Eyam, Foolow, Grindlow, Great Hucklow, and Wardlow Mires

Walking today with Chris and Maureen from Leeds: the location and route of  today's walk required a bit of forward planning, an easy, flat, circular walk with frequent toilet facilities - I've recently increased my dosage of anti-diabetes tablets, as I need to,  and I can therefore sometimes suffer from diarrhoea; fortunately not today though. There are some very clean and modern public toilets at the car park at Eyam [and an additional set inside the courtyard of Eyam Hall which are easily reachable from the main road through the village],  and of course the pubs in the villages we would pass through would all have facilities.

I did my good deed for the day by re-uniting a hiker with his hiking pole at Sheffield Bus Station; he had got on the bus and left it on the seats in the waiting area, and I was rewarded with better than expected weather and a perfect day on public transport.

I arrived at Fox House, my regular point for Chris to pick me up in the car; a location named after a pub, which is named after a man who's named after an animal. It was busy at Fox House; there were quite a few mountainbikers, boulderers, fellrunners and maybe even an odd hiker or two.

We drove over to Eyam, parked in the free car park at the back of the regular car park and set off on our walk in glorious weather; this was how it stayed for most of the day apart from three short showers.

We walked down a track and then across the fields to Foolow. There are some lovely views of typical White Peak countryside here; mile upon mile of limestone drystone walls, a carpet of green fields and gently rolling hills in the distance.

The pub at Foolow seems to sell more than you'd expect...it even brews its own postage stamps.

It began to rain as we left Foolow and headed across the fields to Grindlow and then along the road to reach Great Hucklow where we stopped for a brief, a very brief, visit to the phonebox art gallery.

We then walked along the road and then the footpath which runs parallel to the road towards Windmill, before taking the lane which leads back towards Foolow. There are some lovely views towards the north from this area but it was still a bit murky...although it had stopped raining.

The track towards Littonfields is very straight for long sections and quite boring; things got more interesting when we reached the section of the path which cuts diagonally across the fields. We had to walk along the grass verge alongside the main trunk road for a few yards before turning down into Mires Lane and heading towards the next footpath. We walked through the gate, walked only for a few yards and then stopped to admire the wonderful view of Cressbrookdale and Peter's Stone.

We returned to the main road just before we reached Wardlow Mires, the ugliest village or hamlet that I've visited in the Peak District. Our next footpath went right through the farmyard, the route was clearly marked though.

There were a lot of stiles to be climbed over along this section and Maureen struggled a bit towards the end; fortunately the final mile and a half back to Eyam was along a public bridleway and so there weren't any stiles.

When we got back to Eyam Maureen remained in the car as Chris and myself had a quick look round the village, visiting the courtyard at Eyam Hall, the Tourist Information Centre in the old market hall, and the church, where there are some very informative display boards telling the story of the plague and the bravery of Rev. Mompesson and the villagers of Eyam.

I asked to be dropped off at the tram terminus at Malin Bridge and we arrived there just as a tram was approaching; I got back to the railway station five minutes before the fast train back to Doncaster was due...and it arrived on time.

Leam and Bretton

Today was the first time I've been walking in the Peak District when I couldn't use my ENCTS pass to travel for free on the train between Doncaster and Sheffield. I only decided to do this because I was going walking with Chris from the Leeds Adult Asperger's group. It was a very long and tiring journey and I won't be doing it again unless I'm meeting up with him, and possibly other people, from the group. I was shattered when I reached Fox House, where I was picked up in the car.

Right from the beginning the day didn't get off to a good start. I was in the town centre on my way to the bus station when I realised that I'd forgotten my map; I know the area of the Peak District where I was planning going walking very well and so wouldn't need the map merely for the purpose of navigation, but nonetheless I decided to turn around and go home to get it just in case we were to have an accident and I'd need to provide accurate location details using map co-ordinates. It meant having to walk half a mile extra though.

