BETWEEN THE MOUNTAIN AND THE FLOOD IN EDALE

The heavy snow at the weekend, despite it having melted away with amazing speed, has left us in a bit of a quandary. Walking low level is going to mean soggy feet and a miserable slog through boggy, muddy ground. But the wind is blowing pretty fiercely so high ground, as we know to our cost, is likely to be uncomfortable, if not dangerous.

So, we meet up in Castleton to debate the options and consult the map. We don't want the high road or the low road, just something in between. There is still some snow here, snuggled in pockets under walls and in the lee of hedges, and chalking the folds of the hills.

At last we make up our minds and return to our cars for the interesting drive up Winnats Pass (why do cars on the way down think they have the right to drive in the middle of the road?) then turning right, left and right again until we climb up and over the pass between Mam Tor and Rushup Edge before winding carefully down the steep road to Edale. The view that opens out as you crest the ridge and start the descent is nothing short of amazing. Pity we can't take photos whilst driving.

When we reach the valley bottom at Barber Booth we take the tiny road at the side of the River Noe, hope we don't meet any cars coming the other way, then park up in the small deserted car park. All we need to do now is kit up and get walking.

Yes, it is bitterly cold, there is the promise of rain and there's more snow on the hills in this valley, but we set off up the tarmac road with an air of expectation. We're familiar with short sections of today's walk, but not with the whole of it, and we do like going somewhere new.

The road takes us as far as Upper Booth where we take the right hand path through the cluster of buildings around a yard, following the line of the Pennine Way. A flamboyant cockerel struts around almost begging to be photographed.

We round a corner where some sheep are penned then hit the well-worn Pennine Way track. In places the track is muddy and flooded with run-off from the hills - so much for us picking a dry route - but it isn't too bad. Mollie paddles through the extensive puddles without a care for her dirty paws or soggy undercarriage.

The wet patches don't last long, and we're soon reasonably dry shod again as the path climbs fairly gently. There are plenty of sheep grazing in these low-level fields, which means that Mollie can't be let off the lead for a run, but that doesn't stop her running as far as the lead will allow.

We crest a small grassy mound beneath the bulk of Broadlee-Bank Tor and are immediately assaulted by a fierce wind that almost blows us backwards. It must channel up the valley and gain enough momentum to really hammer this slightly exposed spot. We manage to take a few photographs, the sunlight is playing hide and seek in between the clouds and it is illuminating the landscape in snatches, bringing out contrasts in colour and form.

Pressing on we dip slightly and lose a little of the wind, and when we come to a stand of trees with conveniently contorted branches that will serve as a bench, we stop for a nip from the secret flask. It's a struggle to open the lid but eventually we succeed and have a couple of warming drinks of Ramblers Restorative. This is the last of the batch but never fear, I have more maturing in the kitchen at home so we won't be deprived of it for long.

Feeling warmed and mellow we continue and soon come to where the Park Authority have deemed it necessary to put large stone flags on the path. It's probably a good idea, this part of the route must carry a lot of foot traffic being so close to Edale, but it does feel out of character. But that is the price so many routes have to pay now that walking is such a popular recreational pursuit.

We gently drop down towards Grindsbrook Booth and come to a decision. It is almost lunch time and we want to eat out of the way. There are walkers coming down the path off Grindslow Knoll and we decide that 'up there' will be a good spot to stop before heading back towards Barber Booth.

Mmm, we'd forgotten how deceptively steep this wide grassy path is and are reminded again why we have never walked up Grindslow Knoll this way. However, today we're only going as far as the Open Access boundary before turning left and following the wall until we find a fairly sheltered spot and a tussocky mound to sit on.

We settle down with our sandwiches (and Mollie with her biscuits) then enjoy a warming coffee. Heavy clouds are gathering but we ignore them as the buns are brought out. Danish pastries with custard and almonds. Very nice, and almost a healthy option! PC starts her bun after me, but finishes first. It is amazing how quickly she can demolish anything sweet and fattening - or maybe it's because I spend too much time talking.

After a second coffee we feel a few drops of rain so pull on our waterproof trousers before we set off again. Fortunately the rain doesn't last long, but the wind has renewed its efforts and is really making itself felt.

Our original intention had been to walk down to Edale village and partway along the road, but instead we've chosen to follow the access boundary (and narrow but distinct hillside path) to avoid traffic.

