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.

LADYBOWER TO THORNHILL AND BACK - WITH THE ASTON DETOUR!

This is to be a bit of a landmark walk, not because of where we're heading, but because it's the first time since the op that PC will be driving both ways. We've planned to meet up at the side of the road near the Yorkshire Bridge Inn but end up meeting at the nearby loos. As PC says, "Great bladders think alike!"

After our brief rest-stop, which includes pausing to watch the antics of the squirrels and birds on the feeding stations in the car park, we move to park up in the lay-by on the A6013.

Although we've had rain recently it's dry today, though murky and bitterly cold. The temp gauge in the car reads a measly half a degree - and we can well believe it, so we layer up against the chill.

We've a low level walk planned so as not to put too much strain on the bionic hip, so we head up to the dam then take the footpath that cuts sharply downhill towards a sparse woodland which leads us to the Yorkshire Bridge over the River Derwent. It's easy to forget how close we are to millions of gallons of water (6.1 x 1 000 000 000 gallons apparently).

We cross the small road, pausing briefly to admire the river, then take the footpath heading gently uphill. It's obviously well-used and churned up after the recent wet weather. It crosses the old railway line (built to facilitate the building of the Ladybower Dam) which is now a path and will be our return route, and continues uphill.

It's a steady climb which soon warms us up - but PC is finding it hard (which she doesn't admit to until much l Edge ater on) and we keep stopping to admire the views across the valley

towards Bamford.We cross open ground, a broken down wall, a stream and mud before entering some woods. Here a flock of oblivious sheep approach us, pause photogenically for a moment, then panic when their leader suddenly realises that we're real live people. I didn't think we were that scary.

Pretty soon we hit a crossroads of paths - although it is hard to tell - and decided that, since we're doing so well that we'll head straight on across the fields.

In the first field we encounter more sheep, but these are more intelligent than the last lot as they get out of the way sharpish and we're left admiring the views and the sun on Offerton Moor and Shatton Moor whilst trying to avoid the hideous cement works. For once we're grateful for the hazy mist.

The next few fields provide a series of challenges with each one having a cunningly devised stile to test the resilience, leg length and girth of any walker. But we have ways of surmounting such obstacles despite not being Size 0 nor having legs up to our armpits and we soon reach the lane which runs between Thornhill and Aston.

Here we make a fundamental error. We turn right instead of left. I take full responsibility for the mistake, and can only put it down to giddiness or lack of oxygen to the brain (I'd already mistaken a fence for a gate). So, rather than heading along the road towards Thornhill we actually walk towards Aston instead.

It's a pleasant enough walk between the high roadside banks and oblivious to our error (despite consulting the map frequently!) we pass through the pretty hamlet of Aston and take a seat at the roadside to enjoy a drink from the secret flask (Ramblers Restorative today - perhaps I should have had some before we set out) and a cup of coffee.

Suitably refreshed we press on and when we see the railway line ahead and the sounds of the main road I start to have some doubts. Pausing on the bridge over the railway I consult the map and realisation dawns. After a few choice curses we decide it will be easier to continue to the main road, follow it to the Thornhill turning then climb up to our intended destination. PC is adamant that she's feeling fine so off we go with a brief pause for PC to photograph some snowdrops.

The main road is busy and noisy, and we have to cross it frequently as the footpath dodges from side to side, but we make good time and are soon on the road up to Thornhill. It's deceptively steep but we push on and arrive at the very attractive hamlet - only having added 2 miles to our total!

Now we're back on track and we pass a house on our left with a glorious display of snowdrops - singles and doubles - completely carpeting the ground beneath some trees. The look absolutely beautiful and must have been there years to have covered so much space.

A short distance further we cut across a steeply sloping field to reach the dismantled railway line where there is a conveniently place bench. We sit down gratefully. The sun is shining and our stomachs are rumbling. Time for lunch while enjoying the views through the trees. With sandwiches and coffee out of the way we fall on the buns with relish; wonderful fresh cream eclairs loaded with calories. Essential eating!

