Category: Times and Seasons
Revisiting Lathkill Dale
2nd December 2017 Currently, I have been catching up with quite a bit of reading. Between books bought with good intentions that were left unattended and magazines that have lain in wait for attention, there has been a backlog awaiting clearance. Among all this is a collection of writings by the renowned Scottish outdoorsman John Muir, a profound inspiration for the National Parks system that you find in the U.S.A. today. There have been others like Henry David Thoreau's Walden and Fiona Reynolds' Fight for Beauty. Some have proven easier to read than others, with John Muir's Picturesque California being of intermediate difficulty. Such is the lucidity of his writing that it seems a shame to rush through it, so taking it slowly is undoubtedly what I am doing. The evocative descriptions need to be relished and allowed to soak into memory, especially in tumultuous times like what we have today.
Though I have yet to visit them myself, Muir's detailed descriptions of the glaciated landscapes of the High Sierra strike a chord with me. In one sense, they remind me of the glens cut into the Cairngorms plateau in Scotland, but there is another landscape that also comes to mind for similar reasons. It, too, feels like a sort of plateau with valleys cut into it, though the outline is far less lofty and dramatic.
To give you a hint as to where these are to be found, the valleys themselves are called dales, but this is not Yorkshire but Derbyshire. Recent years have seen me explore them more, since they are not so far away from where I now call home. Some can be very narrow and their names include Dove, Wolfescote, Biggin, Monsal and Chee. All of those named have seen me explore them at some point or other, with some reflecting the names of the rivers that flow though them, while others don't.
One of their number that I have not mentioned so far apart from its appearance in the title of this piece is Lathkill Dale. My first encounter was on a hike I did in December 2013 just before a Christmas visit to Ireland. Though limestone outcrops abounded on slopes around me, there was no winter sun to make them more photogenic. While sunshine did appear later in the walk, I always fancied the idea of a reprise on a brighter day.
That second visit followed a trip to Iceland, whose account on here took a fair bit of time to write. It was not so much having to withdraw everything from an unwilling memory as has bedevilled other recent trip reports, but the fact that there was so much to be recalled. The account here requires more effort, but the previous Icelandic outing has its uses.
A hike around Landmannalaugar thrust me into countryside wilder than I had encountered before then, so the chance of sampling something more familiar had its place. The contrast between dusty mountainsides and leafy valleys could not be more striking. It is the latter to which I am accustomed, so I was happy to be among them again.
My walk began in Monyash and, following arrival there, I spent some time around its parish church before continuing onto Lathkill Dale. The way that I went is hazy to me now, for it is a faint recollection that I followed part of the Limestone Way before going down through Fern Dale, but that could be imaginary. It maybe that I followed the road towards Bakewell before picking up a public footpath that did the same, much as I did on that December Sunday in 2013.
As I went down the dale, milky skies bubbled up with clouds that obstructed the sun at times. While That limited chances for photos, it did nothing to take away from the wonder of seeing the limestone outcrops that line the sides of the dale. When they were fully lit by the sun, any wait was more than well rewarded. Given that it was sights like these that delighted me on walks around Dove Dale, Wolfescote Dale and Biggin Dale, I was little surprised that they did the same for me here
.
Woodland strolling was my lot for the next section of my stroll. Back in December 2013, the River Lathkill was swollen and barely kept within its banks. The dryer time of year meant that it was not as readily seen as on that previous visit, and I was glad of the tree cover. Though I have something of a love/hate relationship with woodland, what it takes in views is given in shade from strong sunshine. Thus, I was resigned to my lot, and I soon enough came to break where others were gathered by the riverside. Though the promising weather had drawn others out and about, there remained interludes of solitude interspersed with episodes of sharing the pace with others.
After Conksbury Bridge, I went to the other side of the river and frequented quieter parts. The approach to Alport was where I enjoyed some winter sunshine the last time around, but there was more time under cloud cover on this occasion. After Alport, I chose to follow Dark Lane and started to feel the summer heat as I rose above the surrounding dales. Beyond some farm buildings, a public bridleway conveyed me across Haddon-Fields and down to the banks of the River Wye. Views over Haddon Hall opened out before, as did a curious sight of a field of what appeared like wheat, barley or oats being harvested like grass silage. It might have been a mistaken impression, so I continued to enjoy other, more familiar sights.
