Category: Trip Reports
A roundabout route back from Knutsford
20th August 2024 Even with the attractions of using newly regained freedoms, it helps if you have the weather that allows just that. That may explain how a walk back home from Buxton during the summer of 2020 was not followed up by anything near as substantive for over a week. Another explanation might have been that exercising a newly restored right was enough at that stage. The truth might be a combination of these and other things.
Still, a dull morning did little to stop me travelling to Knutsford by bus. There may have been earlier designs on cycling there and back once Tatton Park reopened in June, but they never came to anything. As if to emphasise how the pandemic had changed everything, I found that more were using the often quieter pedestrian entrance to the park that I started to favour instead of others. Once past that, there was more room for all in the park itself, with some sun breaking through the clouds too.
Any breaks in the cloud cover did little or nothing to help with photographic efforts around Rostherne, a pretty place and a deserted oasis where one could relax a little more. There was a return trip to both Tatton Park on a scorching Friday a few weeks later that helped with the photographic side of things. The number of cars going into Tatton Park then really struck me then, on a getaway that eased any foreboding about my being able to get through the months that lay ahead.
Returning to the first encounter with Rostherne, I then continued from there along Marsh Lane before turning onto Birkinheath Lane, which led me to join Ashley Road. The M56 lay to the north as I did all this, and I was not going to Ashley itself. Quiet unpeopled lanes were my lot, a restorative combination given all the tension of the pandemic times.
Mobberley was my next landmark. Getting there allowed me to leave tarmac tramping after me for a spell of field crossing and track travel. Others were going the way hereabouts as well, though we did not get in each other's way. After Mobberley station, I returned to field crossings again to reach the North Cheshire Way.
That conveyed me passed a deserted Manchester Airport with no flights arriving or departing. The curbs on international travel were more than evident as I strolled by the perimeter fence for the first and only time in my life. It was a far crying from the deafening din that I met while cycling underneath one of the runaways while going by the A538. My hearing thankfully recovered with no lasting effects.
The size of the tunnel through which the River Bollin flows under the same runaways was something that surprised me when I got that far. It also meant a descent and subsequent ascent that I might have liked to avoid after walking so far and with so far to go. This also was my meeting point with the Bollin Valley Way, the course of which would convey most of the way back to Macclesfield and thus home.
Before all that, I would need to endure a very busy stretch until I passed Wilmslow. There was plenty of sun by now, and my water supplies may not have been that great at this stage. The National Trust site of Quarry Bank Mill was well peopled, as were the trails and rights of way around it. Then, there were The Carrs in Wilmslow itself, an even busier spot in many ways. This was well outside my comfort zone at the time. Nevertheless, an opportunity to buy an ice cream and a soft drink could not be passed up while in the vicinity. The first topped up my energy levels, while the second brought me added hydration.
Once past where everyone had gathered, all was again blissful as I traipsed the Bollin Valley Way back to Macclesfield. This was largely unpeopled, if at times overgrown. Next to the Mottram Hall Hotel, again likely quiet because of the pandemic, was one stretch where the vegetation appeared to have gone wild. Even so, the quietude felt soothing and without worry like the busy spots where I had been. That sentiment applies to what I experienced around Prestbury and Riverside Park too. It was growing late in the day, which may have helped cut down on the numbers out and about anyway. The whole walk remains one of the longest that I have done, and I returned some with plenty of satisfaction from it all.
Travel Arrangements
Bus service 88 from Macclesfield to Knutsford.
Hiking back home from Buxton
19th June 2024 After a frustrating wait during June 2020, the essential usage restriction was removed from public transport. Though social distancing was still very much in force, I decided that local bus services could not get that busy due to their rural or interurban nature. On catching the bus to Buxton, I was proved right. There were only three or four passengers on board at any time, and the use of face coverings was a requirement. All this cut down on any sense of trepidation that anyone might have had.
