Calver, Curbar, Owler Bar, and Totley

When I was waiting on the platform at Doncaster Station this morning I noticed that new signage had been put up showing Platform 0, even though this additional platform at Doncaster isn't in operation yet.

Terminating services from Hull and Scunthorpe will be using the platform, which is completely separate to the rest of the station so that these trains won't be interfering with traffic on the busy East Coast Main Line. Unfortunately I can't use my free travel pass beyond Thorne in this direction: I like Hull and would be going there a lot if I could. I would be using the city as a base for exploring the Yorkshire Wolds.

My train to Sheffield ran on schedule and the bus out to the Peak District was on time too. I got off at Calver and walked up the track and then through the woods to Hare Knoll. There are some lovely panoramic views up here.

The path descended to the river at New Bridge, which I crossed over then walked on the other bank for a couple of hundred yards before finding the path which climbs up to the northern part of Curbar. I walked north along the road, then took the footpath which cuts through the woods and comes out quite high up on the climb to Curbar Gap on the road. Before reaching the road I stopped to talk to a fellow walker for about ten minutes about local accents; I didn't mention that he had a large globule of transparent snot precariously dangling from the tip of his nose...it looked quite striking as it glistened when the sunlight caught it.

Whilst still down by the river I spent a few seconds reading this notice and pondering what word has been erased; what activity can I now do which I wasn't allowed to previously?

When I reached the road I still had a bit more height to gain though before joining the path which runs along the top of Baslow Edge. I turned left just past the Eagle Stone and later spent a bit of time photographing the Highland cattle...I love the Highland cattle.

I found a path through the boggy parts of Big Moor which took me to the track leading to the cottage at Barbrook Reservoir. I then walked along the main Sheffield to Bakewell road, first to Owler Bar, and then the bus terminus at Totley.

As I approached the terminus I saw that a bus was waiting and so I started to jog. All this movement caused my pelvic muscles to do something that I don't understand causing my trousers to drop down to my knees; I grabbed them, and held onto them for the rest of the day. I've got a sufficiently long length of string in my ruscksack to hold up my trousers, but I didn't want to draw unwanted attention to myself.

I'm very happy to be losing so much weight, and I still need to lose more, but I'm starting to worry about possibly having problems when my weight has reached its optimum and I'm still needing to be on the maximum dose of metformin to keep my blood sugar levels low.

The mixed game pie which I bought at Matlock yesterday and I'm going to have for my supper should help me replace some calories.

Owler Bar To Baslow

Today's walk started with a stretch of about half a mile along the road from Owler Bar until I reached the access road across the moors to Barbrook Reservoir. Taken out of use and decommissioned about twenty years ago it is already getting difficult to distinguish the area covered by the reservoir basin from the rest of Big Moor, the vegetation is nearly the same.

When I reached the reservoir I walked along the top of the dam wall until I reached the spot where it had been breached and then stepped down into the basin, the area that had until not so long ago been underwater. Walking along this section was quite easy, unlike the remainder of my crossing of Big Moor, a large tract of land consisting of mainly tussock grass and a few small areas of heather. Walking through the tussock grass is difficult; it's hard work and in my opinion is some of the most difficult terrain in the Peak District - it's like walking across a large field where hundreds of trampolines are lashed together, then three foot tall pressurised balloons are attached as closely together as possible...then the whole area is covered  with tons of treacle and hay, straw, and sawdust dropped from helicopters...and there you have it, Big Moor [oh, and of course hundreds, if not thousands of adders, England's only venomous snake live there.]

I arrived at White Edge, at the western edge of Big Moor absolutely exhausted, but elated at my first solo crossing. I found the first comfortable spot and sat down and ate my sandwiches before turning south and walking along the footpath, enjoying the views and taking plenty of photographs.

When I reached the car park at Curbar Gap I bought a 100% real orange juice ice lolly; I thought it was the healthiest option now that I'm having to contend with having both rickets and diabetes.