To get to the banks of the River Wye, I needed to get across the A6 near the gates of Haddon Hall. Once past that difficulty, I strode along the footway beside the estate wall until a public footpath directed me to quieter surroundings again. Like the River Lathkill, the Wye was swollen on my winter visit, but was quieter on this late summer outing. After a stretch of woodland, there were more fields to be crossed on the final approach to Bakewell. It was mid-afternoon, so I was glad to be reaching my destination given the heat. After spending a little time pottering around there, I started on my way home and that offered a fleeting trot around Buxton too. There had been familiarity, and that suited just fine after the unfamiliar sights of the preceding weeks. There were more to come in the following ones, but these were not to feel so alien.
Travel Arrangements
Any general haziness prevailing throughout this account also applies to my recollection of how I got to and from my walk. From photos, it appears that a return journey on service 58 between Macclesfield and Buxton was involved. Because this was a Saturday, getting to Monyash would have involved travel on service 177 (since withdrawn) while travel between Bakewell and Buxton most likely made use of the TransPeak service.
Not quite the reprise I once thought it was
29th September 2017 A thought recently struck me. There has been a fair amount of melancholy and reminiscence in what has appeared on here during this year. The events of the last few years and the resultant change of circumstances will have been part of this, so much so that I now am taking the time to take stock of things before anything else happens. After all, moving forward to happier prospects would bring happier tales for sharing too.
Depletion of energy reserves has not helped either and even causes me to reprise routes previously followed instead of exploring new ones. That brings its share of reminiscence and there is a bit of that here too, even though I am recalling a route that was varied rather than repeated.
The original hike took place at the end of January 2009 and it now feels like a very different time. After all, that was eight years ago and a lot has happened since then. There was a change of job, bereavements and subsequent inheritance as well as other things that have gone on in the world. It is all too easy to look back to a happier time when work was steady and ageing parents still retained their independence despite their advancing years. What really is needed is to create moments from which new happy memories can be gained.
The account of the more recent walk takes me back to May 2015 when so much was behind me and so much lay ahead of me. Usefully, work then offered a lull that allowed me to make use of a sunny day to revisit a trail that I fancied seeing again in brighter sunshine and with less wind about. The first would allow for the creation of satisfying photos while the second would make for easier walking.
My starting point was the currently closed Cat and Fiddle Inn. From there, my route took me along Whetstone Ridge before descending through Danethorn Hollow along the headwaters of Cumberland Brook. Clouds may have abounded, but there was amble sunshine too as I followed a path first spied on a muddy walk in November 2004 that took me as far as Rushton Spencer via Three Shire Heads and the Dane Valley Way.
The descent was steep as far as the track linking Clough House with the A54. As I was headed for the former, the descent continued and it passed woodland as I continued to shadow the brook before crossing it at a ford. When I reached the roadside, I decided against a shortcut along a public footpath that appeared to pass through a farmyard in preference to going around by road to reach another one that would get me going towards Shutlingsloe. That passed along the edge of woodland as it shadowed the road below while gaining some useful height.
Eventually, I had to double back on myself for a while as more height was gained until a final turn led me directly to Shutlingsloe's summit. Dappling of the landscape by broken cloud cover was there to be witnessed as I continued my ascent. Care with timing meant that I could control how shaded my surroundings would appear in any photo so it was not as if I were going to lose completely the delights of sunlit landscape.
My route down from Shutlingsloe was a reverse of the one followed only last week, albeit with some deviations that I cannot explain. The way down to Macclesfield Forest and the track through there was the same as was that along lanes as far as Forest Chapel. Following Charity Lane brought me to a path through more of Macclesfield Forest. It was then that I first met the sign at a cross of four tracks that again met last week. Hacked Way Lane should have featured too but it was after that where I inexplicably turned to field crossings on various public footpaths instead of sticking with the track that ran between them. It is all the more curious given that I was headed for Tegg's Nose.
