MAM TOR TO LOSE HILL - THE GREAT RIDGE

Walking again this week, and what a treat we have in store for ourselves, especially given that the weather looks as though it is going to stay fine.

Of course, you know what they say about the best laid plans!

We were to meet at Edale, an earlyish start, and hike up onto the Kinder Plateau. But events were conspiring against us. As I arrive in Hope a text message comes through. I pull up - PC will be late as she has gone to collect Mollie, but Mollie's owner has had a bereavement which will, naturally, delay her. Added to that, the road from Hope to Edale is closed! A quick message to PC informs of her a potential change of plan and that I'll meet her at Castleton.

When PC manages to arrive at Castleton we decide that it is too late for us to drive up Winnats Pass and down to Barber Booth, then face the Kinder walk in the time we have allotted to us. So we do a quick recalculation, drive up towards Treak Cliff Cavern, park up on the road and ready ourselves for the Ridge, one of our definite favourites.

Mollie is very keen to get out walking, it seems forever since she's been with us, but she clearly hasn't forgotten, nor has she forgotten the dog biscuits in my pocket! She has a new harness today and we're wondering how well it will work as she can be quite a puller.

We set off up the road and start catching up on gossip. It may only be a couple of  weeks since we last saw each other but a lot has happened. How did we manage so many months apart?

There are quite a lot of people out today, unsurprisingly as the weather is bright and clear, and everyone seems cheerful. We decide that we're going to walk up the 'old' road, the one that the Shivering Mountain has managed to destroy, and it teaches us a very interesting lesson about the power of nature. The road was eventually closed in 1979 when the Highways Dept realised that they couldn't keep up with the constant, on-going repairs needed to keep it open to traffic.

We follow the destroyed road-line to where there is safe tarmac again, and cars parked to enjoy the view as well as visit the Blue John Cavern. There are still a lot of tourists about, which has to be good for the local economy.

For some reason both PC and I are finding it heavy going today. Maybe it is walking on tarmac, or maybe the months of idleness are now manifesting themselves. We definitely need to get fitter.

Pretty soon we're off the road and walking up the steep, grassy path towards the base of the steps leading to the summit of Mam Tor. We're already enjoying wonderful views all around us, and stopping to enjoy them gives us the chance for a breather, but we're getting into our stride now. Much easier off the tarmac.

We head up the steps climbing to the summit where a small group are taking forever to snap a few photos. We look around, enjoy the views, wait patiently, but they seem determined to monopolise the trig point so we eventually move on. A minute later they start to follow us!

It's breezy up here, but it isn't particularly cold and the views are, as usual, spectacular. There is a large group of school/college kids ahead of us, no doubt dragged out on one of many field trips that are greeted with so little enthusiasm. We pass them and continue along the ridge, the path going downhill a little way. There is a gate, which we open then wait for a cyclist to go whizzing through before we follow.

At Hollins Cross we continue straight ahead as there are still too many people about, and we prefer to eat lunch where it isn't so busy. It's a climb uphill from here, and the path is badly eroded, but it isn't difficult, and by the time we reach the top we realise that we have left most of the other walkers behind. The shorter circuit from Mam Tor to Hollins Cross and around is clearly the more popular one.

A little way further and we decide to stop for lunch. Yes, we sit at the side of the path, but there is a broken stone wall which makes a perfect bench, and there are too few people to trouble us.

A nip of Ramblers Restorative first, that casts a rosy glow over everything, followed by a coffee. Not my best coffee, I think I'm overdue a new flask. Then we eat our sandwiches and salads (PC with the healthy salad, not me) and Mollie devours her biscuits. Then it is the bun of the day: Strawberry Oysters - shortcrust pastry, custard middle, a strawberry then cream on top. It's like the last taste of summer. We finish off with another coffee as Mollie starts to get a little twitchy. The para-gliders are out again, this time over Mam Tor and the ridge, and Mollie clearly doesn't like them one bit so we pack up and move on.

When we reach the base of Back Tor we pause to consult the map before deciding that we will continue. We've enough time if we don't dawdle.

