CUTTHROAT BRIDGE AND PAST THE GROUSE BUTTS

Again we opt for a familiar parking spot which is quite busy, although it is the school holidays and looking like it is going to be a good day.

With the sun shining we set off down the main road; a bit of a trial with only a narrow path at the side of the A57 to keep us out of the path of the hurtling traffic, but we soon make it to the crossing place at Cutthroat Bridge.

We go through the gate at the side of the bridge and the first thing we notice is the amount of rubbish dumped next to Ladybower Brook. Plastic boxes, bags, all sorts. Some people don't deserve to come into the countryside.

We go up the rocky path then drop down to the so-called ford over the fast flowing water of Highshaw Clough. Mollie leaps back and forth a few times before we find some stones to cross over dry-shod, then we climb up the short slope and onto the path that runs parallel with the main road.

There is an old waymarker stone on this path (mentioned on a previous post), just after the rather high ladder stile, that indicates that this was once the main route from Sheffield.

Now there are just fields and sheep, and a few walkers like ourselves and the couple behind us with their two dogs. The sheep are not impressed.

Before the path meets Moscar House we turn left (fortunately through the gate, the stone stile looks a bit too intimidating) and start the long but fairly gentle climb up onto the moor and the access land.

There are wonderful far-reaching views here, and we are making such good time that we decide to find a boulder and stop for a coffee. And a nip from the secret flask. Today's treat: vanilla vodka.

We debate staying around for lunch, we are in a lovely spot with the sun shining down on us, but we decide to move on and lunch later.

It's a steady walk up the hill and there are quite a few people about though, fortunately, not too many. There are grouse aplenty though, clearly the shooters haven't had them all. The grouse butts are fenced off which is a shame, in poor weather they do provide a handy refuge for walkers.

We reach the top south of the Wheel Stones where there is a signpost and a choice of routes. Instead we step forward a little way to enjoy the splendid views of the Derwent Valley and Ladybower.

Even as we walk along the ridge the views are still superb, although the weather is starting to close in a little.

Lunch beckons so we take a narrow track off towards the Hurkling Stones. There's quite a brisk breeze blowing now and it will be good to eat out of the wind.

We settle down with sandwiches, coffee and today's bun: apple and cinnamon muffins. They are very big and one of my favourites, but I bought them yesterday and they are better fresh. But they still go down well, and Mollie enjoys finishing off the crumbs.

By the time we have finished it is starting to look a bit grim and we suspect the odd flake of snow to be blowing on the wind. We descend down to Whinstone Lee Tor and take the left hand path back along the moor.

 This always tends to get muddy, especially down nearer its bottom reaches, and today is no exception. We meet a small group who make a great fuss of Mollie, which she loves, then we are off again, glad not to be just setting out as they are.

We retrace our steps down to Cutthroat Bridge and across the road as the clouds gather. By the time we get to the cars there is a very fine drizzle falling, not enough to soak you through but enough to make it unpleasant, especially when coupled with the wind. So we are feeling pretty smug that we have missed it and enjoyed a largely clear and sunny walk.

 

TWO CARS, ONE WALK

I can't believe how long it has been since we managed to get out walking. It has been a pretty grim summer for me and this walk, now that PC is back, is the chance for us to catch up and for me to breathe a little. We have a vague plan in mind and meet up at Cutthroat Bridge where, after confusion and discussion, we decide to do the Bamford Edge walk using two cars - one at either end. It's so long since we've walked we both doubt our fitness.

So we pile into my car (I know the way to the parking!) and drive back down the road and turn towards Bamford before taking a left turn and winding upwards on the small road to the pull-in place. Here we have some excellent views of the valley and the hills beyond.

The stile to the start of our walk is immediately on our left and we are soon over it and heading uphill. We have a choice of paths but the 'straight and true'  is the one we choose. We like to get the climbing done early while we still have breath and energy.

The bracken is high but the views are starting to open out. There's a slight haze but we can still see a long way. And we have plenty to talk about.

