ABOVE DERWENT

Yes! We've made it. Another walk out. However, I've forgotten the map and my camera. Well, you can't have everything.

Today's plan was very last minute, so much so that we have decided where to meet, but not where to walk. So as we stand in the Fairholmes car park in the perishing cold we quickly make a plan. Since we are without a map it does mean doing something we are familiar with, so we move the cars up to the side of the Dam (no parking fees) and get ready.

The cold is biting, the temperature gauge has struggled to keep above freezing, and we are pulling on a multitude of layers. We're keen to get going, if only to warm up.

We walk down the staggered steps that lead to the road that passes in front of the dam wall. Crossing the grassy area towards the steps at the far side, Mollie is allowed to run off some of her energy.

Once up the steps at the far side of the dam wall we put Mollie back on the lead as we go along the path and through the gate onto the rough road. You don't see much traffic on here, but there are usually quite a few walkers and cyclists. Today, though, there are very few people about and we seem to have this whole side of the reservoir to ourselves.

When we reach a bench we turn right onto footpath which climbs up at the side of a stream, and up Walkers Clough. It's quite muddy in places, churned up especially by mountain bikes which aren't even supposed to use this Public Footpath. Through the gate at the top we pause for Mollie to have a drink at the fast flowing stream, then we press on uphill.

It is quite tricky walking up here. Normally we come downhill, which is really grim, but the problem with the uphill is more from the mud underfoot which is very slippery rather than the steep incline. There is a stream running down, which isn't helping, and Mollie is constantly 'rescuing' stones to throw at my feet.

At a bend in the path the soggy section stops and we are able to press on dry foot. Pausing to admire the views behind us is compulsory and today they are spectacular with the clean, clear late autumn light. How I wish I had remembered my camera, but it is a good job PC has hers.

We meet two walkers coming carefully downhill, steadying themselves with their walking poles. They will certainly need them further down the slope. The path has a sprinkling of white on it, tucked into the shadows where the sun can't reach. It could be the result of a heavy frost, but it does look suspiciously like snow.

One final pull and we reach the signpost close to the derelict Bamford House, then after another pause to admire the views we turn right. The path is level and relatively straight, but with a gentle incline. It is very fresh up here, but the sun makes it feel a little less cold.

We walk until we cross over a stile, from where we have wonderful all-round views. Derwent Edge looks particularly spectacular in the light.


By now we are ready for lunch (we did set off late) but not far from the stile we find a deep hollow which is a perfect spot out of the wind. We settle down and I fetch out a mini bottle of wine. Today is PC's pre-birthday walk and we need to celebrate in a suitable manner. After all, she'll be a year older on our next walk.

The wine makes a lovely starter, then we eat our sandwiches, enjoy a KitKat chunky (so much better than the ordinary ones) and the buns. Today they are crumble topped pies, one apple and one rhubarb. And for a change they are completely filled with fruit, not like the pies that seem to be pumped up with air! After all that, and two cups of coffee, we are feeling very mellow.

Sadly, we can't sit here forever, as tempting as that seems, so we set off. As soon as we are out of the hollow the cold air hits us again, it is surprising how sheltered we were. The path here is very broad, and springy underfoot, and in places it is very boggy though it is easy enough to skirt the muddy bits.

The path curves and follows the line of a partially broken dry stone wall which looks very stark with the afternoon sun emphasising the shadows and shape. Very quickly we reach the end of the moorland path, cross over a stile and start to descend. We look down into Dovestone Clough and can follow the line of Mill Brook.

We drop down Briery Side, past Lanehead and down the steep hollow track to Wellhead and the tarmac road on the east side of Ladybower.

It is really cold down here; completely in shadow it feels as though this road has not felt the sun all day. We walk briskly to keep warm.

Just past Jubilee Cottages we turn into the woods where, we know, there is a small nature trail. We discover that we have entered the woods a bit too early and have to negotiate a couple of very steep banks but we land safely without falling then follow the path through the woods pausing to admire some of the wooden sculptures.

We come out of the woods on the road to Fairholmes and only have the steep steps back up to the cars to negotiate. At the top we find that this side of the reservoir is in shadow too, and the tops of the cars have frost forming on them.

