TO BAKEWELL AND BACK AGAIN

Very late in posting details of our last couple of walks. Too much has been going on, PC managed to get the photos up in good time but I have been remiss - so apologies.

As you can see from the photos it was a while ago, with the trees yet to burst into leaf and no sign of the sun.

We parked up in Bakewell Station car park which gives easy access onto the Monsal Trail. And for starters we had a quick sample of Moonshine (I know, I know - but this is a pre-birthday walk) then, suitably warmed, we head onto the trail.

Quite busy today, it is an easy stretch to reach, and a few dogs about, but Mollie is happy to be able to go off the lead for a while.

It's snowdrop time and there are many clumps and clusters along the sides of the old railway.

Once we pass Hassop Station where a lot of people park up to ride their bikes, and there's a nice cafe, we look for the uphill footpath on our left.

Through the gate and start climbing, and we leave everyone behind. This is a good path to circuit back towards Bakewell but it doesn't seem to be too popular.

It rises, then levels, then starts to go downhill (where we do see a group of walkers) but we find ourselves a sheltered spot (next to a sinkhole) for lunch.

A glass of fizz, sandwiches and fresh cream strawberry tarts. Perfect. 

And since this isn't a particularly rush day, or long day, or long walk, we linger and chatter rather than getting a move on.

But it is a bit chilly, so eventually we get going.

The path crosses a grassy field, goes through a copse and comes out almost opposite a smaller, less famous Bakewell Bridge. And the sun almost shines too.

But our route isn't over the bridge, rather along the side of the River Wye across the old flood plains, then up lane back to the station and our cars.

Mud Glorious Chatsworth Mud!

 Well, we certainly know how to pick them. We had an interesting 'new' walk planned but the dire weather had us doing a quick rethink so, after sitting out some of today's deluge in the car we headed for Chatsworth and the empty, sodden Calton Lees car park.

With a certain degree of reluctance we prepared ourselves for a modified walk where, we hoped, it wouldn't be too bad. Ah, if only we had known.

We stroled up the lane to Calton Lees and took the left hand road to a stile. Once over we realised that we hadn't intented to come this way (waterlogged brain is my excuse) but we decided it would be good to go this way as it will be a reverse walk for us.

The trees stood out very stark against the grey sky, but for now the rain had stopped, which was a bonus.

We could see the river a few fields away and how it had leeched out into the flood fields surrounding it creating large pools of cold grey water.

We were glad not to be crossing them - we would have needed to paddle!

It wasn't long before our slightly elevated path descended to river level, though, and by then we had reached the mud. Lots of it. Ooozy and sticky and slippery. And so much that it was impossible to avoid. This relatively short stretch of level ground took us rather longer to cross than we had thought possible.

Once the muddy path across the field was behind us we were a little better off, and when we came to the edge of the river we paused to look. I don't think either of us had seen it so high or so wide, the waters running far swifter than we were used to.

This path led us towards the village of Rowsley and for a brief period the sun came out. We turned sharpe right and started climbing uphill - at least we were on a pavement. The farm had a couple of young calves in a shelter next to the lane, and they appeared supremely unconcerned.

It didn't take long to leave the houses behind us as the lane wound upwards. We were heading for the shelter of some woods where we could eat lunch, but the woods had gone (though new saplings replanted) and the ominous gloom of rainclouds in the distance spurred us on to seek shelter.

We were lucky. Near the top of the incline, just after a left hand turn, we discovered a thick copse of conifers behind a broken fence. Gloomy and dark, but sheltered. A perfect spot.

We found an old large stump to sit on, relic of some woods before these, and enjoyed a peaceful lunch with coffee and creamy chocolate pots for pudding.

Only when we emerged, suitably replete, did we realise how fast it had been raining while we had been in shelter. No mind though, we were at the half way point and had to keep going.

The lane continued in a fairly straight line, then dipped and turned left, although the track on the right going uphill through woods was the one we wanted. And yes, it was slick with mud.

We managed the climb quite well though had to check the map a couple of times to make sure we didn't inadvertently end up following a path down to Bakewell.

