Category: Europe
An eighth birthday
5th May 2014 This bank holiday weekend is being a quiet affair for me. With a cold to weather, it certainly has not been one for grand designs and the weather has not been sunny all the while either. Saturday was sunny around Macclesfield though and I got out for a local evening walk around by Prestbury. This time of year has much to offer, even to those not going at full power,
Yesterday saw me head to Alderley Edge for a walk around by Hare Hill. I may have followed the route in an anticlockwise direction instead of the intended clockwise one, but I was not along in doing so, and I left the best for the return section from Hare Hill. It really is very pleasant with a multitude of bluebells putting on a pretty display. A cantankerous Jack Russell terrier slightly spoilt things by giving me a nip around my left ankle, but that will fade in the fullness of time. A stop at the Wizard Tearooms for a bacon barm and a pot of tea made amends, and I chose a more off-road course back to the village to catch my bus home.
This blog is entering its ninth year and things have changed over the years. When I started it, hill wandering was something for which I had more time than I do today. Nevertheless, I still enjoy getting out and about, and there are trip reports to file. My last hill outing was near Llangollen in January, so it's well after time for another. If only life events offered a clearance, who knows where my mind may roam.
Currently, I am catching up with unread issues of The Great Outdoors and Outdoor Photography, so the shelf of ideas could get to see more on there. There are places like the Yorkshire Dales where I have not been for a while, and Cumbria's Lake District calls too. Summoning the energy to devise a scheme or more ahead of some alluring weather could produce results, so there are rewards for any display of courage regarding an immediate future. Life is for living, after all.
Same area, similar walks, different seasons
4th March 2014 In June and September of last year, I undertook two walks that followed similar routes. Both started from the Cat & Fiddle Inn between Macclesfield and Buxton before going over the top of Shining Tor. From Cheshire's county top, I dropped down to Lamaload Reservoir and it from there home that the routes diverged. My recollection of the weather on both days was similar apart from clouds hijacking the sky more effectively on the June day. In fact, inspecting photos has revealed much more cloud at the start of the June walk than I had thought so it was of little surprise when it got very handy at blocking the sun later on in the day.
There was another similarity too: prior weariness from the course of life. Though some good weather came at the end of May that was a harbinger of the summer to come, my energy had been sapped so I spent more time indoors than should have been the case. The Saturday of the Spring Bank Holiday weekend even saw me watching Terry Abraham's excellent The Cairngorms in Winter with Chris Townsend instead of being outside in the sunshine. With the summery weather outside my window, watching winter scenes did feel a bit odd and it took until Sunday evening before I got myself out and about. As I trotted up to Tegg's Nose, the heat was more like that of summer and I enjoyed a pleasant evening around there before I returned home again. Shutlingsloe and its surroundings just looked resplendent in the evening sunshine.
The sunny summer and the aftermath of my mother's passing had come together to ground me in September too and much of the rest of the year was taken up with sending out memorial cards of her to near relatives and anyone who gave us support during what was a tricky time for our family. There also was a major project kicking off at work that worried me, so that added to the load on my mind. Between all of these, I was flattened, but the last Sunday in September saw me out and about from the middle of the day until light failed. It was a stunning day with sunlight as strong as on a summer's day before the lengthening night made its presence well felt.
June 2nd
After that Spring Bank Holiday weekend torpor, I mustered up the energy to commence a stroll from the Cat and Fiddle Inn at midday on Sunday. Though forecast to be sunny, clouds got in the way for much of the afternoon. Even with a limited supply of sunshine, a walk remains a walk and I enjoyed what was ahead of me. Also, I was trying out a then new Pentax K5 II to see what it could do. Prior to that, it had been out on evening strolls in the Riverside Park in Macclesfield, so this was its first away trip.
The way from the Cat and Fiddle Inn to the top of Shining Tor is very familiar to me and I suspect it is the same for many others who appreciate the hills lying between Macclesfield and Buxton. Of a weekend, you'll never have it to yourself like I had on a weekday in December 2007. Then, I went all the way from the Cat and Fiddle Inn to Whaley Bridge via both Shining Tor and Cat's Tor before dropping by Windgather Rocks into Kettleshulme and then leaving the unpleasant B5470 to follow the opposite side of Toddbrook Reservoir into Whaley Bridge. It is a walk that I fancy repeating even if I already have described it on here already.