My route also went around another Clough House before picking up Sadler's Way to reach the visitor centre for Tegg's Nose Country Park. Sunshine still abounded though my memory would have me believe that everything had clouded over, such are the tricks that can be played on you. The way from Tegg's Nose back home is one that I have taken that I hardly is worth mentioning. That also may explain how I have so little to say about it because other memories could take over even if it did.
All in all, the day was a satisfying one that produced a good collection of pleasing photos. Dan Kieran may have written in his book "The Idle Traveller" that he trusts the evolution of memories in his mind more than photos when recalling his travels. When your recollections are gap-filled like mine, then photos really come into their own when rebuilding something to recall afterwards. There are those who reckon that they may take from the overall experience, but that is not how I feel, especially when looking at them again brings its share of satisfaction after the passage of time. Anything that fuels future happy reminisces has to be good.
Time
27th September 2017 2017 has at occasions been plagued by the same anxiety: having enough time for dealing with the aftermath of life changing events from the last few years. It is not just the events in question that have given me pause for thought but the also the new responsibilities that are my lot after inheritance. The result is a period of reassessment away from my main work profession after a five week sabbatical did feel long enough for a fuller recuperation.
There also is a need to reflect on how life is going because bereavement can refocus one's thinking. A busy working life and the presence of deadlines make it too easy to delay the process of grieving and it may be that I have done just that. The combination of keeping a day job going while legal work was ongoing certainly can fill anyone's mind with a lot to do but the emotional toll remains inescapable. The motivations are different too because you can feel a need to patch up your emotional state to progress whatever needs doing when you just need to allow things to take their own course.
It is that time for emotional healing that I crave and I do not want to rush things in case that causes trouble later. This kind of healing is not something that can be achieved satisfactorily using holiday allocation alone because it is so tempting to fill that with fleeting distractions from everyday living. Over the last few years, it may be that I have tried doing that when slowing down and making more space for myself was in order.
Outdoor activities like walking and cycling help so I hope continue wandering through countryside because those strolls help wherever they are, be it Scandinavia or Scotland. There is something about what is called slow travel that allows the space and time to work through life's cares and I have been reading Dan Kieran's "The Idle Traveller". Kieran observes that many punctuate a working life with short overseas escapes when what you need is deeper immersion where your thoughts can be followed to their own ends without any deadlines or timetables. It is a thought that resonates with me.
There is another side to this apart from slow travel because I am discovering that other quieter interludes are needed too, especially as the speed of everyday life makes it feel you are in an emotional slow lane. That might be telling me that a less intense working life is in order and a fulfilling one would be ideal. It is a thought that I will hold as I navigate a new stage of life's great adventure.
A springtime sabbatical
16th May 2017 Though the output on here may try to belie it, the month of March was one of exhaustion and a longed for sabbatical from work came not a moment too soon at the start of April. Mostly, it was time to rest at home, though there were some escapes. My yearning for rest and recuperation had to be countered for these, but it is good for anyone's state of mind to get out and about, too.
The second weekend saw me head to the Isle of Man for the first time since July 2011. Though it was a reluctant manoeuvre in the end, it repaid my efforts with sunshine on a circuit from Laxey that took in Snaefell and on an amble around Castletown. Before I started my return, I took in Douglas Head and Summerhill Glen, along with some other sights around the island's capital.
Strife with insuring a car in Ireland partly ruined any peace of mind around Easter, such that I shortened my stay in Edinburgh. In truth, I spent more time around Peebles, with a rain-soaked walk around Glen Sax on Easter Sunday preceding a trot along the John Buchan Way between Peebles and Broughton in much better weather on Easter Monday. Thankfully, that Irish obstacle was overcome to allow a few more days of quiet rest before it hit me just how fast time was going.