As we arrived at the highest point of the woods the trees thinned, and the rain turned to lazy flakes of snow. There were pockets of snow on the ground, but the shelter the trees gave us made it feel warmer than it undoubtedly was.

We continued on the muddy path until it brought us out overlooking fields. We could see the Hunting Tower in the distance to our right. And very gloomy, snow covered hills to our left. Our path was straight on, and downhill, and - yes - muddy.

We made it to the bottom only to have to negotiate what appeared to be a large pond that had appeared at a gate above a fast flowing stream. But we were not to be deterred as we were on the home stretch now. 

We skirted around a stone wall then came to a gate that led us through  Calton Houses and down the track towards our start. The weather seemed to be clearing up.

That was, until we were a few hundred yards from the car park. It came down fast and hard, an absolute torrent of rain that meant we were completely soaked within a couple of minutes. We hurried as much as we could, though it clearly wasn't going to make any difference. All we could do was hurriedly make plans as we took off our bemuddied boots and clambered gratefully into the cars to head home to dry off.

WHITE EDGE AND CURBAR EDGE - AND A SOGGY SEASON END

Bit of a tough choice for this week. I'm waiting for a couple of important phone calls which means we need to walk where there is a half-decent signal (no way are we giving up a walk!), and it is also my 'birthday walk' so I don't want to walk anywhere too dull. Added to the mix is also that we are in the midst of the Easter break which means many more people out and about.

In the end we decide on a walk that we haven't done in a while, taking us onto Curbar Edge and White Edge - or the snake walk as we remember it since last time we were hereabouts we were startled by an adder! This time we will do it in reverse, and get the snakes out of the way.

At least it is sunny this morning, a bonus since the weather is so variable at this time of year and we have already had our fair share of rain, and we park in one of the small bays beneath Curbar Edge and away from the main Pay and Display car park which is already filling up with visitors.

We are soon sorted and cross the road before heading uphill. PC stops almost immediately to take the first photo of the day over the valley and towards Bakewell.

And we are only a few yards up the road when PC spots a carving

in one of the stones at the roadside. It looks like Hebrews
7 25, though it isn't that clear on the photo due to the moss and lichen, some of which we cleared away to see better. It is surprising that we have never spotted this before despite walking up and down here many times over the years.

 We continue up the road, wary of the cars on this narrow winding stretch, and manage to get onto the narrow verge path.  The car park is certainly getting busier now but most people are heading for Curbar Edge first, so we bypass them and go through the gate adjacent to the road to take us onto the access land.

Here it is relatively quiet as we follow the broad swathe of a path as it sweeps around the drystone wall and starts to go downhill. As we approach Sandyford Brook in the dip we are confronted by a quagmire. It is always a bit muddy here but the recent rains have made it particularly unpleasant. Nevertheless, we pick our way across the sludge and manage to avoid the worst of it. On the far side we ascend without slipping back down again, quite a feat.

At the top of the slope there is a sign at the corner of the drystone wall, but we know our way and turn left, walking up the eroded path to the top which is blissfully dry. We pause to enjoy the views westward.

A small group of people are a little way in front of us, they hadn't walked up the same way as us but appear to have come along the vague path linking this side of the road with the bridleway at Jack Flat, so we wait a while to let them get out of the way.

It is a bit unusual to see many people on this higher path, most stick to the Curbar Edge, but it appears that today we'll be seeing a lot of holidaymakers as well as local walkers.

We walk around the large boulders and see the trig point off to our right. We don't bother walking up to it, this part of the moor is soggy again, and there is another group of walkers wandering around is a slightly absent-minded fashion.

It is a straight, easy walk along here as the path gradually segues into White Edge. The boulders are rugged and very enticing, so we stop for a while for a cup of coffee and a chat, although we haven't actually stopped talking since we set off!

The flattened rock we sit on has lovely medallions of lichen growing on it.






Post coffee break and we are off again, continuing along White Edge. Sadly, by now, the sun has gone and a fair breeze has struck up. It hasn't stopped the walkers, though, who are out in droves. We have never, in years of walking around here, seen so many people on this usually ignored Edge.

