It is a while since we were walking with events conspiring against us yet again, the weather not the least of the problems we have encountered.
Today's walk has been postponed a couple of times, but finally we are going to make it, hoping that the ground isn't too soggy and that the promised rain doesn't fall.
We park at the side of the road at Bubnell, managing to find enough room despite there being plenty of cars parked there already. Many will undoubtedly belong to residents, and we are careful not to park in the residents' bays or blocking the bus stops, but we are pretty sure that some of the visitors' aren't parked quite as considerately as they could be.
The sky is pretty overcast and it is a bit chillier than it was earlier in the week, but nothing can stop our eagerness as we pull on the layers then manage to strap on Mollie's harness. Yes, Mollie is back with us today and seems to be looking forward to the walk.
We set off a short distance along the road towards the old bridge, then take the almost hidden footpath directly opposite. Blink and you might miss it, but the stone posts that almost block the path are wide enough for a dog and our slim-selves to pass through.
It is a narrow, hemmed in path to begin with which comes to an awkward stile (there are many awkward stiles on this walk, some considerably worse than others) then we follow the path straight ahead adjacent to a wall. The views behind us over the village and towards the Edges is quite something, and there is even a hint of a rainbow too.
We come to a particularly nasty 'stile' (although it is more like a scramble over a wall with particularly unstable stones) and manage it with more aplomb than we could have expected. Then it is a case of straight on until the path veers left through a field of sheep to reach Wheatlands Lane.
We are getting into our stride now; muscles have warmed up and the conversation is in full flow. There is so much to catch up on!
Despite Mollie not liking roads, or rather the traffic on them, we have a fair way to walk down Wheatlands Lane, but it is a quiet road and we only meet a few cars. Eventually Wheatlands Lane turns into School Lane (not signed on the road, but it is on the map) and as we pause on the verge for a horse-box to emerge from a farm PC spots a buzzard above us. Then, once the horse-box has gone the other way, we can safely scan the skies and see three buzzards circling around quite low. I curse that I haven't brought my camera (good for zooming in) but PC snaps away hoping for a good shot of these wonderful birds.
Satisfied we continue on our way only for PC to pause again to happily take pictures of Highland Cattle.
I, naturally, am less enthusiastic. But the sun is starting to shine and a short stroll further on we see some beautiful snowdrops next to a lovely house. As we stop to look at them we spy a riot of Spring colour beneath a tree in the house's garden. The flowers are absolutely stunning and really lift the spirits. A little way further on and there are even more snowdrops under a boundary wall and we feel really cheerful, even though the sunshine seems to have been only a brief interlude as the sky now looks full of rain.
Sure enough, the rain starts to fall, but it doesn't last for long. It is only a shower, and as we continue along the road we come to the small village of Hassop. It is the first time I have been here, although PC recalls having visited the pub some years ago. It is a pretty little village with its monumental Catholic church and Hassop Hall.
We are careful walking through the village as the main road is fairly busy, but we soon find our next path - up a very muddy track and across an even muddier tractor track adjacent to Home Farm. Once through the mire, though, we are on a steady track leading straight on. However, we soon come to a stream (unnamed on map) which we need to cross, and we have to use our skills, agility and ingenuity (yes, I am joking) to get across dry shod as the recent heavy rain has made it much wider and muddier than usual, evidenced by the narrow bridge over part of the water.
Once at the far side the track takes us uphill for a short stretch and through a wooded area. Soon the woods are only on our left and since the sun is out (again!) we decide to make the most of it by settling down on a broken stretch of drystone wall for lunch.
The nip of Ramblers is much appreciated, and that is washed down by our first coffee of the day which is more than welcome. Sandwiches are eaten quickly, and partly shared with Mollie as I have forgotten her biscuits (I know, I feel guilty, and her accusing puppy-dog eyes make sure I won't forget again), then we have our buns. Not actual buns today, but Danish pastries filled with custard and almonds. Very yummy - and very crummy too, much to Mollie's delight!
We don't sit around for long, it is a bit too chilly for that and the sun has gone in again. It is clearly only going to make brief appearances today, so we head on along the track, through a gate then down toward the road.
The road we meet is the A619 to Bakewell, the so-named 13 Bends. (No matter how many times I have been on this road I have never been able to count 13 bends, nor have I been able to find out why it is so named. It does seem to be a notorious accident spot but its naming is a mystery to me.) We go up the road a little way, then cross over to the next path (currently an open access track that will soon be downgraded to a bridleway) which leads easily uphill.
