Castleton and Cavedale

We manage another dreary start for our walk today, hardly surprising given that it is winter and it has been raining. So the water running through the village is high and we are well wrapped up against the cold. We aren't expecting a spectacular walk, it is one we have done before, but it will still good to be out and about.

We park, as usual, on the road just past the entrance to the Peak Cavern where, on weekdays, the parking is free. We head off through the car park adjacent and at the far end we are in the village. Before walking through we are, as always, tempted to window shop in the small interesting shops tucked away in these quiet back lanes.

Next we go through the village centre and turn right between the two cottages to the start of Cavedale. As expected on such a grim day it is fairly quiet, and after so much rain, pretty wet. The views are familiar, but no less welcome for that.

Up the steeper stretch of the Dale is always interesting after rain given that you have to walk up the streams that flow down, and with slippery limestone underfoot it can catch out the unwary. But it isn't as bad today as we have seen it in the past, and the backward view is a good one of the Peveril's Castle.

Once through the gate at the top of the Dale the landscape opens out. The muddy path is slick underfoot and the wind is blowing in our faces. Also, a few drops of rain to add to the atmosphere.

The path eventually sweeps around to the left and heads for the gate onto the lanes at the top. We turn left and follow the wide track, probably used by farmers, quarry vehicles and some 4 x 4 enthusiasts. We meet none of them.

We find a wide turning circle/layby/quarry and decide to find somewhere to sit out of the wind and have lunch. It is a brisk affair given that the temperature seems to have dropped.

Suitably refreshed we head onward down the rubbly track. We get a wonderful close-up view of the cement works 😒 and continue down the now tarmac road. There is a shortcut path on our left, over a stone wall, but we have done it before and the final stretches are very steeply downhill through the slippery field. Given recent rain we decide to stick to the road.

It is pleasant enough to walk down and back to Castleton where we observe that there appears to be a very high number of Mini owners here. Perhaps Castleton will become the Mini capital of Derbyshire.

And, as usual, by the time we get to the cars it has started to rain. If anything, that is what defines Castleton for us.

PERISHING COLD ON THE GREAT RIDGE

With the heavy snow we have had we decided we really needed to go somewhere that wouldn't be a quagmire. So we headed to Castleton with the Great Ridge in our sights.

It's the school holidays, half term, and since we neither of us have children of school age anymore it comes as a bit of surprise to see so many cars about. However, most are heading for the attractions of the caves and we park on the road close to the bottom of Winnats Pass from where we can see Hang Gliders off the top of Mam Tor.


We decide on walking up the pass, something we rarely do given how steep it is, and as we get higher we remind ourselves why it is such a rarity!

At the top we are on the road for a short distance but cross over to go through a gate that will take us across a field rather than sticking to the road. There's still some snow up here, not surprising really, and it is bitterly cold.

Once through the gate at the far side it is the pull up the slope of Mam Tor in a couple of stages. The last part, the anti-erosion steps up to the summit, is where we really start to feel the wind chill, so we edge to the side and find a sheltered area inside one of the old ramparts to eat lunch and warm ourselves up with coffee. Lemon Meringue pies for bun today. They are certainly very tangy but they need ungloved fingers to eat so they are consumed quickly. It certainly isn't a day to linger, and as soon as we have done we are off again.

The last stretch up to the summit is very busy, as is the area aroundn the trig point, but we pass on by, pleased to be moving. A number of people are coming towards us from the opposite direction and they all, without exception, have bright red, wind-blown faces. It is really extremely cold, the wind having a massive effect.

We keep moving, as swiftly as possible, until we reach Hollins Cross and take the right hand path downhill. The difference is amazing, within a few feet the wind drops and it is noticeably warmer. We decide to slow down a bit!

It is a steep and rocky path down, with a boggy bit about half way which requires some nimble footwork, then we are down to the gate onto the old narrow lane. As expected there is mud and running water here, but not an excessive amount.

A straight walk not into the back of Castleton, through the car park and up the road to the cars. We have avoided most of the mud and slush today, which is good, but we certainly felt the cold due to the wind.

Anti-Clockwise Along the Ridge

A sparkling, crisp and very very cold day for our last walk of the year. 