There were a lot of people waiting for the Buxton bus at Sheffield; it was only a small bus that turned up and everyone just about fitted on. There were children sitting in the doorwell and rucksacks stacked precariously up against the left-hand side of the windscreen - I did get a seat though.

I struggled to stand up and get off at Fox House. I had to lean forward and grab a rail with both hands, then reach up as high as I could with my left hand and lurch forward and then upwards; having to twist round and then reach down to use the top of the seat for balance...I felt like I was a demented pole dancer trying out some new moves for a sexy routine at a sleazy nightclub later in the day. This fantasy/illusion was suddenly shattered when I simultaneously pulled muscles in my lower back and groin area. 

When the bus stopped I had to make room for me to bend down and pick up my rucksack. The children in the doorwell stood up and moved out of the way so that the doors could swing open. There wasn't very much room at all, and of course I was standing up; probably not the most sensible thing for me to have done, but I needed to stand up in order to press the button for the bus to stop. One of the children knocked the rucksacks over and they then tumbled into the doorwell. Somehow, and I can't recall the exact order of events, the driver managed to get the doors to open and those of us who wanted to get off at Fox House managed to do so.

It was 09:50 and Chris was due at ten o'clock. I walked through the car park and enjoyed a lovely view of the Burbage Valley. 

Chris was only a few minutes late; I used the time to do some stretch exercises and check that my pulled muscles wouldn't be too much of a hindrance. I seemed to be okay.

We drove in the car to the parking area on Sir William Hill Road, near to the transmitter tower.

We set off and walked across Eyam Moor, heading for the hamlet of Leam. There were some lovely views of Froggatt Edge and we posed for some photographs, using the timer function, with the Edge as a spectacular backdrop.

At Leam we had to walk along a road for a few minutes and then turned left and took the track leading towards Bretton Clough.. I thought it was very pretty down in the bottom of the valley with the trees showing varying degrees of new growth and the speckled effect of the sunlight, Chris said he preferred the view looking down into the clough from high ground. We found a sunny, and sheltered, spot to eat our sandwiches and about half an hour later we were climbing up to the road that leads to Bretton, and the Barrel Inn - the highest pub in Derbyshire.

I ordered a Diet Coke and I treated Chris to a glass of rather exotic cider. We took our drinks outside and walked over to the viewing point, but sat on the grass, and then on the seat when it became vacant. We then read the panorama board and I identified the locations for Chris. 

Chris wanted to be back to the car for three o'clock and so I needed to amend our route. We decided to walk past Stanage House farm and loop round and across the nearest part of Eyam Moor...and arrived back at the car at half past two. We probably still could have got back in time by taking the longer route; it worked out to my advantage a few minutes later at Hathersage though, when after getting out of the car on Station Road and taking a photograph of the picturesque fingerpost sign I turned around the corner and saw about a dozen people standing at the bus-stop. I'd been assuming that I'd have to wait forty minutes for the next bus, but the previous bus was over twenty minutes late and still hadn't arrived. Knowing that it would take a few minutes for everyone to board I knew I'd got time to go to the toilets.

The journey on the bus back to Sheffield, and then on the X78 service to Doncaster was a lot more pleasant than the outward journey...it really needed to be.

Fox House, Burbage Valley, and Longshaw Estate

I had planned to go to Foolow today to have a look at the recently formed sinkhole. I got on the number 65 bus at Sheffield Bus Station; the weather was lovely, brilliant sunshine up to Fox House, but over to the west, in the direction of Foolow, I had noticed a threatening bank of dark clouds. The bus stopped at Fox House to let several people off...and I got off too.

The weather remained good for the next hour and a half and I managed to get some good photos, especially from the old quarries.

I walked along the bottom of the valley and returned back towards Fox House using the high route, taking in Higger Tor and Carl Wark.

When I got down to the road at the county boundary the timing was perfect for a visit to Longshaw Lodge for tea and cake. The tea was free; I only needed to present my bus ticket. TM Motors are good with their special offers for their passengers - it's just a pity that many of their buses are old and poorly maintained, and their routes and timetables seem to be inconvenient for many people. (Many students studying at the two Sheffield universities took advantage of the £2 discount at Chatsworth House last year.)