The heather is in bloom and the hills are swathed in purple. The rugged gritstone of Bamford Edge is ahead of us as we climb a little higher onto the ridge above it. We walk along a little way before descending through the heather and onto Bamford Edge itself. The views from here are spectacular.

Despite it still being the holiday season we have the whole ridge to ourselves and can keep stopping to admire the views, at least, we do when we stop talking for long enough! The purple heather reaches right up to the edge and we soon have views along the reservoirs.

The further we walk the more we can see of Ladybower and of Crook Hill in the distance.

The path dips and starts to fall away from the edge, at the same time becoming narrower and less distinct. There is no proper, official path here, but it is access land and we know where we are heading, more or less. There are a few sheep here too, but they aren't particularly interested in us.

The path takes us to a wall and whilst there is a track beyond it we stop to take stock. It does look vaguely familiar, but not in a good way. We decide to have a quick scout on the path to see if it is the one we want, but we don't have to go more than a few yards to find that all it does is take us across the moor and through thick undergrowth. We back-track and take another narrow path continuing in the direction we had initially been heading. Again, we cross a wall but this time the path is much more promising. Still narrow, and cutting through very high bracken, we follow the line of an unnamed stream that has cut deep into the moor and flows a way below us. We find a crossing point over some stepping stones and head towards what is marked on the map as Pillars. All we can see are two stone built pillars, neither very tall, and a rocky ridge suitable for our lunch stop. We have made much better time than we had expected, although it is starting to drizzle. 

Our course, no walk is complete without buns, and this week, for our first walk back, it is fat choux buns oozing with fresh cream and topped with a swirl of chocolate. They go down extremely well with our coffee after the sandwiches.

After lunch, with the soft rain barely making any difference to us, we continue on our way. The bracken is, if anything, even higher here and the path less distinct. We follow the line of a drystone wall then, at last, it becomes a little clearer. The path keeps to the contour line of the hill, passes by a lone tree, then starts to descend to Jarvis Clough. 

It is a little slippy here, and once we reach the stream we have to make a long stride (with the help of walking poles) to get across. 

Then it is uphill for a short stretch to reach the wide, easy path which will lead us back to the road. It stops raining as we walk along and soon we are at Cutthroat Bridge heading back to the car. All we have to do now is drive back to join car number 1.

The walk has taken far less time than we had anticipated, but it has been an excellent one nonetheless. We are eager to plan for next week too.

A CIRCUIT OF BAMFORD MOOR

 

It's been a grim and grey few weeks, and not just with the weather. With PC off sailing the seven seas and family events taking over to a suffocating degree, getting out walking had fallen off the bottom of my list of things to do. But, joy of joys, an email from PC announced her pending arrival back in the UK for a friend's wedding and would I like to go walking the day after she landed. Would I?

Of course, the week leading up to PC's arrival had been bright, sunny and summery. The day of our planned walk dawned grim, dim and rainy. But undeterred we were still raring to go.

PC looks healthy and tanned (obviously not been in Britain, then) but had missed the moors and paths of the Peak District. She'd also missed proper English tea so had used up all her milk. Good job I have brought the coffee.

We meet at one of our familiar spots, the layby near to Cutthroat Bridge just above Ladybower, and we have a plan. Since we don't have Mollie with us today (too short notice to plan to bring her) it means we are free to roam on the access land leading across Bamford Moor to Bamford Edge. We've only done this once before, years ago (we tried once before that when the moor was first opened but the belligerent gamekeeper of the day considered a miniature poodle on a short lead to be a great threat to his game birds and turned us back before we got very far).  Back then we did struggle to beat our way through the thick heather to our destination. This time we're hoping to be luckier.

We walk down the side of the busy A57 and take the stile next to the gate leading onto the access land beneath Hordron Edge. We're on a clear track (frequented by gamekeepers and shooters) taking us gently through thin coniferous woodland which shields the moors from the road. It is so good to be out again, even if it keeps trying to rain.

