END OF SEASON CHALLENGE - THE GRINDSBROOK HORSESHOE

OR: UP HIP AND AWAY.....




It's hard to believe that this is to be the last walk of our 'season'. School holidays put an abrupt end to our walking although we'll both be putting one boot in front of the other albeit separately and in different locations.


So, for our Grand Finale we meet up in Edale. It's a choice spot for high summer walks because of the long days, the large choice of routes and - hopefully - good weather. Today we seem to be in luck as despite a few dodgy clouds looming on the way here we seem to have lost them and the sun is shining out of an impressively blue sky. I'm even wearing shorts - scary!


We've decided to head up Grindsbrook and discuss our route as we walk. Normally we take the popular track up to the head of the Clough then make the steep climb up to the top, and once we even went up the Grindslow Knoll route (never again), but this time as we stride into the meadow after crossing the bridge over Grinds Brook and clambering up the steep steps at the other side, we choose to turn right on the path that climbs up towards The Nab, Ringing Roger and the edge of the Kinder Plateau.

The grassy path starts to climb immediately and we're soon feeling warm, and not just because of the sunshine. Soon the grass gives way to an eroded path which, in turn, leads us to a gate in the wall. Once through this we're really on the long haul upwards. The path has been laid over with stones because, no doubt, of severe erosion and we consider that a pretty good job has been done. The 'steps' are fairly even and of a reasonable stride length which makes climbing up so much easier. The path takes a sharp left and we continue to follow it as it zig-zags its way up the hillside. Naturally we keep stopping to admire the ever-widening view over Edale and the Great Ridge beyond.

When the path suddenly becomes easy, rather than be elated we tread suspiciously, and sure enough our suspicious thoughts are confirmed. Ahead lies the steep, eroded and rocky clamber up Ringing Roger. Of course, we could go around, there is a lower path, but we're making excellent time and aren't feeling even slightly weary, so onward it is.

Naturally, it isn't too easy. The erosion and loose stones make it a bit of a challenge, but it's well worth the effort and soon we've made it around the top and onto the path leading to the head of Golden Clough. Standing on the path overlooking the deep valley of Grindsbrook below, feeling the wind in our hair and the sun on our faces is one of the magical moments that makes us get out walking whenever we can.

It's only a short haul up to the very top now, and again the path has been paved against erosion though not as sensitively as at the bottom as some of the steps are high, others low making you walk unevenly. Still, it's a little matter once we're on the top and walking across Nether Tor.

The path is level and almost sandy with tiny pebbles of quartz scattered all around. The views are spectacular and some of the rock formations amazing. There are huge slabs of almost flat rock, then tortured, wind-sculpted monuments.

When we arrive at the superb rock formation called Hartshorn we manage to squeeze down out of the wind and threatening clouds to sit for lunch whilst enjoying the dizzying view.

Since it's our last walk the buns are really special and summery: shortcake pastry, creme anglaise and fresh strawberries. Funny how we go silent when we're eating something so nice!

The clouds are moving fast, changing from dark grey to white to grey again, so it's off with the sunglasses and on with a fleece as we leave our lunch spot and continue on our way. We've decided by now that we're going to go the for complete horseshoe. After all, going down the rocky wall at Grindsbrook Head isn't something we were particularly looking forward to and we don't reckon we'll lose much, if any, time going the slightly longer route.

The path meanders a bit in places to avoid having to cross deep water run-off from the plateau, although at time time of year there is barely a puddle or two to negotiate. We have to do a little bit of rock climbing (OK so we'd not picked up the 'easy' path but hey, no problems) and we're soon at Grindsbrook Head. No, we're definitely not going down that way.

As we walk around the top of the Head and photograph the mushroom shaped rock the sun comes out again and the grey clouds have disappeared. Wonderful.

It's an easy enough walk up to Grindslow Knott although PC decides to skirt around its side rather than go straight over the top, but the views from the top are amazing. There's a whole 360 degree panorama that no amount of photographs can do justice to. There's also splendid views of the far ridge we've just walked too.

Next is the descent, and the first bit can be a bit tricky although we manage well enough (utilizing hands, feet and bums) but it reminds us, as if we needed it, why we don't walk up this way any more. It is steep on the way down, and pretty relentless. Although really it is fairly easy it can make the legs ache.