After a while we are beginning to question our choice. We have to cross a very muddy stream, which really is only a minor inconvenience, but soon we are on the steep hillside and feel as though we really ought to have one leg shorter than the other. The path is very narrow, meaning each footstep has to be directly in front of the last (models may do it on the catwalk with ease, but not on a steep hillside - and we aren't models), the wind is pushing us around and Mollie can't make up her mind whether to walk in front, pull to investigate sheep or stop and refuse to move.

Eventually, though, the path begins to drop and we make our way down to a gate in the wall which takes us back towards the Pennine Way. Soon we're back on our outward path, but returning towards Upper Booth.

When we get there the cockerel is there to greet us, along with a small harem of hens, and as before he seems very pleased with himself.

It's an easy walk along the road and back to the cars, although the tiny car park is just about full. As soon as we've managed to remove our gear and get in the car the heavens open. Our timing was perfect, for a change.

BEYOND HOPE LIES DESPAIR - AND AN OLD ROMAN FORT

Or at least a fair amount of mud ... a round walk from Hope to Brough and Bradwell

Pastures new for us this week with only a vague plan of our exact route. The title of the post is courtesy of PC's husband, and when we hit the muddy patches we couldn't do any more than agree with him.

It isn't a particularly inspiring day; overcast in places, foggy in others, and cold. We're without dog again - Mollie nowhere to be found when PC went to collect her (she must have been hiding since she was in her basket when PC checked on her return journey!) so we know we don't have to worry too much about traffic, which Mollie hates.

We meet in Hope and as soon as we're booted up we head to the toilets, only to find them closed. And on a cold day too...

We amble past the church then walk down the narrow lane at the side before coming to the bridge over a wide stream (Peakshole Water?) and pause to admire the admittedly small Pinfold on the opposite side of the road. Then we're off up the road and taking the first turn on the left.

It's uphill at this point but once we've passed a huge, steaming pile of manure (yes, really) we turn left again and climb over a stile into an only-slightly muddy field with excellent views back 

towards Hope and up towards Lose Hill and Win Hill. The large grassy field is full of sheep, and I'm only grateful that they aren't cattle, or we'd be looking for another way around.

Marked on the OS map is an old cross (remains of) and we wonder if we have found it when we come up against a single post standing in the ground. PC takes a photo for our records then we're on our way again.

The indistinct path takes us slightly uphill and through a gateway, which is a little muddier than the last one. Soon we crest the small rise and can look along a broad sweeping field with sparse woodland on our right and the River Noe away to our left. We keep close to the tree line as the path is invisible here, and soon we are rewarded with the sight of a wooden bridge.

The colours of the leaves, deep buttery yellow, stand out against the dark background of the enclosed bridge. The bridge, however, is not the easiest to cross since it doesn't have a stile, just some rails to clamber over. The stream which it spans appears to be lined with stone, so once over the other side I decide to consult the map. That is, after I have ploughed through the mud! In the field on this side of the stream are horses. Nothing wrong with that, but they do have a tendency to churn up the ground and they have made a spectacular job of it here.

Once I'm through the mud I wait for PC and peruse the map, coming to the conclusion that we have, in fact, found the roman fort of Navio. All that remains now is a raised square platform with some broken stones in the centre - and although they don't look too impressive these mark the entrance to the roman underground strong room. There is quite a bit of information on the web for Navio, and some good ariel photos, but for some background information that isn't too heavy try looking at:  www.peakdistrictonline.co.uk/navio-rom

After spending a little time wandering around the old fort, and fending off the curious horses who are determined to act as our guides, we continue south into the village of Brough. Here we turn left on the road, over the swift running Bradwell Brook, then cross the road and take the lane opposite.

Here we head uphill, and it really is uphill, all the way!

Part way up the hill the road turns at a right angle, and continues to climb. We push on, enjoying the opening views, though we aren't so thrilled about the sight of the cement works. It is cathedral-like in stature, and dominates everything. But so ugly.

There are some walkers ahead of us, and we deliberately keep our pace slow so that we don't catch up with them. For if we did, and then overtook them, we'd be forced to push our pace, and we don't want to do that! As we follow in their (slow) footsteps we discover that they have dropped a piece of paper. Picking it up we see that it is a walk description from The Sheffield Star newspaper. Well, there's no way we're sprinting after them to return the paper but we tuck it into our map holder just in case we catch up with them at some point.

It's a long haul up the steep hill but the views are good, if not particularly photogenic. It is probably an old pack horse road, and is called Brough Lane on the map.

Sure enough, as the track levels off a little we see the three walkers ahead pausing at a stile. It's the route they should be taking (if they are following the Star walk) but after a discussion they ignore the path and carry on. We're determined not to rush to catch up. We know the path we want, and it's the next one along.