What I had missed on that walk and any before it was a quick way from Shining Tor down to Lamaload Reservoir. The boundary of open access land overlaps with it as does a walk, so either might explain how I missed it for so long. After reaching the top of Shining Tor, I sought out this right of way and immediately set to losing the height that I had gained while taking in all that lay around me. That included the western flank of Cat's Tor as the sun dodged and ducked through cloud cover to issue intermittent lighting on the landscape. After reaching a saddle where a footpath towards the A537 crossed my line of travel, it was time to gain a little height again before I lost it again for good when dropping to the reservoir.
Once across the splendidly named Hooleyhey Lane, I dawdled by the reservoir in search of photos. With a long evening available, there was no need to rush so I lunched at the same time. Unfortunately, the cloud cover left slim pickings for making the sort of the photos for which I was hoping so I eventually got going again and made my way towards Rainow. That took me through woods to the north of Lamaload before I crossed a field, losing height as I did so. From this point, I was minded to head towards Ginclough and then to drop through Rainow by road. What changed my mind was the passing of a lad on a quad bike who I fancied leaving go his merry way undisturbed.
Instead, I got myself onto the works road using the public footpath diverting away from the works yard itself. This led me by Snipe House and onto Berristal Road before I reached the B5470 to the east of Rainow. The sun did its utmost to break out from time to time and delighted the senses whenever the feat was managed. The air was that of a peaceful summer's evening and it's the sort of sensation that lingers in a mind like mine. Looking behind me reminded me just how much wilder my surroundings felt at the start of the walk and how they contrasted with the relative domestication of the tree-lined fields that I was passing. Lamaload had been where moorland turned to pasture land and the latter was to accompany me most of the way home.
Crossing the B5470, I made as if to follow the Gritstone Trail north only to stay on a bridleway that took a lower course along Ingersley Vale with the River Dean for company as it had been since I left Lamaload Reservoir behind me. Others had the same idea as me but we were never in each other's way either. In time, I was deposited on the road near another stretch of the Gritstone Trail. From there, it was on tarmac into and through Bollington until I reached the Macclesfield Canal. Before I joined that, there was a stop at a shop for an ice cream that was enjoyed in Bollington's war memorial gardens.
The canal towpath was a busier place and I had a family in front of me, so my own impatience caused a swap over to the much broader Middlewood Way. Any sunnier interludes made this look like impetuousness but I must have wanted to walk at my own pace and not that set by others at the time. With alternative routes, there was little point in being a nuisance anyway. If there was plenty of room to let everyone enjoy the dry weather and the verdant greenery at their own pace, then it was better that way.
It may have been how far I had walked too because I was relishing progress and looked forward to reaching home where a longer post walk rest could be savoured. It had been a good walk on a good day. Later on, there had been relaxed serendipity that led me back from Rainow by a more interesting if indirect route than just following a road all the way into Macclesfield again. Photos of Lamaload Reservoir had to wait, but that was of little consequence when it was an excuse for another walk later on in the year.
September 29th
It may have been autumn during the reprise of the Lamaload hike, but there was a lot of the spirit of summer left in the air too. The day was much sunnier than it had been in June and it scarcely clouded over at all, at any point. Again, the start was a midday one, but the finish was a little after dark but I was under street lights by then anyway.
The route from the Cat and Fiddle Inn to Lamaload Reservoir was identical to that followed in June with the exception being that there was more sunshine around. Knowing how long it would take had its uses too with the shortening days. No longer could one dawdle as one could with the longer hours of daylight in June. Still, that didn't stop me adding a twist to the walk later on either and being in familiar countryside meant that I had a sense of how things would take too. That applied in June and was a reason for much-needed relaxation.
More photographic success also was enjoyed at Lamaload this time around. In fact, the only slight irritation might have been the location of the sun in the sky. While a sun compass probably should have been used, sometimes it takes actual visits to see how lighting on landscapes actually works. With that extra knowledge, you can rethink the time of day for a visit, and I reckon a later one on a summer evening could have its uses so long as I can get home before dark. Buses are in short supply in the evening time so walking time would need to be allowed.
The route I took replicated that of the June walk as far as the foot of the reservoir, but a different course was taken from there. Instead, I followed a public footpath that shadowed the western side of the reservoir and passed Lower Ballgreave Farm. Around there, I fancied picking up another path to get to the A537 but nothing looked too promising and I headed to the single track road leading to Hooleyhey Lane instead. Leaving a Volkswagen camper van to struggle up the incline with cars behind it, I was after traffic free interludes. The narrow carriageway meant that there wasn't a lot of room when a vehicle came but I made it past Ankers Knowl Farm and found a path across a field in the direction of Greenways Farm.