We ignore the footpath on our right which climbs steeply up a field, but continue on this path as it winds around and eventually reaches the same spot but with less effort. There are wonderful views behind us and the tantalising scent of woodsmoke as well as clumps of double snowdrops. However, there are also some very grim clouds and we find some sparse shelter beneath a spindly hawthorn as it starts to hail. Yes, it seems we are to have all four seasons in one day!
Once the hail has stopped we press on to the top of the track and turn left into the village of Pilsley. Once again it starts to hail, but we ignore it. It isn't really wetting us and it is coming at us from behind so it isn't stinging our faces, although a rogue hailstone down the back of the neck is less than pleasant! Here there are more snowdrops all over the verges too.
Pilsley is another very pretty village, and its links to Chatsworth are apparent in the blue colour scheme. There are some lovely gardens and an interesting looking pub. We keep on the left hand road out of the village and continue some way before finding the path we need leading left through the fields.
This, we discover, is the easy bit. As we reach a small gate into the next field we see our route - steeply, muddily downhill. A test of balance and endurance we expect to be skiing downwards at any moment and visions of the recent Winter Olympics spring to mind - although less elegant.
With a considerable amount of surprise we reach the bottom of the slope without mishap and congratulate ourselves as we cross Rymas Brook and the A619 to start our ascent of the footpath on the other side of the road. Here we discover that going up on a slippery path can be almost as taxing as going down! But again we both make it up without any dramatic incidents.
Our path is at the diagonally opposite corner of the field and leads us back to Wheatlands Lane. We go down the lane and cross over to our next path, then pause. The sound of birds, hundreds of them, is coming from a nearby tree. We wait and watch as eventually small squadrons of starlings fly off until there are only a few left. Perhaps by evening there will be a huge coming together, or murmuration, of these birds making wonderful patterns in the sky. There certainly seems to be enough of them.
The path turns right and we are back retracing our outwards steps, including the awkward 'not-really-a-stile' which is worse approached from this side. Still, we manage it in a fashion (hopefully no one is watching from nearby windows) and make our way back to Bubnell.
It has been good to get out again and the ground hasn't been as wet or as treacherous as we had anticipated. Now we are keeping our fingers crossed that we will be able to get out a bit more often.
It's a grim morning; frosty, murky and cold. And we've both managed to be late. Quite an achievement even for us.
When we eventually manage to haul ourselves to the main Baslow car park it is very quiet. Clearly the prospect of a freezing cold walk has dimmed the enthusiasm of all but the hardiest of souls. First of all we consult the map as we're both a bit vague as to our planned route. With memories refreshed we decide that we'd be better parking nearer Bubnell since Mollie hates roads and starting from the centre of the village will mean having a fair walk on the main road. So, no sooner have we arrived than we're back in the cars again.
We drive down to West End where we turn onto the Bubnell road where we find somewhere to park next to the curb without obstructing any houses or the bus stop. Probably on a busy day this wouldn't be possible, or even fair on the locals, but there aren't many cars about today.
As soon as we're ready we head up the road for a few paces before stopping to look at the bridge. Baslow Bridge is a Grade 1 listed building (and a scheduled monument) dating mostly from the early 17th century (1608 is inscribed on one wall) and is easily missed by traffic thundering through Baslow on the A623.
We spot the footpath we need directly across the road from the bridge, and it's a good job we have a decent map as the path is narrow and the sign obscured by rampant ivy. We walk up the path and into a large field - the first of many - and as we climb gently uphill we keep pausing to admire the views; the village in the foreground, Baslow and Curbar Edges behind. To the north we can see the distinctive 'E R' letters where plants with contrasting foliage have been grown in huge rectangles. It seems these were planted in or around 2002, probably to commemorate the Queen's s golden jubilee.
The path is pretty direct and easy to follow even though it isn't particularly distinct on the ground, but it does have a couple of leg-stretching stone stiles and a very narrow crush.
Eventually the path veers gently to the left leading us down to Wheatlands Lane which is narrow and, in parts, icy. It dips and rises a bit and we're careful to avoid the slippy bits, and we get well out of the way when the odd car comes past.
As we pass Toost Wood we turn right over another stile next to a gate, then we cross a small rough field before going through a gate into a long, narrow wood. This is Bank Wood (South) and at last Mollie can go off the lead for a run and to terrorise some sticks.