Once in Buxton, I paid a brief visit to the Pavilion Gardens before setting off for Buxton Country Park under heavy grey skies. What remains in my memory from the latter is the clash between managing a dog and social distancing. That led to some imperfections in my eyes, yet it was quickly left behind me with no last ill effects. After lingering near Grinlow Tower for a while and overhearing a conversation about meeting outdoors at a campsite (some were adjusting to camping getaways at a time when hotel and guesthouse stays were heavily restricted; the summer holiday season was on the way too...), I started along the Dane Valley Way.
Before I reached Grin Low Road, I needed to brace myself for closer encounters than my contemporary sensibility would have desired. Open moorland lay ahead of me, so I gained space for my mind to relinquish any lingering qualms. After passing Ladmanlow, I headed uphill past The Terret on the way to the A54. While this is access land and I might have avoided it, I contented myself with some road walking until the trail led me away from there again.
A tramp over Axe Edge Moor was my lot while I surveyed all of what lay around me. Sunshine was in short supply, though there were breaks here and there at times until clouds parted to allow longer sunny spells. The way towards and past Dane Head could have gone over soggy and sodden ground, yet that is not what I recall. All of this might have something to do with having a drier spring and early summer than often is the case.
Once on a sounder track, any boggy ground was left behind me. It is not for nothing that the source of the River Dane is considered to around there, and I think I might have spotted it too. What filled my senses by then was the way by Orchard Common. The route was turning my mind to another hike walked on a frosty January day years before. That went from the Cat and Fiddle Inn to Buxton and proved to be shorter than I might have expected. That was just as well given the hours of daylight and was to show that it to be but a section of my then ongoing rambling.
The earlier dalliance with the A54 was to be followed up with another approach. This time around, I was to be among defunct quarry workings, the Reeve-Edge and Danebower quarries. Even with a busy road nearby, these do have a scenic situation. The sun was well out by then and some photographic action ensued.
The Dane Valley does pass Three Shire Heads, an attractive spot with a pleasing packhorse bridge across the river. However, it is something of a honeypot, so I foresaw its being busy. After all, the proximity of a road allowed families to park cars and follow nearby trails. Confirming my suspicions, various groups were making their way to the aforementioned scenic and this is a narrow trail, which is no help to social distancing. Some were asking me the way, too, something that shows how many were exploring their local area for the first time.
My route took me to the A54 near Holt, where I crossed to pick up the track descending to Clough House. Near Cumberland Brook, this looks like a pleasing track, yet the reality is that it was deeply rutted for much of the way. While it is designated as a byway, it would challenge any attempts of using it using wheeled means of transport for much of its length. Once my route changed direction to head straight for Clough House, I began to retrace my steps from the preceding Saturday.
Clough House was again busy, and I was happy to be past it. However, I stayed on the lane shadowing Clough Brook, then flowing peacefully in the sunshine. Be warned, though, for it is not also so placid, as the name of the nearby village of Wildboarclough testifies. Extensive damage was done in 1989 when ferocity became the nature of the flowing water.
The sunshine also caused me to call to that village, hence my deciding against the public footpath that I used previously. There was a photographic call to St. Saviour's Church before I returned to what was gaining the name of Nabs Road. That took me past another pub that momentarily had become a shop before rejoining another footpath that I had trodden the previous week.
As if to continue the theme of locals discovering places where they had never gone before, I shared this with a group of dark-skinned people. My increasing weariness meant that I did not push myself to pass them until I had my chance near Lower Nabs Farm. Thereafter, I was following the route from the Shining Tor that I had completed the Saturday before. There was more sunshine this time around as I passed Greenway Bridge, Oakenclough and Higher Sutton. The consequent gain in heat began to catch me and I began to flag a bit. My having patience with slowing legs paid off on the way home, for I was there in good time at the end of a satisfying day that looked unpromising at the start.
Travel Arrangements
Bus service 58 from Macclesfield to Buxton.