Immediately we notice how much noise there is from the birds. We hear curlews and a cuckoo almost straight away, and there are others that we cannot identify. The track continues beneath Hordron Edge and when we come to the next woodland copse we see a bird up on the rocks to our left. I eventually manage to take a photograph, but although the bird is silhouetted against the light its long pointed beak is obvious. Is this the noisy but elusive curlew?

We continue along the track enjoying the chance to catch up on all that has happened in the last few weeks. It seems an age since we were last walking and apart from a few emails we haven't had the opportunity to exchange gossip. All that is changing!

As the track starts a gentle upward incline above the stream running down from Jarvis Clough we see a narrow but fairly distinct path on the opposite side. Recalling our problems on our previous walk, and the lack of any kind of path through the thick heather, we decide to drop down to the stream, cross over and follow the path.

 

This is done without an problems and we are soon walking up the path towards a single tree. We pause to admire the distant views of Stanage Edge before stooping beneath the tree and walking uncomfortably close to an old, disused quarry. The path levels out and we walk on a little way, following a drystone wall, then decide to stop for a break. We don't need a rest, but the secret flask and secret chocolate (yes, chocolate too) are calling.

We settle down on some flat stones at a broken section of the wall and pull out the secret flask. The Ramblers Restorative tastes wonderful, as does the Old Jamaica chocolate.

We have good, if rather murky, views across the Derwent Moors whilst behind us we can see (if we turn around) Stanage Edge. We have barely finished our drink and chocolate when the rain starts again, and this time it seems to mean it. We pack up quickly and pull on our waterproof trousers and coats before setting off again, keeping roughly to the line of the wall and the path.

The rain doesn't last long and by the time we have reached the rocks marked Pillars on the map the sun has come out and we need to remove the waterproofs as we're in danger of providing ourselves with our own greenhouse effect.

It is fairly easy walking, and the path is clear enough for us not to have to struggle through the heather. So far we haven't seen another soul out walking.

Before long we come to more rocks and decide to find somewhere comfortable for lunch. Once settled we pull out our food, and enjoy our buns (a cinnamon swirl danish and an apricot danish - we split them in half so we can have a taste of each) and a convivial drink of coffee. It is so good to be sat here enjoying the fresh air, views and company that we are most reluctant to get going, and we linger for quite a while. Eventually though we must move on and we pick up the path again.

 

The northern end of Bamford Edge starts to come into view, and we have a clear view of Win Hill across the valley, looking very stark and imposing from this vantage point. As we approach Bamford Edge we can see someone there, and when we get closer we realise it is a climber. He's holding a rope and looking over the edge, hopefully there's someone on the other end.

 

We walk along the wide path that tops the Edge giving us great views down to Bamford and across the Derwent valley, then further away to our left we can see the full stretch of Stanage Edge.

 

Up to this point we hadn't quite decided which route to take back, so we come to a decision and turn left to pick up the very indistinct path heading towards Moscar Moor. To begin with it is moderately clear, although we suspect it is used more by sheep than people, but eventually it peters out altogether. We could start compass work to attempt to find the correct route, but since this is access land we decide to strike out in the direction we want. Very quickly we are rewarded by another indistinct track, this time following some stone posts from a long gone fence line.

 

It's lovely out here with only the odd sheep for company. In places the heather is very high, though fortunately not where we are walking, and there are large areas of gnarled, whitened twigs where parts of the moor have been cleared. In amongst the low growing heather, though, are clumps of the while tufty 'flower' heads of Common cotton-grass (Eriophorum angustifolium), a sedge which favours boggy areas. 

We have to skirt one boggy area where the ground dips, but we do that easily enough without losing sight of where we are going even though we seem to have reached the end of our line of stone posts. Ahead are the grouse butts and a stone wall, beyond that we can see the top of the track that we had started out on.

As we reach the vehicle track that runs from the grouse butts to the main track another walker strides across the moor and passes us without saying a word. We allow him his space and follow him at a distance. When we reach the main track we see him striking off across Moscar Moor towards Stanage Edge, but we decide instead to take the route over Hordron Edge where there is a large amount of bird activity. We spend a while trying to capture shots of them in flight but don't have much success.

