Category: Trip Reports
A circuit by the River Wye
9th February 2014 One thing that strikes me about Britain is how you find the same river names turning up in different places. Those that come to mind include the Ouse, the Derwent and the Wye. There is every possibility that some have come upon this post looking for the Wye that rises near Pumlumon in Wales between ducking and diving across the border between Wales and England before reaching the Severn estuary near Chepstow. As it happens, I quite fancy spending some time near Tintern and such places, but that has yet to happen. Pumlumon, where the Welsh Wye rises, has remained untouched by my footfall too, so that's another possibility.
Derbyshire's Wye and Preceding Occasions Spent Beside It
What this piece features instead is another River Wye, the Derbyshire one that rises near Axe Edge before dropping into Buxton and winding its way towards Bakewell before then going on to join with the River Trent. It is a river that I have been near more often than I had realised. The reason behind that discovery is that all my visits to Buxton have put be not far from its course without my realising it. There have been a fair few of those since my cycling there on a Saturday in August 2000. That was the first and only time that I did so and the steepness of the route followed by the A537 not only convinced me not to return the same way that even but also triggered the start of my hill wanderings and ensure that buses have been used since then.
Speaking of buses, further forays have been facilitated by them and one January day spent going further than Buxton to stop at Miller's Dale, Tideswell and Bakewell. It was a sort of poking around the Derbyshire Dales that a guidebook had inspired. Getting home from Bakewell even might have involved more bus journeys, with one taking me as far as Chesterfield before another got me to Sheffield, where trains took over travel duties. There must have been a change in Stockport, though I scarcely can recall it now. Well, it was more than a decade ago and many things have gone through my mind since then.
My first real walk on the Monsal Trail was on an overcast Easter Monday in 2001 when I embarked on an out and back journey from Monsal Head. When I initially tried to recall memories of the walk, it worked better for the outbound trot, and I was unsure whether I returned on foot or not. However, I now reckon that I must have retraced my steps on foot as well. With these things, you need to be careful that later memories are not getting mixed with earlier ones.
A Saturday during July 2001 again saw me following the Monsal Trail with a then new camera, a Canon EOS 300 film SLR, and with a lot of sunshine around too. The starting point was Miller's Dale and I remember the diversions that took me around by places like Cressbrook and how narrow the river valley got in places. Since then, former railway tunnels have been reopened, so the whole trail becomes a very reasonable cycling excursion for anyone. It was a delight to see the Monsal Viaduct with sunshine upon it, though it's best to remember that photographing the dale from Monsal Head is best done in the morning with the sun in the east. Otherwise, lens flare and undesirable exposures will stymie your efforts. From Monsal Head, I did not follow the trail all the way into Bakewell, but instead deviated to visit Ashford-in-the-Water before continuing to my destination. It was a good walk and that remains worth repeating.
Tideswell saw me visit again in December 2005 before I continued towards Litton and a descent into Cressbrook Dale to reach Monsal Dale. There again was a diversion towards Ashford-in-the-Water on the way to Bakewell. It remains a memorable day despite greasy ground conditions. A passing fellow walker tumbled to soil white woollen gloves, so my use of walking poles was far from daft. Apart from saving knees from wear and tear, they also steady you and stop most if not all accidents caused by slips.
Another Encounter
Last year, I was reminded of how long I had left Derbyshire without so much attention, and I redoubled my efforts. Thinking through those memories, some faded, again makes me keen to explore old haunts and reinforce those memories with new ones. That was partly why I got myself over to Bakewell on the penultimate Saturday in April of last year. Apart from the prospect of some sunshine, the need for some me time following a recent life event was another motivator.
What resulted was a circuit from Bakewell that took in Ashford-in-the-Water and Monsal Dale. Before leaving Bakewell, though, the presence of sunshine allowed me some photo opportunities that I never had to the same extent before. For instance, I only ever got near Bakewell's main bridge over the Wye in declining light, so that needed addressing. Then, there was the churchyard that I only remember visiting under overcast skies. With a day ahead of me that allowed plenty of time for walking, I was not to overlook chances like these.