By the time we reach 'our' path the three men are dithering at the stile. As we approach (there's a limit to how slow we can walk) one of them says that he hopes we aren't following them as they're lost (bloody cheek!) At that we produce their scrap of paper - to their great delight - and we explain to them where they are and where they need to go. Needless to say they don't have a map with them, assuming that the vague newspaper route is sufficient. Hmmmm.

We point them in the right direction and let them go on ahead as we saunter behind and look for a place to stop for lunch. At last we squeeze through a gate and find a lovely spot with our backs to a drystone wall and a view over the village of Bradwell and the surrounding countryside. Even the sun has started to shine for us.

We start off with a nip from the secret flask. The sun may be shining but it isn't exactly warm. Then it's coffee before the sandwiches. We eat the sandwiches quickly, mainly because we're keen to get to the buns which are, hopefully, better than last week's.

Sticky Nutty Cheesecake Wedges. There's a first time for everything and although these don't look too impressive they do taste very good. A gooey caramel topping and a very tasty nutty and caramel cheesecake filling. We proclaim them to be excellent, and decide to finish off with another coffee. At this point, PC's husband comes in for a fair amount of stick since there isn't enough coffee in the flask for another cup, and he's the one who so generously made it this week - for the first and last time! So we are forced to have another nip from the other secret flask to compensate for the lack of coffee.

By now it's time to move on so we haul ourselves upright and set off down the hill. The path is very distinct, though narrow, and most unpleasant. It is extremely muddy with a high potential for slips and slides. We manage to stay upright but at times it's a close run thing. It seems a very long way to walk when you're having to watch every step, and avoiding some of the worst sections isn't easy. Finally, with very muddy boots, we make it to the tarmac road at the bottom of the hill.

We've never been to Bradwell before and as we walk through the village we are surprised at how lovely it is. Narrow streets, attractive cottages, and quiet. And you can't actually see the cement works.

We meander down to the main road, pause at the bridge crossing over the Bradwell Brook, and admire the curious street names. It really is a lovely village.

We have to follow the main road for a while before crossing over and turning left onto a narrow road. This will take us all the way back to Hope. It passes between some old quarry lakes, and we read a sign on a fence post about a boy who fell into one of the lakes and drowned as emergency services were unable to reach him. Tragic.

There is quite a bit of traffic on the road, probably because it provides a perfect short cut between the two villages but there is enough room to walk too. It doesn't take us long to arrive back at the large manure heap - a steaming beacon to mark our way - then drop down to the main road into the village.

It's only a short walk now past the church and to our cars. We're muddy, but we've been worse, and we're pleased to have done the walk although we wouldn't really call it one of our favourites. PC is keen to set off to check if Mollie is OK (she is, and seemingly very sheepish for a collie!) but we have time to plan our walk for next week. Since it will be PC's birthday week she has chosen one of her favourites, Win Hill, so we're keeping our fingers crossed for good weather since the last time we were there it was pretty grim! Hopefully we'll avoid the snow and the sun will shine on us.

ABANDON ALL HOPE

FROM HOPE TO WIN HILL IN HIGH WINDS, SLEET AND RAIN

First of all I must point out that this week's walk was all PC's idea, and she must take full responsibility for it. Even her suggestion when we meet, before 10am, that 'we go to the pub for the day' does not absolve her in any way.

We've had a week off and our last walk, which was windy but mild, had lulled us into a false sense of well-being. Since then we've had snow, rain and gales so on the drive to Hope we aren't surprised to see the peaks liberally covered with the white stuff. And the forecast isn't promising: gales in Scotland, possibly filtering down to us later. Hence PC's suggestion that we sit out the day in the pub. Tempting, but she isn't getting off that easily. So we layer up, consult the map and set off.

At the moment there isn't any rain and although it is cold there's barely a breeze, so we're feeling fairly confident. We walk up Edale Road and turn right onto the small road leading to the cemetery. We cross the bridge spanning the River Noe which is flowing fairly fast, ignore the path running alongside it and take the next right hand path which takes us past the cemetery.

The path goes through a gate then underneath the railway line. From here the wide path takes us gently uphill and past a neatly kept patch of land that looks like a small site for caravans. Sure enough, when we arrive at the top of the path and pass Fairfield Farm we see the sign at the end of the driveway that indicates a Caravan Club CL site (5 caravans only). That's one worth remembering.