We park up in Castleton and are surprised at how few people are about, given that the weather is so good. We have a vague plan for a walk, choosing a reverse of one of our favourites in this area. Hopefully we will have good views from the ridge.

We along the path next to the small stream and onto Hollowford Road. Here we realised how cold it really is with large swathes of the tarmac covered in sheet ice. We gingerly tiptoe across.

The lane turns to a track and we have a lovely view ahead of us of the Great Ridge and Mam Tor.

We are carrying straight on and the track degrades to a path that is a running stream at the moment. But not just water, ice crystals have built up and caution is required. At least it isn't muddy, which can be the summer state of this path.

Once off the path we are onto the grassy moor, with a number of options, but we choose to go more or less straight ahead start our climb up to Hollins Cross. It's quite steep but we are in the lee of the wind so we aren't cold - quite the opposite. But once at the top we are rewarded with splendid views - and a buffeting by the wind!

Certainly no lingering. That wind is bitterly cold, so it's hoods up, zips zipped and gloves on. There are quite a few more people up here and they are all heavily muffled,

We follow the path a short distance then drop down again to a cosy hollow that faces the valley and keeps the wind to our backs. Time for lunch, the all important coffee and our pre-Christmas buns - fresh cream puff pastry mince pies. And keeping in with the festive spirit, a nip from the secret flask.

It really is too cold to sit for long, though, and the sun seems to be giving up the unequal struggle against advancing clouds. We set off again up the path and find ourselves battling against a gale. It is coming from the Edale side and almost blowing us over, especially as the path climbs. The wind chill is so great that our fingers are starting to feel cold, and that is with us both weather insulated skiing gloves. It is impossible to say 'hello' to other walkers as we are all completely muffled up.

We don't pause at the summit - been there, done that, too cold anyway - but as soon as we begin the drop down the other side the wind abates. The difference is quite remarkable!

We drop down the path to the road then choose to cross over towards the Blue John Cavern and thus return via the 'old' road. Big mistake. The path is, in places, a sea of mud. However, we do manage to cross without making a spectacle of ourselves and eventually emerge onto the road.

And coming towards us is a man taking his hawk out for a walk. It is an impressive Harris Hawk (though a walker coming from the other direction calls it an eagle!) but we don't stop to chat, others are eager to do that.

We head towards the 'old' road, but the one we are on has to be negotiated first, and there are some really slippery parts.

Once through the gate we see the flooded stretch, usually easily crossed by stepping stones, but that seems out of the question today, so we head 'upstream' to find a less onerous crossing place.

Then we are onto the 'old' broken road with its undulating curves of fractured surfaces. All downhill now, and a steady trek along the usable road towards Castleton.

The sky is darkening fast, dusk comes early, and maybe there is a hint of more bad weather to come (I get a message to say there is a blizzard blowing at home, a little over 30 miles away) so we get ready to go. We aren't sure at the time, but this will be our last walk before Christmas so Best Wishes to everyone and Happy Walking.

ENCORE WINNATS PASS

For some reason we always seem to gravitate towards Castleton when the weather is grim, and today is no exception. But it would be nice to see the area in nice weather for once!

We meet, as usual, in the big car park where there is only one coachload of unfortunate schoolchildren today. This place is a Mecca for school groups, either from primary schools or those doing GCSEs and A levels. From this car park we head up the road towards Mam Tor where we can park on the roadside for free during the week.

It is cold but at least the early rain has stopped so we don't feel the need for the full waterproof gear. We don't have Mollie today though, as she has moved house and PC isn't quite sure where she lives now. 
 

We hadn't planned a route before arriving here so we have a quick discussion, decide on something not too ambitious due to time constraints, and head on up towards Winnats Pass to do a familiar walk, but in reverse.

And by the time we are pulling up the steep grass verge of the pass we remember why we usually come down instead of up!

One thing that we did see on our way up, that we usually miss as we slip and slide our normal descent, is this commemoration plaque dedicated to those who campaigned for our national parks and public access. It is worth remembering, and being thankful, that without these forward-thinking and hardy people we would not be enjoying our hiking as we do.

