Category: Countryside & Environment
Frantic: When life’s vicissitudes collide with getting away for a long weekend
3rd May 2025 The past week has been hectic for me, hence the title. However, the result of my exertions was an offer for my freelance services that clashed with another opportunity that came to nothing. The offer was accepted despite warnings that it could be rescinded. The coming week will show whether that was a bluff or not.
All this was happening during the first real sign of heat that we experienced this year; the hot, sunny weather was a foretaste of summer. There were local strolls in the midst of the frenzy, a necessity for keeping my mind in order throughout all of it. My mind even turned to a Scottish incursion centred on Inverness that would have allowed a visit to Fionn Bheinn near Achnasheen as well as a stroll from Drumnadrochit back to Inverness along part of the Great Glen Way.
However, there was too much happening to allow the getaway to become a reality. A hotel booking was cancelled after learning that the weather was not as enticing as I might have desired during a sequence of simplification. Having the prospects for another time will do no harm, though. Ideas are not so plentiful in my head as I write these words, anyway.
Business is set to return me to Geneva for a conference, which will be handy for getting to see the place again. The initial motivation for all of this was making connections for securing freelance work as well as building up my knowledge. Some of that may be less pressing after the past week, though it will be good to get out among colleagues again. Wandering the city in pleasant sunshine will be a bonus too.
These are times when being a solopreneur can be isolating, especially when trying to source work in a challenging market. Thus, it is just as well that the wonders of nature at springtime offer much needed solace and consolation. While my wanderings may be curtailed this year, any such encounter only spurs desire for deeper incursions. There may be time for those later.
Heading south and east from Hayfield in three seasons
8th October 2024 Assembling an account with more than one hike can get tricky; the amount of variation is what catches you. For one thing, the routes can alter, even in the middle of a hike. A chill in the air, a feeling of lethargy and a desire for quieter surroundings all contribute to decision-making. If they were all alike, what would be the point of writing about them and then reading these afterwards?
Here, there are three seasons: autumn, summer and winter. The order may seem wrong, yet in fits the calendar order from 2020 through 2021 to 2022. Photos were made with three cameras: one acquired in 2019, another from 2013 and one more from 2021. Only for the hiking year order, these again would look out of sequence. Not everything gets lined up as one might expect.
All the traipsing around Derbyshire reflects one more thing: the progression of a global pandemic. The revisiting of old haunts and the finding of their previously unexplored corners was a consequence of this. This was not a time for globe-trotting. Otherwise, it was a matter of inspiration and opportunity working within weather windows and other constraints. It all makes for a more organic approach to hill wandering.
Any Illusion of Endless Summer Gets Shattered
The decision to divert an ostensible Hayfield to Hope hike to end in Chapel-en-le-Frith was done up front. The idea of continuing further est never occurred to me. To my mind, the extent felt long enough. However, I was to find that it was shorter than I sensed it would be. Only later did I note Rushup Edge on the map and the possibility it opened.
An unseasonably warm September was coming to a chilly end. Nevertheless, I was lured to Hayfield anyway. This became the finale to a year which turned out better for hill going than the onset of a global pandemic would suggest. There was a lot of good weather and a desire to get out of the house, which helps with these things.
The arrival into and departure from Hayfield was under brighter skies than the previous encounter in July. Even with the portents of clouded skies offered in the forecast, they felt far away at that stage. The first portion of my amble was along the Pennine Bridleway, before I deviated around by Stubbs Farm for added quietness in advance of rejoining the Pennine Bridleway again. A portion of relative solitude had been won.
Once I began to gain height, the views began to open up around me. Clouds were on their way from the north, yet there was plenty of splendour to savour before everything changed. This was a vantage point from which to peer at what lay around Kinder Scout, vistas of which I never tire. They offered rest breaks while gradients tested the legs.
Around Higher Heys Farm, the slopes eased a bit before they stiffened around Mount Famine. An illusion about how far it was to Chapel-en-le-Frith may have kept me off that top. Cloud cover was coming fast at this stage anyway, so views may have been impaired in any case. That certainly was how things became by the time that I neared South Head. Again, I stayed on the Pennine Bridleway instead of reaching its summit.
It was when I was bypassing South Head that I really felt the chill to the point that I concluded that I was underdressed for it. Going more lightweight meant that my layering was less proficient than I needed. Since this was no time to dawdle, I continued on my way. Later, my decision to go this way had me reproaching it until a later walk set it to rights.