From home to Shining Tor and back
17th June 2024 During June 2020, restrictions were being slackened. One thing that peeved was the sluggishness in allowing greater usage of public transport. Not being able to drive a car meant I felt discrimination against me, while car users got more freedom than I had. Later in June, that did get sorted, and I later learned that one person ignored the restrictions and used public transport anyway. That was much further than I was willing to go, though my compliance with the restrictions was not perfect either.
Whatever what my actual plan for the day was, that is lost to me now. My hike had me making a beeline to Lamaload Reservoir, sticking to road walking until I had passed Rainow. Then, I left that for a public footpath before getting as far as Ginclough. Nevertheless, I still was in the Cheshire portion of the Peak District National Park.
My recollection of this is that much of the way from my house was people free, giving me a necessary opportunity for relaxation. Once off-road, that was not to halt. My direction may have been taking me towards Common Barn, yet I was to change from that to descend towards the waterworks at the base of Lamaload Reservoir.
From those, I needed to regain the height that I was after losing to pass the reservoir on its northern side. That got me to Hooleyhey Lane. If I intended to circumnavigate the reservoir, the draw of Shining Tor was too strong, and I began the steep ascent from the lane to get there.
After the initial slog, the gradients slackened for a while to allow admiration of the surrounding views. Cats Tor and Windgather Rocks were to draw my eyes to the north as much as the valleys to the east of these. The gradients stiffened again for the final ascent of Cheshire's county top. After a largely unpeopled journey, I was to encounter more here.
The cause was something that I noticed throughout that summer, the presence of a car park. It was if many thought that driving out of town made for a better approach. Since this quietened the stroll between the attraction and urban surroundings, I could not complain too much.
The descent to the Cat and Fiddle Inn was not at full speed, since social distancing remained a necessity while vaccines were being tested and finalised. Like many pubs, the inn was trading as a shop at the time, and I was tempted to buy refreshments. However, there was a significant queue because of restricted numbers allowed into the premises and customer demand. Thus, I continued on my way.
A walk featuring Lamaload Reservoir was extended as I got lured as far as Shining Tor before descending to the Cat and Fiddle Inn and then continuing home, passing Wildboarclough, Shutlingsloe and Higher Sutton on the way. Predictably, more folk were encountered around Shining Tor and the Cat and Fiddle Inn (trading as a shop at the time) but there was plenty of space to wear off any grumbles about lack of social distancing. An ascent of Shutlingsloe will need to wait because it is a small honeypot in these times and might have been too much for tiring legs in any case.
From the Cat and Fiddle Inn, I set off on a bridleway leading to Danebower Hollow. Reaching the A54 did little to serve my purposes, so I instead descended through Danethorn Hollow to reach the track shadowing Cumberland Brook and taking me towards Clough House. This downhill stretch was a stern test for limbs wearied by the preceding ups and downs, particularly when a rough track was involved.
In hindsight, the car park at Clough House probably would have been best avoided for better social distancing, yet I did not delay my moving on from there. Instead, I made for a public footpath that took me by Banktop. This would have been a route possibility for Shutlingsloe, but for at least two considerations. One was the amount of space on the summit and how many people would be there. Another was my wearying state at the time and the heat of the afternoon at the time. That was to be sated on a weekday later in the summer.
It might have been better if I could a descent to Nabs Road only to go uphill again on another public footpath. Passing through large fields on the way to Lower Nabs Farm took a little concentration and reminded me of an evening going along there with the prospect of declining light being all too real. The placing of colourful bucket lids made direction finding a lot easier then, and remained in place to offer the same help during this later summer.
Once as far as Greenway Bridge, I made a different decision to that earlier encounter when I continued along the road. With ample light, I used the public footpath to and past Oakenclough instead. There was more height to be gained, which gave me more views of Shutlingsloe from a different angle before I reached the last higher point on my walk. Gradients levelled a while before I began a gentle descent towards the Hanging Gate Inn.