After crossing both the old and new Buxton to Macclesfield roads, passing the aforementioned farm should have had me on a right of way heading directly for Forest Chapel. However, not seeing obvious signs of passage and, moreover, not wanting to be blundering about next to someone's house, I returned to the moderately busy Old Buxton Road and found another that skirted Whitehills to take me towards the same eventual destination. The start of that was an inviting, but a soggy sodden patch brought some navigation related head scratching and I might have been the cause of sending a hill runner in the wrong direction before I righted myself and went uphill to reach Charity Lane. Then, Forest Chapel was not at all far away and I dallied a while beside the hamlet's church before continuing on my way.
Though my direction of travel was towards Shutlingsloe, the elevated vantage point offered by the roadway I was now following was such that I could gaze back towards my starting point. Shining Tor may not be the most distinctive pile but dominated any eastward sight I chose to sample in the evening sunshine. Previous explorations had me sticking on either side of the crumpled landscape that I was surveying but never both. Sometimes, things come alive when you associate them like that.
There was one last hurrah away from tarmac for the day, and I got to revisit sights that I used to see more regularly, especially with a bike in tow. Another departure was being able to attach more accurate names to hills like Yarnshaw Hill and Buxtors Hill as I followed the concessionary path. It may have been getting late for a day in September, but many were out and about still. Car parks around Macclesfield Forest remained busy while some were starting to think about heading home.
My way home was ongoing, but there was one last visit that I needed to make. It was too late for me to make a trip to the top of Shutlingsloe though some were up there in the declining light. A nearby car probably meant that they could stay out later while I made do with a relative close up view of the distinctive hill. A walk from the top of Shining Tor to the top of Shutlingsloe and home again needed to wait, and my legs weren't too sorry about that either.
Light was well into the process of failing as I paced by Ridgegate Reservoir so I now had a sense of purpose about me. It hadn't stopped me savouring the ambience of the tree cover on the way down to Trentabeck Reservoir just a little earlier. Next up was Bottoms Reservoir, then on through Langley, by Sutton and Gurnett before the darkness was relieved by street lighting. A head torch was in my possession but not needing to use one is good too. The day had been good.
Travel Arrangements:
Bus service 58 from Macclesfield to the Cat & Fiddle Inn
A matter of building some confidence
3rd March 2014 Last Saturday came stunning but there was a list of things to be doing so I didn't get to making the most of the weather. Nevertheless, a useful hour was spent out on my new Dahon bike. The journey was short and took me from my house to Bollington and back. The Middlewood Way formed the outbound leg and offered useful off road acclimatisation to someone who has not done so much cycling over the last two years. Finding oneself negotiating a busy junction after being out of practice can fell more daunting that it should so that needed sorting.
Aside from the there being no road traffic, there are also was a chance to fine tune the set up of the bike. It was easy to stop and raise the saddle to the right height as well as tweaking the handlebars. Though there were others out and about, it didn't mean that the bike could be put through its paces to see how fast it went and how well the brakes really worked. Like my mountain bike, the Dahon is low geared and that may be just as well anyway. A touring bike might be a better proposition for any longer distances like going from Macclesfield to Chester like I did the most of four years ago now.
On the way back, I tried both it and myself out over roads and could do so with a little more confidence knowing that seat and handlebar settings were more optimal. A major roundabout was negotiated safely along with several road junctions. A diversion through a quieter housing area was a deliberate way of adding to the acclimatisation before going further afield.
Before that, I need to regain more of the fitness that I used to have because any hills tested me, even smaller ones. That could mean more short cycles like the one last Saturday and I am wondering about popping the mountain bike on rollers (otherwise known as cycle trainers) too so wet, windy or cold weather and shorter hours of daylight no longer can be an excuse for not being on a bike more often unless a certain prospect of boredom does for my good intentions. Going somewhere for real is a motivator that is hard to beat by other means.
New bike, new possibilities
25th February 2014 For a while now, I have been playing with the idea of getting a folding bicycle for use on cycling getaways. The main reason behind this is that one of the things that has held me back from cycling further afield has been the limited carriage of bicycles on buses, coaches and trains. It is true to say that I have entertained thoughts of bicycle rental though the only time that happened was on my first visit to the Isle of Skye in 1999. Maybe it's something that needs rediscovering.