Soon enough, though, the gateway is in sight and we're walking through the grassy sloping fields towards Grindsbrook Booth. The last section of the path is beneath a canopy of trees, then we're out on the road again and heading down to the car park at Edale.

It's been a marvellous walk to end a marvellous season. Little did we imagine back in the Winter when PC had her hip replacement that we'd be doing anything as good as this so soon. We'd both thought that a route such as today's would be out of the question for at least another year, but we're both pleased to have been proved wrong.

So that's it until September. Over the summer we might be able to get around to putting some more photos on the blog, or some details of older walks (and the Missing Wood), but we'll also be out walking, just not in the Peaks.

Happy Holidays.

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?

EDALE, RUSHUP EDGE, CHAPEL GATE, BARBER BOOTH, EDALE

We knew this was going to be a big one, so plans were afoot to meet early. And you all know what happens to the best laid plans ...

Mild for the time of year, and with the sun attempting to shine, made today's start promising, until entering the Vale of Edale where the clouds pressed in smothering the hilltops in mist and threatening rain. Undeterred we met up at Edale's large car park, fed the meter with coins and after pulling on every item of clothing we possessed, set off looking like Bessie and Billie Bunter.

A short stroll down the road brings us to the bridleway that runs up past Hardenclough Farm. The footpath takes us over the young River Noe - its source is only a short distance, but steep climb, away on Kinder - and already the water is running fast and deep.

This first part of the walk is easy, a tarmac track with a gentle incline. Just enough to get us warmed up. Once we leave the farm behind us, though, the track deteriorates and branches: right up and over a stile to go across the fields to Barber Booth, left on the bridleway towards Greenlands or straight ahead on a barely noticeable footpath although there is, hammered into a tree trunk, a yellow arrow. Not very clear but we know from a previous walk that this is the path we want.

The path skirts the wall and remains under the cover of trees, but it soon emerges from cover and deteriorates. It is seriously muddy and is getting steep. We pause to admire the view (or to remove a layer) before slogging on. And it is a slog. Too late we recall how hard this initial climb had been last time. It's straight uphill across the contour lines. We have to keep stopping to catch our breath and cool down, as well as to admire the ever-expanding view. It's glorious in this late autumn light despite the clouds. Edale is snuggled cosily beneath the protective arms of the hills, the last glowing colours of golden trees standing out against the still-lush greens and mellow browns.

Then we glance up the valley and see, well, nothing. A huge sheet of rain is speeding towards us like a heavy grey curtain. We quickly don waterproofs again and prepare for the worst. Heads bowed we continue upwards, but the promised downpour is nothing more than a sprinkling as the wind whips it away before we really feel it.

We're at the stage of taking a few steps and stopping. This really is a tremendous slog.The only consolation is that it's early on in the walk where we, supposedly, have enough energy reserves to cope with it. But will we have enough energy left to last the course. Hope so, as neither of us is fit to carry the other!

We reach the road - three cheers - and pause to look at Mam Tor. It's impressive ancient ramparts are clearly visible here, and we wonder how on earth anyone could even think of attacking such a well defended site. They'd be knackered before they ever reached the top!

We walk up to the next stile where we cut off a bend in the road and reach the bottom of Rushup Edge. As we clear the dip between Mam Tor and Rushup Edge we are treated to the glorious views that, if you're really careful and crouch down, don't include the cement works. The sun is shining, but not on us (typical) although we can enjoy it at a distance.

The wind up here is extremely strong and we debate which of the two paths we should take. There's a bridleway and a footpath running parallel but either side of a stone wall. The footpath is on the Edale side, the bridleway on the Castleton side. Because of the wind, and the direction it is blowing, we decide on the bridleway for safety. We don't want to be blown off the edge.

My major concern is that there are cows ahead. PC looks at the hoofprints in the mud and declares them to be horses. The girl needs her eyesight checking. They are cow prints, lots of them!

The ridge is still climbing but it isn't too steep and there are plenty of ups and downs. For the most part the cows are out of sight then, cresting a hump, there they are. In full view. On the path. Loads of them. With young. I only dither for a moment before leaving the path, crossing a ditch and striding onward next to the wall. The cows watch me. PC is behind me saying something probably not very helpful - I can't hear because of the wind -and I don't pause to look back until I'm past the glowering herd. PC is stood next to them, TAKING A PHOTO. Doesn't she know the danger she's in? Admittedly the cows don't even blink, but they might have. I sprint on, leaving her to her foolish foibles, and find safely behind a gate. When PC catches up, blithely unconcerned, we have an essential pick-me-up from the secret flask. Ah, that's better.