A decision point lay ahead and put this question to me: do I stay on the Pennine Bridleway or go around by Brown Knoll? The proximity of Chapel-en-le-Frith had dawned on me at this stage. The hours of daylight may have declining at that time of year, yet arriving there within an hour or two felt too soon to me.
Thus, I left the track to go across the moor on what I was expecting to be a muddy path. That was how it appeared at the start, too. However, it eventually became a flagged affair, which surprised me because this is not a right of way. The ability to travel is supported by this being access land, and I reckon that the Peak District National Park must take a more active part in its maintenance too.
The more appealing surface lured me along. If I had continued straight, the path would have conveyed me to Edale Cross. However, I turned right to pass the trig point at Brown Knoll. Others were out too, so this is not an unknown corner of the High Peak. Even with leaving room for others, good progress was made to reach the Chapel Gate track.
After more decent and noting the way to Rushup Edge, I was on Sheffield Road, not far from where the Pennine Bridleway would have brought me. That might have been rejoined to continue south or even return to Hayfield. Instead, I sought out a public footpath that bring me onto a lane near Sparrowpit that would take me past Blackbrook.
My recollection of this time is of heavy grey skies, yet photos show some blueness breaking through. The surroundings also were far quieter than what I had travelled in the moors. While that was relished, there was also a growing sense of anticlimax. It increased on the approach to Chapel-en-le-Frith on lanes and other roads until I fortuitously met with a bus stop moments before the next bus to Buxton. The greyness would not help to dispel that overriding emotion.
The rest of 2020 would see no more outings as substantial as this one, so there was an element of finality about it. Computing and exercise walks would sustain me through a restricted winter. Something that had waylaid me in spring had come to accommodation in autumn. Others may not have felt likewise at this stage, weathering one dreary spell was one thing, but doing the same for another may have felt like too much. Thankfully, that is not how it was for me.
Doing Some Tops While Bypassing the Great Ridge
A lot had happened between September 2020 and the following June. Vaccines were available, and the inoculation program was in full flow. For me, that meant that one of two jabs were received by the end of April. The initial wait for the second one was until early July before that was cut to the end of June, a weekend when others were invited to come forward, adding to a certain discomfiture at the time.
It was between these vaccination appointments that a return to Hayfield happened. After the number of outings during 2020, 2021 became a pale reflection. Novelty had dissipated, and it did not help that computing and weightier reading material had sapped some of the energy available for it. The way that everything kept changing also was no help, and an exceptional July heatwave added icing to the proverbial cake.
Even so, there were some bright spots that could inspire other trip reports. A hike from Monsal to Bakewell at the end of May is one possibility. In the middle of June, there was another from Leek to Macclesfield that may be worth recounting. At the end of August, two things happened. One was a trot from Miller's Dale to Castleton; the other was a spate of them going across Comb's Moss. Night walking took hold later in the year, not that so much can be written about that. Autumn and winter walks from Buxton and Macclesfield may be worth recounting too.
None of these got into my compilation of trip resumes, a waiting area for extended trip reports. A mixture of distractions, lethargy and loss of interest all possibly had something to do with it. Talking about an ongoing pandemic becomes increasingly tedious as time goes on, which did not help either. Looking back on it now, even with faded memories, possibly works better. It adds more flesh to the writing.
One prompt for getting out in early June 2021 was the prospect of sunny weather. There may have been a wait for a second course of vaccination, but life could not be put on hold. Thus, I could fit in some summits on a hike from Hayfield to Hope. This time, there was no deviation via Stubbs Farm, so it was a case of following the Pennine Bridleway all the way to the flank of Mount Famine, a top apparently named for the Irish Great Famine. The world can feel small at times.
The surrounding views were of cloud-shadowed hillsides, adding a dappled appearance to things. If caught under one, there was a wait before sunlit photography could resume. That was a small grumble given the other goodness on offer. Others were drawn out too, and my wariness about proximity to others had grown over the winter; keeping oneself ready for the completion of vaccination was another contributing factor. Thus, I was glad to leave the Pennine Bridleway to make ample use of the freedom of access land; the routing could be relaxed, and I possibly had the place to myself too.
