Category: Europe
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.
Taken by surprise again?
28th May 2009 About this time last year, I was feeling a tad sore after a weekend in Scotland where I was surprised by some of the best weather that I had seen there in a while. It was as if I was taken by surprise and reluctantly left because I was of the opinion, rightly or wrongly, that a certain lack of planning meant that I may not have made the most of it. Looking back on it now, it may not have been as wasted an opportunity as I thought it to be at the time. After all, that Sunday sojourn on Kerrera sharpened my appreciation of island scenery and perhaps inspired the Hebridean island hopping session that occupied me for a week later on in the year.
This year, with various things that have been going on in my life together with a stretch of lacklustre weather, I would have been forgiven for being surprised by the weather yet again, just like last year in fact. Now that I think of it, the weather has behaved similarly on both times. The run up to the same weekend last year would have been no preparation for what eventually arrived either. However, there is an important distinction between the two years: the locations blessed by good weather. Last year, Scotland got it better and had a generally good May with the TGO Challenge seeing more dry sunny days than usual. England did better this time around but it all depended on where you were and when you were there; it turned wet in Cheshire on Monday.
Overall, Cheshire did well with a steadily improving Saturday that coaxed me out on the bike in the evening time after an afternoon shopping expediton. Sunday was even better and I spent my afternoon and evening on a stroll from Leek back home by way of Tittesworth Reservoir and Danebridge. On Monday, I popped up to Cumbria to hike the Cumbria Way from Coniston to Skelwith Bridge before skirting Loughrigg Fell on the way to Ambleside. That was the cause of taking me through a honeypot or two (Tarn Hows comes to mind as a particular fleshpot) but the quieter parts more than made up for this.
One plan did fall by the wayside and that was the idea of following the Derwent Valley Heritage Way north from Baslow until either Grindleford, Hathersage or Bamford; the end point was to depend on progress and the time of the next train home from either of these stations. The plot certainly was fluid but a late bus caused its abandonment on Sunday so it goes onto the ideas shelf for another time. Another route option is to go around by Baslow Edge, Curbar Edge and Froggat Edge, proper hill wandering if you will and a variation of the original theme, but that also still awaits its opportunity and goes beside the DVHW on that proverbial shelf.
All in all, I cannot declare 2009's Spring Bank Holiday weekend wasted and, anyway, that's not the way that I feel about it at all. Any period of time that allowed chances for walks and cycles can only have been used well and, as if that were not enough, it has sown the seeds for future excursions too so it has been more than fruitful. Having more good weather than was expected can be a test too because you need to pick where you want to go when the temptation is to go out and gorge yourself; having only so much time has its uses. Trip reports for the walks themselves should follow but there's the prospect of good weather next weekend so that may cause the postponement of their appearance. Of course, that depends on how things come together and only time will tell on that score.
An afternoon in Eden
26th May 2009 May this year has brought us a right mix of weather. Saying that, it seems that its bank holiday weekends didn't fare two badly and the start of the month saw me head to Appleby-in-Westmorland for a spot of wandering about the Upper Eden Valley in pleasant weather. The countryside, a mixture of the pastoral and the rough stuff, was as Eden-like as the weather. The route followed took in a number of public footpaths and I even got to fit in a snippet of the Pennine Way too, all the while keeping the amount of road walking to a minimum.
The idea of reaching High Cup Nick was in the back of my mind but, due to delays to my journey, that's where it has had to stay for now. If a delay to my departure weren't enough, a malfunctioning train really finished the prospect of it happening on my first visit to the area. It's probably just as well not to overdo things on a first outing so I am far from bitter and, given the day that I enjoyed, being like that only would be a display of ungratefulness. The Upper Eden Valley is an area through which I had passed without stopping on various Anglo-Scottish journeys, so a visit was long overdue.
When I got to Appleby, blue skies were very much in evidence, but wads of cloud were obstructing the sun from time to time too, a mere triviality. The exit from urban confines was swift and getting over the A66 was no trouble either; I simply walked straight across the dual carriageway, not at all as foreboding as it sounds. Public rights of way conveyed me without a bout of confusion all the way to Flakebridge with only a short spell on tarmac. Field crossing was followed by woodland walking through Flakebridge Wood before more fields were traversed without too much perturbation of the livestock, sheep in places with cattle in others and a mixture elsewhere, or they of me. There were empty fields too, but the ground, except for the boggy stuff around Keisley Beck, remained sound as far as Keisley.
Passing Keisley, not at all a big spot and a hamlet really, I kept on with the public footpath shuffle until I reached the Pennine Way. It was at this point that I started thinking about fitting plans to fit the available time. It was enough to get me as far as Peeping Hill and allow for a bit of poking around on the access land. The reason for my probing was to see if there was a quick way down to the floor of High Cup Gill but I was going the wrong way about it so I returned to the Pennine Way in the interests of time. Looking at a map while spewing out these words, I can see better possibilities but they must await a future visit, perhaps with a newer map that actually shows the extent of the access land hereabouts.
