Trail, soon passing through Litton Tunnel, and then Cressbrook Tunnel.

I paused, and rested for a few minutes on Monsal Viaduct and then climbed up through the woods to Monsal Head. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I didn't get as breathless as I feared; it seems that my bronchitis is currently under control.

The café at Monsal Head is rather disappointing. It has a limited menu more appropriate to a teashop. I had to settle for a pot of tea, and toast with marmalade -  I couldn't wish for a better view though; the photograph was taken only a few yards away from where I was sitting.

It was a simple walk across the fields, and later along a track, to Ashford-in-the-Water, followed by a short riverside section into Bakewell, which I had to rush a little in order not to miss the bus back into Sheffield.

Tideswell, Windmill, Little Hucklow and Bradwell.

Today has been the second day of the Bakewell Show and since all the roads leading to the town would be very busy I decided to catch a bus that stayed well away; the number 65 to Buxton, and got off at Tideswell.

Tideswell is such a pretty little town at this time of the year; there are flowers everywhere, hanging baskets, containers and troughs decorating nearly every building.

I wandered around the streets and alleyways for about twenty minutes and then set off down a country lane in a northerly direction. I soon arrived at the Baslow to Chapel-en-le-Frith road. The road was very busy and so I hurried along the next section of the walk until I reached the footpath that leads towards Tideslow Rake - this is the best example of this type of landscape feature I've seen so far. A rake is a man-made linear feature in the landscape; a series of old surface mine workings following the line of a mineral seam or vein; excavations down to the bare rock and grass-covered spoil heaps.

A bit further on there's a less obvious rake, High Rake, with fabulous views to the north and east though; all the way to Lose Hill, Win Hill and the Hope Valley.

I then arrived at Windmill, a hamlet I've not visited before, and then walked across grassy fields to Little Hucklow.

Next I walked to the north across fields again and then along the road in Bradwell Dale. The views towards Bradwell Edge are impressive here, and I enjoyed watching several paragliders launching themselves into the air off the edge, and then spiralling upwards as they caught the thermals.

(This photograph was actually taken looking in the other direction though.)

Since it's now the school holidays the 15:09 bus from Bradwell goes all the way to Sheffield - I arrived in the village just in time to catch it.

A Walk From Miller's Dale To Bakewell, Mainly Along The Monsal Trail

I specifically chose the location and route of today's walk so that I'd be able to walk through the recently-opened tunnels on the Monsal Trail - which follows the route of the dismantled railway from Buxton to Matlock. I wasn't the only one who had this idea though; I've never seen so many people when on a walk...especially cyclists, riding every type of bike imaginable; two wheels, four wheels, unicycles, tandems and even a man lying down and pedalling with his hands.

I got off the bus and climbed up onto the trail and then it was a steady five mile route into Bakewell, passing through three tunnels, each one about a quarter of a mile long. The tunnels were lit by fluorescent lighting and were quite safe.

I left the Monsal Trail to walk the last mile into Bakewell using a country track; mainly because I needed a pee and there wasn't anywhere I could easily go when on the Trail, since it's mainly cuttings, embankments and tunnels and so I couldn't just pop into some woodland and make myself scarce.

A few minutes later I was in a scary situation; I was walking along the track, with high drystone walls at either side, when I noticed a farmer with his cows on the path ahead of me and a woman on a horse behind me...with me trapped in the middle. As the animals got closer the horse reared up and the cows caused a minor stampede - I just stood still and hoped for the best.

I arrived in Bakewell with nearly an hour to wait for the bus and so I treated myself to some fish and chips.