Despite our concerns about our fitness, or lack of it, early in the walk, the stepped side of Back Tor presents no problems and we quickly reach the summit, then stride on towards Lose Hill.

Although we can see other walkers in the distance there is no one else on the path now, it is as though we have the ridge to ourselves. It's a short pull up to the trig point on the top of Lose Hill and we pause to enjoy the 360 degree views. No time to linger, though, so we're off downhill in the direction of Hope, and once we're over the stile and fence we veer right towards a cairn and the start of the return path through the fields towards Back Tor Wood.

We're making really good progress now, and when we are once again at the base of Back Tor we take the left hand path going down in the general direction of Castleton.

The path is fairly distinct but once we reach the bottom (after some slithering at one point) we find the gate onto the path we think we want. It is all very familiar, and once we have gone past the point of no return we realise that we are on Hollowford Road whereas we had wanted the next path along! It doesn't matter, though, this is an easy path to take and it won't add too much to our walk.

The deserted road takes us down into Castleton and in the village we turn left to arrive at the car park the 'back way'. From here we need only walk on up the road to where we have parked our cars.

The sun is still shining, the sky is still blue and there are still plenty of people about, but it is time for us to head homewards. Mollie is very keen to get in the car but we're sure she'll be eager to come out with us next week. Fingers crossed that we get another brilliant day.

BEYOND HOPE LIES DESPAIR - AND AN OLD ROMAN FORT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ABANDON ALL HOPE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ALONG THE RIDGE TO LOSE HILL

After our great walk last week we decided that we really ought to carry on along the Great Ridge and go to visit Lose Hill so, in a repeat of last week, we meet up in Castleton (for the conveniences) then drive up the road to park past the turn off to Winnats Pass, close to Treak Cliff Cavern.

We're lucky, again, as we've managed to arrange for another fine day. Not quite so clear as last week, nor as mild, but an excellent walking day. We have to layer up against the wind but we're soon setting off up the road in good spirits. We haven't gone far (we're just across from the car park for Treak Cliff Cavern) when we spot a nuthatch in a tree, its plumage beautiful. It hops up and down oblivious to us, but as soon as PC has her camera ready it disappears. Obviously camera shy!

We're taking a familiar route today, past Odin Mine (a protected archaeological site) and its adjacent crushing circle which produced lead ore for a considerable length of time, along the old road then off on the path to the right near Mam Farm.

There hasn't been much rain lately but the narrow path is quite slick and slippery. PC pauses to remove a layer, we are going steadily uphill, and we pause to admire some vivid orange toadstools.There are sections of this path that are always boggy, and although we negotiate the first stretch easily the second is more problematical. Whilst PC pauses to take a photo of the view I forge ahead and after some nifty footwork manage to stand on uneven muddy ground which takes my feet from me. Fortunately I put out a hand to save myself, which sinks wrist deep into mud, but at least I haven't sat in it! Naturally, PC crosses without a hitch.

Once I've washed the muddy glove in a stream we carry on up the slope towards Hollins Cross.

We really aren't finding these climbs as difficult as we used to, which much be a good sign. At the top we pause to enjoy the far reaching views ahead to Edale, then decide it's time to sit down for a coffee, so we make our way to the shelter of a wall and the place we'd sat last week.

First out is the Ramblers Restorative - not that we need restoring just yet, but there are other treats in store for later in the walk and we don't want to miss out on our 'fix'. After sampling the warm, fuzzy glow left by the Ramblers we then have a coffee. PC's turn to make it today, which means it's scalding hot and the cups are too hot to hold.

While we sit waiting for the coffee to cool, and enjoying the view, and talking, a large group comes along the path from Mam Tor and turns down towards Edale. "Don't look now," says PC, "but they have Tigger with them." Sure enough, when I am allowed to look, there is Tigger, bouncing away down the path, and there seems to be a polar bear too. Well, at least they seem to be warm!Once the coffee is finished we pack up and set off again, this time up Barker Bank towards Back Tor.