It's easy walking now, the old railway line causing no problems. We follow it to where it ends at the dam wall, and cross over it and back to the cars. We've walked further than we intended but PC has done well and we're really encouraged as we plan something a little more adventurous for next week.

AROUND DAMFLASK RESERVOIR

It's going to be a simple, easy walk today. Time and transport issues mean we aren't able to stray into the Peaks so we've decided to take a turn around the Damflask Reservoir instead. As an added incentive we're stopping off at the pub in Bradfield.

The weather is particularly grim and murky. It isn't quite raining, but it's certainly under consideration.

Damflask is easily accessible on the W outskirts of Sheffield. It was completed in 1896 and covers the site of the village of Damflask which was washed away in the Sheffield Flood of 1864. Now it is home to sailing and rowing clubs, anglers and walkers.

We park on the road which runs across the dam wall and tog up against the biting cold. A short walk along the pavement takes us to the footpath which runs along the southern edge of the reservoir. It's easy walking, but a little muddy in places after the recent heavy rain.

On a few of the trees nearest to the road there are some bird feeders, and we watch a while as blue tits, great tits and nuthatches visit in a constant stream of airborne traffic.

There are a lot of people out this morning, despite the weather, but it's to be expected in such a popular, easily accessible location. Joggers (one with a pram), birdwatchers, couples, groups and dog walkers pass us in both directions.

We spot an interesting exotic-looking duck on the water and decide to capture a shot of it. Without success. As we close in on it the camera-shy fowl swims away thwarting our efforts. David Attenborough clearly need not worry about competition from us.

There are more people looming up behind us now so we decide to sit down on one of the conveniently placed benches and enjoy a drink from the secret flask until they pass. It warms us up wonderfully. Then we have a coffee too since we have time to spare. It's a pity there isn't much of a view though.

Suitably replenished we set off again, and soon find a couple of photographic Canada geese who are more than happy to pose for us. We continue walking and before we know it we've reached the end of the reservoir and Low Bradfield. It's only 11.15 am, far too early to go to the pub. After a brief debate we decide to walk back to the car along the opposite side of the reservoir then drive to the pub for a late lunch.

For a short distance we're on the road, but only one car passes us before we're on the path again. This must be the dog walking side as we see more of them here. The path is more undulating on this side too which must make it harder for joggers with prams. It's a pity visibility is still so poor as the views towards the Ughill Moors would have been worth seeing.

Then we spot the exotic duck again. It has paddled all the way to this side of the reservoir to avoid us, but PC whips out the camera before the startled duck can hide behind a shrub and manages to capture it and its white-feathered partner for posterity.

Next we're at the ranks of sailing boats, and the chance for another photo opportunity before we walk up to the road at Low Holdworth. We pause to admire the first house with a lovely stream channelled through its garden and snowdrops blooming on the grass verge.

It's only a short walk back to the car on a pavement muddy with decomposing leaves.

Then it's off to the pub for lunch, and it is only just past noon. We can't believe how quickly we've done the circuit of approx 3.5 miles. Our next walk will have to be a little more ambitious.

STANTON MOOR AND NINE LADIES STONE CIRCLE

We'd never tried to get to Stanton Moor before mainly because it's a long way for PC to travel and with her in-built sense of mis-direction it would be unlikely that she'd ever arrive. Also, we've always known that we'd not be able to do a long walk here because of time constraints, so given that I'd be doing the driving and PC still wasn't ready for any very long hikes we decided to take today as the perfect opportunity.

The first stumbling block is PC's unnerving ability to confuse left with right, an interesting quirk when she's the navigator for the day and decides on a route through the centre of Sheffield. Despite mounting stress and blood pressure levels we survive the city and continue along a route that I'm familiar with; Baslow, Chatsworth, Beeley, Rowsley then turn right. From here PC has to navigate again - panic ensues. It's a good job I'd checked the map before we set out and had tried to memorise the route. After losing the road completely then turning the map upside down we crossed over the swollen and fast flowing River Lathkill and turned up to the village of Stanton in Peak. Phew. Now I know why she always leaves the map reading to me.