It is surprising, too, how many of them don't bother to keep their dogs on a lead - and not many of those dogs are well trained (nor are their owners). Clearly the 'All Dogs on Leads' signs don't mean them! Mollie, however, is on her long lead and behaving beautifully.

We are debating how far we'll take the walk. We're tempted to continue to the end of the edge, then drop down to the road near the Grouse Inn, walk along the road then rejoin Curbar Edge at the Froggatt Edge end. The drawbacks, though, are Mollie's fear of heavy traffic and that we know the route down is very muddy at the best of times. And we are getting hungry.

We pause to take a photo of four trees perfectly silhouetted on the horizon, then find a huge rock outcrop to sit beneath. Not only does it shelter us from the path and the wind, it also provides shelter from the few spots of rain that want to ruin lunch.

PC has brought a celebratory (mini) bottle of fizz and proper glasses to drink it out of. A superb treat. As are the buns (the sandwiches, honestly, don't merit a mention). Wonderfully rich and moreish chocolate cheescakes. Mmmm. They taste so good that we don't even care how many calories they have. Followed by coffee we have to agree that it was a superb lunch, and that we are much too full to bother walking all the way around. We shall return, partly, the way we came and cross over to Curbar Edge at some point.

We head off back and just as we are looking for the path off of White Edge I get the first of my phone calls. All is going according to plan. 

We find our path and descent, but the flat moor with its huge tussocks of coarse grass is also wet and muddy. We hop from tussock to tussock with a reasonable amount of agility, until I take a wrong step and, unable to halt my momentum, continue along the route I had planned, go knee deep into a bog and topple with a splat. Fontunately I'm up fairly quickly and out of the mire, but I'm now walking with a distinct squelch and look non too smart either. At least I didn't have much of an audience.

A couple of minutes later I get my second phone call, and I'm pleased it didn't come while I was fishing myself out of the mud.

Then we are up onto Curbar Edge, and the number of people here increases dramatically. We amble over to the very edge to look over.

The views are, naturally, excellent, though it is a pity that the sun has gone in. The hefty breeze is drying out my walking trousers brilliantly though.

Even looking down from here, though a little bit vertigo inducing, is a treat, and we see a partly completed millstone abandoned at the bottom of the rocks.

We continue along to the end, then through the gate onto the rubbly path taking us back down to the road and the cars. And still more people are setting out.

A few minutes and we are back at the cars. 

We weren't certain at the time, but now we have confimed it, that was our last walk of our current series. PC is off away on her boat again so won't be back until summer. Until then I hope to get out myself - but I say that every year and rarely succeed. But if I do, I'll post my walk.

A WALK ON THE WILD AND WINDY SIDE

BAKEWELL AND THE MONSAL TRAIL

Our best laid plans have been scuppered by the weather. Gale force winds have meant that, for safety's sake, we are abandoning our higher level walk and retreating to the safety of Bakewell and the Monsal Trail. Not exactly exciting but it should be pleasant enough, if we can avoid being blown over.

Since this is a last minute decision (we were both at opposite ends of the country yesterday when the weather was fine) we meet in Bakewell and sit in the car whilst perusing the map, which is when we decide on the Monsal Trail. So, after nipping to the loos, we drive up to the old station where we find a parking space. There isn't a lot of space up here but the parking charges are less than down in the town, although clearly a lot of people avoid paying by parking on the road.

We spend some time dressing up warm, already the wind is gusting very strongly and we congratulate ourselves on our change of plan. Then we set off, back down the road we've just driven up, and into Bakewell. Before we reach the famous bridge, though, we pass through the narrow gate into the field at the side of the River Wye.

As we walk alongside the river path it starts to rain, only quite fine though, and we hope it will pass even though the clouds seem ominous. We pass through the second gate and almost straight away we have we hear a crack followed by a splash. The top part of a tree has snapped off and crashed into the water amidst a flurry of dead leaves and splinters. The log, which appears to be about 8 feet long, floats downriver. PC and I exchange a look, then carry on walking.

At the far end of the field we go through a gate and up onto the minor road, turn left and then take the right hand track (a bridleway) close to Holme Hall. As we climb up the track the rain intensifies but then eases off as we walk under the shelter of trees. Looking back we can see dark clouds but it has turned clear above us so we press on.

