Category: Cheshire
Signs of autumn
26th July 2009 July has been a quiet month for me on the hill wandering front. Between having other things that need to done and not being enticed by the current mix of damper weather, getting out of doors has tended to be a largely bicycle-borne affair. Thoughts of enduring endless power soakings have helped to turn my mind to other things but the opportunity offered yesterday by a dry sunny interlude from the water was too good to miss. Ambitions of heading to Cumbria for a trot from Grasmere through the fells to Borrowdale had been entering my mind. However, circumstances were such that the idea needed to be parked for another time and I opted for a more local stroll instead. That took me from Kidsgrove in Staffordshire to Wheelock in Staffordshire by a round the houses sort of route that I'll describe in another posting.
Suffice it to say for now that the sights of well berry-laden rowan trees (or mountain ash if you prefer) along with ripening corn in the fields is a reminder that autumn is at hand. The colours of the leaves may not be changing for a while yet but the fruits are ripening and blackberries are already there to be had along with other fruits that I cannot name because my knowledge of botany isn't what it might be. Seeing nature's larder becoming stocked to the level that I have seen it is a reminder of a country saying whose verity is hard to verify: masses of fruit on trees and bushes is a harbinger of there being a cold winter ahead. The logic behind this is that nature provides in plenty to tide birds and such like over a period of want. To my mind, it belongs in the same category as the forty days of rain following St. Swithin's day with there being some truth in that from a meteorological standpoint. Apparently, the weather can get locked into a pattern around this time of year, be it dry and sunny or, as we are having it, wet and rainy. To whose wishing their life away, the latter outcome is a distinct disappointment but others among us will realise that there is more to the year than the months of July and August. Of course, that's little comfort to those wandering to save the year's harvest even if a mixture of sunshine and showers does help with the ripening of corn; bringing in wet grain doesn't pay as well. We all can only hope for a drier interlude while making what we will of what we get.
On dealing with the prospect of rain
21st July 2009 For all of the Met Office's optimism, this summer feels anything but special at the moment with its mix of sunshine and hefty showers. The current cooler conditions may suit me rather better than the sort of temperatures that some would desire but repeated heavy dumps of rain do nothing for the motivation either. With preparation, you certainly could walk in these conditions but the question arises as to how much pleasure would be gained in so doing. Even I admit that the prospect of repeated heavy soakings causes me to consider indoors activities instead. That's exactly what happened last Sunday when I chose clutter clearance over going out and about. Saturday was the better day but there were things that needed doing, such as getting my bike repaired. Since that was done (professionally, I'll add), I have been out on local roads while the rain stayed away for long enough. Yesterday's offering of rainless wads of clouds allowing some sun to come through was the cause of many going out on their bike around lunchtime though things were far quieter when I got to get out on mine after work.
When it comes to going out on wet days, I am always after some dryness to offset the wetness and, even better, to help me dry off. Last August, I embarked on my Scottish island hopping escapade hoping for a little sun among any grey wetness only to be granted a goodly number of sun-drenched days instead. Looking for a little had earned me a lot on that occasion but yearning for a steady improvement after a damp start can prove fruitless too as I found with two trips to Argyll. Then, the rain ended up becoming an irritating nuisance so my buses back to civilisation were very welcome when they came. Whatever preparedness there might have been with regard to gear and experience did nothing to take away from the fact that, when there is no pleasure anymore, it is time to exit. Those who were walking along the West Highland Way in torrid conditions last autumn might know how that feels.
In contrast, there was a time when grey mornings might have kept me at home; using it as a device to allow other important stuff to get done was all very fine but it went far too far. Now, when things look mixed, I take to looking to see how things might develop over the course of a day. Only for that, we might never have got to the hills around Gougane Barra or the cliffs about Kilkee while I was in Ireland last month. It pays not to be too picky, even if trying to discern how things are going to go over the course of day is tricky when television news is all that's available to you.