Further along we see another man and realise that he is at the stone circle known as the Seven Stones of Hordron. He scowls at us as we approach, refuses to answer a friendly 'hello' then sits on one of the stones with his arms folded, glaring. As we look at the stone circle and start to take photographs he snatched up his bag and stalks off. Phew. Glad I didn't see him when I was walking alone.

The stone circle is about 16m in diameter and there are about 23 of them in total, if you count all of the smaller ones as well as the main ones. It is in a superb position with the hills and edges forming an amphitheatre around it.

Once we've finished looking around we continue along Hordron Edge then drop down towards the road. Sadly there is a taught wire fence at the edge so no short cut, instead we walk down to the conifer wood, reach the main track then go down to the stile. It's only a few minutes now and once we've walked up the side of the busy road we're back at the cars.

It has been an amazing day. Despite the promise of rain we've only had one wet spell and that didn't drench us. We've enjoyed a long satisfying walk and even been and seen places we've not ventured to before.

Once the wedding is over PC will be back to the ocean waves, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that family trials and tribulations will ease allowing me to get out again.

WE'RE BACK WITH A GENTLE AMBLE AND A SPRINT FINISH

UNDER DERWENT EDGE TO LADYBOWER AND ASHOPTON

Summer is over and we're back - at last. There's so much to catch up on, so much gossip and so many happenings that we've planned an easy walk to give up enough breath to talk. Although we've both been keeping fit(ish) over the holidays (PC sailing and me walking) we've both managed to put on a bit of weight. Too many Cornish Pasties for PC while I've been enjoying the Cumbrian ale! Still, we're ready now, and raring to go.

Cutthroat Bridge is our familiar starting point and we have one of those wonderful autumn days where the air is crisp and fresh but the sun is bright. We had hoped that the heather would still be in full bloom - two weeks ago the moors were a vivid purple - but it's gone over and we've missed the best of the colour.

We avoid being run over on the A57 and make our way onto the bridleway at the opposite side of the road. We have an easy walk along this path which gives us plenty of time to start catching up on the last few weeks: holidays, exam results, family etc etc.

We haven't gone far before we have to stop - not to rest but to de-layer. The sun is starting to make itself felt and our fleeces and jumpers aren't needed. We're passed by some other walkers and a pair (or is it a tandem, brace, duo, couple?) of cyclists, and we remember that this time of the year is still the holiday season for many, especially those with no need to keep to the school term times.

It doesn't take us very long to reach the gap beneath Whinstone Lee Tor where we pause to take in the wonderful view, and to get out the map to decide what to do next. Our original plan (such as it was) would have taken us on the path over Lead Hill following the route of our very first blog. However, after a brief discussion we decide to continue on the bridleway which runs beneath Derwent Edge, something we can't recall ever having done before.

By now the sun really is shining and since we seem to have lost all the other walkers and cyclists (who prefer to keep high up on the Edge itself) we decide to find somewhere to sit for a coffee. Not quite as easy as we first thought as although there is a lot of heather and grass, all very wet from yesterday's rain, there's not much in the way of handy boulders on this part of the path. In the end we find a grassy platform where we make ourselves comfortable and fetch out the two flasks - the coffee and the secret flask. We savour the last of the Ramblers' Restorative (good job I have another batch almost ready at home) followed by coffee and enjoy the view along with a good talk.

We sit for longer than we intended, it's almost lunchtime, but buoyed up by our refreshments we press on, initially ignoring the path down to our left which leads to Ladybower and taking the narrow track straight on which flanks the drystone wall.

It's really warm now, and we're feeling peckish. Fortunately, there are a lot of boulders around here so we scramble through the bracken and heather to reach a huge slab of gritstone at convenient seat-height. Sandwiches, coffee and our first-of-the-season fresh cream scones are consumed with great satisfaction.

We don't really want to get up and move, it feels a really lazy day, but we know we can't sit around forever. Again, we consult the map and decide to retrace our steps and take the downward track towards Ladybower and Grindle Clough. We're onto the subject of books by the time we're on the broad path heading towards the woods.