This seems to be the busy time of day as there are quite a few people on the path here, most are coming towards us and most have come down Back Tor. As we approach the path veering off to the left towards the Tor a large dog comes snuffling up behind us, nudging the back of our legs. its owners completely unconcerned. It's a good job we aren't dog-phobic, and the hound seems genuinely docile, but it could quite easily have given someone a fright - and it's a shame the owners aren't very considerate of other walkers or of sheep.

Instead of going up Back Tor we decide to take the lower path which goes through Brockett Booth Plantation instead. A deliberate break in the trees would provide an excellent view of Peveril Castle if the sun wasn't shining so brightly in our eyes, but it isn't bright enough to block the view of the hideous Cement Works. Will we never be rid of the blight.

At the other side of the woods we clamber over a stile and cross some fields. The height of Lose Hill is ahead of us but we are skirting around its base first to approach from the SE. One stile forces us to perform near miraculous feats of athleticism to climb over it, as it seems it was made for giraffe-legged people, not mere mortals such as us.

Soon we're at the base of Lose Hill with the long 'flight of steps' leering down at us. There's nothing for it but to grit our teeth and go for it.

We surprise ourselves. With only a couple of stops (to admire the views, of course) we make it almost to the top. With the wind howling we decide to stop for lunch before reaching the summit to avoid being blown about too much, and we skirt around to the eastern side of the hill where the wind is barely a breeze and we can see for miles.

Out comes lunch - a celebration lunch as PC's birthday is approaching. 21 again! Sandwiches are accompanied by a glass (actually a plastic cup, but it doesn't sound so good) of red wine - very welcome. Then it's time for the special birthday bun. Excessively high calorie Belgian Chocolate Cheesecake complete with a white chocolate swirl on top. Under normal circumstances it would be too rich and too fattening, but somehow today it has the Goldilocks factor. It is just right!

After the wine and the bun it is very tempting to just sit and talk (and maybe have an afternoon nap) but time forces us on. We clamber up the side of the hill and once away from the cosy wind-free picnic spot we are hammered by the full force of the wind. Wow, it really has increased in strength, and has become bitterly cold too.We don't linger on the summit but press on down the ridge to a slightly less buffeted spot where we drag on an extra layer. Feeling warmer we continue on the path. There's hardly anyone out now and we have the strange sensation of having the whole ridge to ourselves.

As we make our way very carefully down the steep, rugged slope of Back Tor, we're talking about ballroom dancing. Probably not appropriate under the circumstances.

At the bottom of the Tor we take the path leading away from the ridge and downhill, and by now we're onto the subject of posh frocks. Not that we have a great deal of experience of posh frocks, but we share what experiences we have endured.

This track takes us to the Hollowford Road gate, exactly where we'd been last week, and all we have to do now is follow the same route to Castleton then back to the cars. In Castleton some of the Christmas trees are already lit up, and it's a pity we don't have the time to wait until dusk as we're sure it must look lovely.

As we press on up the road to the cars we make our plans for our next walk. Not for next week, family commitments, but the week after. Fingers crossed the weather will be kind again.

THE RIDGE IN REVERSE

WINNATS PASS TO MAM TOR - UPHILL FIRST

On planning today's walk we realised that, although it is one of our favourites, we had never done it in reverse.

To remedy this oversight we meet up in Castleton (good loos) then drive along up the road to park near the Speedwell Cavern car park (no parking fees on the road except for weekends and bank holidays). We're quite giddy with excitement, the sky is brilliantly clear and blue with hardly a cloud in sight. And the shadows cast by the early sunlight are nothing short of spectacular sending the limestone sculptures of the rocks into sharp relief.

Another relief is that PC has brought a rucksack today - no need for me to carry double then!

And one more thing PC has brought is a bottle of Cointreau. No, the plan isn't to drink our way down it through the day (though it is tempting) but to fill up the secret flask. However, there's no need. There's still plenty of Ramblers Restorative in the flask, and it doesn't do to mix spirits, so instead we have a nip before we set off. Gorgeous. Just like breakfast orange juice, but with a glow.