With all that in mind, I am casting an eye towards the weekend. Right now, it looks promising so I may get in a longer outdoors outing rather than snatched evenings as has been the way recently. Of course, any predictions of fair weather need not become reality and I don't need to be told that, especially after a hike took me among clag-bound and damp Cumbrian fells when they were supposed to be clear. Forfeiting a yomp over Fairfield seemed all the more sensible when I later saw the route that I was planning to take on a clear sunny day. However, you have to live in hope...
An evening stroll
14th July 2009 With all of the computer goings-on (there have been some confidence-deflating mishaps this year) and the need to give my house a good tidy (it is that time of year for me), I wasn't able to get away for a longer outing over the weekend. So, I opted for a more freestyle amble on Sunday evening than is my wont. Anything that allowed me a short break could not be dismissed.
Very unusually for me, maps were left at home as I explored the greener ways, many of them off-road cycle paths serving local schools, around Macclesfield town. Most of them were metalled, but one took me on an about-turn through muddier terrain. Opting to stay on better known thoroughfares after that, I followed the road towards Gawsworth before turning left onto a quiet lane that took me right around that village. The number of times that I have visited the place might explain how I knew my way around so well.
While I was minded to stay on tarmac all the way until I joined the Macclesfield canal near Oakgrove, memories of a previous wander about the area caused me to take a chance and leave the road again to test my memory. It didn't fail that test as I found my way to and through Danes Moss wood, a Wildlife Trust reserve and part of a cutaway peat bog, to a crossing over the troubled West Coast Mainline to reach the aforementioned canal.
That was followed until Gurnett where a towpath closure caused me to follow roads from there back home; I think that the closure is due to a collapsed wall, but it will continue until early October anyway. Though devoid of sunshine, the evening had been fine and pleasant, and it would have been foolish to dismiss its possibilities. It is the longer hours of daylight that allows quieter strolls like the one that I enjoyed, making something of the torpor of summer after the wondrous rush that was spring.
An alternative option that didn’t disappoint
15th June 2009 I suppose that it might be easier if I lived in Greater Manchester but early Sunday morning getaways from Macclesfield are an impossibility if you are dependent on public transport. Buses don't move until around 09:00 and train companies must regard Maxonians as right layabouts given that nothing runs north until at least 10:30 (saying that, earlier starts are possible, again at ca. 09:00, if you are heading south). The situation may not be the best but I often contend with it in place of settling into a rant.
That reality means that I need to keep ambitions in check to get something from a Sunday's wanderings; staying near to home is best. Saying that, the longer hours of daylight mean that you can gain quite a lot even with a later start and my start on the Spring Bank Holiday weekend's Sunday was tardy. Still, my mind did turn to the idea of popping over to Baslow for a spot of northward hiking to one of the stations on the Hope Valley railway line. In the event, a late bus ensured that connections were to be missed so I popped down to Leek instead. The idea of a long stroll to Buxton became a plaything for my mind before I saw sense and decided to walk home instead, an equally long hike but any concerns about missing trains or buses home can be set to one side when your own exertions are taking you back to your own doorstep again.
The route was to be a variation on a theme taken for a yomp from Leek home on a December day a few years ago, my first proper outing in Staffordshire as it happens. That time, I got benighted on the last stretches, but presence of mind allowed a head torch to light the way and I also helped my cause by sticking to road walking rather than "fooling" around in fields in the dark. This time around, there was much less of the tarmac bashing and I was well home before light failed.
As ever with starting from a town centre, some street navigation was in order before softer surfaces were reached on Leek's outer reaches. In places, this can require concentration by my vague recollections were enough to see me as far as Haregate where I found a public footpath. Crossing pasture and meadow, the strength of the sun was by now unmistakable. Benches with health messages were placed at irregular intervals along the way. It's an interesting idea but I was left wondering if they were preaching about the benefits of regular walking to the converted rather than the sedentary types who could do with seeing them. Saying that, I suppose that a spot of encouragement never goes amiss.