The path is a bit stony, the usual case when a track is heavily used by mountain bikes, but it's easy enough to walk. We certainly wouldn't really fancy it uphill, though. We go through a gate then across the stream before reaching another gate which takes us into an old yard and barns, renovated by the National Trust.

The first building is Grindle Barn, now made into a shelter for walkers with a wonderful 'duck' bench and ceramic tiles set into the walls made by local schoolchildren back in 2002. Outside, above the entrance, is a carved wooden board showing life in the valley and on the hills. It really is worth seeing.

As we pass through the yard the last barn on our left has date carved into the lintel: 1647.

From here the downward path is paved, a bit strange and heavy on the feet, but it does stop erosion. By the time we're at the bottom on the Ladybower path we're onto the subject of the prices some charity shops charge for things they were given for free. Like £70 - yes, £70 - for a dress in Kendal. Needless to say, that one was left on the rack.

We're enjoying the view and the steady pace, but when we glance at the time we realise that we're later than planned and that we to get a move on. So we step up a gear, not fast, but we're making a bit more effort. Not easy when we've eaten all the food and drunk all the coffee (and the Ramblers').

It's a long, steady haul along the side of the reservoir, which is rather low despite us thinking we'd had a pretty grim summer. As we approach the long, multi-arched bridge we veer left past the houses at Ashopton and out onto the path beneath Ladybower Tor. It's single file on the narrow track until we're through the gate and in the shade cast by the trees behind the Ladybower Inn. The temperature is really high now and it feels more like mid-summer than early autumn.

It doesn't take us long to reach the broad stony path that runs parallel to, but above, the A57. Here I get a phone call from home - a sure sign we're late and with a fair walk back to the cars there's no likelihood of being home soon. Ah well, can't be helped.

The walk up the path is steeper than we remember, or maybe it's because it's so hot and we, quite honestly, are getting tired. Obviously, we ain't as fit as we thought! However, once we've hit the high point it doesn't take us long to yomp the rest of the way, completely ignoring the wide views and peace.

We make it back to the cars hot and sweaty, not a good look, and with the first rosy glimmers of sunburn. Yes, it really has been that hot. No time to hang around, though, so we make hurried arrangements for our next walk in two weeks time before heading our separate ways and a return to what passes for normality.

HIGH WINDS, RAINBOWS AND EXTRA BUNS

It's a late start this morning due to an accident on the M1 which has closed the motorway and sent all it's rush hour traffic my way, doubling my journey time. Still, the sun is shining - or it was when I set out, but by the time I manage to meet up with PC I've driven through a number of heavy showers and the sky isn't quite so bright any more. And there's a strong breeze blowing. Not that it will stop us.

We trudge down the busy roadside to the familiar Cutthroat Bridge and go through the weighted gate which is being swung on its hinges by the wind. Ominous.

Our route takes us along the footpath heading NE so our first obstacle is Highshaw Clough, an attractive stream running down to join Ladybower Brook. The difficulty is in the rocky drop down to its crossing point, which we achieve with a reasonably amount of agility and no witnesses. Once on the far side of the brook we pause on a wall for a quick break. A nip from the secret flask (Ramblers Restorative) and custard tarts. They're not our usual high calorie fare - those buns come later - but a treat is needed after the long haul to reach here, and they do a wonderful job of replenishing our enthusiasm and sugar levels.

Off we go again at a good pace. The track is well defined and easy to follow, and once we have scrambled over a large ladder stile we know why. At the far side of the stile, nestling in the protection of two walls, is an old stone milepost: Sheffield on one side, Stockport on the other.

We wonder if this track was, in fact, the old 'main road' or turnpike. It seems highly likely. During the reign of William III an Act was passed stating that in remote or rural areas signs should be put up for travellers as they were often unable to ask for directions. Back i the 1700s it would have been the middle of nowhere, and a signpost would have been more than welcome. There is another milepost further along the A57 which is, in fact, Grade II listed! I can't, however, find any more information on this lovely example.

