Worksop, Rhodesia, Shireoaks, Thorpe Salvin, Lindrick Dale, Woodsetts, Cotterhill, and South Carlton.

Northern Rail drivers were on strike today so there was a limited train service to Sheffield, so I decided to take the bus and start a walk from Worksop.

The person sitting behind me on the bus was coughing and spluttering and so I got off a couple of stops early and walked down into the town centre to buy something to eat later. 

I then had to work out how to get down on to the canal towpath.

I walked along the towpath for about four miles; there is some quite pretty countryside...and a lot of locks to take photographs of. There was a short section at Rhodesia where I had to walk through a housing estate and then across some fields before returning to the canal.

I left the towpath and walked through Old Spring Wood to reach Thorpe Salvin; I walked into the village to take photographs of the ruins of old hall, and the church, and then re-traced my steps back to the point where I had left the towpath...then crossing over  a bridge and continuing on to Lindrick Dale.

Lindrick Dale is a very well-to-do hamlet, I should think that every property is worth at least half a million Pounds.

I then needed to walk along the busy road for a few hundred yards until I reached the path that leads into Anston Stones Wood; there was quite a steep climb to reach the top of the cliff for the path across fields back towards South Carlton, from where I would catch the bus back to Doncaster.

The next place I reached was Woodsetts, but only just...the path goes right along the southern edge of the village, right next to Lindrick Golf Course. There are some more expensive houses here; one even has its own missile launcher in the back garden - there is also a military aircraft and a mobile radar array...I was only just able to see these though by peeking over the high boundary wall; fortunately I'm 6ft 3ins tall. This 'well defended' property is called 'Nirvanah.'

I was able to make quick time onwards towards the hamlet of Cotterhill and then reached South Carlton. The church here is much prettier than the one at Thorpe Salvin, but by the time I got there the weather was quite overcast and so my photographs didn't turn out to be very good.

The journey back home on the bus would have been totally uneventful had the bus driver not forgot to stop at the bus-stop when I'd pressed the bell, and stood up and walked to the front, to get off. I had to stay on until the town centre...however this meant that I bumped into an old friend I haven't seen for a few years and we had a natter for ten minutes...and then I went to the foodhall at Marks and Spencer and got some bargains for my tea. 

Calver, Great Longstone, and Hassop Station

When I left the house this morning at 7:30 it really was quite uncomfortably chilly; however, by the time I reached Calver it was pleasantly warm and sunny, with a refreshing breeze - excellent conditions for walking...and taking photographs.

I started by walking up Coombs Dale; the nearest of the limestone dales to Sheffield. It's not the prettiest, or most interesting of the Derbyshire dales, but it does have some delightful spots, some old mine workings...and dangerous slurry lagoons near to the head of the dale as well.

After passing by a forest of 'Danger', 'Do Not Enter' and  'Prohibited' signs I turned left and climbed uphill towards Longstone Edge. Two of the largest cows I have ever seen, probably six foot tall, briefly blocked my way before deciding to move on. I briefly considered ducking underneath their udders...there was certainly enough room. (The Commonwealth Games opening ceremony in Glasgow is tonight - I wonder if ducking beneath stationary cows is ever likely to feature?)

I needed to cross one of the quarry roads before reaching the top of the climb, holding back for a few seconds as a giant earth moving vehicle passed by, stirring up a large cloud of dust.

The views from the top of Longstone Edge were spoilt today by the hazy conditions down on the plain.

The path down from the edge was difficult, very narrow, eroded, and steep, with brambles clawing at my boots from one side, and gorse bushes trying to poke out my eyes from the other side. There was certainly nothing to hold on to to steady my balance, and I had to get down on my backside a few times.

Taking this route down the approach to Great Longstone is along a short dry valley; I first had to pass through a gate - it was broken before I even touched it, there wasn't much left at all after I'd attempted to open it. (The photograph was taken before I passed through.)

I stopped for refreshments at one of the pubs in Great Longstone, a glass of Diet Coke, and as I left the village I posed for a selfie [of a sort.]

After a few hundred yards I was on the Monsal Trail...and then a pot of tea at Hassop Station Café. I didn't linger; I wanted to catch the 2:30 bus so that I'd arrive back at Sheffield to make sure I wouldn't be caught up in any traffic congestion caused by this evening's cycle race in the city centre.