Not far from Bakewell's parish church, I found a useful public footpath for getting to Ashford. The sun ducked behind clouds while I was crossing fields, but it was not as if I were being deprived. One thing about the Derbyshire Dales is that once you are above the dales themselves, the countryside is largely level up there like a plateau and the photos end up needing panoramic compositions unless interesting skies are what you get over you. Along with many fields, roads such as Standedge Road and Crowhill Lane were crossed too, with navigation across a tilled field after one of these feeling uncertain until I reached the next one along. Bumbling around in someone else's field is not my idea of a walking, especially with sharp words ringing in my ears, as happened one December Saturday afternoon around Sedbergh. None of that rancour spoiled this day though, and I followed the lane until I saw a path down by a mast that dropped me onto the A6 near Ashford-in-the-Water. The descent was steep yet steady and plenty of views of the lie of the land below me occupied the mind while navigation was steadied by a useful wall. These types of things get called handrails and are invaluable.
Getting across the A6 was less tricky than it might have been, and I got to spend some time around Ashford. As luck would have it, the sun was playing hide and seek on me with the clouds, so I needed to wait before I had the light needed for the sort of photos that I had in mind. Thus, I was delayed around Ashford's church and chose a lunching spot near the Sheepwash bridge, a packhorse structure where lambs were pinned in at one side (the left of the picture) and ewes driven across to wash their wool before shearing began. These days, the Wye is more likely to have trout than sheep in its waters. Its older use would generate an amount of commotion anyway, and I wonder how modern minds would have perceived such a practice, with all its guile and herdsmanship. Photography and strolling appears to be its main uses now as it is closed to motorised traffic. When I was making the most of the midday sun, folk were ambling about and that may not be to everyone's taste, so the early morning light that falls on the bridge from the east causes anyone making use of that to have little or no human intrusion in their compositions.
From Ashford, it was back across the A6 again to make my way towards Monsal Dale. There were two choices: a lower level path to Lees Bottom that strayed not far from the A6, and a less direct course around by Sheldon and Deep Dale. Because I did not fancy being beside road traffic any more than was needed, I went for the Sheldon route. A range of reasons could explain why this part of my walk was busier than that from Bakewell to Ashford. Even going uphill did nothing to dissuade some. Was it down to the time of day or the location? That is a question that I cannot answer, but there was no grumpiness with there being plenty of space to share on the way towards Sheldon.
While passing through Sheldon, I was on the lookout for a public footpath that would lead me towards Deepdale. It looked as if I had found it, but something about its aspect left me getting cold feet. Lack of waymarks and a missing stile certainly did not help and visions of blundering in fields returned me to the road again. Others were more brave than me and I left them to go their way while I trod Johnson Lane with views of Magpie Mine to my left.
After turning right onto a busier road, I found my way to the unmetalled byway of Wheal Lane that led towards the path through Deep Dale. This is managed as a nature reserve for the preservation of its wild flower habitat by an organisation who I never encountered before: Plantlife. The clouds that had filled the sky as I journeyed around by Sheldon were breaking, and I began to hope again for seeing Monsal Dale in good light after giving up on the idea. In the event, I need not have worried, for cloud cover steadily dissolved over the remainder of the day.
That lower level path from Ashford-in-the-Water was crossed again, and some folk needed directions from me and I hope they sent them the way that they wanted. Before crossing the A6 at Lees Bottom, I stopped at a useful public convenience. This was without running water by design, a strange thing to many, and hand sanitiser was available instead of the soap and water that most of us would seek. That I wasn't the only one thrown by this became obvious when someone else needed the results of my perception.
Once on the other side of the A6, the path into Monsal Dale beckoned, and I remained concerned about a rogue cloud blocking the sun for the final landmark that I had in mind for a photo: Monsal Viaduct. The bank of clouds had broken, but some shenanigans were going on over my head that kept me on my toes. Thankfully, nothing ruinous was to come of it, and I remained keen to get to my objective. What became clear was that it was not that far away from the A6, even if you feel that you are nowhere near it when at Monsal Head. Sometimes, it takes a walk for that sort of thing to become clear, and I also noted a useful bus stop for a future incursion around here.
First, though, I needed to get through woodland before being released into pasture not far beyond a weir that I also visited. This was a path that was well visited, and I had to share the views, which hardly was surprising given how well Monsal Dale is known and how near roads it is. Quite what John Ruskin would have made of all the visitors is a question that I cannot answer, but there was plenty of clearance was the making of photos. That meant that the valley remained peaceful and alluring of a sunny day near the end of April.