Once past the milepost and across some boggy ground we go through a gate, turn N then NW onto a track that takes us up onto the moors. As soon as we manage to ascend a few feet the wind hits us, rolling off the moors like a wave and hammering us in the face. It's as though it wants us to turn around, which we do, but only briefly to admire the view back towards Stanage Edge and to fasten up our coats.

Walking along this relatively easy gradient is like ploughing uphill through treacle. With every strep we're not only having to contend with the slope, but the relentless and ever increasing force of the wind. For once we're grateful for the grouse butts that line this walk and we stagger from one to another seeking a few moments respite from the elements. At least it isn't raining, and the few light showers trying to fall are whipped away before they can make any impression on us.

This is a 'heads down and trudge on' kind of walk, but being forced to stare at the ground only means that PC sees something she thinks interesting.

Shouting at me (she has to shout to be heard over the wind) to "Look" I peer at what I think, at first, is a large leaf then realise to my horror that it's a frog sunning itself. I make a rapid detour to avoid it as PC hunkers down to take a photo and chides me saying, "It's not a man-eating frog, you know." But you can't be sure, not out here, in the wilds!

In our next refuge (grouse butt) we see, far below, a large group staggering up in our direction. Some poor school kids being dragged out on a field study - today of all days. Poor them. We decide to head away from the path for a while as the group is bound to move faster than us and eventually catch us up, which we don't want so close to lunch time.

We cross the brown, springy heather and shelter behind a tall, turf-topped wall which is clearly another place for shooters to hide before bravely filling small birds with lead shot.

But as we sit down we're grateful to be out of the wind (more or less) while the sun is shining and there's a brilliant view to enjoy.

We empty the last dregs from the secret flask (that didn't last long) then enjoy a coffee before tucking into our sandwiches. Then we fetch out second buns. Fresh cream scones, something of a stalwart on our many walks, and they are always enjoyed. They're followed by another coffee which, since the wind has sneakily turned, is in danger of being blown out of the cups. We're liberally splattered with coffee flavoured spray - talk about storm in a tea cup.

Suitably full and in danger of needing an after-lunch nap, we pack up our things and head back across the heather towards the path, our way guided by a tall standing stone which, when we approach it, appears to be a natural feature.

The track isn't as steep here but that's just as well because the wind is, if anything, getting stronger. It's taking a huge effort to make progress and otherwise unnoticed leg muscles are beginning to complain.

Close to the top we see three people coming along the broad ridge from our right, reach the moorland cross-roads then choose to descend down to the Ladybower valley. It's a sensible option but not one we can take as we turn left to head South along Derwent Edge.

If we thought it was windy before, we were mistaken. It's gale force up here. We're forced to lean into it just to keep standing and it's impossible to make ourselves heard. Looking down to Ladybower reservoir we can see angry white-tipped waves on its inky surface.

When we look up we can see, rolling in from the direction of Alport, a grey curtain of heavy rain heading towards Derwent Edge, but we judge that it's going to miss us, thank goodness. But as we watch its rapid progress a rainbow appears behind the massive Wheel Stones and arcs all the way towards Bradfield. Magical. Somehow PC manages to take some photos despite the wind trying to rip the camera out of her hand.

We head off again, fighting for every footstep. We can only every remember it being as windy as this once before on a walk, and that was years ago when we were on Stanage Edge, and had to come down before we were blown down. Fortunately the wind isn't blowing off the edge here so we're relatively safe, but it's little comfort whilst trying to cross rocky ground.

The path dips slightly and, absurdly, the wind drops to almost nothing. But we can hear it thundering against the rocks of the edge. I think it sounds like waves crashing into a rocky coastline, PC reckons it sounds more like helicopters coming in to land. It's probably a cross between the two.

As soon as we leave the calm of the dip we're forced back into the gale. At the Hurkling Stones we decide to skip the path completely and head across the heather and short cropped grass to meet our return path. Going downhill with the force of the wind behind us is a bit like moonwalking, and suddenly a gust takes my feet from under me and I sail gracefully (honest) through the air and land quite gently, cushioned by the wind that toppled me. Getting up isn't easy, but I'm unhurt. I wonder if it counts as unaided flight!