On returning to the Pennine Bridleway, I was set to leave it again very soon after. A crossing of South Head was not refused this time around. While the slopes may have been steep, the resulting views were worth the added effort. It also helped that an annoyance from the preceding September had been remediated. Once I was down on the track again, the path to Brown Knoll was at hand.
Cloudy skies had beset the previous encounter with Brown Knoll, so it felt good to be in its vicinity under sun-filled skies. Bog cotton dappled the moors as I trampled the mix of boggy and flagged paths around there. On reaching the Chapel Gate track, I turned for Rushup Edge instead of the way leading towards Chapel-en-le-Frith. This was rough underfoot, but the forbearance was rewarded.
Since the views turned out to be extensive, there was no way that I was going to have the place to myself. To my left, they led the eye into Edale and onto Kinder Scout, and what lay around that. To my right, I was gazing towards Hope and Castleton. Looking straight ahead drew the eye towards Mam Tor and the Great Ridge. If Rushup Edge was attracting attention, then the Great Ridge had to be busy. Restrictions on space and previous visits made me partly bypass it for another way.
First, I had to get down to the road going past Mam Tor on a way up from Edale. The steepness and the amount of erosion made that inelegant, yet it worked out for me. Another right of way popped me onto tarmac that was offering a more direct way towards Blue John Cavern. While such a honeypot may not have been so apt in the circumstances, it offered a useful opportunity for getting refreshments in the heat of the day.
Seeing the remains of the abandoned A625 and the damage inflicted by underlying unstable geology was another attraction of going around there. The apparent freshness of road markings etched itself into my memory, a surprise given the passage of time. Following this direction of travel led me to Mam Farm and quieter surroundings. While others may have been plodding above me, I felt less troubled as I passed Woodseats and Only Grange Farm.
Beyond the latter, I needed to rejoin the Great Ridge around Back Tor to enter Brockett Booth Plantation. That was accomplished in a less than auspicious manner; the slopes were steep and occasionally boggy, too. Lose Hill got bypassed on the way to Hope village, thus cutting the encounter with the busy ridge to a minimum. Some were asking the way to Castleton as I did so, and I pointed the way as best as I could before continuing on my descent route. Once in Hope, I topped up with more refreshments before heading for the train station to start on my way home.
Including the Great Ridge, While Omitting Previously Trampled Summits
If anyone had thought that two courses of vaccination were enough in the middle of 2021, there was a more infectious variant at the end of the year that meant another inoculation for many, myself included. Restrictions reappeared, which added confidence in my case. These were less onerous, thankfully. Thus, a hike from Buxton to Macclesfield preceded Christmas that year, along with other excursions.
2022 began with a few, too. The first was an urban outing to Sheffield that preceded the trek from Hayfield to Hope that is described here. That became followed by one from Congleton to Macclesfield that reprised another from the previous July. Soon after that, it was back to work again in advance of coming novelties. Ireland became where I found international travel mojo again, while Marsden became the hub of a springtime Pennine Way project. Otherwise, Wales, Cumbria and Scotland all saw my footfall again. Novelty was returning on a phased basis.
Now that I think of it, it must have been the sunlit journeying between Macclesfield and Sheffield that returned the Great Ridge to my mind after largely avoiding it the previous June. Another yomp from Hayfield to Hope was in the offing. This one avoided the tops of Mount Famine and South Head. Otherwise, there was a frosty start along the Pennine Bridleway.
As following the Pennine Bridleway increased how high I was, the views opened around me. Since the sun was lower in the sky, shadows also were longer and there were more of them. None took from the delight at being out among these sunlit hillsides again. One should not tire of these surroundings, especially when they alter through the seasons.
There were no diversions to the tops of Mount Famine or South Head this time round, and no regrets at not doing so either. The curtailed hours of daylight might have been enough cause to keep such forays under control, yet the real decider was my being sated while there in June. In any case, I fancied seeing what I could capture photographically along the northern slopes of South Head. Shadows cast by the low sun would foil this to a point; it was just as well that I made something of the same sights during my June hike.
Again, I was bound for Brown Knoll. Thus, I left the Pennine Bridleway like the two walks described earlier. While frozen ground often can be less wetting, I am not sure if that was completely the case around there. Frost was lingering in places after the night before, a feature of crisp January days like the one that I was enjoying.
After Brown Knoll, I was again bound overhead the railway tunnel that carries trains between Manchester and Sheffield, one through which I often travel. It has a name too: the Cowburn Tunnel. In keeping with named objects, I bound for a named track, Chapel Gate. From that, I was headed for Rushup Edge.