There may have been a short public footpath cutting off a little road walking, but it passed through the pub grounds and I thought it to be better to remain on the road instead. Tarmac tramping was no insult to my sensibilities at this stage because there were good views to enjoy. After passing Higher Sutton, Sutton was next with Gurnett afterwards. By this point, there were so many route choices for getting home that recounting which of these got used hardly matters now.
After all, this was an excursion made that good of a day with its warm sunny moments as well as cloudier wind-chilled ones. The mix caused no perturbation because there was nothing but dry weather on offer. As an out-and-back excursion from my house, it felt a little ambitious, but the only cost was fatigued limbs that a little rest allowed me to recover. The reaching of a county from one's home only using one's own power still strikes me as intriguing, too.
In search of real respite amid a lockdown
16th June 2024 Before the pandemic hit us, my way of getting a breather involved travel and nature. Hiking was as much part of that as reading about travel and nature. Photography and computing were other forms of refuge. Since then, I have found some others that might help during a similar episode if it were to happen today. Living means learning; it is the only way.
Impact
The restrictions that came in March 2020 disrupted my previous and customary coping mechanisms. Catching up with unread photography magazines further drove the point home. It just hurt too much to read about nice places where I could not go. That meant that do the same with travel magazines was out of the question, and they faced an existential crisis too. Outdoor magazines did not escape either. Most survived in time, with Lonely Planet Traveller being the only title that I know to have been discontinued.
It all added up to a sense of sensory deprivation, and broadcasting service were similarly thinned out. It was if there was little escape from morbidity and mortality. The latter really played on my mind, making some clinical encounters unavoidable at exactly the time when they needed to be curtailed.
Mercifully or perversely, depending on your point of view, we got a lot of sunny weather throughout the episode. If it did nothing but rain, I am not sure how we would have coped. That single episode of exercise per day was not just about physical health and well-being. It was nearly more important for keeping one's mental health on an even keel through a period when there was so much around that was downbeat.
To add to it, I also cut out caffeine from my diet and my use of sugar has more or less gone the same way since then. Even if that added weariness, I continued to get outside. The confinement meant that social distancing was more difficult than might have been expected. My yearning for added solitude went largely unsated, too.
Coping
While Ireland placed limits on how far you could travel, I cannot remember that being the case in England, and it proved to be something of a lifesaver. Since public rights of way remained open, we were not confined to roads either, even if traffic plummeted so much that you could walk them in the name of social distancing.
We were not confined to urban parks like West Park, Victoria Park or South Park, all in Macclesfield. Others like Riverside Park or Tegg's Nose Country Park remained available. The latter offered an escape from urban surroundings that got used one sunny Saturday in April as part of an emergence from a personal nadir.
Cycling was another useful release. The quieter roads allowed for added courage once I began with routes that took in Henbury or Gawsworth. The Victory in Europe Bank Holiday at the start of May saw me get as far as Siddington and Marton, where there were few people to encounter. The same could be said for an outing the following day that took me around by Nether Alderley and Jodrell Bank, though the final approach to Macclesfield was more peopled and hence less comfortable for me. Around the same time, there were walks that included Riverside Park and Tegg's Nose. Thus, it was not all about cycling.
Making Space
Breaks from work were much needed and really beneficial. At least, I could keep working through the whole thing, unlike so many others. Even so, extra non-working days at the start of May had their uses, even if I muddled my bank holiday timings. Boris Johnson's apparent preference for Bank Holiday Fridays was so new to me that I needed to make my client aware of changes in plan.
Still, the first of May saw an afternoon stroll that took in the Danes Moss Nature Reserve under grey skies and with some light rain at times. A late afternoon visit to Tegg's Nose Country Park on Saturday found the place largely deserted, offering a great deal of respite from any tension that had built up in the preceding weeks. On Sunday, I went on a circuit that included Prestbury, again with the same escape from an artificial concentration of humanity.