The recently reopened Headstone Tunnel was a tempting walking prospect, but my not wanting to waste sunshine was enough to keep me out of there. Instead, I retraced old steps to get up to the hotel above me. A delightful sight lay below me, and it was one that needed a morning outing to make the best of the scene with a camera. There by the roadside, I dallied a while and partook of an ice cream before continuing by road to Little Longstone before crossing a field to rejoin the former railway line again. This route may not be anywhere as necessary as it was on my first trots around here, but it usefully remains extant anyway.
Once up on the trail, the number of cyclists using the amenity had greatly increased from what it was before, and I had every intention of following it all the way back to Bakewell. That resolve remained until I passed what formerly was Great Longstone station, but something beset me that never happened on the trail before: it began to feel like a slog. Looking back now, this almost feels like a lack of gratitude, given the steady sunshine that I was being bequeathed at the time. Maybe, I thought I should have been going faster given the good surface and there was concern that the same hardcore surface wasn't so friendly on my feet too. Also, familiarity might have bred contempt, so it might be an idea to follow it by bicycle in the future, and that sounds a delightful idea now as I write these words.
Eventually, I decided to leave the Monsal Trail for another bridleway near Toll Bar House. It was better than getting grumpy, and the green lane appeared to offer a more direct route into Bakewell too. Even with a hummock ahead of me, the new surroundings kept me interested and steady progress saw its results with Bakewell coming into view below me. Eventually, I was deposited not fat from the town centre and made for a waiting bus to start my journey home. That was a busy double-decker and, given the day, there could be no surprise at that. Clearly, others had good taste in weather and countryside, so I hope they enjoyed their day out like I did.
Travel Arrangements:
Bus service 58 from Macclesfield to Buxton and bus service 177 from the latter to Bakewell. Bus service 218 from Bakewell to Sheffield and travel by train from there back home with a change in Stockport.
Never the best to go rushing time
4th February 2014 When I was looking for my first step into the world of work after university, the quietness of some months were frustrating. January and September appear to fall into this category but I now see them differently. The sense of stasis has not gone but I now prize it because so much of a year can go in a frenzy. A working life will do that with its many deadlines and the events of family life can do the same as I found last year. Then, there can be the chasing of good weather from the start of year until summer. The whole mix can leave one so exhausted before autumn comes that hibernation looks attractive. It quite possibly explains my energy profile over the course of a year.
One matter that makes me wonder is when I start hearing about events towards the end of year being advertised right at the beginning. Concerts given by famous artists may be very desirable but why go wishing away the present? The same trick is used by marketing folk in the world of digital technology too and the risk is that you never appreciate what you have. Sections of the technology media do not help matters by speculating over what might be in the next iPhone or iPad but does it matter? Much of the time, the hubbub needs ignoring so we can enjoy any other delights that come our way in this life.
Another thing that amazes me is long term planning. Some plan their holidays a year in advance and I ask myself how on earth do you know how things will be then. Life's twists and turns bring the unexpected and that may be the comfortable situation that you expect either. Laying out your life before you just sounds like hubris to me and recent years have enforced that thinking with the progressive frailties of elderly parents. Parents of young children may feel the same. Your life may feel like it is being put hold but the present can bring joys too.
There is no doubt that January can feel too quiet for some and minds go racing ahead to designs on summertime holiday bliss. With days like Blue Monday and the current long run of stormy weather, such escapism is understandable. However, Blue Monday actually came up sunny this year so you could cheer yourself with a walk away from our more built up areas. That may not cure money worries or people trouble but the past year has reinforced for me how essential a good walk can be for easing a troubled mind and thinking over things. Even venting stress through footsteps often is what is needed and is all the better so no one else gets hurt by what is going on within you. Complaints from knees and feet are better than those from others with injured minds.
The real use of a quiet January is to take stock before the year's distractions get cracking. The month wasn't so quiet in 2013 but 2014 brought what was needed and my mind could wander elsewhere. On digital maps, I have ranged over the hills of mid Wales and along the courses of the Wye and Severn rivers that rise in Pumlumon. The Black Mountain in the Brecon Beacons National Park has been perused too while a general survey of transport possibilities have been ongoing. Any bus service that looks useful was noted with Sundays being better to avoid until the summertime Beacons Bus network recommences. While a little stay to sample what is in those places sounds promising, no dates are set as the course of life remains largely unknown and the uncertainties and vagaries of the weather lie among those.
It was the same sort of metal wandering that led to my visiting the Western Isles in August 2008. Quieter times allowed the formulation of an escapade that I am loathe to consider at the moment. Then, the playing with different configurations actually led to one that fitted in a week when other parts of the U.K. and Éire were getting a soaking. However, I pulled a cracker that I never will forget.