I had to pay for the chocolate cake: it was too dry for my liking though.

Froggatt Edge With Chris and Simon

Another walk today with Chris and Simon from Leeds.

I arrived as planned at Fox House at 09:50 and so had nearly half an hour to wait until Chris and Simon arrived in the car; so I got the camera out. The photo I've chosen depicts the view from the pub's rear beer garden.

Thirty minutes later we set off, crossing the road and walking through the grounds of Longshaw Estate. After a couple of hundred yards Chris suddenly stopped and shouted "Rucksack!" He'd left his rucksack in the car; neither Simon nor myself had noticed.

It's easy going through Longshaw Estate, on gravel tracks..and the views are good, especially westwards towards the Hope Valley.

We reached the road, passed the Grouse Inn, isolated on the moors, and took a path just beyond the car park which led down to a small wood at the side of 

Haywood Car Park.

Another road to cross, at a location where we needed to be careful, and then we were on the path which soon goes right along the top of Froggatt Edge. We stopped at many of the rock formations to admire the views and Simon spent a few minutes posing for photos with the docile Highland cattle.

Simon also enjoyed posing next to the Eagle Rock, managing to climb about halfway up without any difficulty.

The Wellington Monument was next; no opportunity to pose here because a small group of people had got there first. We reached the road and then entered the access land on Big Moor. There's well-defined and well-maintained path that leads to White Edge, higher than Froggatt Edge, but not as spectacular...but there are distant views all the way to Sheffield and the Trent Valley power stations - we even discussed if Nottingham might be visible using binoculars.

It was a straightforward walk back to Fox House, where we arrived fifteen minutes before the number 65 bus was due. It didn't arrive; the next bus, the 272, due thirty minutes later, was five minutes late and was only a single-decker. Being first in the queue I got a seat; several people didn't though.

My train from Sheffield back to Doncaster was ten minutes late, and then delayed even further en route. Not a good day for public transport.

New Timetable For Service 218

This is bad news I'm afraid. At the end of July, service number 214 from Sheffield to Matlock via Chatsworth House is being withdrawn and only partially replaced by an extended 218 service which will now also serve Chatsworth House and Matlock.

This means that there will be a reduction of nearly fifty percent in the number of buses that go to Fox House, and there will now be very few buses travelling between Fox House and Baslow: this covers a lot of good walking country.

I also don't think that having the same bus go to both Chatsworth and Bakewell is a good idea; it might get very crowded.

Kinder Scout With Chris and Simon

I arranged to meet Chris and Simon at Fox House at 09:50 this morning. I was confident of getting there on time since there are two buses scheduled to travel towards Fox House, the 65 to Buxton and the 214 to Matlock, both scheduled to leave at exactly the same time, from the same stand at the bus station, and taking the same route to Fox House....obviously scheduled to arrive there at the same time too...09:50.

The Buxton bus showed up first and I arrived at Fox House on time. Chris and Simon were a bit late; I had to wait ten minutes for them.

Chris drove us to the starting point for the walk and we parked as near to Mam Nick as we could. We walked westwards along Rushup Edge: I don't know why it's called an edge, since to me, it doesn't seem like an edge at all; more like a less spectacular continuation of the Great Ridge.

After about a mile and a half we turned right and crossed open moorland and headed towards Brown Knoll. I have read online that the crossing of this moor (which isn't named on the map) can be very boggy at times; well, today it wasn't. The path was easy to follow, and the mist had even lifted a bit, so I didn't need to rummage for my compass.

We ate our sandwiches at the trig point; both Simon and myself commented about the amount of cotton grass here.

It wasn't far, nor much of a climb until we reached the Kinder plateau; There was one section where we were exposed to the western wind and Simon mentioned that he wished he'd brought his gloves. It was really rather cold here, and quite unpleasant...it was much warmer and more sheltered down in the groughs a few minutes later. 