It has been a superb day, despite the cold, and as we drive home along the road at the side of the reservoir the sun continues to paint the ridges and edges in brilliant russet hues. Magical.

AN UNEXPECTED OPPORTUNITY

DERWENT EDGE AND LADYBOWER

Having been unable to go walking for so long getting out for two weeks in succession is a real treat. Circumstances have meant that PC is still at home this week so we're able to sneak in another walk before she returns to the boat.

We're eager to enjoy this opportunity and both feel up to a reasonably long walk and plan to take in the length of Derwent Edge and return along the side of the reservoirs. 

We park up on the long lay-by on the A57 at the side of Ladybower after having availed ourselves of the facilities at the Heatherdene car park. Crossing the road we take the bridleway on the right which leads towards Ladybower wood and away from the reservoir. It's a lovely lane with a few neat cottages alongside it and good views across the reservoirs.

At the top of the lane we go through a gate and a little way further turn left on the track leading slightly uphill. It's close and muggy in this wooded area so PC stops to remove a layer. The walking is easy, though, so we are able to fully immerse ourselves in our conversation. So much has happened in the last week and we must make the most of it as it will be a long time before we're able to catch up again.

The track follows a wall line and soon we are out of the woods and only have trees to our left with Lead Hill looming above us on our right. Although it is only early on in our walk we decide to stop and have a drink whilst catching up with some photos from a family event last week. Out comes the secret flask with the Ramblers, then PC decides that she'd better empty her flask too. Sadly there's only a drop in it (Cointreau her tipple of choice) but the combination of Ramblers and Cointreau is a good one.

Once we've satisfied ourselves we set off again, this time the track is meandering upwards and soon we have the steep uphill, very eroded slope to Whinstone Lee Tor. We've warmed up nicely by the time we reach the top and exchange a brief 'hello' with a couple sitting up there enjoying the superb views with their dog. (No Mollie for us again, she's off on her holidays.)

We set off pretty smartish along the unofficial but well used path that follows the line of the whole Edge, noting as we walk that the wind is getting pretty brisk and hoping that it doesn't get strong enough to cause any problems (we have had real problems in high winds up here, and been actually blown off our feet).

The view opens up in front of us and we can see into the distance to the Wheel Stones and the Salt Cellar, looking forward to getting up close. Before we get that far, though we come to the Hurkling Stones and decide to get up close to them, something we've never done before as this is usually towards the end of our walks when we need to get a move on.

The weathered stones are very impressive and larger on close inspection than they seem to be from a distance. They also provide a good place to shelter from the growing wind so we decide to have an early lunch where we can sit in relative comfort.

Sandwiches (boring) then bun. No cream buns worth having this week but Mr Morrison has provided us with iced cinnamon swirls, richly doughy and gooey - and very satisfying. Followed by coffee our lunch is a definite success, but before the last of the coffee has been drunk we feel the first few spots of rain falling.

Undeterred we pull on our waterproof coats and emerge from the shelter of the Hurkling Stones. What a shock. The wind has got up and the temperature has plummeted. As we make our way back to the main path we can barely hear ourselves speak, and the rain is making a concerted effort to dampen our spirits.

As we reach the crossroads of paths we pause to consider our options. As much as we want to continue on ahead towards the Wheel Stones and Salt Cellar - with half a mind to go as far as Back Tor - the clouds are gathering and the whole outlook seems pretty grim. We want to walk, but we can't honestly see the point in being soaked through if we can avoid it. We've done it before, we don't need to do it again. There are no medals being awarded for perseverance!

So we take the left hand path and slowly start our descent from the edge. We're not going to rush, we still have plenty to talk about, and as soon as we dip away from the exposed edge the wind drops to a tolerable level and we can hear ourselves again. Sadly the rain doesn't stop but that's to be expected.

Naturally we keep pausing to enjoy the (damp) view and for PC to take pictures. And we notice that others are coming down off the edge too - we're not the only ones to err on the side of caution.