It would be good to stop for a while but it's far too cold, the wind is blowing straight at us and we must press on. The path becomes wider but less distinct as we reach the high point of the ridge at 540m. The views to our left are excellent with the sun shining benignly on a patchwork of fields, but to our right the towering Kinder massive is covered in cloud.

We debate crossing the wall to find somewhere to eat, but behind the wall is a sturdy post and wire fence that makes us decide to keep on our side. It's easy walking and we're really covering the ground now, but we're hungry so our talk turns, naturally, to food: bruschetta, lasagne, chilli, pizza. Mmm.

At a metal gate the bridleway and footpath merge, and we have to cross a fast flowing stream to swap onto the northern side of the wall. The path here is almost sandy where the gritstone has eroded.

The path dips slightly then, with a fork to the left which leads down to the Chapel-en-le-Frith road, we turn sharp right across the moor. Here we see the only other person out walking today, a man sat huddled in a protected hollow of ground eating his picnic. Pity we can't oust him, he's in the perfect spot!

We press on speedily now, our stomachs rumbling. The wide track is waterlogged in places and we have to detour across the springy peat. It must be pretty grim up on Kinder. A couple of narrow tracks lead off towards the Kinder Plateau, and it may be good to follow them someday, but it would take more time than we usually have available.

We're on Chapel Gate, a track that was the old packhorse trail from Edale. As we start to descend we find a hollow to our right which looks promising. Yes, just right for lunch and providing a fantastic view down the Vale of Edale.

Out come the sandwiches, coffee and - joy of joys - fresh cream scones. How come everything tastes so much better out in the open? We devour everything with unseemly haste but maximum satisfaction. We can't linger, though, as this walk is taking longer than we'd intended, so we haul ourselves to our feet and continue our descent.

The wind is behind us now, helping us on our way, something we could do without given the state of Chapel Gate. It is seriously eroded, presumably due to the huge amount of water run off which, today, is a fast-flowing wide stream, but the track is also used by mountain bikers and motorcyclists.. I believe that the 4x4 brigade see it as one of their 'rights of way' too, but hopefully they will have enough sense to avoid it given the state it's in - but perhaps that is hoping too much. At least we see none of them today.

Surprisingly we descend fairly rapidly, our energy levels are obviously replenished, and at the bottom we debate whether to cross the fields towards Manor House Farm, or stay on the track. We decided to keep on the track, which may not have been the wisest choice. At one point the path is completely flooded and we have to scramble up onto a slippery bank to negotiate a way around the water. Yet again our supreme agility is put to good use!

A few spots of rain are starting to fall, and looking back we can see more clouds gathering with intent. We have no intention of pausing - we've already overrun our time on the parking meter - and as soon as we reach the road we're able to stride out. It's heads down and pushing the pace now as we stomp along the road between Barber Booth and Edale, but it doesn't take us long.

At last we stagger into the car park and as we are removing our muddy gear the rain that has managed to hold off all day finally decides it can wait no longer. The heavens open.

Our timing has been perfect (unless you count the overdue parking) and we're dry as we drive home through the torrent. It's been an excellent walk, but we are both seriously tired. We'll pick something a bit less challenging for next week.

EDALE, GRINDSBROOK CLOUGH, KINDER PLATEAU, GRINDSLOW KNOLL

What a fantastic day. Clear skies, sunshine and temperatures well into the 20s. It couldn't be better for our walk.

We love coming to Edale but our outings here tend to be restricted. Long days are needed because we have a long drive to reach here and can only make it when school timetables and extra-curricular activities allow. Today luck was on our side.

The car park at Edale is spacious, with loads of room first thing in the morning, so why does someone have to park right beside me? I give them one of my special looks, but I don't think they notice. This is a pay and display car park but today there's no ticket machine. It had, apparently, been stolen to be replaced by a poor woman cooped up in a shed peering out glumly at the sunshine. Perhaps she'll be able to get her own back later by doling out parking fines to those who have outstayed their ticket times.

We pay our money and set off, not even having to bother pulling on jumpers or coats - a most unusual occurrence. Walking through Edale village we catch up on a week's worth of news and gossip, and spy some bluebells in the hedge bottom. No doubt the sunshine has brought them out making us wonder if our bluebell foray in a couple of weeks will be over before we start.