Emerging from the trees, the bridleway leads us gently upwards past an old quarry site, and the rain comes back again. This time we decide that it will be prudent to put on our waterproof trousers, so we balance at the side of a stone wall (away from trees!) to rummage in our rucksacks. Not a moment too soon, either, as the rainfall turns into a deluge. We fortify ourselves with a nip of Ramblers from the secret flask (Mollie has her biscuits) and continue.

The next gate leads us onto a distinct track and we climb up to what will be the highest point on this walk. It is very windy but we're partly sheltered by the stone walls and there are few trees. Sadly, though, the rain means that the views are less than spectacular.

We walk along this easy track for a while until it drops down to join the Monsal Trail. It hasn't taken us very long but we are damp and a little chilly. We could do with finding somewhere to stop for a warming coffee but there is nowhere terribly appealing. A covered shelter would be nice, with a bench, but all the benches/picnic tables are in the open exposed to the wind and the rain. There is the cafe and bookshop at Hassop Station but that isn't an option with a soggy dog.

Pressing on we find that we are approaching Bakewell Station, and our cars, far sooner than we had anticipated. Since the rain has stopped, for now, we decide that we will walk on further in an attempt to find a suitable place to stop for our late lunch.

The sun comes out - such a surprise - and the walk is in danger of becoming pleasant! Alas, the wind begins to pick up strength and the trees around us are rattling. There is a lot of fallen old wood on the floor which Mollie thinks is a wonderful treat, but she doesn't seem to realise that whilst sticks are OK, logs are not.

Eventually we see a bench ahead, close to the end of this part of the trail, and it is in a clearing with fine views towards Bakewell and no overhanging trees. With a considerable amount of effort - some of these gusts of wind have tremendous force - we manage two half cups of coffee each (only half a cup at a time as the wind is making waves in our drinks and threatening to pour it away!) and our sandwiches. But we give up on the buns and second coffee as we decide that it really is too much effort eating and keeping our balance at the same time.

We pack up and head back towards the cars where we will be able to finish lunch in peace. And what a good choice that turns out to be. Firstly we see two broken trees; one on the Trail and one in the field at the side, which have recently toppled (surely not while we were eating, although we didn't notice them on the way out) and then the rain sweeps back down on us.

We make good time back to the cars, but take a while removing our waterproof layers. At last we are able to sit in relative comfort and eat our buns.

Mince pies this week, two each. One has the inclusion of a cream cheese filling, a strange combination we thought before trying it, but it did seem to work. Not very 'cheesy' but it did impart a slightly creamy texture to the pies. The second had a brandy butter swirl on top. You could certainly taste the brandy, but perhaps there was a little too much icing sugar to make the brandy butter into butter-cream icing. No complaints though. They went down very well, especially with the last of the coffee.

The short walk means we have time to sit and chat (we are extremely good at that) until it is time to go. The wind is still howling and the rain looks to be set in for the rest of the night. We've probably done well to achieve what we have.

CHATSWORTH, EDENSOR AND ABOVE BAKEWELL

After the week's birthday celebrations (PC is another year older and my daughter turned 18) we really need to get out to walk off the excess cake and wine. We've not done very well with planning these last few walks, and this is no exception. We wait until we meet in the car park at Calton Lees (no man in the hut mid-week at this time of year, so we don't have to pay for parking) before we plan our route.

We set off out of the car park and through the park, following the line of the road towards Edensor. In the park there are herds of deer, far enough away not to be troubled by a couple of walkers.

The House looks quite splendid today, the Emperor fountain is running and the mist that has been clinging to the valleys and hillsides is still there giving everything an ethereal glow. Sadly the picture doesn't translate well to photographs as it makes everything seem a little murky.

When we reach Edensor we eventually go through the person gate which is actually hinged centrally, top and bottom, so that it swings around. Quite a surprise!

Edensor is a very pretty village, relocated to its present site by the 6th Duke of Devonshire and with each cottage built in a different style. We walk up the main street, passing the church on our left hand side and admiring the cottages. They must look lovely in Spring and Summer when all the gardens are in flower.