I walked down the road towards Curbar, but before reaching the village turned right, taking a footpath that was new to me, then joining a more familiar path closer to Baslow. At Baslow Nether End I had twenty minutes to wait for the bus; I wasn't feeling too well by this time and I needed some sustenance and so popped in the shop and bought an ice cream, Bakewell Tart flavour. They didn't have my favourite flavour, lemon curd.

Fox House, Froggatt, and Baslow

What a nightmare! I wish I hadn't gone walking in the Peak District today; I had a terrible day on public transport - I'm absolutely shattered. I arrived at the railway station to find out that engineering work had been scheduled at fairly short notice and so the trains weren't running to Sheffield, I walked over to the bus station and got on the X78 bus to Sheffield which was then held up at the roadworks at Conisbrough. By the time of my return journey to Doncaster I was hoping the trains would be back to normal: I was mistaken, the engineering work was going to last all day, and to make matters worse someone had committed suicide by jumping in front of a train on the Hope Valley Line, meaning that even more rail replacement coaches were required at Sheffield Bus Station. It was chaos; several people desperate to get to Stockport nearly ended up on the Doncaster coach.

Welcome to the Northern Powerhouse.

Back to the day's walk...

I got off the bus at Fox House and meandered along paths on the Longshaw estate which I hadn't explored before; just killing time really, waiting for the weather to brighten up. By the time I'd taken these two photographs there had already been a marked improvement.

After leaving Longshaw Estate I walked along the road for a few yards and then took the footpath just beyond The Grouse Inn.

I crossed a meadow and then was walking in dense woodland; it was very dark in there. Somewhere in this wood, or maybe the next one I would be walking through, there's a statue of a woman on a plinth that was re-located from one of the local country houses. It seems a strange thing to do, and I don't know the story, but it could probably be something to do with a family dispute. I did pass three structures that looked as though they might be empty plinths without statues - I did read somewhere though a while ago that they are something to do with supplying the local villages with water.

The path leads up to the top road where the highest part of Froggatt is, some very houses here, and The Chequers pub, which I've never been inside.

Just beyond The Chequers I took a path which leads up through woodland and then continues parallel to Curbar Edge; in places where there were fewer trees I could see walkers and climbers up there.

This path comes out onto Curbar Gap, just below the official car park. I had to climb up a fairly steep section of road and then take the middle of three parallel paths which go to Baslow, one was above me along the top of Baslow edge, and one was below, near to the bottom of the valley.

I had time to visit the public toilets and then go for a pot of tea and a slice of Bakewell pudding at The Café On The Green. Written on the wall of the cubicle in the gents' toilets was an interesting piece of graffiti; some poor sod has a very unusual and degrading sexual paraphilia and was begging for help, as far as I could make out. I took a photograph of the wording but have decided not to publish it here because I don't want for it to end up bouncing all over the internet. 

I caught the 240 service back to Sheffield; I haven't travelled on it before. It takes a route that goes through Ringinglow.

Fox House, Longshaw Estate, White Edge, Baslow Edge, and Baslow

By the time I reached the railway station at Sheffield this morning, before I'd even started the walk, I was absolutely shattered; stiff all over, sore, and aching...and I even ended up with a numb backside because of the shaking, rattling, and vibrating of the train's engine and the hard and uncomfortable seats; it might have been better had I been standing up for the journey. I normally get the Cross Country Reading service, but the local stopping service was running late and so I was able to get that; I probably won't be doing that again though. I'd like to say that this morning's journey was the worst I've ever experienced, but I can't - there have been several that were even worse.

The train arrived at platform 5 and so it was only a short walk to the toilets, the exercise bringing some feeling back to my bum cheeks. I was aware of this as I was sitting on the toilet in one of the cubicles; a powerful Intercity train, or freight train, passed by the platform causing a drop in the air pressure, resulting in the toilet's plumbing making a gurgling noise and me having a sensation that my bum was stuck to the toilet seat and my balls were being sucked, licked, or tickled - I'm sure there must be Latin term for people who actually enjoy this; I wouldn't know where to start though.