In the days of goods vans on passenger train services, things were far better but my arrival in the U.K. came well after those days and some operators like Virgin Trains will not carry a non-folding bike for you without pre-booking. Others again restrict the carriage of bicycles on their services at peak times and others who do not only provide space for a small number of non-folding bicycles anyway. Two is typical on Northern Rail services and that cannot be called generous.
There may be buses with bicycle pens operating in parts but these are the exception and not the rule. Any space on a bus that could be used for bicycle carriage gets devoted instead to conveying those on wheelchairs and children's pushchairs. Those buses with bicycle carrying capability can be ephemeral too and any example would have been the bicycle racks on the backs of buses running Arriva's now defunct TrawsCymru services across Wales.
Bicycle carriage on coach services is very restricted as I discovered on my first ever trip to Fort William back in 1998. It was so unlike Ireland where I did see someone pop a bicycle into the luggage locker of a Bus Éireann without any comeback for the act. In contrast, National Express will carry a folding bike for you but only in a padded bag or hard case. Their conveyance of full bikes meant a certain amount of dismantling but even that is out of the question now.
With all these constraints, it is easy to see how folding bicycles have risen in prominence. The best known brand is a British one: Brompton. These are not cheap yet remain popular even if other manufacturers have entered the fray. These offer less expensive items and you even might be able to get a folding bike for around £100 in a Go Outdoors sale. Mind you, it probably is best to go for something more expensive to get better quality. Sometimes, you get what you pay for with these things.
Recently, I finally took the plunge with a Dahon Vitesse D8 from my nearest branch of Halfords. They had the bike in stock and built it well for me. The folding mechanism was demonstrated too, if imperfectly. Once I got home, I spotted the actual folding order on a label attached to bike: saddle down first. handlebar folded next, then main bike frame. A short ride was a brief test of the 8-speed gearing and other important aspects of the bike like steering and brakes. The former of these worked well even it felt just a little giddy so that might why users are not advised to set the handlebars too high. As for the brakes, these had the bite that I would have wanted so there are no complaints there.
Thought the Dahon is sold as being for commuting, I quite fancy using it for more than this. Usefully, it has mudguards and a luggage rack so my mind to turning to various level cycling trails in Derbyshire. First, there is Longdendale Valley near Hadfield for seeing how things go to start. While a train journey possibility would allow transit of a full size bike, it sounds a good place to begin with a folding one. Others that come to mind include the Monsal Trail between Miller's Dale and Bakewell, the High Peak Trail from Dowlow (not so far from Buxton) to Cromford and the Tissington that also starts at Dowlow but instead goes as far as Ashbourne. Roving into Staffordshire, there is the Manifold Trail as well even if that has a scary tunnel at one point. More possibilities may appear to follow these but they all should make a good use of the new bike. The next step is to get it out there to savour those places and overcome such fears as punctures or other mechanical troubles. That off road cycling could help with regaining on-road confidence would be a bonus too since I have been on a lengthy break from cycling for one reason or another.
A circuit by the River Wye
9th February 2014 One thing that strikes me about Britain is how you find the same river names turning up in different places. Those that come to mind include the Ouse, the Derwent and the Wye. There is every possibility that some have come upon this post looking for the Wye that rises near Pumlumon in Wales between ducking and diving across the border between Wales and England before reaching the Severn estuary near Chepstow. As it happens, I quite fancy spending some time near Tintern and such places, but that has yet to happen. Pumlumon, where the Welsh Wye rises, has remained untouched by my footfall too, so that's another possibility.
Derbyshire's Wye and Preceding Occasions Spent Beside It
What this piece features instead is another River Wye, the Derbyshire one that rises near Axe Edge before dropping into Buxton and winding its way towards Bakewell before then going on to join with the River Trent. It is a river that I have been near more often than I had realised. The reason behind that discovery is that all my visits to Buxton have put be not far from its course without my realising it. There have been a fair few of those since my cycling there on a Saturday in August 2000. That was the first and only time that I did so and the steepness of the route followed by the A537 not only convinced me not to return the same way that even but also triggered the start of my hill wanderings and ensure that buses have been used since then.
Speaking of buses, further forays have been facilitated by them and one January day spent going further than Buxton to stop at Miller's Dale, Tideswell and Bakewell. It was a sort of poking around the Derbyshire Dales that a guidebook had inspired. Getting home from Bakewell even might have involved more bus journeys, with one taking me as far as Chesterfield before another got me to Sheffield, where trains took over travel duties. There must have been a change in Stockport, though I scarcely can recall it now. Well, it was more than a decade ago and many things have gone through my mind since then.