We walked along the route of the Pennine Way for a few minutes before forking to the right to pass by some well-known rock formations; Noe Stool, Pym Chair, and the Wool Packs. The latter looked particularly otherwordly in the swirling mist, intermittently illuminated by the sun straining to poke through both the cloud cover and the translucent light. 

The groughs were beckoning us, and so we headed into the maze which is Kinder Scout. Chris lead the way; I suggested that whenever he needed to decide which way to go, he should choose to walk to the left. We had fun getting just a teeny weeny bit lost; we found an area which had been re-seeded and gullies that had been blocked in some systematic way, to prevent further erosion I suppose - I like the effects of the erosion though.

A large rocky outcrop eventually loomed into view; we were back at Pym Chair. We re-traced our footsteps and then descended down Jacob's Ladder; in places I held on to the top of the wooden fence to steady myself - I was surprised at how smooth and worn the wood actually was. I suppose many thousands of people must have done the same thing over several decades.

Before reaching Upper Booth we took a path which led us through some lovely pastoral countryside to Dalehead; no doubt the scenery would have been stunning, if only we could have seen beyond about a hundred yards.   

Just beyond Dalehead we entered access land, and since we didn't fancy climbing right up to the top of Rushup Edge using the footpath which ascends at a very steep angle, we located a path of some sort which eventually ended up at the bottom of Chapel Gate, a well maintained track; which is closed to traffic at the moment though.

I took a photograph of a tree which was only about the same size of me; it reminded me of a bonsai, or an image on a Japanese woodcut print. 

The final section of the walk was the climb up the road to Mam Nick, and then the last few hundred yards back to the car. I was soon struggling though; my thigh muscles were refusing to work, and I ached all over; Simon was struggling even more so, and looked quite unwell, and so Chris and myself decided that I would wait for Simon at the lay-by not too far from the top whilst he would go to the car and drive down to pick us up. Simon was very relieved...and I wasn't complaining.

Chris soon arrived with the car; it was parked no more than half a mile away on the other side of the hill. Simon and myself got in, and because it would be a difficult place to turn round, being near a blind summit and a sharp bent, we decided to drive down into the Edale valley and then continue towards Hope...where I arrived just in time to catch the bus.

Longshaw Lodge to Baslow

Although the weather was much better yesterday, I ended up going walking today because the trains weren't running to Sheffield yesterday.

Today's walk is one of my favourite routes; I've done it several times before, but never when the conditions have been so wintry.

I got off the bus at the next stop after Fox House and walked along the gravel driveway to Longshaw Lodge, where I went to the toilets...and stopped awhile to take a picture of what I assume to be a quite old plaque explaining some of the history of the building.

As soon as I left the areas accessible to vehicles and was on footpaths it was obvious that I'd need to use my new ice grippers: although the snow and ice was rapidly thawing, there was still quite a lot of it about. I bought my grippers from a shop called 'Clas Ohlson'. It's a Swedish firm, and I'm assuming that if their products are manufactured for the Swedish market, they'll be adequate for using in the Peak District. I've previously purchased my rucksack, head torch, flask and heat pads from them and have had no reason to complain or be disappointed yet. The ice grippers are certainly sturdier and better designed than the pair that disintegrated last week...and a damn sight easier to put on and take off too. In the photograph you can see that I've taped up my laces with parcel tape; it's what I do to stop my laces snagging and eventually working loose as I'm walking through the undergrowth.

The path through Longshaw Estate is just over a mile and then I needed to walk along a short section of road. There was a wide grass verge and so I didn't need to take off my grippers though.

I was soon on the path leading to Froggatt Edge where my first stop was at Stoke Flat Stone Circle where I observed that someone had placed an offering to the gods; only a penny though. On other occasions when I've been here there has been rather more money in the hollowed out bowl on the top of the main stone; additionally there have been offerings of costume jewellery, beads, flowers and food.