At the top of the street the road gradually peters out and turns into a broad track which is accessible to traffic (evidenced by the deep ruts at various places along its length). It is a steady uphill walk, and we pause to enjoy some chocolate and admire the view over a field gate.

At the top of the track it rejoins a narrow tarmac road which eventually winds its way down to Bakewell. We walk along the road, crest the hill and can see the distant hills and edges bathed in late autumn light. The road dips and eventually we come to a left hand path. It is a bit muddy around the gate but we go over the stile and follow the track ahead.

Another stile and we are in a field of sheep. We head uphill towards a small stand of trees (Moatless Plantation) where there is a conveniently placed inviting bench facing down to Bakewell. We walk across the grass to it and settle down.

We haven't been sat long - in fact, we're only just starting on our nip of Ramblers - when we notice PC is playing host to a cluster of spiders (the collective noun for a group of spiders is cluster or clutter). They are only small and at first we think she must have disturbed a sac but then, when the sun shines on the grass in front of us we can see thousands of criss-crossed webs amongst the green. They are incredibly beautiful but so fine that it proves impossible to photo them. The small spiders have probably hitched a lift, or drifted to us on the breeze. We don't mind them at all, and carry on with our lunch.

Coffee, sandwiches for me, leftovers for PC, then the buns which are puff pastry mince pies with added fresh cream. Maybe a bit early for Christmas, but they do taste nice. We follow with our second coffee then prepare to leave.

The path goes downhill and heads towards a pond which, once we are on a lower level, we can no longer see. We almost walk off course when we see a glint of water and spot the footpath sign on a narrow gate. We go through the gate, cross a small field and go through a second gate which takes us onto the broad expanse of Calton Pastures.

This is a steady, easy stroll and we are very soon on the path above Calton Houses. Before we go through the gate and down the lane next to the houses we spend a little time trying to get some good photos of a tree which has a broken trunk but is still sprouting. Sadly the light isn't brilliant.

We walk down the lane past the houses then gradually descending down to Calton Lees village. The sun has gone now, and it has turned very chilly. Also the light is fading even though it doesn't seem to be particularly late.

Not far from the village and we are back at the car park, pleased that we have had such a good day out. The weather has stayed in our favour, but we're wondering how long that will last.

SOGGY STROLL AROUND HADDON FIELDS

PRE-CHRISTMAS WET WEATHER WALK NEAR HADDON HALL

Deluge. That's the best word to describe the weather this morning. The roads are awash, the drains cannot cope and rivers are running down the white lines. It's going to be a wet walk.

We meet up in the Haddon Hall car park. The hall is closed and the car park is only supposed to be used for visitors to the hall, but there are some men selling Christmas trees from the car park and when PC asks (she's the first to arrive, as usual) they're happy enough to let us leave our cars there.

Admittedly, we're a little reluctant to leave the shelter of our cars and venture out into the storm, but this is our last walk before the festive season and it has to be a short one because daughter has a music exam later in the day, so we have to make the most of it.

Naturally we layer up, all the waterproofs come out of the car and when we're dressed our rucksacks feel quite light. Mollie seems unperturbed by the weather and is happy enough to be out.

We trudge across the car park and go through a gate leading onto the uphill bridleway towards Conksbury and, ultimately, Youlgreave. The bridleway slopes gently uphill, but flowing swiftly downhill is a small river. It's hard to avoid the water so we splash our way through, but we do have to be careful as some of the underlying limestone is exposed and this is very slippery.

We pause a couple of times to look back at the view, Haddon Hall is peering above the tree line, but we wonder if the poor weather will make the photographs a washout.

With the driving rain we are tending to keep our heads down and our hoods up, so we aren't having much of an opportunity to look around. However, looking down at our feet sees us squelching through streams and mud-baths. At one point we're in a field with cows, but they are far off to our right and pose no threat, although an open gate to our left is an invitation for more cows to join them, so we pick up the pace a little.

Then it's a stubble field, thank goodness it isn't ploughed, and by the time we reach the top we've so much mud on our boots that it feels like a particularly sadistic kind of weight training for the legs.