The water is running down the road and the verge in small rivulets so it is pretty heavy going walking up the steep hill whilst trying to maintain our footing. At least it isn't windy though, and it is good to see the views in the opposite direction.

We take a gate onto a path that runs beside a stone wall and climbs through a field adjacent to the road. We usually emerge from a gate higher up, we had never noticed this before - another sign of how different things can be in reverse order.

Careful of the slippery limestone underfoot we come out back onto the road just before the cattle grid then continue up to the main road where, after a brief discussion, we turn right. We keep on the road then go right again towards the Blue John Cavern. This is a road that goes nowhere, the old road destroyed by the Shivering Mountain, yet there are still a few cars trying their luck, then turning around. The cavern doesn't seem to be doing much business.

We find a bench with a good view (which sadly includes the cement works) and settle down to eat, drink and gossip. But first we layer up. There is a keen breeze up here which, coupled with the cold temperatures, is biting.

A nip from PC's flask warms us up, then it is coffee, sandwiches and lovely gooey fresh cream choux buns. The buns can make anything worthwhile!

We sit talking for a while but eventually the cold gets too much so we pack up and set off again, this time we are going down the destroyed road. At one point we wonder how we usually get up it as there just appears to be a huge drop, but the footpath is at the side and is a gentle route. Again, it is surprising how different somewhere familiar can appear when approached from the opposite direction.
 

We wonder if the road has shifted some more since our last walk here. It is hard to tell, and it may just be our different approach, but it seems to have moved a bit.

Despite the murkiness, though, we do have splendid views over to the Great Ridge.

Eventually we are back on stable tarmac, although that too appears to be a little more undulating than last time. We have a good view of the rear of the old Odin Mine which looks like a promising place to look at some time in the future.

The gateway to the area in front of the mine is a mini-lake but we decide to go and have a closer look. We find that, not only is the gateway a paddling pool, but the whole grassy area is waterlogged and we have to skirt around it on slightly higher ground to avoid being soaked.

The path behind the mine entrance looks intreguing but doesn't appear to go anywhere. Exploration today, though, is out of the question. We do clamber up to the main mine entrance to have a nosey, but it is dark and eerie. Perhaps another time.

From here we backtrack and it is only a steady walk downhill, past Treak Cliff Cavern, towards our cars. It hasn't been a terribly long walk but already the light is leeching out of the sky. Getting home to the warm feels like a very good idea.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

We couldn't have known as we fought the gales at Castleton that we would be on our last walk of the season. Sadly, we are both of an age where elderly parents cause more loss of freedom than our children ever did, and we have both had to cancel too many times due to the demands of PC's father and my mother.

After much nail-biting and frantic phoning PC finally managed to call someone in to help with her father just before she was due to go out to her boat. So she has escaped. I, alas, have not.

I had been hoping to get out walking for a few days but have been unable to, and this morning seemed to be going the same way. But in the end I decided that I needed to get away, if only for a couple of hours, so instead of the Peak District I headed for the Dukeries, and Clumber Park, which is less than half an hour away.

It is at this time of year that PC always wants to go on a bluebell hunt, so with the sun shining and a small bag packed, I set off with a mission. This walk is for her! (I know she will understand).

I drove into Clumber at the Carburton end; the main road that bisects the park is a national road, known as Lime Tree Avenue, so is free to drive on, though parking anywhere in the park will cost you £6.80 unless you are a NT member (or can avoid the cash collectors on their bikes). Luckily today is a quiet day so even though I park between the trees just off the road there doesn't seem to be anyone about.

I decide to try to bed in my newish boots. I've had them a while but they steadfastly refuse to turn comfortable, and as such I have been wary of using them on anything other than gentle strolls. So on they go - nope, still not comfortable - grab my camera and bag and set off.

Within a couple of minutes I am in the trees on a tiny path, enjoying the silence and the freedom that comes of being alone.

Of course, what I am looking for is that quintessential English spring flower, the bluebell, and from regular walks in these woods in years gone by I know there should be some nearby.

The path takes a couple of turns and then I spot a large clump over to my left. A few paces and I am close enough for some photos.