My first real walk on the Monsal Trail was on an overcast Easter Monday in 2001 when I embarked on an out and back journey from Monsal Head. When I initially tried to recall memories of the walk, it worked better for the outbound trot, and I was unsure whether I returned on foot or not. However, I now reckon that I must have retraced my steps on foot as well. With these things, you need to be careful that later memories are not getting mixed with earlier ones.
A Saturday during July 2001 again saw me following the Monsal Trail with a then new camera, a Canon EOS 300 film SLR, and with a lot of sunshine around too. The starting point was Miller's Dale and I remember the diversions that took me around by places like Cressbrook and how narrow the river valley got in places. Since then, former railway tunnels have been reopened, so the whole trail becomes a very reasonable cycling excursion for anyone. It was a delight to see the Monsal Viaduct with sunshine upon it, though it's best to remember that photographing the dale from Monsal Head is best done in the morning with the sun in the east. Otherwise, lens flare and undesirable exposures will stymie your efforts. From Monsal Head, I did not follow the trail all the way into Bakewell, but instead deviated to visit Ashford-in-the-Water before continuing to my destination. It was a good walk and that remains worth repeating.
Tideswell saw me visit again in December 2005 before I continued towards Litton and a descent into Cressbrook Dale to reach Monsal Dale. There again was a diversion towards Ashford-in-the-Water on the way to Bakewell. It remains a memorable day despite greasy ground conditions. A passing fellow walker tumbled to soil white woollen gloves, so my use of walking poles was far from daft. Apart from saving knees from wear and tear, they also steady you and stop most if not all accidents caused by slips.
Another Encounter
Last year, I was reminded of how long I had left Derbyshire without so much attention, and I redoubled my efforts. Thinking through those memories, some faded, again makes me keen to explore old haunts and reinforce those memories with new ones. That was partly why I got myself over to Bakewell on the penultimate Saturday in April of last year. Apart from the prospect of some sunshine, the need for some me time following a recent life event was another motivator.
What resulted was a circuit from Bakewell that took in Ashford-in-the-Water and Monsal Dale. Before leaving Bakewell, though, the presence of sunshine allowed me some photo opportunities that I never had to the same extent before. For instance, I only ever got near Bakewell's main bridge over the Wye in declining light, so that needed addressing. Then, there was the churchyard that I only remember visiting under overcast skies. With a day ahead of me that allowed plenty of time for walking, I was not to overlook chances like these.
Not far from Bakewell's parish church, I found a useful public footpath for getting to Ashford. The sun ducked behind clouds while I was crossing fields, but it was not as if I were being deprived. One thing about the Derbyshire Dales is that once you are above the dales themselves, the countryside is largely level up there like a plateau and the photos end up needing panoramic compositions unless interesting skies are what you get over you. Along with many fields, roads such as Standedge Road and Crowhill Lane were crossed too, with navigation across a tilled field after one of these feeling uncertain until I reached the next one along. Bumbling around in someone else's field is not my idea of a walking, especially with sharp words ringing in my ears, as happened one December Saturday afternoon around Sedbergh. None of that rancour spoiled this day though, and I followed the lane until I saw a path down by a mast that dropped me onto the A6 near Ashford-in-the-Water. The descent was steep yet steady and plenty of views of the lie of the land below me occupied the mind while navigation was steadied by a useful wall. These types of things get called handrails and are invaluable.
Getting across the A6 was less tricky than it might have been, and I got to spend some time around Ashford. As luck would have it, the sun was playing hide and seek on me with the clouds, so I needed to wait before I had the light needed for the sort of photos that I had in mind. Thus, I was delayed around Ashford's church and chose a lunching spot near the Sheepwash bridge, a packhorse structure where lambs were pinned in at one side (the left of the picture) and ewes driven across to wash their wool before shearing began. These days, the Wye is more likely to have trout than sheep in its waters. Its older use would generate an amount of commotion anyway, and I wonder how modern minds would have perceived such a practice, with all its guile and herdsmanship. Photography and strolling appears to be its main uses now as it is closed to motorised traffic. When I was making the most of the midday sun, folk were ambling about and that may not be to everyone's taste, so the early morning light that falls on the bridge from the east causes anyone making use of that to have little or no human intrusion in their compositions.