When we reach the dry stone wall at the bottom of the path we turn right, then left through a gate and continue our descent. Here the path is broad but eroded, it's a bridleway well used by mountain bikers - and one is steadfastly struggling uphill. Rather him than us.

By now the rain is coming in splutters and squalls and we're wondering if maybe we've made the wrong decision. But it's too late to change our minds now as we make our way to the barn complex at Grindle Clough (Grindle Barn). The barn, which we have visited before, is a handy shelter but it is already occupied when we reach it and decide not to disturb the gentleman who is there, looking proprietorially out at us. Instead we go through the gates and begin our final descent.

The clough looks extremely pretty with the fast running water, but the fields around are equally attractive too with their massed wild flowers.

At the bottom of the path we turn left and are once again on the level track which runs along the final length of Ladybower. And here we realise that we have made the right decision to leave the edge as the rain begins in earnest. At least we have some shelter from the trees.

This is a very easy amble now and we are soon (too soon) back at our cars. It is raining heavier now but we decide that we need to drive to a car park with a view (at the side of Ladybower) and continue our chat as we don't need to leave just yet.

As we are parked facing the reservoir with the edge beyond we see, through the rain, heavy clouds descending and completely obscuring the edge. They are very low, blanketing half the hillside too, and we are both very happy not to be struggling through it.

But we can't sit here forever, it is time to get back to our respective lives. By next week PC will be back on the boat, and I'll be hoping to find time to walk on my own. If I manage it, I'll post it.

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.

PASSIONATE FROGS BUT NOT A HANDSOME PRINCE IN SIGHT

After last week's walk our expectations were high, so we weren't exactly prepared for today's grim start; drizzle, low cloud, wind. Not promising. But by the time we reached our usual parking space at the side of Ladybower Reservoir the rain had stopped and the wind had eased so after our preliminary greetings and sortings we decided to set off on our planned route.

This is another walk that we thoroughly enjoy, but we knew it would be a challenge for PC and her bionic hip. Still, she's no quitter and was adamant that she'd be up to it, so we set off down the road towards Fairholmes and their re-vamped loos - very nice - before heading towards the dam.

Here we met the first of many frogs. It seems they were intent on massing in great numbers to do - well, whatever it is that frogs do (although clearly many were still doing it!) There were dozens of them, and as many squashed ones as live ones, with quite a few having met their end whilst in the throes of a passionate embrace. Trying to avoid them I did a kind of hopping, skipping dance to PC's tuneful, "there's one there, oh and another one, and two more".

We avoid the path up to the dam and follow the road past Jubilee Cottages and Old House, both standing before the valley was flooded. The daffodils are out lining the roadside in cheerful, blazing yellow - unlike the sun which is staying hidden.

Soon we see the first of this year's new lambs, impossibly cute and posing oh-so-sweetly for the camera.

We continue along the road and just before reaching Wellhead we take the path to our left which climbs uphill. Even here there are frogs intent upon reproduction and not caring who can see them! A few steps along the path and there is an absolute orgy going on and it's impossible to count how many frogs are involved. Urgh!

The hill is steeper than we remember it, so it's a good job we have some Maltesers to prevent low blood sugars. We need to keep our energy levels up. Thank goodness the top rungs of the stiles are movable, a wonderful design element that should be incorporated into every newly built stile.

Of course, we have to pause regularly to admire the views, which means we have time to catch our breath and scoff a few more choccies. As we ascend we can see along Derwent Edge and down the length of Ladybower. Better still, possibly, the sun is trying to make an appearance, although the wind is building up too.

We pass the house on the hill (how do they get their motorhome up to it?) and are on the last pull. We stop to stare at, and photograph, a gnarled and twisted tree branch which is trying to disguise itself as a heron, or a turkey, or a dinosaur.Then we take the last couple of hundred yards at a run. (OK, we don't, but it sounds good.)

We decide to shelter against the wind behind a wall where we can enjoy the views, a coffee, a gingerbread man (yes, honest), and the sun which is really beginning to make an effort. We can hear grouse grumbling in the distance, and curlews with their eerie call. It's wonderfully peaceful though with not another soul in sight.