When I noticed that Royal Mail were working on that Monday, I was surprised, but the change of date for the Early May Bank Holiday never twigged until I spoke with my brother the next day. Nonetheless, I strolled around by Rainow and followed the Gritstone Trail towards Tegg's Nose and returned home via Langley. Tuesday allowed time for a circuit of Kerridge Hill and the adjoining Saddle of Kerridge that skirted Bollington and Rainow along its lower flanks. Looking back on things now, it was an extended weekend that became very full.
As we continued through May, there was a slight sense that pressures were easing. Experience with the new infection was increasing, and the grim toll was not as high as it might have been. Restrictions still remained, though; it would take until June before any real slackening could be felt. There still was an infection curve to be flattened.
Release
Thankfully, the Spring Bank Holiday was in the part of the week when I expected it to be. After what happened earlier in the month, this had been checked. The associated weekend was stretched with some extra days to allow further recuperation from the ongoing travails. In some ways, these were to be liminal.
On that Friday, I again went for a longer stroll. This followed the Middlewood Way until I was past Bollington. Many others were out along that trail, so it was not the most relaxing of walks. That was one reason why I sought other routes with fewer people around. Not having to worry about social distancing meant that more reinvigoration could come my way. On this hike, that came about by continuing to Pott Shrigley. Fancying a spot of photography, I spent a while in the churchyard, which granted me the people-free space that I so needed. Thus sated, I skirted Bollington on the way to Rainow. That meant meeting with more people again, though not as many as on the Middlewood Way. Even so, I still needed the quieter route to Tegg's Nose that I constructed. On reaching there, I began the final stretch of my journey home.
If I needed it, the next day's hiking supplied more than enough occasions where I could ramble with simple abandon. The mixed weather with some spots of rain in the afternoon did nothing to take from this. My route had me skirting Tegg's Nose on the way to Langley before crossing fields and gaining height on the way to Ridge Hill. It was while I was going along this lane towards Higher Sutton that a final sense of complete release hit me. All was well at that moment and there was nothing to fear. The feeling is one that I recall readily today as I write these words.
Eventually, the name changed to Meg Lane and I opted not to continue to meet with the Gritstone Trail. Instead, I chose a public footpath that would drop me to Lowerhouse where I did just that. From there, I ascended Fox Bank to go further than another ill-fated attempted ascent of Croker Hill had stalled due to my feeling unwell in the summer heat. This time, I had to contend with a blustery day that easily dispelled any disquiet regarding infectious disease. Others may have been around, but they were few in number, and we were well spaced as well.
The descent into more sheltered spots was to take me along a quiet public footpath to the A54. Route finding took a little concentration, and it felt as if I was proceeding along a holloway (or sunken lane) at times. The variety provides yet more of an escape for the psyche. Crossing the A54 to pick up a path by Bosley Reservoir did nothing to take from this. It helped that it was not busy around there, either. This struck me as a pleasant place to be, and that was to draw me back later.
Before all that, I needed to continue home. Thus, I followed a right of way to the A523. Going north took me to Bosley. This was partly to see its church, not that it is the most prepossessing of buildings with its red brick construction. Another public footpath conveyed from the church to Tunstall Road, where I met with the Dane Valley Way.
It was by now well into the afternoon and I had some quiet space, the like of which I did not have since the arrival of the pandemic. Still, I left it for the towpath of the Macclesfield Canal because I did not fancy passing through what was marked on the map as a stud farm. In fact, this is more like a business park and going through there might have saved me some road walking along another part of the A54, never a nice road to walk.
My next destination was North Rode. Another part of the Dane Valley Way got me off the A54 to reach a public footpath taking me the rest of the way. Again, quietude was my lot and there was some time spent next to its pretty church before continuing from there to Gawsworth.