While it felt as if my time away from work was too short, there still was time for a walk from Litton to Buxton that took in several of Derbyshire's dales. The list included Tansley Dale, Cressbrook Dale, Monsal Dale, Miller's Dale, Wye Dale and Deep Dale. Wintry weather intruded at times, and Chee Dale offered plenty of adventure. Still, it was a good day out, with my partly making up the route as I went along.
There was a trip to Ireland too and this allowed more time for me in between visiting family and neighbours as well as attending to business that I have over there. Evening walks took me on circuits around by Springfield and Kilmeedy village. Though the walking was along roads for the most part, it was a case of revisiting haunts that I have not frequented for a few years now.
On returning to work, I have decided to do things differently and that is allowing me more rest time. My mind is turning to future excursion ideas as a sort of tonic, though such flights of fancy are tempered by my aunt's health for now. Still, there is no harm in dreaming a little as I assess how things are going for me after all that has happened during the past five years.
After a year of unfinished business
5th February 2017 2016 turned out to be a dramatic year in world affairs, and it was set to be a busy one for me too, so I could have done without the other developments. That work looking after my late father's affairs is tailing off into more of a steady state, and I hope that things become more manageable as the year progresses. There even might be time for a sabbatical from my day job.
The way that I feel presently is that such a thing would be well needed, and I fancy a period of rest after all the upheaval of the last few years. It has sapped my spirit, so a spot of renewal is in order. Overseas trips became a way to tide myself until a longer break becomes a reality.
In 2016, I got to three new countries: Austria, Norway and Spain. With my visits to the first two of these taking the form of extended weekends, I left feeling that there was more to see. It is usually not a bad thing, but an extra day or two added to each would have allowed a bit more exploration. My Spanish escapade took me to Mallorca between Christmas and New Year, and that brought what the other trips did not bring. There was a feeling of leaving the cares of life after me that was much needed.
In a way, it worked too well, and a cold that I had caught somewhere began to make its effects plain enough that the return journey had more than a little dash of limp home mode about it. It took a week or two before I finally recovered, and some extra time away from work was in order.
Before that took hold, there was ample time in the near constant sunshine as I explored the island from my Palma base. Port de Pollença was my first port of call, with a little strolling about the place. A day trip to Sóller allowed for a chance to sample part of the GR 221, a long-distance trail extending along the Serra de Tramuntana. After that, there was a trot around Port d'Andratx that was supposed to take me to Saint Elm but granted me a view of the place instead when I failed to find the path needed to get me from one track to another. Given that I was feeling less than my full self, it was just as well. The last day of my trip saw me lazing about Palma next to its impressive cathedral, helping sightseers with photos when asked to do so. There was ample time during my stay to make photos of my own too.
Despite the fever, I got a lot from my time in Mallorca, and it offered the feeling of satisfying and more complete explorations. It also did me another favour. During December, I fell into a search for closure that I do not understand fully, and even walks around Macclesfield over the Christmas did little to dissipate the feeling. It probably was grief that hit me but going away somewhere else fractured that unwanted continuity.
December saw me return to the Lake District for a walk between Great Langdale and Grasmere on a crisp winter's day. The dawdling along the way was restorative and taught me that such experiences can be readily available in Britain. There also was an amble between Burbage and Whaley Bridge that revisited the Goyt Valley. Being denied much in the way of sunshine was no irritation, and it also offers encouragement for a return sometime.
Other longer walks happened during the year too, with one returning me home from Leek by way of the Roaches. Thinking about that now recalls how soothing a largely solitary saunter, it was. Another took me along the White to Dark Trail between Tideswell and Hathersage.
Hopefully, 2017 will be an easier year for me, and it is something of an open book in some ways. Aside maybe from a possible stay in Stockholm, overseas excursions no longer loom as large in my mind now. Scotland could see more of me than that short visit in November that took in Inverness and a rainy Plockton. A spot of mental clearance could see me plodding around England and Wales more often, too. Ireland might even see a spot of much-needed exploration, and I also fancy a stay around Killarney. Given how heavy my spirit feels now, the more important job for the year could be to lift things again for me.