Glowing, we set off along the footpath which crosses the field between the road and the Speedwell Caverns site. The grass is sodden with early morning dew so we get a little damp, and at the top we come out onto an area which is being tarmacked. As we gingerly tip toe across the still warm and springy surface someone hurries out of the shop opposite to stick signs on the footpath gate to say it is shut. So we were just in time, then, but we were given some resentful looks by the workmen.

Now it's all uphill. We usually come down Winnats in the afternoon at the end of our walk, and it is really good to see it in different light and from a different perspective. We notice things we've not seen before, like a huge fallen gatepost which would make a wonderful seat for weary walkers. We, naturally, aren't that weary, though the uphill is keeping us warm (or maybe that's the cointreau).

In a surprisingly short length of time we find ourselves at the top of the pass and adjacent to Winnats Head Farm. That was pretty painless but we don't congratulate ourselves too soon, we've plenty more uphill climbing to do.

We cross over the road and head for the footpath crossing Windy Knoll. There are two horses in the adjacent field, dozing in the sunshine, but they both manage to perk up when they see us, ever hopeful that a stray polo mint may come their way. They're disappointed, so we give them a consolation pat and continue on our way.

The disused quarry on our right is in deep shadow as we head for the gate onto the road. Up to now we've been discussing all things educational including recent parents' evening, prize giving events and the ways schools seem to want to celebrate mediocrity over genuine achievement. It's good to be able to let off steam (my turn this week) as we are then able to approach life with an enhanced sense of calm. It just shows how beneficial walking can be. Once across the road we're starting the long, steady climb up the slopes of Mam Tor. Since we're still talking (to be honest, we rarely stop talking) we hardly notice the steepness of the slope and we're at the base of the 'staircase' to the Mam Tor summit before we know it. We pause for a breather and to admire the far reaching views. And the view of the cement works!

Now we start the steady climb up the well maintained steps up the hill. Inset into some of the steps are small brass plaques - we see a torq then one of a roundhouse. We've never noticed this one before (probably because we've always been going downhill and gathering speed) and it is particularly fine, so PC takes a picture.

Again, it takes us very little time to reach the summit but rather than go up to the trig point where everyone and their grandmothers seem to be gathering, we skirt the top hunting for a hollow in which to sit out of the wind and enjoy a coffee. Yes, the sun is shining and the sky is clear, but up here there's a stiff breeze blowing. We're unsuccessful on the Edale side of the slope so we cross over to hunt out somewhere on the Castleton side. We drop down a way to where the side of the hill has slipped away, peer cautiously over the edge, then find a convenient sitting place where the hillside has dipped but not yet fallen. We hope our weight won't provide the incentive for it to head downwards!

Naturally the secret flask comes out. After all, we have something to celebrate, we've done all the climbing well before lunch and with relatively little effort. We must be getting fitter, so a couple of nips of the Ramblers Restorative is our reward. Then we have a coffee and a natter (yes, we're still talking) whilst enjoying the view.

It's a wonderful wide vista from here and we can see for miles. The only blot is the ugly cement works - how on earth did they get permission to build such an eyesore? In its heyday Peveril Castle, whitewashed to stand out and be noticed, would have been considered ugly (and very threatening), but in no way could it compete with the monstrosity of the cement works.

By the time we've mused on the landscape, spotted a heron wading in a large puddle and watched a group of children way below us, no doubt on a geography field trip, we've passed enough time to consider getting out the sandwiches. Maybe it's a bit early (but not before noon, we don't want to upset the Picnic Police) but it seems preferable to eat now while we're comfortable than try to find a better spot. However, once the sandwiches are eaten we decide to wait a while for the buns (extreme willpower in force here) so we pack up and set off once more.

It's a long steady walk down towards Hollins Cross with us going against the flow of people. Most of them are puffing on their way up, which makes us feel quite smug. We have spectacular views to Lose Hill and Back Tor but by the time we reach Hollins Cross all we can think about are the buns. So we fine ourselves a wind free hollow on the Edale side and settle down. The buns today are fresh cream apple turnovers; just enough tart in the apples to balance the sugar on the top of the pastry and one of our five a day! They go down extremely well, along with another coffee, and we're glad that we waited a while for them.

