Seeking oases of calm in a time of unsettling change
26th October 2024At doing something similar for three hikes starting from Hayfield, there is every reason not to repeat that again. The variation in routes and the different seasons within which they were followed all made the narrative long and tricky to tell. Sometimes, though, the residual commonality is what prevents the giving of three different accounts.
Solitary Ambling Under Grey Autumnal Skies
On 2021’s August Bank Holiday weekend, the walk from Miller’s Dale to Castleton on that Saturday was not the only excursion. Whatever caused me to embark on another that Sunday is unclear to me now; the passage of time has fogged my recollection of that. Nevertheless, one can think of possibilities: retracing steps along the Midshires Way from nearly twenty years before and fitting in a visit to Combs Reservoir after seeing it from passing trains for too long. Either of these would work, perhaps in consort.
The quietude of Buxton, though, has not been lost to memory; few were around under grey autumnal skies. This was a blissful situation in the middle of a pandemic, and it helped that I chose an unpopular way to go as well. While tempted by Corbar Woods, I continued along the A5004 until I could leave that after me for the Roman road shadowing Combs Moss.
Views of what surrounded me were as plentiful as sunshine was scarce. The above photo may lead one to think otherwise, but any outbreak of sunshine was fleeting and ephemeral. The lure of Corbar Wood also applied to Combs Moss. However, I also left this for another time to continue towards White Hall Centre, before which I turned off the track for a public footpath in the direction of Combs. That left the course of the Midshires Way, which, if followed, would have led me into the Goyt Valley all those years ago.
My new direction took me downhill, with views of the edge of Combs Moss that would have been more of a delight if I had sunshine for making photos of it. Any sightings of Hoo Moor were declining behind me as I passed various farms around Allstone Lee to reach a lane near Rye Flat Farm.
Once on tarmac again, I passed a quiet Combs before leaving the lane for a path taking me under the railway from which I had been viewing the reservoir on evening returns from Buxton. Staying close to the shoreline of Combs Reservoir, I continued on my way to Tunstead Milton. No boats were out on the water as I passed; the deserted atmosphere of the day was persisting, though some were passing my way at times.
The rest of the way to Whaley Bridge has become unmemorable after the passage of time, though I left the course of Chapel Road; a busy thoroughfare is not me choice of route for hiking. Here then are a few guesses. Following Milton Lane to Hilltop sounds more likely than using a footpath to go by Woodside Farm, as does leaving the lane near Horwich Farm in order to go via Throstledale.
By then, clouds were breaking to allow more sunshine as I came to the end of my stroll in Whaley Bridge. There were more people around there than other places where I had been that day. Nevertheless, the pervading stilly atmosphere continued to prevail. This had been a quiet outing in quiet places that had to commend it for stilling one’s spirit.
Joining Places Together Under September Sunshine
The lures of Corbar Woods, Corbar Hill and Combs Moss drew me back to Buxton again. Whenever I had gone on quick sorties to Buxton, my strolling often took me to Buxton Country Park and Grinlow Tower once I had got away from the delights of Spring Gardens or the area around the Slopes. Never had I gone near Corbar Woods or Corbar Hill, though the former also gets managed by Buxton Civic Association. It simply had not entered my awareness until that Sunday saunter from Buxton to Whaley Bridge during the preceding Bank Holiday weekend.
This time around, I sought to address that non-visitation on what was a brighter day. Finding my way into Corbar Woods was the first task. Once that happened, there was the steady ascent through the trees in a small but pleasant space. Beyond that lay pasture, before crossing a wall led me onto moorland. An escarpment lay before me and I scaled that using a frequently used path to reach where a cross had been installed on the top. Pottering around there allowed to savour the panoramic views of the town and what lay around it.
Once on access land, at least partly owned by the University of Derby, I began to make my way towards Combs Moss, passing near Moss House Farm. If Buxton had been peopled, the moor was next to deserted. Only a few souls were wandering these parts while I was there. Distant views were obscured somewhat by haze as I followed an informal path around by Flint Clough and Black Edge, where a trig point could be seen catching the sunlight with its whiteness.
This was a journey along the moor’s eastern edge, so there were sightings of the effect of quarrying on the landscape around Dove Holes. The A6 below there too, and there was not that much to please a seeker of the picturesque. Passing Hob Tor and Short Edge had me wondering quite what the fascination was in staying so close to the edge with there being a steep drop. At times on the way to the fort atop Castle Naze, I kept in from the drop, even if it meant travelling over rougher ground than what the path had levelled.
After visiting the fort, thoughts turned to making a descent. The path marked on the map did not thrill me, so I tried going another way. Getting down worked well, but my problem was getting on to the lane. Getting on and off access land is not always easy, finding the entrance can be tricky, as I would find later in the day. Scaling an unfriendly gate was what it took in the end; the use of barbed wire looked peevish in the circumstances, for the access land reached up to the road.
Some bumbling around preceded my choosing a path for the descent to Combs; the reconnaissance probably was needed, for there were a few options that curtailed tarmac travel. One would have taken me towards Chapel-en-le-Frith’s train station, which itself is quite an uphill schlep from the town, before turning towards Combs. Another would have avoided farm buildings altogether, though memory cannot pick between the options at this point of remove.