At the end of the road we veer to the right and descend into the cool wooded gloom to cross the bridge over Grinds Brook before climbing smartly up to the other side and into a wide open field. This feels like the start of the walk with the large slabs of stone underfoot to point the way - and prevent excessive erosion.
The temperature is creeping up and as we pause to drink from our water bottles we see the deep scar of a path running down from Grindslow Knoll. We can't remember it being so prominent last time we'd walked here.

This first part of the walk is gentle enough, the slight incline sufficient to warm up the muscles without too much effort. We amble through a copse of trees then cross the small bridge straddling the stream that falls down from Golden Clough. There's a path here, straight up to Nether Tor, but we reckon it must be pretty tough on the leg muscles. We allow a couple to pass us, him with the rucksack, her unencumbered, and I note with envy that it doesn't work that way in my household, quite the opposite, Equality certainly has some downsides.

Here the path is relatively smooth as it follows the brook, albeit on a higher level, and with the continuous steady uphill slope that is so much a part of this valley. The brook is beautiful today, the fresh green Spring growth around it, small frothy waterfalls and deep, inviting plunge pools - especially tempting as the temperature continues to rise.

At the first rough, rocky section we take the obvious path to the left which leads to the brook. Mistake. After scrambling, clambering, rock hopping and swapping from side to side numerous times we manage to recall having been on a higher, easier right hand path in the past. We hadn't spotted it - we hadn't even looked for it - so we're forced into doing impressions of Lara Croft instead.

Eventually we reach an easy section again and, looking back, are surprised at how high we've actually climbed with relatively little effort. Here the brook widens as it cuts through a section of shale. Huge slabs of rock are laying in the water looking very welcoming. However, this is where the walking becomes a little harder.

We're climbing obviously now, and there are rocks and boulders to negotiate. We decide to put on sun cream, a sensible precaution, then carry on upwards. We allow a young couple to pass us, they've been following us quite a way, and PC decides to try the route they've taken although discovers that it isn't quite as easy as she thought. Taking consolation we decide that they probably won't find it half so easy when they have another 25 years on their backs!

We keep pausing, not for breath (although that is a bonus), but to enjoy the ever widening views down the valley which we know will be lost soon. The heat haze doesn't help photo quality, but we know it all looks spectacular.

Soon we hit the part that turns into an unrelenting upward scramble. PC abandons her walking poles as they keep getting in the way; hands are needed here, and we forge on up. It isn't quite as bad as it looks, or as we remember, and every step takes us higher and closer to our goal. As I reach the plateau PC follows behind with the immortal words, "Are we there yet?" Yes, we are, and it's wonderful.
We stop to admire the view then walk on to the aptly named Mushroom Stone before striking away from the path to find somewhere to eat lunch. There are quite a few people up here today, hardly surprising. The weather, the views and the sheer exhilaration are not to be missed. Thank goodness we can come in the week, though. On a good weekend it must be like a motorway service station up here.

We eat our lunch, meagre by any standards, followed by fresh cream doughnuts. It's so warm that the jam in the doughnuts has turned runny, but they're delicious nonetheless as well as providing the necessary calorific intake to give us the energy we need.

We could sit here all day, and it's tempting to lay our backs onto the boulder behind us and drift off, but instead we consult the map to gauge how far it is to Kinder Downfall.
far to even consider today or in the near future as it will mean an early start and late finish. We decide we'll do it when all the girls have left home for university or whatever. That means in another four and a half years or so. We're patient. We can wait.

Despite the desire to linger we press on and the rise up to Grindslow Knoll at 601 m doesn't seem to take much effort - must be because of the doughnuts. Our reward, of course, is the ever expanding panoramic view around a full 360 degrees. The downhill route lays ahead and despite its rock-free grassy slope we're not looking forward to it. It's steep and we know, from experience, it's a killer on the knees. Still, it's the only way to go and we set off, reluctantly leaving the high places behind us.

We're passed by a couple of men, and some more angle down off of other tracks.

We debate how infrequently we see women out on our walks unless they are accompanied by men. Men alone, in pairs or groups are in abundance, but not women. It's sad.