Another thing that I relished last month is a sense of steadiness that was so different from how much of 2013 felt. It so felt like bliss that it was tempting to procrastinate and leave some less pleasant and necessary tasks for later. Those now need listing and tackling because procrastination is not the way to go either. It's as bad as wishing away time ahead of summer holidays or the launch of an attractive gadget. Moments need seizing even if the freedom to relax a little is all the more appealing; no one can relax all the time.
January is not only for contemplating and designing escapades because it can have some of its own too. 2011 saw me head to Wales, Scotland and Ireland on successive weekends before I was swamped with work. Being in the off season does mean cheaper deals and lured me to Edinburgh and Llangollen one weekend after another. The first allowed me to recall times from my student days in a wonderful city and the second had me threading new ground with views of spots seen and sampled on previous outings.
February can be less frantic too though it was filled with angst in 2011 and weighed down on me in 2013. In 2012, it was so different with a weekend trip to savour a section of Northumberland's coastline that I had walked under cloudier skies. Last weekend, I got as far as Lincoln to visit its cathedral and its castle. The latter is under restoration ahead of the octocentenary of the signing of the Magna Carta next year. Currently, all the scaffolding is restricting what you can see so I didn't get the photo of Lincoln Cathedral that I had fancied. Another visit when it's all done sounds a possibility though the entry prices surely will have gone up from £2 for an adult by then. English Heritage look after the old Bishop's Palace and charge £4.60 for adult entry so that maybe what the entry charge for Lincoln Castle should be. Even with a reduced charge, the lady issuing my ticket took pains to tell me how little there was to see though a free tour was available if I fancied that. In the event, what was there satisfied me and I rather fancy the idea of seeing more should the occasion arise. What I saw around Lincoln's Cathedral Quarter looked very attractive on a sunny Sunday and I'd venture that the actual cathedral itself is more ornate than York Minster too. I left for home with a sense of satisfaction.
Whatever others may say or think, I have a certain affection for the months of January and February. They can be the calm before a frenzy and escapes from the everyday are a possibility. While having a breather appeals to me at the moment, there is no harm clearing niggling tasks out of the way too and the post-Christmas clearance often allows the space for doing exactly that. Then, it is a matter of taking the rest of the year as it comes. After all, long term planning often gets derailed by life itself.
A month for slipping and sliding?
21st January 2014 Over the weekend, I got to spend some time around Llangollen. For a while, I have been having designs on exploring the hills of Llantysilio Mountain and Sunday finally saw me reach the top of Moel y Gamelin. Though time constraints meant that was the only hilltop of the bunch that I sampled, the views from there were in all directions and had me savouring sights that I had seen before, albeit from different angles. With all the value that was given, I was happy to save the hill's neighbours for other days. Having not been around Llangollen for the most of three years, some concrete reasons are in order if I am to return sooner.
After the area has found its way into the enlarged Clwydian Range and Dee Valley Area of Natural Beauty. That happened during the second half of 2011 when other things were eating up my time. The visit that I paid around Easter of that year still remains as fresh in my mind as if it happened only a few weeks ago. What happened longer ago was a visit to Denbigh and Ruthin that skirted the Clwydian Range and an abortive attempt to reach them from Llangollen by way of the Offa's Dyke Path National Trail that was halted in Llandegla before a return to Wrexham was made. Continuing north from there would be good (a visit to Moel Famau could be nice) and bus services around those parts seem to be more useful than they were then. Let's hope austerity never affects them quite like what is happening in the north of England.
It was during the first months of 2004 when I first embarked on day trips to Llangollen as a compensation for a failed attempt to get to Dolgellau. Then unruly housemates didn't help with the realisation of that ambition with an all night party accompanied by loud music until the small hours of the morning. That was enough to make me seek a place for myself that resulted in an Eastertide move. Now, it either is the ups and downs of life or my own fatigue and laziness that is to blame for such failures these days.
Those day trips to Llangollen saw me wander around by Castell Dinas Bran, along the Panorama Walk that is part of the Offa's Dyke Path north of Trefor, around by Valle Crucis Abbey. Due to the lateness of my arrival and the shorter days, the walks weren't so long apart from the aforementioned abortive trot from Llangollen to Ruthin. A preceding overnight stay would have helped that effort with an earlier start and my last two visits to Llangollen have benefited from that with the 2011 trip seeing me enjoy an evening walk around those day tripping haunts before I stayed among the flatter tops to the south of the Dee Valley where the North Berwyn Way goes as it connects Llangollen to Corwen. There also is the Dee Valley Way is you want a long circular walk between the two towns and along both sides of the valley.