It might be sunny but it isn't warm so we set off again knowing that the climbing is done - all bar a slight incline near Pike Low. The track is firm underfoot and follows a long but much eroded and tumbled drystone wall. It's level walking and we can admire the views rather than watch where we're putting our feet and we can see as far as Lost Lad and Back Tor.

When we move away from the level path we're back onto peaty moorland which is often boggy, although just now it isn't too bad although some of the deep ruts have been filled with rubble, no doubt to make it easier for the 4x4s up here for the shooting rather than to help walkers.

We crest the final slope and pause to admire the views behind us as we can see as far as Crook Hill and the Great Ridge, although the quality of the light doesn't quite make it a good photograph. A shame, but at least we can appreciate it.

It's all downhill now, quite gently at this point, and soon we're at the cross-paths - left to the reservoirs, right towards Derwent Edge - but we continue straight ahead. We angle down a little to reach the derelict Bamford House where we find a seat (a fallen gatepost) and some shelter (a tumbled-down wall) in the sunshine where we can enjoy lunch.

Out comes a small bottle of pink fizzy wine - a prezzie from PC for my %* th birthday. Drinking lovely wine as we sit and enjoy the views makes a great day brilliant. Our sandwiches are eating with resignation but the lemon muffin cheesecakes - always a winner - are devoured with unseemly relish. However, we can't fit in the coffee yet, we're too full, so we sit and natter instead, enjoying the peace, the sun, the view, the company.

What a pity we can't sit here forever, but eventually we drag ourselves to our feet and rejoin the path which takes us down to Abbey Bank. Yet again we have more magnificent views, this time of the Howden Dam overflowing into the reservoir with it's usual thunderous, echoing roll.

This is a steep downhill stretch, and we pass the only other walkers we've seen on this outing. A couple and their dog toiling uphill. Rather them than me.

At the bottom we step through the gate into a thick carpet of crisp leaves that have somehow resisted being turned into mulch over the winter, and we walk through the trees and daffodils to join the wide path at the side of the reservoir.

We're on the home straight now, but we stop at a bench to finish off the coffee and enjoy the afternoon sun. It's turned pleasantly warm and that has fetched people out. Coffee done we meander back, but it isn't until we've passed the Derwent Dam that we look at the time, and realise that we're seriously late. So instead of a gently saunter back to the cars we have to step up the pace.

We make it back in record time, but there's no time to linger as duty calls. We won't be walking for three or four weeks now, though, as school holidays clash but at least we know that we're back to walking our usual distance. And getting a sun-tan into the bargain!

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.

BAMFORD EDGE AND BACK AGAIN

There had been some early doubts about today's walk. Yesterday had been bitterly cold with a biting wind that had made us wary of venturing onto any high ground, but this morning all was clear, cool and relatively still, so we set off for Bamford Edge feeling optimistic.

We park up in the lay-by on New Road next to the access stile, pleased that no one else is there as there's only room for three, maybe four, cars.

Setting out we encounter our first (and hopefully last) problem. I bound athletically over the stile (only a slight exaggeration, honest) and wait eagerly at the other side for PC. And wait. And wait. The stile is eye-wateringly high and PC, conscious of keeping her bionic hip where it's meant to be, is struggling. However, with a suitable amount of cussing and contortions she heaves herself up and joins me on the far side. And we're off.

It isn't a very steep track up towards the disused quarry almost due north of the stile, but we're aware of the incline and keep using the bionic hip as an excuse to pause and admire theextensive views rapidly unfolding as we climb. The bionic hip, naturally, is fine. It's the lungs that seem to suffering. We're obviously carrying too much weight - in our rucksacks!

The light falling on distant Stanage Edge is wonderful, sculpting the rock face into sharp relief. Fingers crossed that the camera does it justice.

The quarry is quite overgrown now with a boggy morass in the middle, but there is a rough track up the side . I'm sent up first to try it out. If I fall PC won't follow, but hopefully she'll phone for help. As it is, I clamber up easily, it isn't as bad as it looks, and PC follows with ease. Once up there one side does drop away quite dramatically, but my remark about falling into the ravine is not appreciated, so we rapidly ascend to level ground before stopping again.