We go through a gate, and PC does some interesting gymnastics with her walking poles as she tries to fasten the gate shut without paddling in a deep puddle. Pity I don't have the camera.

There are only sheep in the next fields, and the grass is well knit so at last we have something half-decent underfoot.

However, at the end of this stretch we reach the mud again where it is all extremely churned up next to a barn. We paddle through the mud to a gate and go through, pausing to consult the map and the finger-post. A few moments of puzzling and we return through the gate. We need to turn onto the track on the Haddon Hall side of the hedge.

Although the track is obviously well used by farm tractors it is, at least, relatively clear. Yes, there are some deep puddles, but these are easily avoided. At the far end is another gate out onto the small road leading from Conksbury to Bakewell.

We walk down the road, manage to avoid the flood in the dip in the bottom, then after passing Noton Farm Barn we take the right hand path down Intake Lane. At first this is just a path down the edge of a field, but it goes through another gate and turns into a proper lane with hedges on either side. It also has a lot of puddle and dips, and quite a bit of flooding.

But it is an easy track to follow so we don't have to think much as we bemoan the amount of work the Christmas preparations entail, and wonder why so many people buy so much food for just two days!

We decide not to take the right hand footpath leading through Burton Ashes Wood - it isn't clear on the ground and the ground looks very squishing and uninviting - so we walk down to the main road. We know Mollie won't like it but at least she has already had a decent run.

At the main A6 we turn right, pleased that there is a pavement to separate us from the heavy traffic thundering past. Naturally, Mollie isn't happy, but she is staying close.

We have to cross over to the other side of the road when the pavement swaps sides, then we decide to see if the footpath through part of Haddon Park is worth walking.

We turn left up the bridleway and cross the bridge over the swollen River Wye. On either side the fields have been turned into small lakes, complete with ducks, and the bridge itself is carrying its own pond. We reach the footpath turning at the side of the river but, as we suspected, a few yards along it the path disappears beneath the rising river. There is no point even attempting to go through so we back-track to the road to complete our journey.

It isn't long before the car park is in sight. The Christmas tree sellers have already packed up and gone home but the car park barrier is, thankfully, still open. We have a brief debate (we haven't eaten yet and our buns beckon) and we decide on driving to the Calton Lees car park at Chatsworth where we are able to change out of wet clothes and settle down for lunch.

We have a small toast from the secret flask - today it is a nip of Danzy Jones, a wonderful welsh whisky liqueur made by the Celtic Spirit Company, and the closest I have managed to find to the now unavailable scottish Wallace liqueur. PC gives it her approval, then pours out the coffees which we drink with our sandwiches.

The second coffee is shared with the buns - a festive treat of puff pastry fresh cream mince pies. Perfect.

Our day, and our walking year has ended too soon. Family festivities take over for a couple of weeks so we'll not be out again until the New Year when we will try to walk off the inevitable newly gained weight.

WE WISH A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A PEACEFUL NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE.

STEADY AS THEY STROLL - AN EASY ROUTE FROM BAKEWELL AND BACK

As promised we meet up in the Bakewell car park again, relieved to be out. What a lot has happened since our last walk, and not much of it good, so getting out will be perfect therapy. We've hardly pulled on our boots before we're exchanging news, views and sympathy and even the moody Pay and Display machine doesn't put us off our stride as it spits out proffered coins one moment only to accept them the next! As last we're ready for the off, and despite a clear day we've wrapped up warm. The unseasonally mild weather has drifted away and although the sky is clear (more or less) it's feeling bitterly cold.

We leave the car park and head up the gently sloping road to the left which winds around to the old station which is now on the Monsal Trail. We cross the car park (and note that parking here is 50p cheaper for the day) and emerge onto the Trail. There's a tempting sign at the side of the path. Handmade Chocolates. Very very tempting. PC suggests we call on the way back, even if it means making a detour. But showing admirable willpower we decide to forgo the delights that only chocolate can provide, and set off.

The Trail is very easy walking but we aren't tempted to move beyond a gentle ambling pace. We know it isn't going to be a long or taxing walk, and we need our breath to talk. A few cyclists pass us - they must be chilly in all that Lycra - and we see a few dog walkers, but it isn't very busy.