There was no dallying as I passed Combs, since I wanted to follow the western shoreline of Combs Reservoir in the hazy sunshine. Sailing vessels were out on the water this time around. If there were more in the vicinity then, that is largely lost to me now. If so, their presence cannot have been that much of an intrusion.
This time around, I was not bound for Whaley Bridge. It is not clear if continuing to Chinley and New Mills was an intentional decision taken before setting out, or something that fell into place during the ramble. Either way, I made my way from Tunstead Milton to Eccles Pike, more likely via Sparkbottom and Woodside Farm. Once on Eccles Road, yet another lane of many, I sought the way onto more access land. Someone had been knocking fences around, a perhaps questionable if understandable act that made entry easier.
Leaving Eccles Pike and the access land around it, I followed a right of way down to another road. Familiar hills like South Head lay before me as I made my descent. Reaching Chinley would need my going over the A6; thankfully, a road did that for me, avoiding a crossing of the busy thoroughfare itself. If I had wanted to shorten my walk there, going by train would have been the only option; there was no Sunday bus service.
In the event, it became a refreshment stop, since there was a shop open and a green park nearby. More uphill travel was ahead of me, so a rest break was needed before that. Crossing over the railway took me onto Old Hill Road, where I spotted a Royal Mail van doing Sunday deliveries, a striking thing when you are more accustomed to their normal six-day delivery.
As the ascent got my heart going, there was a route choice ahead. Did I stick with the Old Hill Road in the form of a track, or use another one? The alternative was what I chose; the possibility of easterly views was what decided me. It was hardly busy, yet others were out using it too. Once the gradients slackened, I could peer in the direction of Kinder Scout and what lay about it. Kinder Reservoir could be glimpsed too, and I wondered if I could spot Hayfield as well.
Evening was approaching by this time, and I decided against a descent to Hayfield in favour of one to Birch Vale. That got me nearer to New Mills and onto the Sett Valley Trail, where I had not trod since my first encounter with Kinder Reservoir the most of twenty years before. Given the time of day and the need for some to walk their dog, the uptick in human usage came as no surprise. The converted railway alignment also meant easier work for my legs, and I dawdled at times too.
There was an illusion of everlasting summer that September evening, as there so often is. Even so, the lengthening hours of night encouraged me to reach the bus stop for my journey home after a satisfying day on foot. In many ways, the route connected places that I had known apart from each other. It was good to join the lot together.
Quiet Saturday Strolling Over Combs Moor
After two Sunday strolls, we now come to a Saturday one. Quite apart from the opportunity of a day with less haze, it is difficult to say what inspired this departure to and from Whaley Bridge. One thing is certain: this was no reprise of the first hike; there are too many differences for that.
The way out of Whaley Bridge is among those. The exact details may be lost to me now, but it did lead me south to Long Lane, which I used to round Ladder Hill with views over Combs Reservoir and towards Chapel-en-le-Frith. This was not a close encounter with that reservoir but part of a more direct route to Combs. Much of the way more likely was road walking; that would change.
Though much of the way from Combs to Combs Moss is no longer memorable, it is plausible that it avoided tarmac tramping for much of that. The final approach is beyond question, though: there was an ascent of the path that I rejected while en route from Buxton to New Mills. It was not as fearsome as I considered it to be on that occasion.
Thankfully, the rest of the way to Buxton is easier to relate. This went along Combs Edge and continued south and west to show me a different side to the moor. There were views back towards Combs Reservoir as much as what lay on the other side of the Goyt Valley. Though the sun came and went, there were ample photographic opportunities with any gritstone outcrops that I passed. Navigation on an informal path was simple, too, which was just as well on this access land.
Relaxing progress in a place with few if any about was my lot, and I relished it all. In time, I would shadow the outbound route from Buxton that I took on the way to Whaley Bridge at the end of August. The way off the moor would reverse the way taken while going from Buxton to New Mills. Some familiarity was beginning to help me as I passed Moss House Farm on the way to Corbar Hill. This was one lasting halt before the descent into the busier confines of Buxton. These were not so comfortable, yet I rushed nothing before catching a bus back to Macclesfield after a satisfying day with much respite from the world’s affairs.
Travel Arrangements
Bus service 58 got me to Buxton for the start of the first hike. The remarkable part of the return is the rail replacement bus from Stockport and how few were using face coverings. Between Whaley Bridge and Stockport, I could have travelled by either train or bus, more likely the latter, even if I am not fully sure of that.
Bus service 58 again did the honours for getting me to Buxton for the second ramble. The way home from New Mills is less clear. Was some of it by bus or all of it by train? The former seems more likely, and that would have got me to Stockport for an onward connection. For the last trot, bus service 60 got me to Whaley Bridge, while bus service 58 returned home from Buxton.
A sunny amble through the Goyt Valley: Going from Whaley Bridge to Macclesfield
6th October 2024Once 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
Hikes that took me back home through some Cheshire and Derbyshire hill country
24th September 2024The 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.