Again, that offered panoramic views all around me. Less were out along it than on my previous trot along it, too. Many shadows were being cast, not that they took from any photos I made. In many ways, they added a little something. This might have been winter, yet there was a lot of green on view, the winter sun lit that wonderfully.
If I had thought that enough were back at work to ensure that the Great Ridge was deserted, I was wrong on that point. Going along the path that runs over Mam Tor, Hollins Cross, Back Tor and Lose Hill was a matter of getting over that state of affairs, not that it intruded that greatly at the time. This still was better than during the previous summer, and there were pleasing sights to savour too.
That was while daylight held because the day was nearer the arrival of nightfall. That much is evident from any photos made on the top of Lose Hill. Thankfully, I could capture a scene with Win Hill in it before then. Making for Hope's train station before daylight finally failed became a priority. Even so, care still was needed over steep slopes; one never knows what frozen could facilitate a slip. If it is not frost, then slippery mud can do it on you. Nevertheless, there is no recollection of a mishap, so all must have gone well. That has to include getting home by train.
Reflections
These three hikes extend over a dramatic period. The first felt like an anticlimax with an air of unfinished business. After that, the second was during a time of transition and completed the unfinished work of the first. Lastly, the third acted as part of a bookend marking the end of a period held in stasis and in advance of an increase in novelty that began in March. It looked both ways, as January often does. All provided their own essence of satisfaction, while the final instalment added an element of closure.
Travel Arrangements
All used bus service 60 to get from Macclesfield to Hayfield. The first outing returned from Chapel-en-le-Frith by bus with a change in Buxton. The second and third outings involved getting home from Hope. The former appears to have gone around Sheffield on the evidence of a photo seemingly made in its main train station. After that, a fast train would have got me to Stockport, where another train could be caught to get me the rest of the way. Another plausible and more sensible return option would use the slow train to go as far as Manchester Piccadilly to meet an onward connection to Macclesfield. That may have been used the last time around, but memory fails me here. The way home cannot have been that memorable, a sign that things were moving somewhat towards normality.
A sunny amble through the Goyt Valley: Going from Whaley Bridge to Macclesfield
6th October 2024 Once grey July Saturday during the early noughties, I set off from Buxton on a hike that may use of the Midshires Way. There was a lengthy walk along the A5004 before I left it for an old Roman Road. That skirted Combs Moss before continuing east from White Hall Outdoor Pursuits Centre. Eventually, I would cross the A5004 on the way to the dam at the end of Errwood Reservoir in the Goyt Valley.
My next steps would take me away from the long-distance trail to follow the shore of Fernilee Reservoir more closely. By then, the skies were beginning to break overhead as part of a change to periods of sunshine and showers, the latter being annoying when it came to photography. When the sun was out, it was raining and then the sun went way when the rain stopped. While that might be an oversimplification, there were times like that which remain etched in my memory.
That pestering really got going after I rejoined the Midshires Way after being under cover of trees while near the reservoir. The twists and turns of the trail needed close attention to a map, not the best when it was made of paper and that gets wet. It is little wonder that I acquired a waterproof version that I retain to this day. Regardless of all the irritations, I made it to Whaley Bridge in sunshine and made my way to a rendezvous point for onward travel by public transport, bus or train.
My reason for going down that memory lane is that it partly inspired the routing for a hike that would take me from Whaley Bridge to Macclesfield via the Goyt Valley during September 2020. This was another of those hikes that conveyed me home after an outbound bus journey. The initial stretches, those between Whaley Bridge and Taxal, were shared with hikes between the two places that went via Windgather Rocks. This time around, they were trampled under grey skies in hope of later sunshine.
Thus, the way to the Goyt Valley would be a reverse of the direction taken all those years before. The weaving of the trail around Overton Hall Farm, Madscar Farm and others like Normanwood was etched somewhere in my mind anyway. Images of the farms were absent, yet the essence of the trail was not.
At Oldfield, I decided not to descend to the lower path that I followed those years ago and several times since then. This time, I stayed on the Midshires Way and on higher ground. Forestry surrounded me as the cloud cover disintegrated over my head. Tree harvesting added holes through which I could look out on what lay across the valley, a fortuitous development even if it meant timber stacks, warning signs and a rougher track. It all made for a more interesting stroll along the slopes of Hoo Moor.