We pass the long, high wall of Stanton Hall and enter the village's steep, narrow, winding road. A local bus coming downhill towards us makes us breathe in and whilst PC is enjoying the view of the quaint cottages I'm negotiating the parked cars hoping we're going in the right direction as she's abandoned all pretence of navigating.

Luckily the road opens out onto Birchover Road and we're heading for Stanton Moor. I knew the footpath we need and as luck would have it we managed to park right next to it where there is only room for one car. There is a lack of parking space up here although some of the verges have clearly been used so much that there is room for a few cars to park, particularly in the week.

It's drizzling with rain - our fair weather fairy has clearly deserted us - so we drag on our waterproofs and set off up onto the moor. The moor is fenced now so we go through the gate and along the well used path towards the prominent Cork Stone, a large natural gritstone monolith standing proudly against the elements. There are foot and handholds worn into the side and iron rungs for climbers. There must be a good view from the top, but not today with the murky, misty drizzle.

Stanton Moor is gritstone on top of limestone and an area of national archaeological importance. Not only is the well known Nine Ladies stone circle here, but there are at least 70 other cairns, circles and burial mounds, most now hidden beneath swathes of heather.

It is also an area with much evidence of past and more recent quarrying. Relatively recently a long-standing battle was won to prevent the re-opening of some quarries and a peaceful protesters' camp of 9 years (I think) eventually moved away.

There's a disused quarry next to the Cork Stone and we pass it as we head roughly north. There is a trig point over to our right, but we know that we won't get a particularly good view from there so we don't even attempt to push through the heather to get to it even though the rain has almost stopped.

Next to the path is a twisted, stooped tree sculpted by the prevailing wind. It looks ancient, as though it has witnessed life up here for centuries and its knowledge has weighted down its branches, but it probably isn't actually very old.

At the next disused quarry we pause to look at a young silver birch with raindrops clinging to its leafless branches like purple twigs festooned with diamonds. It's quite magical.

Ahead are silver birch woods, quite sparse but very elegant in their winter state. They set us remembering another birch wood - one that doesn't exist. One we both saw and can both still picture with absolute clarity. A very eerie incident. We realise that we have to write about it, so with a bit of luck it will be one of our next blogs. Watch this space.

We wander through the trees towards the stone circle. So far we've only seen three people, all walkers, but at weekends it is probably heaving, so we really appreciate the tranquility.

Then we reach the King Stone, the outpost of the stone circle, and walk down to the Nine Ladies. The last time I was here there was a fence around the monument and people camping (probably the protesters although I didn't know that at the time) but now the fence has gone and it is a haven of peace. I wander around the stones as PC is drawn to the old oak, or Wishing Tree. There are all kinds of things hung from it; an old glove, ribbon, decorations.

We find somewhere to sit - not next to the charred remains of a fire - and fetch out the secret flask to make a toast. We enjoy sitting and contemplating the stones as we eat lunch undisturbed. The nine ladies are actually ten, one stone is 'fallen', and you can just make out a small mound or embankment too. There are lots of legends and myths about the site, but whatever the truth is, it was once a very important place and should still be respected.

Our peace is shattered when an enormous dog bounds up to greet us completely ignoring its owner. We don't really mind, but on its departure PC is left quite muddied. Tranquility descends again and out comes this week's buns. We plan to take a photo, but our eagerness to eat them takes over and the photo is forgotten.

Strawberry Tarts; sweet pastry, creme anglaise, fresh cream and strawberries. They smell of summer and taste divine. Wonderful.