But I know that the best is yet to come. A little way further along the tiny path meets a larger one, and there in front, and to the right, is the huge swathe of bluebells I have been looking for. They are superb, and the camera cannot even begin to do them justice.

 I stand in the middle of them an inhale the soft sweet scent. It is quite magical.

The flowers are all around me, and a panorama shot is called for.

I find it really hard to give up on the flowers, there is no one around and I wander through the bluebells enjoying the scent, the silence, the feeling of peacefulness. 

It is hard to take my eyes off the carpet of blue at my feet, but when I do I see the soft, zingy-green leaves of new beech trees. Their colour contrasts sharply with the flowers.

Eventually I wander back to the path and set off deeper into the woods. The bluebells are still on my left, along with beech and pine. I hear my first cuckoo too!

The path is straight, easy to follow and completely hemmed in by trees. I know some people find woodland eerie, probably a throwback to tales of Red Riding Hood and the like, but I feel totally at ease here.

A take a right turning and wander along another path. The bluebells are diminishing now but there is still plenty to see. A butterfly decides to accompany me, fluttering alongside, stopping a while, then flying again.

After a while it gets bored of my company and disappears. 

I have a number of tracks to choose from, and eventually take one one my right. Then the cuckoo starts calling again, and this time keeps it up for a considerable length of time. The echoes amongst the trees make it hard to work out where the sound is coming from, at first I thought it was ahead of me but I eventually realise that it is somewhere behind. 

This path is very rough and there are a lot of tall, spindly birch saplings here, replacements for the occasional clearance of older trees. There are a few other trees too, including pine, showing off their young cones.

I am pretty sure that I am not far from the car now, even though the woods have thickened up all of a sudden and the path seems to have diminished into nothing. I look around, spot a clearing through the trees and head for it. Sure enough this clearing opens out and there are a number of paths radiating from it. I get my bearings and walk towards, what I hope is, the direction of the road.

Yes, I'm right. I emerge onto Lime Tree Avenue only a few hundred yards away from my car. I walk between the trees and enjoy the birdsong, the greenery, the sunshine.

I haven't been out for long, and I haven't walked very far, but it has been a much needed and very enjoyable walk nonetheless. With luck on my side I might just manage to get out into the Peak District again sometime soon.

ABANDON HOPE AND ENTER CAVEDALE

The best laid plans have been thwarted again and our promised hike from Hope up Win Hill has had to be postponed. This time, gales, heavy rain, sleet, hail - the works! A power cut where I live means no hot water and, worse still, no coffee. Fortunately a quick text to PC resolves this and she gamely brings along coffee as well as bun, and we also rearrange our walk; we don't want to be on high ground in these winds.

So, with Hope abandoned we decide to meet in Castleton instead and are surprised, given the weather, how busy it is. Already there are groups of bedraggled schoolchildren/Duke of Edinburgh walkers out, along with the Easter holiday-makers. 

As usual we park up on the road just past the Peak Cavern, drag on all our waterproof gear, then set off down the road heading towards Cavedale. 

As soon as we turn up between the houses to the dale entrance we have a taste of what is to come. The tiny lane is awash and the wind is funnelling down strongly. We push on through the gate and start our upward paddle, leaning against the wind. Strangely enough, the photos do not show how wet it really is!

We pause beneath the castle as a group of youngsters ahead of us stop, seemingly lost. Their discussion lasts a while before they set off again, on the only path ahead!

When we reach the spot where the group had been we realise why they had paused. It feels as though all the four winds have congregated in this one spot and it is extremely difficult to move forward. No wonder they were debating whether to go on or not. For us, though, there is no dilemma. We have every intention of forging ahead. I promise PC (without anything to back up my assertions, naturally) that further up the valley the wind will be less forceful. 

As we fight our way upwards against the wind and through a wide stream-bed there is a brief glimmer of sunshine. PC captures it perfectly. It makes the whole landscape look benign and pleasant.

 So, just to put the record straight, and get rid of the idea that maybe we were just making it up about the weather, I have added one of my own photos (from my phone) below. Yes, the river is the footpath!