There are some lovely views from here across to the Edges, although the village is lost in the dip. It feels colder in the wood, even though we are sheltered from the wind. At the far end of the wood we can see a clearing - and a bench. Lunch beckons!
As we enter the clearing we can see the huge 'cliffs' of a quarry - Back Dale Mine - not a particularly inspiring view but at least the bench faces away from it so we can enjoy views over farmland and what appears to be some very degraded ridge and furrow ploughing.
We have a nip from the secret flask first to warm us up, then a coffee to help a little more. Then we eat the sandwiches - never terribly inspiring - followed by double chocolate chip muffins (Co-op brand). These are seriously chocolaty, very rich with a good number of chocolate chunks on top for good measure. The cold has made them very hard, which I like, although PC would prefer to have them warmed up in the microwave! All we 'll need then is the cream (brandy cream for preference) and she'll be more than satisfied.
We finish off with more coffee then make haste to set off again. It really is too cold to hang around.
We leave the clearing and enter the northern part of Bank Wood, and again Mollie can run. Fortunately we have now lost sight of the quarry. Mollie chooses a branch of extreme proportions then tries to squeeze past us with it. Not a good idea!
The path turns right and goes through a gate in the wall then drops down to Bramley Lane, a minor road. Here we dog-leg slightly as we cross over to enter Bramley Wood, another linear wood but with a lighter, airier feel. As we near the end of the wood we come to a low, dark tunnel in the rhododendrons where the path cuts through them - it's actually rather nice and quite magical. We bet children must love it.
Out at the other side and PC pauses to photograph frost covered bracken; it is more exposed here and more like moorland than woodland, although it is only a few paces before we're back into woods again.
We have a choice of right (back over the fields to Bramley Farm and Baslow) or left towards Calver. We choose the left hand path and are very quickly on a slippery, downward slope. The frost hasn't helped a great deal and we have to pick our way down with great care, but we manage it in one piece.
It's stiles and fields again now, and as we dip down and climb up again heading towards the village our rambling conversation has turned to an 'O' level photography project we undertook whilst studying for our 'A' levels (many, many years ago) when we visited what was then Sheffield Polytechnic. We had to produce a couple of short films, and after we've reminded ourselves how awful our attempts were we sincerely hope that our endeavours were swiftly erased. Thank goodness there was no internet back then.
By now we're almost in the village and despite the multitude of paths we carry straight on to a dark and winding path with, thankfully, markers at every junction. We successfully negotiate all the twists and turns, continuing downhill all the time, then squeeze through another crush-stile into a very waterlogged field. As we do so the first tiny flakes of snow begin to fall. It isn't much, thank goodness, and it soon stops as we cross the iced-over boggy field, thankful for once for the sub-zero temperatures that have kept us free of the quagmire.
The path leads us down some stone steps and along a little lane to one of the larger roads through the village. This is another pretty village that, so far, has managed to stay off our radar.
We find a footpath to our right and follow it, hoping to reach the River Derwent, but we are thwarted when we come to the next field which has cows in it. And they are milling around in the gateway as the farmer tries to persuade them to do whatever it is he wants them to do. Given my aversion to all things bovine we hot-foot back down the path and back to the safety of the road which we follow until we reach the main A623.
Thankfully Mollie is tired now and isn't too troubled by the traffic, so we walk swiftly along to the bridge and go down the steep steps at the side of it which take us to the river path. The bridge has an underpass, but it seems very low, gloomy and claustrophobic.
The path follows the river through a field, and on the right is a large pond (courtesy of the recent heavy rain) which has frozen over and looks like an ice rink. As we leave the field we are suddenly confronted with our first bog where the land drains down to the river. We pick our way with extreme caution - PC's walking poles come in very handy - and we do an excellent balancing act on a fallen branch. Success. We aren't too muddy at all.
It's easy to follow the path now even though the river winds away to the left. It's a single straight line, though we do have another waterlogged field to contend with. Behind us, though, the clouds are gathering and it is hard to tell whether they are going to bring rain or snow. The air does feel very damp, so it could be either.
We press on, through the last field and onto the tarmac lane which takes us, eventually, down to Bubnell and Baslow.
It has been an interesting walk, but not one to do in very wet weather unless the ground is frozen. But today the weather has worked in our favour, and we have managed to avoid being snowed on (although overnight snow will cover the hills by morning), and the rain didn't start until we were in our cars and driving home.
It's two weeks to our next walk, then it will be a Christmas Break.