To be honest, this section of the Monsal Trail isn't particularly inspiring. There are no long-distance views as the high railway banks hide the scenery, and at this time of year there isn't a great deal happening in the hedgerows. Good job we have lots to talk (and rant) about.

We walk under the road-bridge (A619) and soon spy some picnic tables and benches ahead. Naturally they beckon to us, and we're soon sat comfortably if not warmly. Coffee is on the menu, but the immediate necessity is for something a little stronger. Out comes the Ramblers (not that we're doing much in the way of rambling today) and the Secret Flask is emptied into our plastic cups. Perfect: warming and mellowing, and we're in need of both. As a special treat we have extra buns so out come some fruit slices, and they go down very well with an excellent cup of coffee. A boisterous and inquisitive young bull terrier comes up to see what we're up to, and snuffling for any treats. It's owner catches up with it and takes it away, though it goes reluctantly.

We decide to crack open the second Secret Flask (things must be bad when we have to delve into our emergency supplies) and enjoy a nip of cointreau. It finishes off our snack perfectly and as we pack away a toddler along with Mum and Gran are hovering - apparently we have been sitting at 'their table'. Suitably stocked up we leave them to it.

A little way along and we come to another old station, this time it has been converted into a cafe and bookshop. PC needs to avail herself of their facilities and the bookshop exerts a strong magnetic pull, but I resist. Again PC suggests visiting on the way back (even though we aren't coming back this way) and again we resist temptation. Aren't we doing well? (If you don't count the extra buns and the Secret Flasks, that is.)

After leaving the cafe/bookshop and regaining the Trail we realise that we have seriously miscalculated. The walk is going to be much shorter than we had anticipated. Our intention had been to walk up the path to the left, opposite Toll Bar House, but after a brief pause for photos across the fields we decide to stroll up to the next bridge

to see what we can see. Not a great deal, as it transpires, although we note one field running with water. By now we've mellowed and have managed to discard most of our angst so we're talking about less stressful subjects, such as exams and therapy!

There doesn't seem to be much point continuing along the Trail, especially as we'll have to back-track, so we return the few yards and take the path that climbs up above the trail. It's narrow and well defined, though a little muddy in places since it isn't surfaced. As we gain height the wind cuts across the fields and we can feel the temperature drop.

It's quite a long path, a public bridleway, and at last we're getting some views but there isn't anywhere sheltered enough for us to stop for lunch. We crest the hill and start to descend towards Bakewell, finally crossing a field full of sheep before reaching tarmac. We're on the edge of the town now and we go to have a look at the beautiful old footbridge, so similar to the one at Ashford in the Water. This is Holme Bridge, built in 1664 and an old Pack Horse Bridge, probably built here to avoid the middle of the town and the tolls payable over the main crossing over the River Wye. The river is running very high and fast today, and whilst it is possible to see where there may have been a ford crossing, the prospect of doing so isn't a pleasant one.

As luck, or providence, would have it, there's a bench at the far side of the river so we cross over the narrow bridge and plonk ourselves down. It isn't warm, but at least the sun is out. We eat our sandwiches quickly so as to get to the buns: fresh cream choux buns with thick chocolate on the top. They aren't very big, but they are satisfying, especially when washed down with the last of the coffee.

It's too cold to linger so even though we're well ahead on time we return over the bridge and head towards the town. There's a path across a field and we have a good view of the main Bakewell bridge in the distance, as well as the height of the river. Some hopeful ducks come scooting up to us as fast as their legs can paddle, but they are to be disappointed.

It's a short stroll back to the cars, but since we still have time to spare we decide to spend half an hour in the town, dumping our gear in the cars before setting off around the narrow streets and some of the more interesting shops (particularly the Apothecary - wonderful smells). But we don't have time to do the whole town justice, and duty beckons, so we head back to the car park.

It has been a particularly easy day today, no stress, no strain and no mad dash. Perfectly theraputic, in fact. Next time we'll head back to the Dark Peak, and hope the promised snow keeps away.