After a long, lazy break we go back up to Hollins Cross and take the path that leads to the Hollowford Road. We've never been on this stretch of the path before and we're glad we're not doing it in the wet. Although it has been paved and repaired the steps are uneven and, in places, narrow which means we have to watch where we are putting our feet. It's also quite steep and is one of those cases where it is probably better going uphill than down. A couple pass us in a bit of a lather; they have half an hour to get to Castleton to catch their bus. We wish them luck and dawdle to let them get well ahead of us.

We come off the moor and onto the narrow gully which is the top part of Hollowford Road. It's narrow and running with water, but much better than the one and only time we'd been on this path before when it had been extremely muddy and very wet. At the bottom we come out onto a tarmac lane and pause to read an information board pointing out landmarks and explaining that we'd been on the 'coffin road' from Edale to Castleton from the time before Edale had its own church.

We wander down the road and are soon, seamlessly, back in the centre of Castleton. As we walk through the village we look in a few of the shops selling their Blue John jewellery before heading up the road towards our cars. The sun is dipping behind the hills now and the warmth is suddenly sucked out of the day. All the wonderful shadows and contrasts are gone and Winnats Pass is mired in gloom once again.

We're pleased we've done this reverse walk, it's meant that we've been able to look on it all with fresh eyes. And what's even better, we aren't even tired.

LOSE SOME - NOT QUITE A CIRCUIT AND NOT COMPLETELY DRY

We're doing something very sensible for this walk, although we tend to consider it a bit of a cheat. We meet up at the base of Winnats Pass, abandon one car, transfer rucksacks, walking gear and bodies (ours) into the other car, then drive to Hope where we park and get ready to walk.

We start off along Edale Road which is narrow enough to provide some close encounters with a few passing vehicles, but it's the kind of easy, level walking that's just right for warming up the muscles.

Just before we reach Townhead Bridge we take the left hand track which leads, not surprisingly, to Townhead and, ultimately, Lose Hill. We pause to admire a garden's flourishing patch of Bears Britches (Acanthus spinosus) before pressing on up the gentle incline. As we come to a fork in the track, and knowing we need the left hand path, we see a group of half a dozen teenage lads sorting out their gear. On seeing us they hurry up and continue on their way, no doubt expecting to outstrip us easily. We expect them to outstrip us easily too.

We pause to remove a layer, it is warm and despite a few smatterings of rain we don't want to don waterproofs, then continue up hill. A short while later - and it is a short while - we reach the stile which takes us onto an enclosed track. The stile is decorated with half a dozen resting teenagers. We can almost hear their groans of horror as they pick up their rucksacks and stagger over the stile as we wait for them to get a move on.

We give them a couple of minutes start before we follow. The track feels very old, hollowed out by the passage of many feet with banks at either side and arching trees meeting overhead like the soaring columns of a natural cathedral. We have splendid views across the valley and can clearly see the line of the old Roman Road on the opposite hill.

It's a steady pull up this track and we pause a number of times to admire the view - and to let the boys ahead get out of the way. They are really very slow.

Eventually we see the top of the track where, once through a gate, the path emerges onto open moorland in the final pull up to Lose Hill. When we pass through the narrow gate we find the boys laid out on the damp grass looking rather the worse for wear. We, naturally, nimbly skip past them and power up the next patch of ground, just to show them how it should be done.

We pause to admire a stand of foxgloves (yes, and to get our breath back, we're not made for power-walking) then continue to meander up the very steep hill. We're above the trees here and the views are extensive, reaching all the way along the first loop of the Edale valley. We do keep looking back, still no sign of the boys.

Naturally, we have a few pauses on the way uphill, no point in rushing and missing the view. After a while the boys come into range again, only for them to all collapse in a heap once more. This sorry sight is repeated a few times on the way up. They obviously didn't have their Weetabix for breakfast!