After my experiences on the train and at the railway station I was looking forward to an uneventful journey up to Fox House; the bus was five minutes late, but that was all. I got off the bus to be greeted with what I thought would be excellent conditions for photography, a mixture of sunshine and several different types of cloud. Most of my photographs didn't turn out how I expected, or was hoping for. I seemed to be quite often standing in the shade and pointing my camera towards distant objects that were lit by the sun. All that I seemed to get was dark silhouettes in the foreground and everything in the background bleached out. This photograph is the best of the early ones I took, taken near to Wooden Pole.

Just beyond this location I climbed up onto Big Moor. I was hoping to spot some deer and I wasn't disappointed, soon seeing four hind on the horizon. I pointed them out to two women who seemed totally oblivious to anything, or anyone, other than their conversation. One of them seemed to be quite knowledgeable about deer though, telling me that they were female red deer.

Although it was sunny and quite bright there was a cold wind which was rather unpleasant at times. It was very exposed as I walked along the top of White Edge, and so at the earliest opportunity I crossed the moor to reach a lower path which I hadn't walked along before.

I had a similar problem with the light when I reached Curbar Gap, but did manage to get one decent photograph.

The small herd of Highland cattle was in its usual place, close to the footpath and not too far from the road, meaning that people could quickly and easily reach them. Other people were already taking photographs and getting up close to them. Although they do seem to be very friendly and docile I still kept my distance as I was taking my pictures.

I continued the walk towards Baslow going right along the top of Baslow Edge; it wasn't anywhere near as windy as White Edge was, and I was able to stop and enjoy a bit of sunbathing. I was taking things easy on this walk again; my Achuilles' tendon in my right heel is still very tight and my right knee is starting to creak a bit. These days, there always seems to be something.

At the end of Baslow Edge, just above Bar Road, the track that leads down to the village, I photographed a couple of primroses that caught my eye; a bit of guerilla gardening that the National Park authorities might not be too pleased about. I think they're pretty though; I have a lot in my garden.

A few minutes later I came across some more Highland cattle; in this photograph I'm trying to re-create Constable's 'The Hay Wain.'; even though there's no cottage, no pond, no horses, only one tree, and no people...but I do have Highland cattle and inflatable tyres.

John Constable - The Hay Wain

When I reached Baslow Nether End there was only five minutes until the bus was due. Since there are now buses back to Sheffield every thirty minutes I'm never going to have to wait for long for one to arrive...meaning that I won't have to kill time in the café; but maybe I'll just linger in the café and let the bus go one day...when I'm not so tired.

Baslow, Curbar Gap, Froggatt, Grindleford, Leadmill, and Hathersage

I got off the bus at Baslow Nether End and my first port of call was the toilets, and then the shop - for a carton of milk and a flapjack to set me up for the walk ahead.

I walked up Bar Road and for the first time I didn't need to stop to catch my breath; my fitness level seems to be really improving now after two years of almost weekly walks in the Peak District. I quickly caught up with, and then overtook, a young couple: I was quite proud of myself. I did briefly stop once though, further up the hill, to photograph the name of a house which was informing me of that which was obvious to me.

I didn't continue right to the top of the moors, but turned north along a path halfway up the climb. I've not gone this way before; I've previously walked along the top of the Edge and down in the bottom of the valley; but from this midway point the terrain and views are just as interesting - it was quite hazy though; it did brighten up later, before clouding over again and then starting raining.

The path continued for over a mile and then I reached Curbar Gap, a popular beauty spot. I walked down the road for a couple of minutes and then picked up what was most likely a continuation of the same path: I could see right down into the valley of the River Derwent to my left, and the high ground beyond, and to my right there was Curbar Edge with many climbers and hikers silhouetted on the close-by horizon as I was struggling to look towards the direction of the sun, which was breaking through the clouds by now.

 This section of path was quite well used for the first few hundred yards; there were plenty of large rocks which could be used for bouldering, but it soon became more and more difficult to follow.  I eventually ended up trying to walk through dense bracken which was taller than me, and it was quite dangerous underfoot with there being a lot of boulders, loose rock, and fallen and damaged trees everywhere...and a steep descent. I soon gave up, re-traced my steps for a few hundred yards and found a way down where it wasn't quite so overgrown.