At the end of the drive we turn left onto the narrow road leading towards Aston and it's a little more noticeably uphill. By the time we take the left hand turn (signposted Hope Cross) PC is removing a layer. We wonder if this part of the old roman road, but careful study of the map makes it seem unlikely as the road appears to be lower down.

We press on uphill and start to see the wonderful views over towards Mam Tor and Lose Hill with their snow covered tops. We're so glad we aren't up there this week!

At the top of the tarmac lane we turn left onto the rough track which leads up - eventually - to Hope Cross. A fat squirrel crosses our path and scurries away as a ginger cat eyes us suspiciously. Do they know something we don't?

The first section of this path is very stony, and wet. It's a sign that there's been a lot of rain lately as there are rivulets of water running downhill, but it's easy enough to avoid the streams and we continue dry-shod. There are trees to our left, sheltering us from the view of the cement works (thank goodness) but every now and then there is a break which gives us ever-improving views towards the snowy peaks of the Great Ridge.

An abandoned, ruined farm building hunches at the side of the path, then we go through a gate and onto a path which cuts across a rough field. It is slippery, slick and muddy and although the uphill gradient is minor it takes effort not to slide around too much. At this point we are unaware that worse is yet to come!

Above Twitchill Farm and at a crossroads of paths, not very distinct but there is a signpost, we pause to admire the views - and the gathering clouds. PC snaps away with her phone (did I mention that she forgot the camera?) and we agree that it is wonderful to be out enjoying such glorious scenery. After a brief debate we decide to continue straight on rather than climbing steeply uphill towards Win Hill, as we want to enjoy the vista opening up in front of us.

Apart from the slippery ground the walking isn't hard and we find it easy to avoid the numerous puddles on the path. We pass through another gate and we're finally onto open moor. It's a little bit breezy here, but nothing to worry about. It's a steady but easy climb and we've made the right decision as we can now see beyond the Great Ridge to the Kinder Plateau which looks spectacular with drifts of snow emphasising the contours of the land.

We feel a couple of spots of rain so PC decides to put her coat back on, and when I see the rapidly looming grey clouds I follow suit by dragging on my waterproof trousers. Just in time too. Almost as soon as we're dressed we're hit by rain, sleet and hail. And wind. Where did that come from all of a sudden?

We press on uphill expecting the wind to ease, but it doesn't. Nor does the rain and sleet. The higher we go the harder it is to keep our footing as we're constantly being pushed sideways into the hill. For once talking has ceased as we keep our heads bowed and plough on.

As we hit the top of the path we're struggling to stay upright. The wind is so fierce that we are seriously beginning to doubt our sanity (not for the first time) but there's no turning back. The Kinder Plateau is completely obscured by ominously thick clouds and it's impossible to look in the direction of Mam Tor because that is where the driving sleet is coming from, so it doesn't look as though we're in for a respite.

Turning towards Win Hill we set off again; one step forwards, two steps sideways. Enormous puddles cover the width of the broad path and rivers link one puddle to the next. We manage to avoid them, but we have to use sign language to communicate as we can't make ourselves heard over the wind. We've reached the snow line too, with slush on the puddle-free sections of track and white fluffy sheets on the heather.

After a while we realise that the sleet has stopped and bracing ourselves against the wind (which hasn't stopped) we turn around 360 degrees to admire the view. PC spies Ladybower reservoir looking full for a change, and across the valley Crook Hill looks stark and uninviting. To the north-west we can see the roman road heading to Hope Cross. Strangely enough, there are no other walkers on this popular path. I wonder why not?

There's a long wall crossing the path with the option of a stile or gate. Naturally we choose the gate, and at the far side we fall gratefully into the shelter of another wall which runs at the side of the path. At last we're able to stand upright without effort, though our leg muscles are aching with the unaccustomed requirement to fight for balance whilst walking forward. As we rest we reward ourselves; cointreau from PC's secret flask (it's easier to get to than mine). A couple of hefty nips soon makes everything seem warmer and rosier.

Walking is a lot easier now with the benefit of the wall on the windward side, and the cointreau on the inside. However, as soon as we lose the wall we're completely exposed again and the full force of the gale makes itself felt. Win Hill doesn't look terribly promising so we prudently decide not to go right over top but keep to the path which skirts around the southern side. Before we reach it, though, we see two other walkers coming up from the south and heading right for the summit. They manage it so far, then turn and hunker down on the leeward side against the wind.