The views from the top of the Edge are spectacular, but were spoiled today by the not-so-good visibility  There are plenty of interesting rock formations, so I concentrated on photographing those instead.

Occasionally I'd look to my left towards the expanse of Stoke Flat hoping to see some deer. I was fortune to spot four in the distance; the first time I've seen any at this location. Much closer; hiding amongst the rocks and boulders were several Highland cattle: it's a good job that they're very placid.

By now it was already drizzling a bit, although the weather forecast wasn't predicting rain for more than an hour yet. This was incentive enough for me to increase my pace to make sure I'd definitely arrive at Baslow Nether End in time to catch the next bus: after the really severe bout of flu I've just recovered from the last thing I need to be doing is walking in the rain.

Blackwell, Flagg, Monyash, Over Haddon, and Bakewell.

I got off the bus at Blackwell and walked through the village, one of the few reachable villages I hadn't yet visited. It's nothing special, but within a couple of minutes I was enjoying the best accompaniment of birdsong I'd heard all year; I could distinguish, but not identify, at least four different species.

I continued along the lane and then crossed over the main Buxton road, using a short section of the Pennine Bridleway before taking a footpath leading across a boggy field. I then  reached some sort of recycling plant that was constantly buzzing and continued in a southerly direction until I arrived at a country lane just to the east of Chelmorton. I should think that this section was the highest point of the walk, and a field full of cows seemed to be triumphantly proclaiming the fact; I've never heard such noisy cows; several of them seemed to be lowing in a syncopated rhythm somewhat reminiscent of a mill or factory...I'm glad I wasn't in the field with them.

When I reached the road I turned left and soon spotted the footpath I was looking for; running almost parallel to the road that runs through Flagg. I briefly entered the village and turned down the road leading to Monyash. The path I took to reach Monyash went across open fields  and was flat and easy going.

I had only visited the eastern end of the village previously, and so most of Monyash was new to me. I knew there is a quite well respected café here, and so went in for a mug of tea and a scone.

After finishing my refreshments I walked along the lane that leads past the village pond. The pond is by far the most picturesque I have photographed in the Peak District so far.

I continued along the Limestone Way and then took the footpath which leads down Fern Dale into the upper reaches of Lathkill Dale.

The walk along Lathkill Dale, although a little rocky in places, isn't too difficult, and seems to be a safe challenge for young children....there were several families out in the fine weather enjoying themselves today.

I walked up the steep road to Over Haddon without once having to stop to catch my breath; a big improvement on the last time. I didn't linger; I had contemplated visiting the pub, but decided to head on towards Bakewell instead, arriving there with enough time to enjoy some fish and chips down by the river.

The bus journey back to Sheffield took a bit longer than scheduled. There had been a traffic accident just beyond Fox House and the police had set up a roadblock and were re-directing traffic. When the bus got to the head of the queue the police officer must have decided that the double-decker was too large to turn round, and too large to stay where we were, blocking the road: and so he let us through. A few hundred yards further on we saw a motorcyclist receiving medical attention at the roadside from an ambulance crew.

A Short Walk From Fox House, And A Drive Up The Upper Derwent Valley.

Today I spent a lovely few hours in the Peak District with two friends from Leeds. It was totally unexpected; I received a phone call at eleven o'clock and we arranged to meet ninety minutes later at Sheffield Railway Station. I assumed we would just be meeting up for a drink, or a meal, but when my friend met me he mentioned that they'd come in the car and fancied a quick visit to the Peak District.

We drove to Fox House and walked part way along the carriage track and then returned back to the car park by the high level route at the top of the rocks. Damo has a bit of a limp, and his shoes weren't really appropriate for hiking, but I reckon we did about three miles; and no-one came to any harm.

After a quick drink in the pub we drove to Ladybower Reservoir and then turned up the road which goes up the valley. We stopped at the Derwent Dam to enjoy the view from the observation platform. Conditions were absolutely perfect; mainly sunny, but with dramatic-looking clouds, a strong breeze and occasional drizzle. We even spotted a rainbow. Excellent conditions for photography...but I didn't take my camera.