This was to be where things got a bit busier again. First, getting to Rodegreen took me off-road once more. Going right along Pexall Road not only took me to Shellow Lane, but also towards the public footpath leading to Gawsworth and its church. This was to be a more confined affair in spatial terms, a trickier situation when you need to pass people with pandemic wariness around. Later, I would pass fish-ponds attended by numerous people fishing. It looked a little too busy to me, so I passed on as best as I could.
This was a time when local public footpaths were never busier; you could find lines trodden in fields where you never would have had them before. They have faded since then, too. Thus, the path conveying me from between Gawsworth Old Hall and Gawsworth New Hall did little to deter others from using it. Having got so much from the day, that did little to perturb me; you have to share anyway.
Once on Woodhouse Lane, I continued in the direction of the Danes Moss Nature Reserve. Without photos because of the greyness of the skies, I am left with a quandary in this account: how did I get home from there? One thing is sure, it did nothing to take from the restorative nature of the stroll. For that reason, I wonder if I continued on paths to Congleton Road before following that into Macclesfield. Making for the Macclesfield Canal instead would mean going a busier way and one with people confined to narrow boats there too; it is not the best for them to have too many around during a pandemic either. Thus, I am siding with the first option.
That night, I felt very different. The relaxation in places with few if any people had done the trick. All the tension was gone, and I felt more normal than I had done for a while. The fact that I really could relax in such places again was a real help for my subsequent state of mind.
After the previous day, the Sunday that followed needed to be an easier day. It came hotter, too, which added impetus for just that. Some outdoor reading in South Park and Victoria Park became the main highlight, a good development for adding more normality. The Bank Holiday Monday came sunny and allowed a cycle that took in Bosley village and Bosley Reservoir before rounding The Cloud, a prominent local hill. That meant a descent along Peover Lane and nervous travel along the A54 before leaving that to reach North Rode, where a much-needed break was taken near its church in the sunshine. From there, I continued to Gawsworth, where I again stopped a while ahead of the last stretch to Macclesfield and home.
Looking through my photos from that Monday, I am surprised that none were made while I was on Tunstall Lane, given the views that were available. However, I set that to rights the following Saturday. The previous weekend must have worked up quite a bit of magic because I boldly ventured into Staffordshire, a first since the pandemic had arrived. Having crossed Hug Bridge nearby, I easily could see myself visiting Rushton Spencer before heading along the lane by Rushton Bank and Woodhouse Green. The steep ascent forced me to walk the bike in places but granted me the views over Bosley Reservoir to Croker Hill that I desired. Careful progress was made along Cloud Side because I am not so good with hills while cycling; descents particularly challenge me, possibly because of cycling bike with bad brakes while much younger. Once as far as Peover Lane, it was largely a reprise of Monday's route back home. Courage and fortitude had been found, something that would propel me through the following June.
One last escape before an onslaught
11th June 2024 After my trip to Canada in 2019, hill wandering just about ground to a halt. The August bank holiday weekend did come sunny, yet other preoccupations kept me indoors. Otherwise, day trips to cities like Bath and Oxford made use of any sunny days that came my way. Of these, it was the first that saw a stroll outside the city into nearby hills for a time.
The, there was an existential threat to my freelancing business that needed attention. That lay on my mind throughout the autumn and into the following winter. A changeover was needed, and that process took until early 2020 to complete. The result was that there was no New Year getaway like the previous year. Whatever brighter days did not get used for incursions into hill country because of what lay on my mind, even if I did get to exploring North American trip ideas.
While my freelancing was set on former ground after all this, it did mean that I was otherwise unprepared for the travails of a pandemic that I might have been. The weather had not been so enticing, and was not to turn out that way until our lives became very restricted.
All the while, I was watching the approach of a new infectious disease with some trepidation. The stories in the news were serious and brought home the fragility of life. The way that the pandemic arrived so soon into Europe was not how influenza spread. Anyone should see that we could not escape the strictures, even if many were hoping for the best; it was a matter of when, not if.