Many of those visits to Llangollen were the cause of getting me muddy and last Sunday's was no different thanks to the early point in the year at which we currently find ourselves. In fact, one flawed footstep resulted in a slide and a short tumble into gorse. The resulting pricks left their marks on my legs but there otherwise is no consequence from the mishap. In fact, it reminded me of a similar one around Craigmillar Castle got me muddy when it really wasn't needed. Hopefully, these are not signs of my becoming accident prone but I am reminded of previous January skids.
In previous years, it was frozen and not greasy ground that was to blame. One slip happened while descending from Grinlow Tower, or Solomon's Temple, near Buxton. That was in January 2012 after a walk through three counties from the Cat and Fiddle Inn. The same month in 2006 had me trying out a possible route to the top of Cader Idris from Dollgellau and similar unreliable ground played its party trick on me too.
Foolish steps on branches can end stupidly too as I found in a wood near Dolwyddelan when an attempt to avoid soft ground landed me on my side on it. The day wasn't a warm one so I could have done without that wetting though I came to no harm because of it. While none of these episodes is flattering, they seem to be the sum total of such misadventures apart maybe from what a rogue stone did one one summer visit to Floddigarry on the Isle of Skye. It all makes wonder if more concentration on foot placement is in order and that does happen on steeper slopes. Maybe it's time for extra footing practice to avoid foolishness or anything more serious on downhill slopes.
Encountering ravishing surroundings while wounded inside
20th January 2014 It can be amazing how resilient the human spirit can be. After all that came my way in 2013, I am amazed at how I manage to find to some inner peace as much of the time as I do. That wasn't how it felt in April after my mother passed away the month before. Then, looking ahead didn't seem a possibility. Getting somewhat accustomed to the changed state of affairs was more than enough to slow down life itself.
In the midst of that, I took to walking every evening because that's how time can be set aside for working through things and venting any stress through footsteps so as not to hurt others. During one of these walks, I decided that a longer walk was in order and quieter hill country would be most suitable. When glorious weather came for the first Saturday in April 2013, I had my chance and it was taken without hesitation. Staying indoors dwelling just wasn't an option with the rawness that was within me. It was the hill country to the east of Hayfield and Glossop that drew me. It may attract its share of visitors, but that never means that there aren't quieter spots and quiet interludes on well frequented patches. Such was what I needed and there were plenty on the day, especially in its later hours. Those restorative moments were relished when they came.
My initial plan was to make for the track up to Edale Cross and use that for getting up to Kinder Scout after a diversion to see Kinder Reservoir from where I knew there were photos to be had, especially in bright sunshine. Once off Kinder Scout, it was to be a matter of dropping down to Glossop on the Doctor's Gate Path. However, I changed my mind during the walk, as can happen. On finding the descent to see Kinder Scout to involve the loss of more height than expected, I instead chose to go around by the dam of the reservoir and regain height on the way up to and through William Clough. Other than that, the walk was routed as intended and I have left the possibility of going along the western edge of Kinder Scout for later. On looking at its northern slopes and streaked they were with snow, it looked to have been a sensible choice.
All of this chopping and changing route lay in the future as I left Hayfield by way of the Pennine Bridleway, a multi-modal track that starts in the Derbyshire Dales and then goes north at least as far as Settle. One section is called after the off-road horse riding access campaigner Mary Townley and the whole trail also is open to moderately adventurous off-road cyclists too. Apart from Derbyshire, I also have met with it around Burnley when I used it on Pennine Way jaunts between Haworth and there.
Though the Pennine Bridleway would have carried me near Coldwell Clough and the bridleway for Edale Cross, I left it for a path for Bowden Bridge instead. That kept me alongside the River Sett for longer and past the illustrious quarry where the gathering prior to the Kinder Trespass of 1932. Looking up for some photos, my gaze revealed the location of the said plaque and I made of photo of it for a sort of keepsake.
After largely staying on the level for the start of the walk, it was time to gain some height and there was plenty of that on the track from Bowden Bridge towards Coldwell Clough. Folk were trailing in my wake so I wasn't doing this by myself but the turn away from the track leading to Ashes Farm meant that I lost them; they probably were bound for elsewhere or turned back after gaining their fill. Whatever they did, I hope what they got from their outings was memorable.