The trail would return me to tarmac for the descent to the dam of Errwood Reservoir, where a photo stop was inevitable with all the sun on offer. After leaving the reservoir dam, Bunsal Cob was where I took my leave of the trail that I had been following. This time around, I was not bound for Buxton; it was not to be a complete reprise of the way followed those years before. The section of the Midshires Way leading north from Buxton would play its part in introducing me to Combs Moss nearly a year later.
Paths and tracks taking me down the eastern side of Errwood Reservoir became my lot after Bunsal Cob. Some of these recalled a hike from October 2012 in advance of a year when everything changed. 2020 was another for many people, so the wonderful weather and an illusion that all was well allowed a momentary escape from all that was happening.
Going beyond Errwood Reservoir was leading me into familiar moors where there was ample space for us all. Wild Moor always catches my eye, and the sogginess of Goyt's Moss dirties many a rambler. Since it is all access land, it hardly matters whether you are on a right of way or not, so long as you are heading in the right direction. This makes for good map and compass countryside and was a test for the mobile app that I was using; rights of way can be challenging to locate in a bog.
Goyt's Clough became where I again alighted on tarmac. My next step was to find the right of way that would convey me across Deep Clough and Stake Clough on the way towards Stake Farm and the A537. This meant a steep ascent with many breaks to take in what surrounded me; this was also ground that I travelled on that October 2012 hike. Having been to it several times already in 2020, I skipped Shining Top, an act that cut the endurance being demanded of my legs. Variation adds a bit of novelty to life, anyway.
The haul up to Forest Chapel lay ahead of me as I began to follow a concessionary path leading towards Torgate. Since this had been traipsed earlier in 2020, I knew that I needed to go down to Chest Hollow and pass near Cuckoo Rocks. That descent accentuated the ascent to be made after the distance already covered on the way from Whaley Bridge. Taking things slowly was the answer.
Getting as far as Torgate Farm was the first part of this. From there, a right of way conveyed me to the curiously named Bottom-of-the-Oven, with a right turn that took me across Torgate Hill. The byway going up to Forest Chapel was a real test. Overcoming that was not the end, for another ascent followed it, the one along the byway taking me into Macclesfield Forest, where a surprising route decision would be made.
But for the proximity of Tegg's Nose Country Park playing on my mind, logic would have dictated that going down to Clough House and then proceeding via Langley might have made more sense. Instead, more uphill travel, some of it steep, became my lot on the way to Walker Barn. That took me past Hacked Way Lane and Warrilowhead Farm, yet I got through it without much drama. This was quieter ground, which might have been another reason for going this way.
Good sense again took hold from Walker Barn to Macclesfield. On the way, Tegg's Nose Country Park was skirted (the sun might have made the place and its paths and trails more busy than I fancied), primarily using a byway leading onto Back Eddisbury Road, before that allowed me to reach Buxton Road.
Home was near at hand by then, so steady and patience progress got me the rest of the way. Given that it had been a day with nearly as much variety as there was sunshine, it would have been rude to complain. The September illusion of endless summer had pounced yet again; it was best to sate oneself through participation in the charade.
Travel Arrangements
Bus service 60 from Macclesfield to Whaley Bridge
A return to the Shropshire Hills: Daisy-chaining tops near Church Stretton
4th October 2024 It had been nearly three years since my previous visit to Shropshire, and even an ongoing pandemic failed to keep me away from these rolling hills. All it took was the prospect of a gloriously sunny Saturday for me to return to the area, planning to explore places that I had last walked in November 2010. That previous afternoon amble, curtailed by a later arrival and the waning daylight, had left the perfect excuse for another visit: unfinished business.
On arrival, the village of Church Stretton was quiet in itself. The B4371 that I followed in the direction of Much Wenlock was no busier, though a collection of parked cars accompanied a trail head. Still, the way up to Gaer Head, my first ascent of the day, hardly was crowded. Vistas of sunlit countryside, dappled with cloud shadows, opened out around me as I gained height. While the ascent route took me off the public right of way, this was access land, so it mattered less where you trod.
The whole area around Hope Bowdler Hill was gloriously unpeopled, a not insignificant mercy during a pandemic when there was a wait to get vaccines developed. Views of other tops were there to be savoured as I pottered about the place, for my route was non-linear. That is what visiting various summits does to such a thing. When they are at hand, it seems rude not to do just that, particularly on a morning of glorious sunshine.
