Great Hucklow, Windmill, Old Dam, Beytonsdale, and Castleton.

The guard on the train this morning announced that we would be ten minutes late leaving Doncaster due to overrunning engineering works. This meant that I'd miss the 272 bus at Sheffield, and so would have to catch a later service, to a different destination. After checking my bus timetables, which were still wet after last week's soaking on the Great Ridge, I decided to catch the 65 and start my walk from Great Hucknall. Fortunately there was plenty of room, and even a table, for me to re-fold my map en route. There was plenty of time at Sheffield Midland Station to visit the toilets and pop into the Sainbury's shop there and buy something extra to eat. All I could find was a packet of Welsh cakes; I've never tried these before, in fact, until today I'd never heard of them. They looked a bit like Derby scones, which I think are delicious (never served as part of a cream tea though). Later in the day I was to find out that they didn't taste that much like Derby scones; they were much lighter and not as buttery...but did contain more currants. There were six in the pack and I ate them all; so I must have enjoyed them.

I got off the bus as planned at Great Hucknall and walked through the village, then along the road and a path that goes parallel to the road, until I reached the hamlet of Windmill. There were some pretty views along this section; spoiled somewhat by the poor visibility though. A few hundred yards beyond Windmill there's a gate which is the access to High Rake. Almost immediately there are the ruins of High Rake Mine, with a detailed information board, and a bench facing northwards to  appreciate the view of  Hucklow Edge over to the east. It was 10:45 by now and so the cricket commentary was just beginning: time for my sandwiches and a rummage in my rucksack for my radio. As I ate my sandwiches and Welsh cakes, England got off to a bad start for the day; they did easily win the test match against New Zealand by mid-afternoon though.

Here's a photograph of part of the information board at High Rake Mine; the part with the largest lettering.

I continued walking along High Rake and then crossed a narrow country lane and took the path that continued in the same direction. I was now walking along, and sometimes in the bottom of, Tideslow Rake. This is a very prominent, and impressive landscape feature, the largest in the Peak District I think. Here are two photographs I took, facing both directions, to try and show how large it is, stretching for over a mile - all dug by hand I should think.

  

When I was in the bottom of the rake I heard the sound of a loud engine and looked up to see a low-flying light aircraft; a very small one - a very flimsy single-seater.

After reaching the end of Tideslow Rake I walked along the road for a short distance and then took a path across the field, and then a single track lane, to Old Dam. I continued along this lane to reach Beytonsdale, a hamlet I hadn't visited before.

I took another path leading uphill across more fields and then reached the road, right next to Eldon Quarry. Just before reaching the quarry I saw an eviscerated frog on the grass.

I walked along the old quarry road and then along the section of the Limestone Way which leads down Cave Dale into Castleton. 

As I was approaching Castleton the weather rapidly improved, as you can tell  from this picture I took at the bottom end of Cave Dale, only about a hundred yards from Castleton's market place.

The bus was waiting in at the bus station; service number 273 which goes to Sheffield via the Ladybower Reservoir and the Upper Derwent Valley. The journey back to Sheffield was lovely, especially the section when the bus travels the entire length of the reservoir's upper arm to the visitor centre at Fairholmes. The last time I was here I was in a car with two friends from Leeds listening to Wagner on the CD player...and that was even better. 

I had time to get a cup of tea at Sheffield railway station; however I had to stand on the train, struggling with my drink as it slurped about in the plastic cup. I had a bit of an accident as the train turned sharply to the right just beyond Swinton station when what should have been a sip of scolding hot tea ended up inside my nostrils. Strangely, the hot tea didn't seem to drain back out from my nostrils though.

Hollow Meadows, Rivelin, Rivelin Valley, Malin Bridge, and Hiillsborough.

A winter wonderland - even though it's meant to be spring.

Well...today didn't turn out as I planned; not in the least. Nonetheless I still had a great time out in the snow; the deepest snow I've experienced this winter...even though it's now spring. I knew there was a lot of lying snow, even in Doncaster as I set off wearing my ice grippers to walk to the railway station; but I'd checked online and the main roads seemed to be clear. So, I made plans to go walking around the lanes to the north of Hathersage where I hoped the snowy conditions wouldn't be too difficult; I certainly didn't want to be slogging across open country today.

My first change of plan happened when the Hathersage bus didn't turn up: the 273 service did though a few minutes later and so I got on that. I thought I'd get off at Fairholmes and walk along part of the track which goes around Ladybower Reservoir, but the driver informed us that he wasn't going up the valley because of the weather, Plan number three was to get off at the Ladybower Inn and take a low level route to Hathersage and pop into Cintra's Tearooms for something to eat. However, this plan was thwarted too when the bus reached just beyond Rivelin where the road was blocked by a deep snowdrift. Although it hadn't snowed for many hours, and the road had been ploughed and gritted, there was a strong wind which had blown snow from the fields onto the carriageway. Although we were actually out of sight of the blockage, the snow which we could see being lifted was quite spectacular.

After finding out what the problem was, most of us got off the bus. I was the first and jumped straight into some deep snow, almost up to my knees. I decided to walk back down the road towards Sheffield.  Some of the other passengers decided on the same strategy, but at the first opportunity left the road and took a footpath leading down to the Wyming Brook Nature Reserve.

As I was walking I  stopped once or twice to take photographs or have a rummage in my rucksack, and the remaining passenger who was walking along the road caught up with me, and we immediately got talking. I recognised him, he's usually on the early train on a Sunday when I'm travelling on it, and sometimes he ends up on the same bus as me (like today). Prior to today, we've exchanged the odd few words, but nothing more though.

I  found out that he's called Dougie, and, as I expected, is from Doncaster too. We walked together and chatted for about two hours until we went our separate ways at the Rivelin Café. I think I did most of the talking.

I popped into the toilets located at the start of the Rivelin Valley Nature Trail: there was a sign pinned to the door saying that they will be closing on March 31st...so that's the last time I'll be using those. More facilities lost.

Once we got down into the valley and into the woodland it was a lot more sheltered. The trees were heavy with snow and the millponds and dams were frozen...picture postcard perfect.

Along the way I noticed something I hadn't seen before on previous visits; a piece of artwork depicting a chair, placed on an inaccessible island in the middle of the river.

At the café, myself and Dougie said our goodbyes. He continued walking, but I went into the public toilets to wash my hands and then went into the café hoping to buy a hot meal. I wasn't the only one with this idea though; it was packed and there were no empty seats, so I found a bench down by the millrace, brushed off the snow, and sat down and enjoyed my rice pudding which had stayed quite hot in my flask. I rarely take the flask, but I knew today was going to be chilly. 

It wasn't far then to walk down to Malin Bridge and the shops at Hillsborough. I walked along the main shopping street hoping to find a café that might be open, but with it being a Sunday none was.

I crossed the road and waited for the tram: it wasn't long until it arrived. With it being earlier in the day, it got very busy with people going shopping at Meadowhall, or going skating or bowling, or to the cinema. I was just going home.