Beyond Coldwell Clough, the track to Edale was obscured by a deep white covering of snow. As I was getting to that point, a silent gentleman in a Land Rover had driven up (to my mind, he appeared to be an estate worker and there was little or no acknowledgement of any pleasantries were sent his way) and was stopped there for a while. Off-road cyclists were about too and I am unsure as to why the man in the Land Rover was waiting. As I scaled the snow-buried track, he left for somewhere else so I was wondering if was being watched for some reason, hopefully benevolent.
Beyond the snow patch, I largely had the Edale track to myself and took to looking around me. There were hills to the south of me, and these were blocking any view of the New Mills to Sheffield railway line though that enters a tunnel too to get from Chinley to Edale. Looking at the map now, hills like South Head and others near are tempting and caught my eye on visits made to Sheffield by train earlier in the year. They, like other parts, are awaiting their turn for a visit.
Kinderlow End lay right in front of me now and I was seeking the path that would get to views of Kinder Reservoir that I had not seen for the most of ten years. Those were under overcast skies and I quite fancied seeing them in prettier weather. Before then though, there was time for a spot of lunch and I needed to contend with a gate that was forced shut by a bank of snow. On finding how much I was losing to get to the sights that lay in my memory, I started to change my mind about the course that I had planned. Though it often is a wrench to do so, there are times when you can take on too much, so your cloth has to be cut from your allowance. This was one of those and I dropped down towards the Kinder Dam, crossed below it and started to gain height on the other side.
Kinder Reservoir is one of those operated by a water company and once had its own purification facility. This is now shut with the required processing going on elsewhere and broken skylights on what otherwise looks like an impressive building are signs of its redundancy; hopefully, its fate doesn't mean utter dereliction. Leaving the former purification plant after, I continued along White Brow and Nab Brow to retrace a route followed under overcast January skies in an era before this blog started. Recollection of the actual year is vague now but 2003 feels about right. Retracing of steps got sights from that earlier occasion on a more flattering and so were worth any toil. Below me lay permissive paths that encircle the reservoir and it was to pain me a little to have to lose height to go near their level to cross a stream before heading up William Clough.
William Clough never was seen by me in better conditions and I revelled in the sights that lay ahead of though the path was uncertain at times. In fact, I was unsure whether I was following an intended right of way or taking advantage of a permissive path. Either way, I negotiated my way uphill steadily and negotiation was the appropriate term when I encountered a bank of snow covering the path near the top of the clough. Once past that, I didn't have far to go before the gradients eased again. Some folk were asking me about the way down and a National Park ranger passed the way and they went with him so I assume all was well for them from that point forward.
Once above William Clough, I found that clouds had filled the sky and it looked as if hope for sunlit scenes was extinguished for the day. Hence, any photos of the northern elevation of Kinder Scout were made with a sense of making the best of what was given to me. Looking at the photo above, it is tempting to think that I wasn't being dealt cruelty either. Seeing the patches of snow made me not envy anyone following the Pennine Way north off Kinder Scout, though the possibility of following a path via Black Ashop on another day entered my head.
Unlike previous occasions, the flagged path of the Pennine Way felt long as I headed towards the A57. The route taken hardly is a direct one anyone with its liking for going east. There was one good development overhead me though in that clouds were dissolving overhead me. That was set to grant me a pleasing evening filled with the challenge of following the Doctor's Gate Path back to Glossop after crossing the aforementioned trunk road between Glossop and Sheffield.
There was a hint of what was to come in the form of a snow bank that completely engulfed what should have looked a tame gate appropriate to more domesticated terrain. With a steep incline ahead of me, I needed to gather my wits to overcome this obstacle and there were deviations from the intended right of way to deal with more ill-located snow banks and subsidence that had affected even stretches of path that weren't snow-covered. It certainly isn't easy terrain for off-road cycling or horse riding, so the bridleway designation mystifies me.
Nevertheless, the Doctor's Gate Path does grow more tame as you come nearer to Glossop. In fact, I see the footbridge crossing Shelf Brook as the dividing line between wilder and tamer countryside. There is a path beyond there that takes you higher up the hillside so that muddy brookside hopping can be avoided. With some time to hand, it was around here for another I took another refuelling stop and sampled the peace of my surroundings. It was balm for my torn insides so I relished the moments that I had.