From here we admire the full length view of Stanage Edge. It's rare to be able to see all of it in one swoop of the eyes, and this is an excellent spot. PC tries out her magic camera skills, hopefully to be followed by magic computer skills, and I'm glad that I don't have to cope with the photos.

Then we skirt the top edge of the quarry and walk along a track following a slightly higher elevation than Bamford Edge itself. Here we're quite exposed and the wind is beginning to make itself felt. We walk along the well-worn track between boulders and the burnt-back heather. We wonder if this has been a controlled burning - it is extensive - or an accident. It's easy to see how moorland fires could quickly spread out of control up here on these barren, windy expanses.

We decide it's time to stop for a drink so we find a big boulder to sit behind out of the wind. Out comes the secret flask and the coffee flask. A couple of measures of Ramblers Restorative does just what is says on the bottle and PC, since she isn't driving, holds her cup out for a top up. Once the Ramblers has taken effect we enjoy a coffee and sit a while enjoying the view and feeling mellow. The buns are brought out for display - they're for lunch - but they prove an incentive to get moving and find somewhere to stop to eat.

A short distance further on we follow a path down onto Bamford Edge.

Whenever we come here we have to stop and stare. The views are spectacular. OK, so the cement works manages to rear it's ugly head - couldn't it be disguised, it really is a major eyesore - but ignoring that we can see a wonderful panorama taking in Abney, Castleton, Mam Tor, Win Hill, the distant Kinder range, and as we proceed along Bamford Edge's wonderfully rocky ridge the views of Ladybower and Derwent Edge open out. We can see the Derwent Dam, the Wheel Stones and Crook Hill, all places we've enjoyed walking, and will revisit again as soon as we can.

We have to keep stopping to enjoy the views. It is a must on this walk and it has to be one of the best places in the Peak District to get an impression of space. Perhaps we should keep it secret, though. It doesn't get as many visitors as it deserves, and it is all the better for that.

The ridge path descends and crosses a tumbled dry stone wall and heads across wilder Bamford Moor, until relatively recently the sole preserve of grouse shooters. The wind is blowing keenly now so we head up onto the moor a little way so we're less exposed. We find a comfortable nook and settle down for lunch. As we eat we see a lone walker trudging along the track towards Bamford Edge. He waves, we wave back, he continues on his way. That is the only encounter we have we another soul all day. It's wonderful up here.

At last the buns emerge. Lemon Muffin Cheesecakes: muffin pieces, creamy tangy cheesecake, white chocolate flakes, biscuity base. Perfect. Thank you Mr Morrison, you've done us proud.

Suitably replenished we set off back, the first part of our return journey retreading the path we've just been on. In the time it's taken us to eat (and drink, and chat) the wind has gathered strength. There is always the chance of strong gusts on this exposed edge, but now those gusts are powerful. We keep well away from the steep drops wherever possible. For some reason the smell of the burnt heather is very strong now although we didn't notice it on the way out. Perhaps the cheesecake has sharpened our senses.

We ignore the path up to higher ground and start the long, steady decline passing an old quarry with an almost-complete millstone abandoned in situ. What a lot of skill wasted, but it is rather a poignant monument. Much better than it being stuck in someone's garden as an ornament.

As we lose height the wind loses its ferocity. Looking back, though, we can see the clouds racing across the clear blue sky. PC quotes a line from a film, I immediately recognise it. Oh, how wonderful to be film buffs! (Actually, it was from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade - not exactly highbrow but a classic in it's own way.)

Crossing the brown, bracken-covered slopes we notice a number of square stakes stuck into the ground, some in lines, others in squares, some seemingly randomly placed. We're curious, but have no idea what they're for. Perhaps on a later walk up here we may reach enlightenment.

It isn't long before we're in sight of the car, with only the stile to negotiate. It's easier this way, fortunately, so there's no opportunity for a humorous photograph. Never mind.

We did well today. Later in the afternoon the wind's strength began to build and by late evening a gale was howling and the rain was beating down. It makes a change for luck to be on our side but we won't complain . We've had brilliant weather. The big question is, how long can our luck hold out?

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.