Willstone Hill was another of those calling points before height had to be lost on the way towards Caer Caradoc Hill. Such a development always disappoints me when going uphill takes so much effort. That there is another ascent afterwards makes the loss more memorable. Shropshire's hills may be low in stature, yet there are plenty of steep ascents and descents to be found. Still, the regaining of height allowed to look back on where I had been, providing some consolation for the ups and downs.
It still felt as if the world was elsewhere while I was trampling Caer Caradoc Hill and its satellite summit, Little Caradoc. This was a repeat visitation after nearly ten years. Then, I had not got to Hope Bowdler Hill and its neighbours, let alone The Lawley, which lay ahead of me. Getting that far would need a steep descent to Comley followed by yet another steep ascent along a narrow ridge.
After having the previous hills more or less to myself, albeit with occasional encounters with others, the busyness of The Lawley surprised me. It was attracting groups of hikers, a challenging prospect during a pandemic, and especially so when there is not so much space for everyone. Quite why so many were traipsing around there was something of a mystery to me. Was it that it was far away from a built-up area? Was it the time of day because some stragglers may have started late? These are unanswered questions, so it was fortunate that I got some respite from the passage of others as I walked the whole ridge before turning southwest along its western flank.
Again, The Lawley is access land, like so much around there. The ridge walk had been along a less formal trail, so the initial ascent concentrated the mind, while the descent was not so taxing. The way back was on a right of way that led towards Comley again. After there, I more or less lost most of the others who had been around those parts.
By then, I was well on the return to Church Stretton and started to follow another trail that I had followed years before. The skies again broke overhead to allow the sun to work its usual magic on the surrounding landscape. Any regret at its hiding while I was around The Lawley needed to be put behind me. Some others were going the way too, and someone's not hearing my reply to them caused them to take umbrage at me for it. Thankfully, that soon passed, and I continued on my way as before.
If I had thought that I had chosen an easier way back to Church Stretton, there was one more surprise awaiting me. It should not have been the case because I had crossed the steep, eroded ground before; the passage of time had done the same kine work to my memory. Before that, I was being surprised at how far I needed to go, often over overgrown ground. The path was not so clear either, which needed some added attention regarding navigation.
Then, there was that descent over what felt like rotting ground. With weary legs, that took a combination of patience and care. Once the challenge was overcome, it then was a matter of crossing a footbridge. Friendlier gradients were my lot thereafter; even the foot of Helmeth Hill did not intrude too much. A watercourse was shadowed and fields crossed to reach a lane from there. Church Stretton was now at hand, so patient progress on those well-used legs was the order of the moment. Fortuitously, there was an opportunity for a refreshment stop before starting on my train journey back home.
Though the hike happened more than four years ago, this account has been one of the easier ones to write. Whether it was about somewhere less frequented, or there was another reason, it proved to be more memorable in a good way. The area may be compact, yet there is a lot here. When you get the sunshine that I was gifted, all one can do is marvel at what is around them, no matter what else is happening in the world.
Travel Arrangements
Return train journey between Macclesfield and Church Stretton. On the way back, there was a change at Stockport. It may have been the same on the outbound journey, but that is not as memorable as how busy the train became south of Crewe. Thankfully, things were quieter on the return leg, which made for a far more relaxing journey.
Hikes that took me back home through some Cheshire and Derbyshire hill country
24th September 2024 The trouble with recounting tales of local hikes is that the locations often are too familiar; they lose their novelty with frequent encounters. That applies even with the backdrop of a pandemic, so I am bundling these three hikes from the summer of 2020. Each is different in its own way, yet there is a connecting thread linking them all. After all, my traipsing through the countryside hardly ever is just exercise, since any tranquillity is sought, relished and savoured as I go. Quietude was prized whenever it came.
Initiating a Longer Break
Given the effect that all the upheaval and disruption was having on my mental health, I decided on a three-week staycation that flowed from July into August, much longer than I normally do. Even with never straying far from home, it was to help a lot. Even so, there were more than a few day trips.
Some were less consequential, at least from the point of view of an outdoors blog like this one. Visits to Rostherne, Knutsford, Tatton Park, Buxton and Sheffield (even if I did wander its parks, encountering its Cholera Monument, a stark resonance that summer) are not the kind of things that are related here. There is too little to say about short encounters that often involve revisiting the familiar, even if they had their uses at the time.