From then on, the walking was easier and the path turned into a track around Mossy Lea Farm and I started to encounter folk out for a quick late evening stroll before the light finally died. My guess is that they were sticking to the good track and were far from intent on seeking adventure. A minuscule slice of that had come my way, though it was the quieter moments that I really relished when my spirit needed them. That excuses for other walks appeared in the form of that intended route along the western edge of Kinder Scout or a possible paved path that leads by Whitethorn Clough that could become a more direct route option for hiking to Glossop from Kinder Scout. It was if some things from a previous life remained for what felt like a very new one.
Travel Arrangements:
Bus service 58 to Buxton and bus service 61 from there to Hayfield. From Glossop, I went home by train with a change in Manchester Piccadilly.
A weekend around Edinburgh
14th January 2014 
The past weekend got spent around Edinburgh, and spots from my time at university there got frequented. On Saturday, my perambulations were blessed by blue skies and sunshine as I strolled around the city's Old Town and New Town areas when on my way to Holyrood Park. There might have been cross-country running going on there, but it was easy to leave that after me to spontaneously head south to Duddingston and Craigmillar Castle. For all the lack of planning, neither of these disappointed me, though it was late in the day when I made a photo of the classic western profile of Craigmillar Castle.
That there remain so many sights around Edinburgh that I left unexplored while I lived there sometimes makes me wonder what I was doing while I lived there. There was more than four years, so that should have meant that not very much was left unencountered. However, it only was after I moved to England to start a career that I got to savour the likes of the Pentland Hills, the Water of Leith, Dean Village, Leith's Waterfront and Cramond. Was it a certain lack of curiosity that limited my horizons back then?
A developing interest in computers and the time that took certainly has been one thing that I blame, as well as the need to find my own way through life. On Sunday, I found another culprit under skies that remained largely cloudy: Edinburgh's world-famous city centre. Even in Princes Street Gardens, it was possible to allow a slip into reverie and recollection without very much in the way of disturbance. The same could be said of a stroll around Grassmarket and Dean Village as it could for dawdling in the West End branch of Waterstones surveying books in the Scottish Interest section or sampling a coffee and a croissant with copies of a few books with me.
Another suspect might have been my travelling around by bicycle. Just walking means that there is no need to find a parking place for one or get stopped from leaving it in a location such as the front of the Balmoral Hotel, as happened once. It was the lessened practicality of a bike for exploring hill country that caused me to turn to walking in the first place. When I went further afield to see other parts of Scotland, the bike had to stay at home, so walking more than did and there was a certain lack of planning to these ventures. It was as if they were learning ventures and that I need a few visits before I get to make the most of anywhere.
Now that walking retains its appeal for me, books like Kellan MacInnes' Caleb's List and Rab Anderson's guide to the Pentland Hills, published by Mica, hopefully will see some use in the future. Not only do I hope that they will bring back to Scotland again, but I am left thinking about returning to Edinburgh more often too. Even in January, it retains its allure and is without the crowds that frequent it during the summer, too. Sunday stayed bright and offered more than could be expected from the forecast. If cloud had broken in the right part of the sky for long enough, it would have felt even more special: a day of superb weather when the forecast didn't predict one.
Returning to Kellan MacInnes' Caleb's List, there was but one occasion when the Scottish hill country got visited during 2013. With all else that happened, it was more than could be expected and allowed a period of calm in a period of ferment. That was a visit to Glen Coe and Loch Shiel, but there are opportunities around Stirling and Peebles too. As odd as it may sound, a sort of hill wandering trip could feature Edinburgh too. Between the Southern Highlands, the Ochil Hills and the Pentland Hills, there should be enough excuses for short getaways.
Before I leave this piece, there are more reasons why some parts of Edinburgh needed me to leave to see them. On initial appearances, it is tempting to blame getting too comfortable in one's neighbourhood and home. Having open spaces such as Bruntsfield Links and the Meadows nearby, it can feel that there is no need to go further afield whenever the sun appears. Then, there are films and shows to be seen along with museums and other attractions to visit. Edinburgh's festivals have been the cause of my seeing the Tattoo on a weekday night and a Bertolt Brecht satire (Mr. Puntilla and his Man Matti) in the Traverse Theatre, so it is easy to see how a city can distract anyone. It can be said that there is much to see and much for which to return. Maybe that can keep me coming back again and again.