The bus journey was very comfortable, it wasn't crowded and the vehicle was quite new, so the engine didn't struggle with the hills at all.

However...my journey home to Doncaster on the train was one of the most uncomfortable and unpleasant I've ever experienced. Even as we waited in the station the engine was growling, roaring, and snorting like an angry wild animal . When we started moving things got even worse; every chair, table, luggage rack and fitting was rattling and shaking from side to side as the floor and walls of the carriages were twisting and warping as if they were being pulled into another dimension by an all-powerful evil empire...and my poor genitals...my testicles and the area around my anus; there was a deep thrusting vibration throughout the entire train, resulting in me experiencing a very distressing sensation which felt like that I was being forced to undergo a rare and unusual medical or cosmetic procedure where every hair on my testicles and within striking distance of my anus was being individually pulled out using tweezers...but not using any anaesthetic. 

I walked home from the railway station doing a passable impersonation of John Wayne...and I'm still a bit sore as I'm sitting on the chair typing up this blog post.

Thank you, Northern Rail.

Castleton, Pindale, Bradwell, Shatton, and Bamford.

Today is the second consecutive day that I've been out in the Peak District. I went on the train to Manchester yesterday, along the Hope Valley Line; seeing some familiar locations from a slightly different perspective.

Here's a photograph I took when the train was stopped at Hope station.

I decided to use my free travel voucher for Northern Rail, which I got several months ago when I was delayed for nearly two hours at Wakefield Westgate station.

I've recently joined English Heritage and so thought I'd visit Peveril Castle at Castleton today; an English Heritage property. Several stops after leaving the bus station, some passengers, students most likely, got on the bus and said, "Surprise please" to the driver - this isn't as strange as it may sound; it's just that one of the locations along the route is known as 'Surprise View.' It does make me smile though when someone says this; and maybe one day the driver will actually surprise someone.

The castle opens at ten o'clock, and I was the first visitor of the day. Peveril Castle is everything a ruined castle should be; stark, austere, threatening, perched precariously on the top of precipitous crags and the only access being up a steep zig-zagging path.

I took plenty of photographs on the way up to the keep, and from inside the building looking out towards the stunning countryside, but it was quite hazy and I'm not happy with the results. I have decided to include a shot of one of the garderobes, the castle's toilets. Interestingly, the word has the same origins as 'wardrobe.'

Whilst I was inside the keep I let my imagination run away with me. The building is very atmospheric; ghostly shadows were poking their way through the haze as the noise of ravens flapping and cawing, planning some unimaginable atrocity, echoed around the hollow shell of the keep, as, down in the village the church bell tolled its foreboding rhythm, summoning the dead to rise, or the living to enter through the gates of Hell. It certainly reminded me of a Hitchcock film, or a Hammer House of Horror production.

My visit to the castle lasted about forty minutes. I returned to the village and then walked along the road towards the hamlet of Pindale. Before leaving Castleton I managed to stroke three cats, none of them seemed particularly sinister though: as I said "Good morning" to the final one a woman in a cottage garden across the road responded - I responded to the cat.

I passed Pindale, then walked by Hope Cement Works and down into Bradwell, where I was way too early for an ice cream from Bradwell's of Bradwell ice cream shop. I had to make do with a  sandwich and a carton of milk from the Co-op shop.

Next I climbed up to Brough Lane, a track popular with mountain bikers. As I walked near to a farm I learned something new; that moles use shovels to make their molehills - I took a photograph to prove it.

The next section, across fields towards Shatton had a surprise in store for me, and I didn't ask for one on the bus; patches of deep snow I had to walk through - there was no obvious way to walk around.

I had timed things well for a brief visit to the coffee shop at High Peak Garden Centre where I had a pot of tea and a warmed scone served with butter and jam. I've not tried a warm scone before; it seemed to make it more moist though.

My day was slightly ruined when the bus was over half an hour late. This is a rare occurrence though: the bus services in the Peak District are usually very reliable.

Today's walk was a short one, maybe only five miles. I was a bit tired after going to Manchester yesterday and walking what I should think was quite a distance exploring the city centre.