We, on the other hand, are making excellent time, so we decide to stop and have a drink and a bun. Ah yes, it's turned into a double bun day purely by accident. It's PCs turn for coffee, but she wasn't sure so brought buns as well - just in case. Being my turn for buns I'd brought buns and had also remembered to fill the secret flask (with the last of the Ramblers Restorative, I must make some more). So we sit and enjoy a nip from the flask, some coffee and a fresh cream scone.

(Whilst doing so the boys - after another rest 20 yards south of us - manage to stagger past us to rest, again, 20 yards north of us. They eat lunch in almost total silence, the lack of noise suggesting they have little breath left for talking.)

Dark clouds are looming so we decide to press on - having ascertained that the boys have already gone before and have a good enough lead for us not to catch up with them again. It was beginning to get embarrassing - for them!

As we reach the final stile on the route to the summit we do the sensible thing and pull on our waterproofs. The wind is starting to make itself felt and the dark clouds are racing across the sky. It all looks very dramatic.

Sure enough, the heavens open, but not for long. We could have managed without the waterproofs, but now they're on we'll leave them for a while. The sky hasn't cleared and we could be in for more rain.

By the time we reach the summit of Lose Hill we have a magnificent 360 degree view around us, including of Win Hill, the Great Ridge and Mam Tor, Castleton, and the less than impressive cement works. And the sun is shining too. This is what walking is all about.

Descending from the summit is quite direct and height is lost quickly. The path is fenced in by post and wire on one side and a semi-dilapidated stone wall on the other. For some odd reason there are large way-marking cairns at the side of the path, pretty pointless as it would be almost impossible to lose your way on this part.

As we cross the ridge we can see the dark clouds gathering again at the head of Edale and the telltale signs of rainfall at Grindsbrook. Then it all turns very eerie. As the rain starts to sweep down the valley the cloud drops and everything is completely obscured behind a sheet of white.

Its like looking through a fog, or a blizzard, but turning eyes right we can still see bright sunshine at the other end of the valley.

Then the rain hits us. Wow, it really means it. Thank goodness we'd kept out wet-weather gear on as we definitely need it. It's still pouring as we start our decent of Back Tor but thankfully it starts to ease off as we pick our way down the rocky hill being especially careful now that it's turned slippery.

By the time we reach the bottom the rain has stopped and we climb over the stile as the sun breaks out again. And when the sun shines it really is warm, and a bit steamy too.

It's been a while since the bun stop so we find a good place for lunch using some flat stones on top of the dry stone wall. It's very comfortable with a good view down to Castleton, although it isn't that easy to pick out the castle. After sandwiches, though, we decide to carry on before having coffee and second buns (do we sound like Hobbits?) so we walk to Hollins Cross narrowly missing a group of teenagers (no, not the same ones - they've disappeared off the face of the earth) then take the path down towards the base of Mam Tor.

Eventually we find a comfortable mound to sit on where we while away the time drinking coffee and eating fresh cream chocolate muffins. We feel as though we deserve them. In the distance we see yet more school groups enjoying the great outdoors and down on the Castleton Road, there are at least half a dozen coaches parked, with probably more in the main car park. It seems as though every school trip, Duke of Edinburgh outing and groups of Lost Boys has congregated here today.

We check our watches and realise that we need to get a move on. We dispense with the waterproofs, the sun is out and everything has warmed up dramatically, and we make our way over a couple of boggy patches to the remains of the old road, most of which has been destroyed by the Shivering Mountain.

As we walk down the road to car number one (narrowly avoiding being run over by a coach) we start to sniff. Not because we have a cold, or hayfever, but because there is a wonderful, sweet smell. We study the hedgerows, peer over walls - nothing. Then inspiration strikes. Plucking a clover flower we discover the source of the perfume. Red and white clover on the sparse grass verges are almost impossibly fragrant. Neither of us have ever been aware of the sweet smell of this common weed.

All too soon we're back in the car and driving through the heaving main road of Castleton towards Hope where we're reunited with car number two. It's been an excellent walk and it's been a good way of doing it. We'll have to cheat a little more often.