The same might be said for a visit to Lyme Park, but for one thing: it was en route during a hike from Disley back home to Macclesfield. This also was my second journey since the start of the pandemic and involved a change at Stockport; courage was increasing with added experience.
While the arrival in Disley was delayed, that is something that matters less when you are walking all the way home when there are long hours of daylight. Picking up the Gritstone Trail near the train station, I started on my way. Going through Lyme Park was another act of increasing courage. However, I avoided its front gate to go in and out of the back ones. That was the way that the trail went anyway, though there is a route alternative if I had wanted to avoid the busier stretch passing Lyme Hall.
Beyond that, things became quieter again. The terrain was familiar to me as I went up and over Sponds Hill. That perhaps was just as well, when so much else was peculiar at the time. The illusion of an unchanging countryside added a badly needed fulcrum and was as important as the feeling of freedom and solitude that was being gained. The church tower at Pott Shrigley could be glimpsed from a distance, while the same happened with Bollington. That was not a halting point, especially with there being no Sunday bus service and how it drew many out from Macclesfield that spring and summer.
To skirt Rainow, I left the Gritstone Trail to follow Oakenbank Lane, another discovery from earlier in the year, the Friday immediately preceding the Spring Bank Holiday weekend in fact. This hike may not have been as unpeopled as the photos show, yet there was every chance that decreasing restrictions allowed people to spread out to leave more space for each other. Nothing everything had opened, but there were more possibilities than there were a few weeks or months before.
Passing Ginclough brought me to a way leading to Lamaload Reservoir that was another discovery from prior sorties into nearby countryside, especially a circuit starting from and ending at home that took in Shining Tor. Everything might have been close to home, yet there were new places traipsed as well. The way from Lamaload Reservoir to Walker Barn may have been another of these paths that I came to travel during the pandemic times that I have not frequented since then. The same might be said of the way that I took by Tegg's Nose Country Park as I closed in my place of residence again. In some ways, the ways taken were so familiar that maps hardly were needed and decisions could be taken on the hoof as well.
On reflection, the whole route was a collation of different possibilities that led this way and that. There was Disley to Bollington, Bollington to Ginclough, Ginclough to Lamaload Reservoir, Lamaload Reservoir to Walker Barn and Walker Barn to Macclesfield. While some of those staging points did not get entered, each portion was a hiking possibility in itself. The longer evenings allowed a pick and mix approach to be taken. It really helped that there were quieter stretches where solitude could work its magic after what was becoming a wearying year.
Taking a Chance with the Weather
The previous week was laden with melancholy. The idea of facing into a trying autumn while fatigued by ongoing events was enough to send me away from home, doing anything to go get out of the house. Macclesfield Library, Buxton and Knutsford (even on a scorcher of a day, such was the need; getting better photos of Rostherne was a draw too) all had been visited along with other local spots while out on evening walks and cycles.
Remembering photos made during autumn rambles in 2007 was what put going around by Windgather Rocks into my head. The rain radar may have been showing showers approaching from the west, but I was determined to get to Whaley Bridge for a hike, such was my state of mind.
Things began well enough, and it looked as if showers might be escaped. There was a sunny start as I commenced from the railway station in Whaley Bridge to pass beneath the dam of Toddbrook Reservoir, still drained and under repair following the previous year's structural issues, and alongside the River Goyt. It was no threat by this time, so I continued to Macclesfield Road and went up that thoroughfare to join the Midshires Way to get to Taxal, where I lingered by its church in some sunshine.
That long-distance trail was left soon enough to cross fields on the way to Taxal Moor Road. The quietness of the morning air struck me, though a walking group was to be heard behind me at times. They were left behind me as I continued to the top of Taxal Moor before descending to a lane on the Cheshire side.
That was when the illusion of escaping a wetting was being punctured. The surrounding hillsides were cloaked with signs of rain. Undeterred, I continued, not without some hope of meeting only light showers. While making my way to Taxal Edge, the rain caught me, and it was of the “soft Irish day” variety: light and steady but not too wetting.
If things remained at that, my gear would have coped. When things escalated, the lack of rain trousers meant I got a proper soaking while waiting for the rain to move away. This kind of thing always seems to leave more slowly than it arrives; my more lightweight way of working met its match, and this was not something to repeat. A newly acquired smaller rucksack had endured the wetness with aplomb, though.
