Outdoor Discoveries

One last escape before an onslaught

After my trip to Canada in 2019, hill wandering just about ground to a halt. The August bank holiday weekend did come sunny, yet other preoccupations kept me indoors. Otherwise, day trips to cities like Bath and Oxford made use of any sunny days that came my way. Of these, it was the first that saw a stroll outside the city into nearby hills for a time.

The, there was an existential threat to my freelancing business that needed attention. That lay on my mind throughout the autumn and into the following winter. A changeover was needed, and that process took until early 2020 to complete. The result was that there was no New Year getaway like the previous year. Whatever brighter days did not get used for incursions into hill country because of what lay on my mind, even if I did get to exploring North American trip ideas.

While my freelancing was set on former ground after all this, it did mean that I was otherwise unprepared for the travails of a pandemic that I might have been. The weather had not been so enticing, and was not to turn out that way until our lives became very restricted.

All the while, I was watching the approach of a new infectious disease with some trepidation. The stories in the news were serious and brought home the fragility of life. The way that the pandemic arrived so soon into Europe was not how influenza spread. Anyone should see that we could not escape the strictures, even if many were hoping for the best; it was a matter of when, not if.

This was the shadow that was cast over Mother’s Day in 2020. The restrictions were beginning, with places for usual celebrations not being available. With nowhere else to go, many headed for the outdoors and some locations were left crowded, to the disdain of political leaders and the authorities. This affected the Wicklow Mountains in Ireland as well as Snowdonia in Wales. Umbrage was expressed publicly, and further restrictions followed that would test the mental health of many of us. Everyone was learning to deal with something that remains infrequent, not that anyone should be complacent.

In some ways, the day felt like one last hurrah before the doom-laden weeks that lay ahead. The prospects ruled out the use of public transport, and I already was avoiding large assemblies of people anyway. There were no regulations barring the former, apart from my sense of prudence. That would change.

If I had hoped that staying local, and frequenting spots that I previously had found to be quiet, would allow a spacious expanse for the spirit, I was about to be very surprised. The initial signs were there when I spotted a family trying to figure out which way to go near Higher Swanscoe Farm. By then, my route already had me along part of the Macclesfield Canal before following a public footpath that passed Jenny’s Farm. Later, passing Higher Swanscoe Farm got me onto Well Lane.

Tarmac tramping got me onto Kerridge Road before I left the road to pass by both Lower Swanscoe Farm and Swanscoe Farm on another right of way. In time, I was to reach the Saddle of Kerridge to gain my first sightings of the village of Rainow for that year. Picking up the Gritstone Trail drew me near there before I followed the road leading to Lamaload Reservoir. This part of my route was as quiet as it usually was, with no sign of the upheaval that was facing us in the coming weeks. The scenery was timeless, allowing a momentary escape from all threatening portents.

When near the pumping station below the reservoir dam, I opted to turn right to follow a path passing a Larch plantation. That took me uphill towards Brock Low, testing the strength and resilience of my legs in the process. In time, the gradients relented and views of the reservoir opened out beside me. They were lost behind more trees for a while before I left the track that I was following.

The uneasy sense of normality continued, and an instructor was seen with a group working on their navigation skills. Such activities were to be interrupted within days in the spirit of containment and confinement that was to envelop us. My own route finding was a test too as I headed toward Higher Ballgreave Farm, which I passed on the way towards Buxton New Road. That provided yet another test for the climbing capacity of my legs before I could look back on the reservoir, enjoying the views.

Going onto Buxton Old Road meant that I needed to find a public footpath that would take me towards Forest Chapel. There were a few options. The one passing Whitehills possibly is better than any passing Greenways Farm. Recollections are foggy now, yet it may have been one from the latter that landed me where I wanted to go. More uphill progress was needed regardless of the route followed, further testing out unacclimatised legs.

What remains in my mind now is that sense of quietude, and not the amount of traffic or the presence of others. There must have been nothing remarkable at this point in the hike because that was to change once I began to approach Macclesfield Forest, which was more mobbed than I had seen it before then. There was even a bit of bother between cars because of the amount of traffic. The single track roads could not take up the slack that the usual locations for celebrating Mother’s Day would.

Though there was a certain unease at having so many people around, I nevertheless continued as planned. That unease unfortunately intruded when anyone asked for directions (there was one family that perhaps needed more than they got from me, and that weighs on my mind a little now; hopefully, they worked things out as they needed to do). Another intrusion was the effect of the long stroll on me as I passed Shutlingsloe, went over Nessit Hill and descended to Ridgegate Reservoir.

Leaving the multitude after me, quiet road walking was what returned me home again. Macclesfield felt like a much quieter place than some of the spots that I had traipsed. Since a corner shop was open, I popped in for some much-needed refreshments. They sustained me the rest of the way until I could rest after the day’s exertions. In some ways, I may have overdone things, which added some disquiet given all the reported symptoms in the news at the time. What was ahead was a period that would much test my patterns of thought, changes to which remain with me to this day.