As we approach the slope of Win Hill it becomes increasingly difficult to stay upright. Every footstep has to be carefully judged but every pause is punished by the hammering gale. Its a case of heads down, watch your feet and don't look back. Just below the trig point I manage to sit on a boulder to wait for PC to catch up. When she reaches me she sits on another boulder a little higher up. After a brief break we have to fight to stand up and regain our balance before setting off again. Tempted to look back at the view I'm almost knocked off my feet, so I carry on, but PC is more successful and manages to take some photos. She's not sure she's been able to keep still enough, though, since the wind was rocking her so much.

It's downhill now, but quite worrying as the steeply sloping steps are covered in snow, slush and running water. I make it to the bottom first and wait for PC to catch up (she's been taking pictures), then we continue down towards Winhill Plantation. All of a sudden the wind stops. Completely. Under no illusions we know that we have dropped down sufficiently to be protected by the lay of the land, but it is very strange to suddenly be able to hear, talk and stand upright without effort.

We pause to consider our options. Namely, we're hungry and need somewhere to sit for lunch. Fortunately, just in the edge of the plantation are a couple of fallen trees, so we cross the snow and heather towards them. It's a perfect spot; sheltered with seating provided.

Sandwiches are dispatched with alarming speed, followed by a warming cup of coffee. PC suggested leaving the buns until later, but we're too hungry, so out they come. These are a first. Pear tarts - buttercrust pastry with half a pear and a frangipani sponge. They taste wonderful and are extremely satisfying.

As we finish off our buns, and our second coffee, a bedraggled group trudge up the path towards Win Hill. Most of them seem to be well equipped but a couple are without rucksacks or waterproofs. They'll be in for a serious shock when they climb out of this sheltered buffer zone.

Even though we're out of the wind here it is getting chilly, so we don't need much encouragement to pack up and move on. We return to the path through the snow and continue downhill where, instead of going through the gate and down Parkin Clough, we turn right across the moor.

No sooner are we out of the cover of trees the rain starts again, and looking at the grey expanse of cloud it seems that it will be set in for a long time. There's more wind here too, so we're treated to the double-whammy of stinging rain being blown into our faces. Lovely - not. We risk looking back towards Ladybower, but there's too much rain to see clearly and all we can make out are a few murky shapes.

Heads down we walk on. The path is grassy and level, but soggy and very exposed. Parts are flooded and we have to detour through the heather. Soon we come to a signpost where we have to turn right and cross through a broken section of drystone wall as we take the path signposted 'Aston'. The first part is narrow but it widens as it goes sharply downhill between high banks.

As we reach the bottom and prepare to climb over the stile in the wall (very long legs required) the weather takes a sudden and dramatic turn for the worse. Snow and sleet on a driving gale hits us squarely and forcefully. Visibility diminishes to a few feet and all we can do is turn our backs to it like a couple of miserable pack-horses and hope it will pass.

The wind dies a little and the sleet eases so we make the effort to cross the (high) stile. I get over, but as PC climbs over her phone rings and, distracted, she bangs her shin. Turns out her husband is worried about the weather conditions. We're not worried, we're actually past caring. The back of my neck is damp and one boot is starting to squelch. PC thinks her boots are OK but she's looking very soggy.

Half way across the next field is a cistern to collect water, and it is overflowing to such an extent that a wide river is running downhill from it. It follows - naturally - the exact line of the footpath. And it runs - obviously - right underneath the stile we have to cross. Then it continues - of course - all the way through the next fields exactly where we need to walk.

By the time we have to paddle (yes, paddle) to the last stile into Aston we are at the point where we can't actually get any wetter. It's still raining, we are well and truly soaked, and we are beyond caring. At least we're out of the wind!

As we squelch soggily through Aston we aren't surprised that there's no one about. There's a minor flood across the road (yes, we paddle through it) and a waterfall pouring down a bank from a field drain. The road winds around (and up and down much to PC's disgust) until we're back at the drive to Fairfield Farm. It's just a case of retracing our steps - somewhat wetter than on the way out - and as we eventually cross over the River Noe we notice how much fiercer the water is flowing. PC remarks that it could turn into flood conditions like in 2007 - I hope she's wrong.

By the time we reach the cars the cold and the wet has actually got through to us. I can't feel my fingers and struggle to get my car keys out of my pocket. PC heads for the loos to get changed. We both agree that we are totally mad - but in a good way (naturally).

Next week will be our last walk before the festive season, and we're keeping fingers crossed that the weather isn't quite as bad as it has been today. We've been out before in high winds (stanage edge) and torrential rain (ladybower) but we don't think we've ever had the combination we've encountered today. But it hasn't stopped us, and we've actually enjoyed it. Perhaps we're certifiable after all.