This was the shadow that was cast over Mother's Day in 2020. The restrictions were beginning, with places for usual celebrations not being available. With nowhere else to go, many headed for the outdoors and some locations were left crowded, to the disdain of political leaders and the authorities. This affected the Wicklow Mountains in Ireland as well as Snowdonia in Wales. Umbrage was expressed publicly, and further restrictions followed that would test the mental health of many of us. Everyone was learning to deal with something that remains infrequent, not that anyone should be complacent.
In some ways, the day felt like one last hurrah before the doom-laden weeks that lay ahead. The prospects ruled out the use of public transport, and I already was avoiding large assemblies of people anyway. There were no regulations barring the former, apart from my sense of prudence. That would change.
If I had hoped that staying local, and frequenting spots that I previously had found to be quiet, would allow a spacious expanse for the spirit, I was about to be very surprised. The initial signs were there when I spotted a family trying to figure out which way to go near Higher Swanscoe Farm. By then, my route already had me along part of the Macclesfield Canal before following a public footpath that passed Jenny's Farm. Later, passing Higher Swanscoe Farm got me onto Well Lane.
Tarmac tramping got me onto Kerridge Road before I left the road to pass by both Lower Swanscoe Farm and Swanscoe Farm on another right of way. In time, I was to reach the Saddle of Kerridge to gain my first sightings of the village of Rainow for that year. Picking up the Gritstone Trail drew me near there before I followed the road leading to Lamaload Reservoir. This part of my route was as quiet as it usually was, with no sign of the upheaval that was facing us in the coming weeks. The scenery was timeless, allowing a momentary escape from all threatening portents.
When near the pumping station below the reservoir dam, I opted to turn right to follow a path passing a Larch plantation. That took me uphill towards Brock Low, testing the strength and resilience of my legs in the process. In time, the gradients relented and views of the reservoir opened out beside me. They were lost behind more trees for a while before I left the track that I was following.
The uneasy sense of normality continued, and an instructor was seen with a group working on their navigation skills. Such activities were to be interrupted within days in the spirit of containment and confinement that was to envelop us. My own route finding was a test too as I headed toward Higher Ballgreave Farm, which I passed on the way towards Buxton New Road. That provided yet another test for the climbing capacity of my legs before I could look back on the reservoir, enjoying the views.
Going onto Buxton Old Road meant that I needed to find a public footpath that would take me towards Forest Chapel. There were a few options. The one passing Whitehills possibly is better than any passing Greenways Farm. Recollections are foggy now, yet it may have been one from the latter that landed me where I wanted to go. More uphill progress was needed regardless of the route followed, further testing out unacclimatised legs.
What remains in my mind now is that sense of quietude, and not the amount of traffic or the presence of others. There must have been nothing remarkable at this point in the hike because that was to change once I began to approach Macclesfield Forest, which was more mobbed than I had seen it before then. There was even a bit of bother between cars because of the amount of traffic. The single track roads could not take up the slack that the usual locations for celebrating Mother's Day would.
Though there was a certain unease at having so many people around, I nevertheless continued as planned. That unease unfortunately intruded when anyone asked for directions (there was one family that perhaps needed more than they got from me, and that weighs on my mind a little now; hopefully, they worked things out as they needed to do). Another intrusion was the effect of the long stroll on me as I passed Shutlingsloe, went over Nessit Hill and descended to Ridgegate Reservoir.
Leaving the multitude after me, quiet road walking was what returned me home again. Macclesfield felt like a much quieter place than some of the spots that I had traipsed. Since a corner shop was open, I popped in for some much-needed refreshments. They sustained me the rest of the way until I could rest after the day's exertions. In some ways, I may have overdone things, which added some disquiet given all the reported symptoms in the news at the time. What was ahead was a period that would much test my patterns of thought, changes to which remain with me to this day.