As we climb up Cavedale against the tide (it certainly feels that way) the wind does actually lessen although there seems to be more and more water. It cascades over the limestone in a manner that would undoubtedly have made Capability Brown jealous, although he would probably have made the path around it rather than through it.

Eventually we make it through the gate at the top, relieved to have made it over the worst of the river-cum-path. A natural spring is gushing from the woods a little lower down on our left and beyond it is relatively dry (relative to the downpour and soggy ground). We pause to admire the view, have a nip from the secret flask as a reward, then press onwards.

It is nearing lunchtime so we decide to find somewhere sheltered to have food. It isn't easy, but eventually we managed to huddle up behind some rocks that give us sufficient protection from the wind. We are very close to the path, sadly, but that can't be helped. 

My first hot drink of the day (thank you, PC) goes down extremely well, then we follow with sandwiches and, joy of joys, yummy buns and a drink (it's my birthday walk, and PC is treating me!). The buns are fantastic, fat choux buns with fresh cream and sticky chocolate icing on top. And the drink is fizz. Bliss.

A surprising number of walkers come past us, most just say a quick hello, but one couple have no idea where they are or where they are going. The have come up from Castleton, they tell us (no, really!) but wonder where the path leads and if they can get back to Castleton, and how far, and where do they go, and how far have they come and how long will it take.........the questions go on. They have no map, no food, nothing to drink (they tell us with a kind of misplaced pride) and are hoping we will provide directions and instructions. We do the best we can and send them on their way whilst refraining from telling them to be better prepared next time.

The wind is still keen but the rain has stopped by the time we have finished lunch, so we carry on up the valley along the gentler, wide path. It is quite muddy in places and when we come to one of the gates we are in for a paddle. Mollie is the only one who is happy about it.

We continue ahead, avoiding the mud, then veering to the left where the wide swathe of the path climbs up. It is well walked (this is the Limestone Way, after all) but still grassy. As we reach the top of the rise the wind hits us again with renewed force. We are walking into it and feel as though we are pushing against treacle.

Through the gate and we turn right, then right again heading towards Winnat's Pass. The group of hikers we had remarked on earlier (and seen a couple more times) are at a standstill again close to Rowter Farm. It looks as though this time we might be in danger of catching up with them, but they set off again.

However, a few hundred yards later and they are, once more at a standstill. This time we do catch up and overtake them; a group of older teens debating their route. However, there isn't much choice, other than straight ahead.

They follow us to the end of the lane and as we open the gate to get onto the road they decide to take the stile. Seems a waste of energy, especially since they appear to need to stop every few hundred yards or so.

We turn right and head for Winnat's Pass, the group disappear to who-knows-where. The wind is behind us now but at least the rain has stopped.

It is a familiar walk down the winding Pass, and we keep to the left hand side where there is a path behind a wall. Slippery in places over the worn limestone it is important to be cautious.

Once through the gate at the bottom and onto the wide verge running alongside the road we realise that this might be the hardest part of the walk. The whole verge is a sodden mass with running water and slippery mud. PC has her walking poles which she needs to keep herself upright, and I eventually step onto the road with Mollie as it seems the safer option.

With the wind behind me I find myself being pushing into a jog, PC is quite surprised as I pass her but anything we might say to each other is whipped away by the gale.

Eventually I make it back onto the verge, steady myself against the wind which is pushing like crowd of schoolchildren trying to get onto the bus home. When PC catches up we round a small outcrop in the hope that it will protect us. It affords little help, and there is even more water here.

And then it happens: my turn to bite the dust - or rather, the mud and slush. A combination of wind, mud and rain has me on the skating rink to nowhere. I'm not hurt, fortunately, but it is a struggle to get enough purchase to stand up again, even with PC's help. 

No harm done, so we continue carefully down the slope towards the Speedwell Cavern car park. From here there is a pavement to lead us safely back to the cars. However, looking over our shoulders we see a storm coming, and our final stroll becomes a rush to get back before it reaches us. 

Hail and sleet, driven by the battering gale, hits just as we are getting into the cars. Within a couple of minutes the windscreen is white rimmed and visibility is down to a couple of hundred yards. It would be safe to say that we have made it back in the nick of time.