The growing season already had been busily obscuring man-made objects like road signs, but public footpaths are far from immune too and it only takes a meadow to obscure the line of a public right of way. Also, my upbringing on a dairy farm makes me feel uncomfortable trampling grassland without there being a need for it and I stuck with the obvious line of trespass. That led me among more of humanity than is usually my habit as I followed a track that hugged the shoreline of Tittesworth Reservoir closer than others that I have followed in the area. Still, that didn't take too long and the easier terrain was no harm either, though the indentations probably added to the distance being covered.
The next passing point for me was Meerbrook and tarmac was the surface over which I went from the shores of the reservoir to a public footpath making up part of the Staffordshire Moorlands Walks. The crowds were behind me at this point as I carefully picked my way to Greenlane beneath and beside the Roaches. From there, it was on past Roach Side Farm, again with some attention to route finding so as not to disturb their Sunday afternoon before I found a metalled road again near Roche Grange where I found a mock fortune-teller placed out on the side of the road and in the sun. Though there were other (real) folk enjoying the weather like I was, the road was untravelled by traffic until I found a right of way leading to Clough Farm. More of these were stitched together to take me to Danebridge and the late afternoon grew more pleasant. Before I crossed over the River Dane, I found what can only be described as an installation with more scarecrow-esque characters at a fake bus stop and awaiting an infrequent "buz" with humorous signs added to suit. It was all in jest, even if it was a striking reminder of my plans having been changed for me, and has set me to wondering if there was some sort of scarecrow thing going on in this part of Staffordshire of which I wasn't aware.
After Danebridge, I was back in Cheshire and it was now into evening time. A more direct off-road option was in mind than the one that I followed but it's never the slips that make for good navigation but the ability to correct them and that definitely the order of things. Even so, I passed through a short piece of shady woodland and reached Hammerton Farm as planned. From there, it was onto the A54 and the Wild Boar pub, which incidentally had opened up the area at its rear for camping. I left the Congleton-Buxton road for more soft surface travel near Longgutter before tarmac bashing took over again. Again, I was following a quiet lane and with good evening views of Shutlingsloe, Sutton Common and Croker Hill. That lane eventually gave me a footway at Higher Sutton (they turn up in the most unexpected places in Cheshire) and my lane took me ever onward towards Sutton, Macclesfield and home. It may have cooled down noticeably by this time, but there were still groups of hostelry patrons out and about, a grand evening (or night as one farming chap said to me and I thought that you only said that when it was dark; it was equally ironic given that I arrived home in daylight this time around) for it.
Travel Details:
Service 108 from Macclesfield to Leek.
Some are lucky…
3rd June 2009 It may have cooled down now, but the recent burst of warm sunny weather brought familiar thoughts to mind. For one thing, the heat forestalled any plans for a day spent wandering in some hill country. Memories of how I felt after a day walking around Welshpool in oppressive heat were to blame for that. Hiking and hot weather can make such poor mixers that a heatwave might be classifiable as bad weather, an illogical thing to most people.
Nevertheless, I took to the bike for a spin around the highways and byways of Cheshire. Saturday evening saw me out on quiet country lanes and braving busy traffic about Congleton; the weather had lured many out. Only for thoughts of closing times, I might have ventured out later on Sunday than I did when I embarked on a round trip that took in Tatton Park, which was well busy thanks to a classic car weekend, and a quieter Dunham Massey. Along the way, I certainly caught the heat and worries about a faltering back tyre joined the fray too. Otherwise, reasonable use had been made of the weather on offer.
For many, it would have made the classic bank holiday weekend but for a none too shabby Spring Bank Holiday being a week earlier (I haven't forgotten my promises on trip reports at all...). Those in the Irish Republic, however, get no Spring Bank Holiday, with one at the start of June taking its place. That meant the economic gloom could be forgotten for a while, with many heading for the coast.
It may not be my scene, but the attractions of cool sea breezes cannot be underestimated. In fact, my thoughts were being drawn to cool shady spots near water and away from the madding crowds. However, every option that my brain could summon was likely to be well frequented if not thronged, so I went out cycling instead. Quiet, overlooked local lanes hardly ever fail.