It didn't take long to find a path, looking at the map it seems to be a different one however, and after a pleasant walk through the woodland I arrived at the Chequers Inn, situated on the highest part of Froggatt village. It looked tempting; but I feared it was far too posh for me; being sweaty, covered in mud and having bits of bracken and silver birch still clinging to my clothes.

So...I walked past the pub and continued up the road for maybe a quarter of a mile and then took the footpath which descends through woodland to Grindleford. Along this stretch I managed to take a photograph of a foxglove plant, hanging at a precarious angle and catching the sunlight.

I soon reached Grindleford, crossed the road and continued walking alongside the river, upstream in the direction of Leadmill, and then Hathersage. I reached Hathersage with enough time to spare to visit the toilets and pop into the shop for another flapjack: I faced a choice, Devonshire Flapjacks or Dorset Flapjacks. They were both the same price and so I decided to purchase whichever variety was larger. Now; I know that the county of  Devon is larger than Dorset so I picked that flapjack up first...75 grams. Dorset seemed heavier in my hand; and it was - 125 grams...so Dorset was my choice.

Fox House, Longshaw Estate, Curbar, Calver, Froggatt, and Grindleford.

I got off the bus and walked for a couple of hundred yards down the Grindleford road and took the track into the Longshaw Estate. Just beyond Longshaw Lodge, where the information centre, tea shop, and public toilets are located, I took the footpath that forks to the right, and headed for the pond. I've never visited the pond before; it's nothing special, but I did spend a few minutes watching the ducks.

A few minutes later I was walking through woodland and noticed a tree with some strange growth on its trunk; it didn't seem to be causing any problems though.

I then walked across an area which I'd describe as heathland, and then a slight climb across grassland towards Tumbling Hill. I kept stopping and looking behind me because the views were magnificent.

Instead of taking the path which goes along the bottom of the cliff face (I think it's actually an old quarry) I climbed the few yards to the summit and followed the path; which soon merges with the lower path, just before Hay Wood car park.

I then walked along the top of Froggatt Edge, mostly using the main path, a few yards back from the top of the cliff; but sometimes going to admire an interesting rock formation and the wide-ranging view...being careful because of the gusty wind.

At the southern end of Froggatt Edge is Curbar Gap, where I walked along the road for a couple of minutes and then took a footpath down into the village.

Calver is right next to Curbar; I came down onto the main road at Calver Mill, where the 1970s TV series Colditz was filmed, and then walked north along the road to the café, where I enjoyed a very hearty cooked breakfast.

I then re-traced my steps for a few hundred yards and took a footpath leading up through woodland, my only serious climb of the day. At the top there were some grassy meadows where cows and sheep were grazing together. The views of Froggatt Edge and northwards up the valley were lovely; but by this time the sky was much cloudier than earlier.

I came down and crossed over the river and then followed the Derwent Valley Heritage Way to Froggatt, and then Grindleford; stopping to photograph the old stone bridge at Froggatt.

Fox House, Longshaw Estate, White Edge and Baslow.

I started off feeling a bit unwell this morning on the train going to Sheffield; my knees were tightly wedged under a table and were becoming quite painful and stiff, my throat was a bit dry and tickly but I couldn't move to reach into my pocket for a cough lozenge...and I was sweating profusely. As soon as I was in the fresh air (walking towards the bus station) I felt fine.

I got off the bus at Fox House and crossed the road to enter the Longshaw Estate

The rhododendron bushes were only just showing a bit of colour, but the gorse/furze/whin bushes were blooming at their best.

I then walked across a stretch of open moorland and climbed onto White Edge, following the path all the way to Curbar Gap, and then down into Baslow.

Positioned along the route I noticed a couple of recently-sited companion stones.

Today I tried a little experiment; I navigated the entire length of the six mile walk without looking at the map once, or using my GPS to take bearings. It wasn't too difficult, I know the route very well...nonetheless I was quite pleased with myself.