The pleasing photos that I hoped to get around Windgather Rocks failed to materialise, and I got moving when the rain eased. All I got were some atmospheric record shots that I do not feel are worth sharing. As the air dried, I did too. Pym Chair was the next landmark, somewhere I had not been very much since my earlier hill wanderings.
From there, I continued to Cats Tor and Shining Tor on a quiet morning on the tops and relished the freedom to travel along the slabbed track at my own pace without the need for much thought about social distancing. After reaching the trig point on Shining Tor, I retraced my steps and started my descent to Lamaload Reservoir after accommodating mothers with children by giving them some space. The ground was looking drier as I dried out, too. Things were starting to look brighter again: the band of showers had passed, and I was not to be bothered by such things for the rest of the day.
The way back to my house from Shining Tor was the reverse of the outbound route from June. As the skies continued to break over me, temperatures increased until the heat was readily perceptible around Rainow. Getting there took me around by Lamaload Reservoir (a service road got me from the reservoir to the village), a place that I was finally exploring after years of glimpses while travelling between Macclesfield and Buxton by bus. There may have been an educational wetting, but none of this was in evidence on my person by the time that I got home.
A Last Sunny Reprise
Mainly motivated by the previous Monday's soaking and the prospect of better weather, I returned to Whaley Bridge the following Saturday. The desire for better photos had something to do with it too, especially around Windgather Rocks. Another factor was the imminent end to my elongated summer break and the uncertainties of the coming autumn. It felt better to settle accounts while one could, on this second Saturday in August.
The way to Taxal Moor essentially was a retracing of previous steps, albeit with much more sunshine. Beyond there, deviations set in, firstly by following an informal path on the Open Access Land on the moor itself. That set me going onward to Taxal Edge and Windgather Rocks by a different route, one that passed closer to Goyt Forest.
The weekend timing and enticing sunshine drew out others, but it was easy to keep apart if you wanted, as was needed in those extraordinary times. In other places, climbers may have been closer together than was ideal, but that was their concern. On the paths and trails that I was travelling, some even let me pass first, as if their time were their own, and I was happy to oblige in kind. There was space for photography too and the results still appeal to me, bringing a sense of closure to one part of the outing.
With photos made, I continued to Pym Chair and Cats Tor as before, while stepping away from the path to let others pass. When you have had something to yourself once (as I had the previous Monday), it becomes easier to share with others. Then, Shining Tor was crossed before I went down to the A537 by way of Stake Farm. The way along these tops is one that I never tire of tramping with its undulations and its paved stone surfacing.
Crossing the road, I followed a permissive path to the access land around Cuckoo Rocks. They were not a destination for me though, so I followed another permissive path to join a public footpath to get to Bottom-of-the-Oven, a small place with a curious name, before heading up to Forest Chapel along a byway. These were much quieter parts than the places that I had passed on the other side of the A537. Legs were wearying with all the ascent and descent. The slopes leading to Forest Chapel felt a little more foreboding because of that. Just taking everything one step at a step overcame that, especially beyond Bottom-of-the-Oven.
Making use of another byway beyond Forest Chapel, I reached Charity Lane. Along the way, I overheard a comment from a passing family group about not realising what is on one’s doorstep. That probably is a story of 2020, given its lockdown and my finding people in places where I never encountered them before. On reaching Walker Barn, I then went towards Tegg’s Nose Country Park along Old Buxton Road, but left it for a byway leading to Back Eddisbury Lane. The latter took me onto Buxton Road under clouded skies, and I was on the home run straight to my house. The reprise had been worth the effort, with plenty of quieter moments as recompense for making more space for others where this was needed.
Reflections
In hindsight, it may have been better to make an entry for each of these. Once memories were rekindled, the accounts became longer than intended. Each hike had its own personality, a combination of location, weather and state of mind. Even the restrictions of a global pandemic did little to eliminate variety. Everything might have been local, yet there was much that offered respite, solace, consolation and healing too.
Travel Arrangements
All of these only needed outbound transportation. The first was a train journey with a change in Stockport while going from Macclesfield to Disley (there is something in my mind about trying to catch a bus that never appeared, but memories may be combining, so I am leaving things as they are). The others used bus service 60, which was then working to a reduced timetable because of reduced demand and staff availability.