We continued further up the valley to the Howden Dam, which was overtopping; glistening like a plate of glass in the bright sunlight. The road at this point is narrow and so we needed to travel another mile or so in order to find a spot to turn round. All the time we drove very slowly up and down the valley, drinking in the scenery and listening to Wagner on the car's music system.

We then returned to Sheffield along the A57 road, arriving in ample time for my friends to have a meal before going on to their appointment.

Blacka Moor, Robin Hood, and Baslow.

As the bus was climbing up towards Fox House this morning I was surprised at how much snow still remained from last week. I didn't travel all the way to Fox House though, I got off at Blacka Moor and walked along the footpath through woodland which parallels the road, being just the other side of a high wall. After only a few minutes I noticed two memorial plaques; one commemorating the centenary of the South Yorkshire and North Derbyshire area of the Cyclists' Touring Club in 1978, and the other which had been placed a few yards further on by the Sheffield and South Pennines Topographical Society a year earlier.

I soon left the wood and then took the track which initially runs alongside the western boundary of the wood, but then crosses open countryside. I could see the highest point of the moor, and so headed for it, having a bit of fun on the way in a deep snowdrift which had survived in a sheltered hollow.

This location probably wasn't the highest land in the immediate area because I reached the Trig Point on Totley Moor.

By now I was walking along a substantial track which eventually led down to the road at a gas pumping station of some sort, just a few hundred yards west of Owler Bar.

I crossed the road and followed the path which cuts across the north-eastern corner of Big Moor; the chimneys and roof of the house associated with the old reservoir soon came into view. As I passed the building I observed that it looked as though it was occupied: although its location is extremely isolated, it does have a good metalled road leading to it.

I passed by the house and continued following the track southwards, occasionally crossing the Bar Brook using well-built stone bridges. Along this section I spotted a man who looked like he was picking berries; I can't imagine what they might be at this time of year...he was certainly regularly bending down though and placing something into a small transparent plastic bag.

Maybe half an hour later I arrived at the Baslow road, crossed over it and continued along a well-defined path across access land. This led me to a stretch of country road which I had walked along only two weeks earlier, I think. After only a few yards I noticed some bamboo canes stuck in the ground next to a roadside wall; I went closer to investigate and discovered that several fruiting or flowering bushes had been deliberately planted, and staked.

Another few minutes and I was at a crossroads and climbed over a stile (or possibly walked through a gate - I can't remember) onto more access land and took a path which was leading towards Birchen Edge. I soon caught up with, and passed , a couple who were being very careful in picking their routes across the boggy ground. I surmised that they didn't want to get too muddy because they were probably going to visit the Robin Hood Inn.

I reached the base of the Edge and soon found a way to scramble to the top and obtain my first view of Nelson's Monument, and a few yards away, the Three Ships: prominent boulders inscribed with the names of three of Nelson's most famous ships, Victory, Defiance, and Royal Soverin.

It was a quite difficult descent down to the main Chesterfield road, passing by the Robin Hood Inn and being wary of the traffic on my steady walk down into Baslow, where I had time to enjoy a hot Cornish pasty before catching the bus.

Calton Lees, Beeley Hilltop, Robin Hood and Baslow.

I glimpsed my first snow of the winter today: as I was sitting on the bus travelling across the moors towards Fox House the sunlight was illuminating the remnants of last week's snowfall on the higher ground of Kinder Scout and the Great Ridge. There was, however, no snow underfoot where I was walking today; it was just a bit frosty and icy.

I got off the bus just beyond Calton Lees and walked up the lane to Beeley Hilltop. The sun was at just the right angle to light up the countryside and cast dramatic shadows in the direction of Chatsworth Park. This photograph was taken looking towards Edensor Church.

Not far beyond Beeley Hilltop the lane deteriorates and becomes nothing more than a bridleway. After about a mile I reached the boundary of access land and walked across Beeley Moor towards Hob Hurst's House. The site is very disappointing, but the information board explains everything.