On the path the walking is easier. The wind is behind us and its strength lessening slightly as we descend. Three bikers come up the path towards us, very macho and very determined. We wish them luck as they pass. Ten minutes later they cycle down behind us, and as they pass they admit that they couldn't cope with the wind. Can't say we blame them. But why didn't we ask for a piggy-back down the slope. What a missed opportunity.

By the time we reach Cutthroat Bridge again it is only mildly breezy. It's hard to imagine how bad it is up at the top. At least we've made it, although we expect some aching muscles in the morning.

As we drive away from our rendezvous point the heavens open and the rain falls. But it doesn't matter now. Excellent timing all round.

STRINES, FOULSTONE ROAD, BACK TOR, LOST LAD, DERWENT EDGE, WHINSTONE LEE TOR, CUTTHROAT BRIDGE

Despite predictions to the contrary yesterday's snow never materialised so it's all systems go for our much anticipated walk along Derwent Edge. Since this is to be our second attempt (see last week's blog) and aware of the distance we'll be travelling, we both manage to arrive at our meeting place early, pile everything into one car and set off for a small lay-by on the Strines Road facing Boot's Folly. It's snow free but not cold free and the arctic winds are making themselves felt. Undeterred we wrap ourselves up in as many layers as we possess and set off down the road to Strines. We're walking earlier than we usually actually meet up, so it's ten brownie points and a gold star each.

We trudge along the road wondering if we'd overdone the layers, and soon we're in the sleepy hamlet of Strines and wonder, is it actually big enough to be called a hamlet?

Barely past the few houses we almost walk into two male peacocks, their iridescent blue feathers glorious the early morning light. Naturally, by the time PC has her camera ready the birds had run for cover in a corn field. We wait. Patience pays off as a peahen and her chick emerge,which entices the males from cover. Then even more arrive, including a white one. Now we have plenty of photos and as we walk away we decide that the peacocks must outnumber the hamlet's inhabitants.

We continue down the road passing the beautiful autumn trees and rich smelling woody loam, hoping not to encounter any cars on this narrow stretch. Hard luck. Even on the tight hairpin bend at the bottom we have to wait for traffic.

We cross over to the out-of-use car park, check the notices to see if we still have access (we do) then plough on up the bridleway. The loggers are hard at work and the sound of their engines a constant drone through the should-be silence. At least they haven't made too much a mess of the path and the tall log piles of cut pine smells wonderful. Behind and around us the trees make a wonderful collage of honey, cinnamon, paprika and dark wintergreen; this is such a beautiful time of year.

We're getting warmer now, probably because the path has turned from hilly to mountainous. We don't remember it being this steep before! Maybe it's because we were younger and fitter back then. We press on regardless and pause to admire Foulstone Dike, it's shrouding curtain of trees removed by the loggers. It gives us chance to catch our breath too.

The path begins to even out and the moor is in sight. We're on Foulstone Road which only resembles as road up to the edge of the woods and as far as the house known as Foulstone Delf - possibly a quarry house - which stands above us. From here the road deteriorates into a moorland track, boggy in places, but which maintains a good width up the moor and was likely to have been a packhorse trail in the past.

It's a long steady pull up the track, the woods with the loggers are left behind us and the moor engulfs us. It's a bleak and lonely place, and so characteristic of this part of the Peak District. Today the far distant views are gradually opening up for us in a spectacular fashion, but on a cold, misty, murky day the unprepared could so easily find themselves completely lost.

We take our time, pausing frequently to admire a new vista, and having enough breath to continue talking. To our right are the grouse butts ready and waiting for the annual slaughter of brainless birds by brave gunmen.

We can't see Back Tor yet, the high point of the ridge, but soon we can see the tall marker stone at the cross roads on the moor. From here we can go down to Derwent Reservoir, along the edge towards Ladybower Reservoir or towards Back Tor. We choose Back Tor and head along the track that has been paved with huge slabs, grateful for the hard work done to keep erosion to a minimum and our feet dry. The peaty soil up here can be like a quagmire in wet weather.