It's time to move off, and we decide to investigate the tower of the east of the moor. It rises up quite prominently although hidden at first by the trees, and PC remarks that it's like Rapunzel's tower. It is actually to commemorate the Parliamentary Reform Bill of 1832 - nowhere near as romantic as the fairy tale. And it looks in need of some maintenance

We're on the path back now, and we can see down the Darley Dale valley towards Matlock and Riber Castle in the distance. Lots of the fields in the valley are flooded, and we also have a bird's eye view of the ugly sprawling works between Darley Bridge and Warrencarr.

We detour a little to find that we're on a 'Drive' where the local gentry use to have themselves and their guests driven in their coaches to enjoy their estates. Thank goodness times have changed.

We climb uphill past an enormous clump of rhododendron bushes - an ideal spot for childhood hide and seek and the perfect spot for an ambush, but they are a very invasive non-native. A group of men pass us going in the opposite direction, PC thinks we've seen them before on one of our other walks, but I can't remember. I must have been reading the map at the time!

Soon we're back at the Cork Stone and it's only a gentle stroll back down to the car. All we have to do now is find our way back to PC's house but that, as they say, is another tale.

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?

LADYBOWER, DERWENT TO HOWDEN

or WOT, NO CAMERA?

It's a seriously cold and frosty start this morning, especially at PC's house, but we drive carefully to our usual parking place at the side of Ladybower determined to make the most of the day. Cold it may be, but it is also perfect walking weather.

Suitably togged up we set off down the road towards Fairholmes (and the loo) but we pause briefly to admire the view and take some photographs of the frost and the thin sheen of ice floating on parts of the water. Except that PC has forgotten the camera! She tries to blame me (apparently I should have reminded her - as if. I have enough trouble trying to remember me) but I'm having none of it. Instead I produce my new phone with a flourish. It has a camera on it, not a good one, but better than PC's absent one! I wrestle with the technology and manage to take the photos. Next stop, the loo.

We watch the antics of the birds on the feeders for a while before walking down the bath towards the Derwent Dam. Last week we could hear the water thundering over it, today it is silent. The large stretch of grass in front of it is white with frost but rather than cross it to reach the steps which climb up the side of the dam we detour along the road and take the sloping path instead. Soon we're at the top of the dam wall and on the wide path that marks the beginning of our walk proper.

The light is beautiful, the sky impossibly blue and the water looks serene. It is a picture of tranquility. As we walk we discuss all manner of intellectual subjects: politics, physics, astronomy, the meaning of life, marmalade, orange gin.

We spot a house across the water hidden behind trees. It's the first time we have noticed it, but being mapless (much to PC's shock) we can't name it. We'll have to look when we get back to the car, if we remember. (I checked, it's called Birchinlee.) We also see a tree growing in the water. It's probably a sign of how high the water level has risen as we can't imagine it being able to survive for long being permanently semi-submerged.

We're walking in shade, this is the sunless side of the reservoir, and the bitter chill is becoming more pronounced. PC is getting ready for a sit down so we head for a bench where the path turns and brings us into sunlight. Our trusty sitter-onners stop our bums getting wet from the frosty bench and we open up the official flask (coffee) and secret flask (Ramblers Restorative). The combined effects of both drinks warm us up considerably.

The sun is very bright here and we can feel its warming rays even from 93,000,000 miles away (we're back onto physics again).

With our drinks finished we get up to go, only to have our pre-warmed bench immediately commandeered by another couple moving in with unseemly haste. Talk about fast movers!

We continue towards Howden Dam and even from a distance we can see the tell-tale sheen of white that indicates water pouring over it. Here, though, the water is perfectly calm and fragile swathes of softly rumpled ice break up the surface in random patterns. Very pretty, but lethally cold.

It isn't long before we're walking in shade again but we decide to press on to find more sun and also see the dam at close quarters. We cross a small stone bridge then make our way up a slight incline. It isn't very sunny here, and although we reach the top of the dam the fall of water is obscured by trees. We back track a little way to sit on a wall which is comfortable enough for lunch; sandwiches, coffee and fresh cream slices. They're hard to eat with the cream squelching out at every bite, but we are undeterred, and our persistence is rewarded. They were worth the effort.