It was then a steady descent along the western fringe of Gibbet Moor. The Chesterfield road soon came into view and I noticed a footpath sign. When I was close enough to read it, it was going in the direction of Robin Hood. The footpath wasn't marked on the map, but it was well established and so I decided to follow it.

I was aware that there was quite a substantial beck at the bottom of the valley, just below and before the road. No footbridge or even stepping stones were indicated, but I wasn't concerned because these features quite often don't appear on Ordnance Survey maps.

When the path reached the beck it continued following the bank, becoming quite overgrown in places. It wasn't long until I could see the Robin Hood Inn, just a few yards away; but I couldn't reach it because a deep ditch, a fast flowing beck, a tall drystone wall with what looked to be barbed wire on top...and a road, were all in the way.

I had planned to continue beyond Robin Hood and visit Nelson's Monument and the Three Ships rocks on Birchen Edge and eventually finishing the walk at Calver. Obviously I needed to change my plan; the weather had become cloudy by now and a few degrees colder than when I set off, and so I decided to continue towards the northern perimeter of Chatsworth Park and then catch the bus at Baslow Nether End.

Toad's Mouth, Hathersage and Bamford Station

I got off the bus at the stop after Fox House, Toad's Mouth - so called because there's a nearby rock that looks like a toad: someone has even carved eyes on it. I think you can make out the shape on this photo.

I then walked across the moor and descended into Hathersage; it was very windy on the higher parts, and as I approached Hathersage it began to drizzle. I therefore took the opportunity to pop into the tea rooms and had a pot of tea [four cups] and a toasted fruited teacake.

By the time I'd finished, the weather was a lot better and so I continued with the walk to Bamford Station.

The route I chose took me north from the village walking briefly along the bank of Hood Brook and then up out of the valley and  following lanes, tracks and paths across fields to reach Sickleholme Golf Club; coming out by the clubhouse, since the path across the course didn't seem to be signposted anywhere.

I arrived at the bus shelter just down the road from the railway station with about thirty minutes to wait for the next bus.

Fox House, Longshaw Estate and Carl Wark

I was expecting there to be a lot of lying snow today, but there actually wasn't that much; no more than in Doncaster. In fact the higher ground to the north west didn't seem to have any snow cover at all.

I had intended to just walk a few miles on the Longshaw Estate and get used to my new GPS device, but the conditions underfoot were so good that I went north along the Burbage Valley and climbed Carl Wark, and was surprised how many other people were also out enjoying the Peak District today.

Grindleford, Bretton Clough and Hathersage

A perfect day for walking and photography...and the Met Office forecast was correct for once. The day started a bit cloudy and quite cold; I saw my first ice of the winter on Eyam Moor, the highest part of the walk: later, someone told me that there had been a dusting of snow overnight on the Snake Pass - as you can see from the photograph, visibility was excellent and I could easily see towards Kinder Scout, the highest point of the Peak District, a few miles to the north; and there was certainly no sign of snow up there by mid-morning.

The walk began with a steady climb westwards out of Grindleford on the road up to Sir William Hill; unfortunately, according to the Ordnance Survey map there are no public footpaths leading from the village to the west. I then dropped down into Bretton Clough, where the woodland was looking decidedly autumnal; followed by a steady walk along the brook to Leadmill Bridge and then Hathersage in time to catch the 15:24 bus back to Sheffield...except that it didn't turn up. It wasn't timetabled to show up though, the bus was doing the school run, taking the children from Hope Valley School home. The next bus arrived half an hour later and only went to Fox House; but I knew that there were many more buses back to Sheffield from there. When one did appear it was ten minutes late, so I arrived at Sheffield railway station ten minutes late thinking I'd just missed the express train back to Doncaster and would have to wait for the stopping train...however, the express was also ten minutes late and so I was able to catch it. Hallelujah, a problem with public transport working in my favour.

So, what could have been a perfect day ruined by the vagaries of buses and trains.