We decide to by-pass Back Tor and head, instead, for Lost Lad which we have never visited before. We lose a little height first of all, then have to climb up again, but once at the top of Lost Lad (so named for a young shepherd who perished on the moors in a blizzard) the views are spectacular. We can see through 360 degrees and the sun is obliging too, making it all the more magical. There is a large cairn here, and a splendid memorial to a Mr Baxby, a keen walker. We sit down for a while to enjoy the views and the silence, and the secret flask comes out.

Too soon we see a herd of walkers approaching, so we drag on our rucksacks and head back the way we came. Looking back our still-warm seat has already been taken.

At Back Tor we look along the long ridge of Derwent Edge, but it is impossible to tell how far we have to walk. Still, we know it's a long way, so we set off determined to make the most of it. The path is easy to follow, either clearly grooved by many feet or flagged over the boggiest patches, and it is fairly level too. We've already reached the high point of Back Tor at 538 m and it's all downhill from here - even if it does take a very long time to lose any height at all.

The next major sight to greet us is the cluster of rocks known as the Cakes of Bread. To be honest, whoever named them had to have had an extremely vivid imagination or been very hungry at the time, although they are rather striking.

A little way beyond is Dovestone Tor where we decide to stop for lunch. We're both feeling peckish so we find ourselves a comfortable niche amongst the rocks and rummage in our rucksacks for food and coffee. As we start on our first cup of coffee the wind, which has been blowing gently all day, gathers a little more strength. We shuffle around to find a more sheltered spot but find that the wind is following us. Undeterred we finish our drink, start on our buns - carrot cake, all the way from Cumbria, which must count as one of our five a day. Feeling chilly we pour out our second cup of coffee only to find the surface of it being whipped into waves. Talk about storm in a teacup. We are liberally splash with coffee-spray and have to drink up quick. We don't linger, the wind feels vengeful and we're not sheltered enough to feel totally safe.

Once walking again we don't notice the wind quite so much, although it certainly cuts across the exposed ridge, but the cold is biting. We've seen a few walkers out today, but now they have all disappeared. A shame for them as the sun has now come out, lighting up the landscape but not actually warming anything up.

It is still a steady walk punctuated by small ups and downs. Ahead is the Salt Cellar rock formation and it's clear how it acquired its name, although it probably looks more like a pepper pot. To our right, in the valley, is the striking blue of Derwent Reservoir, dark blue today instead of murky grey.

We negotiate White Tor to see the impressive Wheel Stones ahead of us. These were clearly visible early on in the walk but the undulations of the ridge meant that we'd not seen them for a while. Now they're straight ahead and quite a size at close quarters. We have a look around them, shelter from the biting wind for a while, then press on.

From here the ridge curves distinctly SW and the decline is more noticeable too. We pause to photograph the reservoir below us, but the sun doesn't oblige leaving the hillside and water cast in shadow although even from our height we can see that the wind is rippling the water on Ladybower.

As we descend towards Whinstone Lee Tor we pass the Hurkling Stones on our left. They aren't, to be honest, very impressive, although there are some identically named stones a few miles away near Bradfield. Perhaps they provide more to look at.

We drop down to the crossroads of paths and feel the wind scything up the gap from Ladybower, and quickly turn east on the clear path towards Cutthroat Bridge. It's lonely here, only a few sheep and grouse to keep us company as we make our way on this very familiar route. We're usually taking this track in the opposite direction, but this way, downhill, is definitely easier. The light is mellower now, and the distant ridge of Stanage looks almost golden.

There are a few patches of bog for us to negotiate, this path has never been flagged, but we're soon past and on our way down the rocky track leading to the road. The waters of the small Highshaw Clough look particularly cold and fast flowing as they rush beneath Cutthroat Bridge.

We leave the moor behind us and trek the short distance up the fast A57 towards the lay-by. Everything is piled into the car and we head off to join the other car at our start point. We're a little stiff, quite tired and very cold but extremely satisfied. It has been a brilliant walk with wonderful views, and well worth the effort to do it.