The path turns rough and rubbly, making it slippery underfoot, but we've soon dropped down to the gently sloping field that leads us back to the village. We pause, quite astounded, as on old aircraft flies overhead very low. We watch it go up the valley and out of sight, unable to recognise it, of course. A little earlier we'd have been above it.

We head back to our cars, slower than on the way out. We're tired, but extremely satisfied. It's been a brilliant walk on a perfect day; one to treasure.

CURBAR EDGE to WHITE EDGE

What a difference a week can make. It's almost springlike with the sun shining out of a clear blue sky, and even though the temperature has only managed to creep a couple of degrees above freezing it feels much warmer. On Curbar Edge weather-worn hollows on the tops of the gritstone boulders hold pockets of ice shimmering in the unaccustomed sunlight. The fine weather has brought many people out although they are all, like us, muffled up against the chill that bites hard on this exposed edge.

We pace ourselves along the long stretch of rock, not wanting this tantalizing but entirely false sense of freedom to be over too soon. The bright sun on brooding rocks brings everything into sharp relief and the views, as usual, are outstanding. It never fails to surprise us how far and how much we can see. Our horizon is taken up by the distant bulks of Kinder Scout, Bleaklow and Howden Edge all liberally covered with snow and looking magnificent. Closer is the long length of Stanage Edge - a familiar haunt of ours - with its rugged cliffs looking as though they have been buttressed with columns of snow. Here, thankfully, it is clear! Sadly, we won't have spectacular photographs today, Paparazzi Cate has 'the wrong lens'. Never mind, we'll make the best of it.
We amble along following the undulations of the ground until Paparazzi Cate slips on a slight downward slope and falls with a definite squelch. But it's OK. The buns in her rucksack are safe. She had heroically protected them as she fell. That's dedication for you. Of course, now she tries to hide the soggy, muddy patch on her behind without much success, it's there for all to see. Wish I had the camera!

The path on top of Curbar Edge is easy to follow as it runs along to join Froggatt Edge. We decide to keep on walking until lunch beckons, then backtrack to where we can drop down to the lightly wooded lower slopes below and then return to the car.

However, inspiration strikes when we see an indistinct track off to our right near an old field enclosure and we set off across open land towards White Edge. The path becomes ever more obscure as we press on. An old wooden post, probably the remains of a disappeared fence-line, carefully nurses a tiny bilberry plant in a pocket of rotting timber. The plant seems impossibly fragile in this harsh landscape.

We're alone now apart from two sheep who act like escaped convicts, eyeing us suspiciously then sidling away. All the other walkers are on one or other of the edges, and we're traipsing across the rough moor in the middle. We feel almost intrepid as we negotiate tussocks of dried, bleached grasses and ice-encrusted bogs.

As the land dips we know that our progress may be impeded, we spy reedy grasses and know that we'll hit water soon. We hear it before we see it, although we've already found the peaty bog that accompanies the moorland stream. But before we venture knee deep into the mire we see a safe crossing place a little way upstream where we are able to leap gazelle-like (!!) across some boulders.

Still dry shod we arrive at a small copse of trees with sheep-cropped grass beneath. The sun is shining on a large flat boulder which positively invites us to sit down. How could we refuse?

Lunch is eaten enjoying the solitude and silence. Coffee is drunk, a cheery nip from the secret flask consumed and the buns (fresh cream doughnuts) are brought out. They were, apparently, the lowest calorie buns on offer that day! No matter, every calorie is savoured.

White Edge is in our sights so with our energy stores suitably replenished we forge ahead without even a hint of a path to follow, and arrive exactly where we want to be. Amazing! We have a steep uphill pull onto the Edge but we're there with relative ease - the doughnuts must have helped - and was the effort worth it? Definitely. The extra few metres of height up here make all the difference. Sure, we lose the views of the valley bottoms but the distant panorama has widened out.
All that remains is the traverse along the edge, the path much narrower here than on Curbar Edge but no less distinct, passing many more walkers and the stark, white trig point at 365m. We descend, turn right around the field boundary and go sharply downhill, negotiating a muddy bog and the even muddier Sandyford Brook before climbing up to the road and back to our cars.

As we sit on the back of our cars removing our boots we look up at the cliffs of Curbar Edge. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but staring down at us are some Easter Island Heads. Next to them is a bear. The heads are photogenic but the bear refuses to be captured on film.

With the photos taken we round off a wonderful walk on a wonderful day and keep our fingers crossed for next time.