Afterwards I run (yes, run) down the footpath to the base of the dam where I'm able to take a photo of the water cascade. Then I run (considerably slower and with lots of breathers) back.

Now all we have to do is retrace our steps. There are considerably more people out now, a lot of them on bikes at this far point of the reservoir circuit.

It isn't late and the sun is still bright but it is beginning to feel much colder as though the afternoon has robbed the sun of some its warmth. We pause on 'our' bench for a brief rest, but all the coffee is gone so we don't stop for long. There's another bench close to the top of the dam and we pause again for a few minutes.

From here it's a steady walk back to the car, and as we're in shade the chill is back in force. No doubt the icy fingers on the reservoirs will be extending their reach tonight.

We've done well, two good weeks with good walks and good weather. We're going to keep our fingers crossed that it lasts.

Ladybower Meets Bionic Woman

This is it. Our first outing of 2011 and PCs first outing with her new hip. From now on she should be named BW (Bionic Woman) but perhaps she needs more body parts replacing for that, so we'll keep her as she is

Giddy with excitement we clamber into my car at PCs house and set off for Ladybower; me driving and relying on her navigational skills. Hmm.

An interesting drive which seems to take in all the back roads of Sheffield eventually leads us down to the reservoir complex, and we soon turn off the A57 onto the familiar road beside Ladybower and Derwent. At this point PC remembers to stop navigating.

We park in the familiar spot next to the cattle grid, quickly boot up, PC dons her new, posh coat (mine is my old, grubby one) and we are soon walking. For the time of year we're doing very well with the weather, considering how much snow and ice we've had so far this winter. Today it is positively mild and although the sun isn't shining the smattering of raindrops are only half-hearted and soon give up.

We've decided to keep the walk short(ish) and flat(ish) to give the new hip a gentle introduction to our outdoor pursuits. This path running along the side of Ladybower reservoir stays close to the water and undulates only gently. It also has the benefit of a number of benches for us to take a rest and enjoy the views.

It is so good to be out again. It seems ages since our last walk, but we are soon back into the old routine; plenty to talk about and lots to see. Up on the opposite hills, beneath Derwent Edge, there are still remnants of snow, and we even see some ice clinging to the edges of the reservoir.

We pause when we find a suitable bench and enjoy our first cup of coffee. Why does it always taste better out of a flask and in the open?

Suitably refreshed we press on but soon come to the steps leading down to the exposed pipes. PC says they will be no problem, and proves it to be so using her mantra of 'bad down to hell and good up to heaven'. (She means legs, by the way.) We pause on a bench where the trees open out affording a good view across the reservoir before setting off again.

A little way further and we stop to look back down the length of the reservoir just as the sun peeps out to illuminate the distant green hills. A superb photo opportunity, making it look more spring-like than wintry. After the photo PC decides that it's time to turn back, so we return the way we came, pleased at how far we've managed to come.

It's time for lunch (just) so we revisit our last stopping spot and fetch out the sandwiches and coffee. And being our walk we have to have bun too. Big, fat choux buns full of thick, fresh cream. Well, it is a long time since we were last out and the diet can start tomorrow.

The sun is trying to shine as we walk back, but it probably only manages an E for effort as it doesn't quite break through the clouds. Not that it bothers us much. Again we dip down past the huge water pipes and up the other side. There is a suitably positioned bench at the top of the slope and PC makes use of it for a breather.

We're on the last stretch now and we see more walkers out enjoying the respite from the cold. We pause to listen as PC thinks she's heard a helicopter, then we realise that it must be the sound of the water cascading over the dam.What a pity we can't see it.

There is just enough time for another photograph before we head up the gentle slope to the road and the car park.

It hasn't been far, and it hasn't been adventurous, but it has been brilliant to be out again. And as a first walk with the new hip 'the girl done good'. By summer, who knows what we'll be able to achieve