From Ashford, it was back across the A6 again to make my way towards Monsal Dale. There were two choices: a lower level path to Lees Bottom that strayed not far from the A6, and a less direct course around by Sheldon and Deep Dale. Because I did not fancy being beside road traffic any more than was needed, I went for the Sheldon route. A range of reasons could explain why this part of my walk was busier than that from Bakewell to Ashford. Even going uphill did nothing to dissuade some. Was it down to the time of day or the location? That is a question that I cannot answer, but there was no grumpiness with there being plenty of space to share on the way towards Sheldon.
While passing through Sheldon, I was on the lookout for a public footpath that would lead me towards Deepdale. It looked as if I had found it, but something about its aspect left me getting cold feet. Lack of waymarks and a missing stile certainly did not help and visions of blundering in fields returned me to the road again. Others were more brave than me and I left them to go their way while I trod Johnson Lane with views of Magpie Mine to my left.
After turning right onto a busier road, I found my way to the unmetalled byway of Wheal Lane that led towards the path through Deep Dale. This is managed as a nature reserve for the preservation of its wild flower habitat by an organisation who I never encountered before: Plantlife. The clouds that had filled the sky as I journeyed around by Sheldon were breaking, and I began to hope again for seeing Monsal Dale in good light after giving up on the idea. In the event, I need not have worried, for cloud cover steadily dissolved over the remainder of the day.
That lower level path from Ashford-in-the-Water was crossed again, and some folk needed directions from me and I hope they sent them the way that they wanted. Before crossing the A6 at Lees Bottom, I stopped at a useful public convenience. This was without running water by design, a strange thing to many, and hand sanitiser was available instead of the soap and water that most of us would seek. That I wasn't the only one thrown by this became obvious when someone else needed the results of my perception.
Once on the other side of the A6, the path into Monsal Dale beckoned, and I remained concerned about a rogue cloud blocking the sun for the final landmark that I had in mind for a photo: Monsal Viaduct. The bank of clouds had broken, but some shenanigans were going on over my head that kept me on my toes. Thankfully, nothing ruinous was to come of it, and I remained keen to get to my objective. What became clear was that it was not that far away from the A6, even if you feel that you are nowhere near it when at Monsal Head. Sometimes, it takes a walk for that sort of thing to become clear, and I also noted a useful bus stop for a future incursion around here.
First, though, I needed to get through woodland before being released into pasture not far beyond a weir that I also visited. This was a path that was well visited, and I had to share the views, which hardly was surprising given how well Monsal Dale is known and how near roads it is. Quite what John Ruskin would have made of all the visitors is a question that I cannot answer, but there was plenty of clearance was the making of photos. That meant that the valley remained peaceful and alluring of a sunny day near the end of April.
The recently reopened Headstone Tunnel was a tempting walking prospect, but my not wanting to waste sunshine was enough to keep me out of there. Instead, I retraced old steps to get up to the hotel above me. A delightful sight lay below me, and it was one that needed a morning outing to make the best of the scene with a camera. There by the roadside, I dallied a while and partook of an ice cream before continuing by road to Little Longstone before crossing a field to rejoin the former railway line again. This route may not be anywhere as necessary as it was on my first trots around here, but it usefully remains extant anyway.
Once up on the trail, the number of cyclists using the amenity had greatly increased from what it was before, and I had every intention of following it all the way back to Bakewell. That resolve remained until I passed what formerly was Great Longstone station, but something beset me that never happened on the trail before: it began to feel like a slog. Looking back now, this almost feels like a lack of gratitude, given the steady sunshine that I was being bequeathed at the time. Maybe, I thought I should have been going faster given the good surface and there was concern that the same hardcore surface wasn't so friendly on my feet too. Also, familiarity might have bred contempt, so it might be an idea to follow it by bicycle in the future, and that sounds a delightful idea now as I write these words.
Eventually, I decided to leave the Monsal Trail for another bridleway near Toll Bar House. It was better than getting grumpy, and the green lane appeared to offer a more direct route into Bakewell too. Even with a hummock ahead of me, the new surroundings kept me interested and steady progress saw its results with Bakewell coming into view below me. Eventually, I was deposited not fat from the town centre and made for a waiting bus to start my journey home. That was a busy double-decker and, given the day, there could be no surprise at that. Clearly, others had good taste in weather and countryside, so I hope they enjoyed their day out like I did.
Travel Arrangements:
Bus service 58 from Macclesfield to Buxton and bus service 177 from the latter to Bakewell. Bus service 218 from Bakewell to Sheffield and travel by train from there back home with a change in Stockport.