Unobstructed sunshine was to accompany me as I returned to Appleby. While I did largely reprise my outbound route, I stayed on the Pennine Way to reach the road passing through Dufton. With an eye on the time, I skirted Dufton but followed part of the road to Appleby before making use of a public footpath returning me to Flakebridge. It had by now become a wonderful evening for photographic exploits so I just had to stop and use the opportunities, though without overstaying my welcome. Beyond Flakebridge, I heard the sort of hubbub about which I often don't care so much but it was reassuring this time around: road traffic noise. It was coming from the A66 and told me that I was making good time. As it happened, I was at my train station with maybe fifteen minutes to spare, never a bad thing, but my progress had been steady rather than rushed, a travesty given the evening that was. The visual delights weren't done with my train taking me past plenty of gloriously lit hill country before it reached Leeds. Two changes of train later and an untroubled journey home was completed, an appropriate end to a good day out in the countryside.
Travel details
Return train trip from Macclesfield to Appleby-in-Westmorland (the station gets called just Appleby for some reason) with changes in Manchester and Leeds.
Following Derbyshire’s River Derwent
10th May 2009 Every so often, the idea of Sunday passage through the Chatsworth Estate would rear its head, only for it not to happen on the day. It had occurred to me that I hadn't been over that way for a while, so a return was in order. The longer evenings now mean that a later departure still leaves a chance for a few hours of walking so long as you are not venturing too far away. Thus, an early afternoon getaway did the needful, so there was no need for a manic morning, never a bad thing.
Speaking of the morning, that could not have been more delightful but clouds and the unfulfilled threat of an afternoon shower began to pervade by the time that I left Macclesfield. Going east recaptured blue skies before the clouds caught up with me again. Saying that, the day retained its mild and springy feel throughout with the sun not getting locked away all the time.
There was an ulterior motive for going with a gentler option. I managed to acquire a pair of Meindl Burmas in the January sales at a well reduced price and I want to start making regular use of them in place of my rather voluminous Scarpas. They fit me better and don't seem to be having any untoward effects on my feet or ankles. There was a little soreness in the soles of my feet on reaching Matlock, but a spot of rest allowed that to dissipate very quickly. This was their first big outing and it was over solid surfaces too so I will not be hypercritical at this stage. In truth, I probably didn't need boots for this walk at all, but level and easier terrain makes more sense to me when it comes to breaking in new footwear.
Roads were busy around the Derbyshire Dales when I reached Baslow for the start of my hike and they were no quieter around Rowsley. Chatsworth was busy too, so this was not going to be one of those quieter hikes. You could attribute some of this bustle to the proximity to places like Sheffield and Derby on a pleasant day, but another attraction presented itself too. Once I got away from the road, things were quieter with some folk about. Things started looking busier again as I came closer and closer to the big house. Cricket was being played, and many cars were parked on the lawns by the Derwent and in front of the house. There was a hint of something else afoot too: the burbling of a TVR V8 engine. Chatsworth was playing host to its annual TVR Car Club meet and I never saw so may of those cars together in all my life. Occasional sunshine was the weather's offering as I passed the way, not getting too caught up in the throngs. The main estate road was as busy as a major road during rush hour traffic so it took me a while to get across it. If I had wanted quietness, I picked the wrong day and it wasn't until I passed Calton Lees and its car park that I emerged into quieter environs. Saying that, I did veer off the right of way proper to avoid the constant passage of people going to and from that car park.
The Derwent Valley Heritage Way on which I had been travelling since Baslow was still well travelled, but numbers were by now in single figures. The well trodden turf simplified navigation as I progressed from field to field before briefly entering woodland to emerge onto a defined track. Before too long, I was in Rowsley. It's a pretty sort of spot but finding the continuation of the DVHW might confound the unaware. The trick is to head for the old railway station and enter the woodland at the end of the car park. After allowing some cyclists pass (they probably shouldn't have been on the narrow path but I don't believe in starting needless arguments while out and about), I was on less frequented terrain. Road noise from the A6 may have shattered the peace a bit, but I was to get away from that too, after the short hop to Northwood, the terminus of the preserved Peak Railway, formerly part of the old Midland Railway to Manchester.
Emerging into Darley Dale took me away from the A6 and through fields to Churchtown and Darley Bridge. Field wandering with some tarmac bashing was the mainstay for the rest of the journey to Matlock. The sun was back in control by this time, but my mind was filling with thoughts of making my way back home so I pressed on rather than dawdling in the evening sunshine. As I neared Matlock, more folk were encountered but they were no encumbrance to me. I could have stayed on the DVWH all the way to Matlock's train station but I decided to leave it to be sure of my bearings and my bus home. Ironically, that left from the train station anyway, but it's always better to be sure than sorry. A good few hours had been spent, even if quietness and wildness was far from being the order of things on the day.
Travel details:
A GMPTE Wayfarer ticket very conveniently covered all my travel costs for the day; just scrape the appropriate panels for the date and you're away. Buses conveyed me to Baslow (Bowers' 58 & TM Travel's 218 with a change at Buxton) and from Matlock to Stockport (Trent Barton's TransPeak & 199, again changing at Buxton) for a train home.
