TOWARDS TIDESWELL AND CHOCOLATE SCONES

We seem to be having problems with the weather lately, hardly surprising in winter, but it makes choosing walks a little tricky. We've had our fill full of mud for now.

So, the decision is made to head for the Monsal Trail, but from a point a little further along than usual.

We drive past Monsal Head then down the steep road to the small parking area next to the River. The water is high and looks perishing cold.

Our plan is to cross over the river at Litton Mill and get onto the trail and walk towards Miller's Dale. But once we are suitably attired and on our way, we hit a snag. Taking the footpath through the mill grounds we come up against diggers, metal fencing and enough mud to keep hippos happily wallowing for weeks. An about-turn and change of plan is in order.

Instead we walk up the steep road adjoining the Mill and find, on our left, a gap in the wall to take us on a permissive path which is used to circumvent the flooding that is so common in Water cum Jolly Dale. This path is slippery in places, with fallen trees blocking it in others, and the decent to the path is perilous in wet conditions as you scramble down slick limestone. But we reach the path safely and amble along at the side of the river.

Through a gate at the far end we turn and end up going past a few cottages. We eye up a strategic bench with half a mind for a lunch stop, but instead continue along until I recognise the 'entrance' to Tideswell Dale. Here the river flows gently and it is a very pleasant walk up a well used path.

But lunch beckons, so we find an outcrop to sit on and enjoy lunch and coffee - along with wonderful cream filled chocolate scones. Yes, they sound weird but they are oh-so-good. And large! With a distinct feeling of being overfull we begin to retrace our steps.

At the cottages again we cross over the narrow bridge to the far side of the river and climb upwards onto the remains of the old railway that is now part of the Monsal Trail. Very familiar territory here with the numerous tunnels (cold and dripping) and cyclists coming up behind unawares. 

We walk up the bridge at Monsal Head but before crossing it we take the left hand path down and back over the river. From here it is but a steady walk back to the cars.

It has certainly been a cold day today, but despite a last minute change of plans we managed an excellent walk nontheless.

STORMY WEATHER - THE MONSAL TRAIL AND TUNNELS

Our usual excellent forward planning had deserted us so this walk was planned very hastily last night after we'd heard the rather grim weather forecast. Thunderstorms and heavy rain! Fortunately, PC came up with a suitable plan - visit the newly opened tunnels (see previous Monsal blog) on the Monsal Trail.

The decision to park in the laybay just past the bridge on the Great Longstone road (Longreave Lane?) is a good one, saving us driving through Great and Little Longstone as well as allowing us to follow the walk for a greater distance. However, given PC's legendary navigational skills I consider it prudent to be there before her so she doesn't miss the spot! Whilst waiting (yes, I make it first, an uncommon occurrence) the cloudy but dry day turns damp, then proceeds to become progressively wetter and wetter. By the time PC arrives we have to haul on all the waterproofs. Then I discover, to my dismay and PC's horror, that I've forgotten the umbrella. It would have been perfect on this steady, level walk.

Still, nothing we can do about it so we set off up the slight slope that leads us onto the bridge and the Monsal Trail just as we see a bright flash of lightening dropping onto Bakewell and hear the accompanying, ominously loud rumble of thunder.

The thunder rumbles around us as we walk along, and the rain hammers down. I'm seriously regretting forgetting the brolly as I'm sure my waterproof coat leaks but at least it is summer (supposedly) and warmish so I doubt I'll suffer too much.

The track sides of the trail are a mass of colour at this time of year (yes, rain-washed colour) with brilliant blue meadow cranesbill (geranium pratense) and bushes of climbing roses in whites and all shades of pink. The meadowsweet isn't out yet but later on we'll find spikes of lilac orchids - a rare treat.

We pass the village of Great Longstone over on our right, partly obscured by the rain, then under the bridge and past the old station. We walk on and pass the stile leading to Little Longstone which we'd always had to cross in the past as from this point the trail was closed. Not any more.

As we continue the rain eases a little and we pause to watch the tractors in one of Little Longstone's fields, then are quite surprised to see them going over a bridge that we're about to go under. A little way further on and we get our first glimpse of the Headstone Tunnel with its arched, protective cage to shield it (and those entering) from rock falls.

It's quite eerie walking up to the dark, bleak tunnel. There are lights along the roof but the far end cannot be seen as it curves away along its length. Along the approach the high walls of rock have insets of masonry making it look like something out of Lord of the Rings.! Very atmospheric.

OK, I'll admit it, I find it spooky but PC is in her element, snapping away with the camera while I try to get over the creepy, cold-fingers-down-the-spine feeling whilst trying to appreciate being out of the wet. Not that it's a lot drier under the tunnel as water is drip-dripping from the ceiling and running down the walls. It's quite a lot colder here too, though it's hardly a blisteringly hot summer's day outside, and we ponder on the suitability of using the tunnel for a wine cellar.

Sound carries very well and we can hear others entering from the far end long before we see them, and no doubt they can hear us and our rambling discussions too. We stop at the mid-point where we can just about see light at both ends of the tunnel, and PC attempts to take a series of panoramic shots.

We emerge from the tunnel at the iconic Monsal Head viaduct and peer through the high railings to watch the misty haze rising from the River Wye down in the dale. It isn't raining quite so much, but we hear another rumble of thunder which heralds a heavier downpour to come so we stride out along this familiar stretch of path to seek shelter in the last remaining building standing at the old Monsal Station. Just before we reach it - and with the promised rain keeping off for now, we discover a veritable field of toadstools emerging from some very damp wood chippings. Again, PC is in her element trying for a good photo.

The windowless, doorless station shelter provides a good place in which to enjoy a nip from the secret flask. Bit of a change today (in a rush to leave this morning so it was filled with the first bottle I put my hands on) so we treat ourselves to some homemade 'Red Arrow' (my name for raspberry gin). It's a while since I've had some and I'd forgotten how good it tastes. PC and I decide to savour a few sips to help to banish the gloom.

Maybe the gin hasn't helped the rain to stop but we feel a bit brighter and more summery for it and before long we reach the second opened tunnel, the Cressbrook Tunnel. It doesn't feel as long nor as gloomy as the Headstone, and there are a few more people about even though the rain is bucketing down again. Emerging at the far side we are high up above Water-cum-Jolly Dale and enjoying a view that we've never experienced before. It's quite magical - especially so when this is where we see the orchids.

Despite the continuing rainfall it's very pleasant walking along a brand new track (to us) but we haven't gone very far before we reach Litton Tunnel which we enter like old hands. We're beginning to feel hungry and do consider stopping in the tunnel for lunch, but it isn't terribly inviting so we decide to wait. Luckily, by the time we emerge the rain has slowed down considerably and looks ready to stop. By the time we reach our usual path down to Litton Mill (which we're not following today) the rain has actually stopped so we commandeer the bench at the side of the path and prepare for lunch.

We pass on another nip from the secret flask - it is possible to have too much of a good thing - and start off with a warming coffee. It's a good one this week, made by PC and far better that my dismal mix from the week before. Then it's lunch - a rapidly consumed sandwich for PC and a heavy salad for me (old joke) - followed by the buns. I'd been spoiled for choice on the bun-run this morning and eventually settled for individual banoffee pies - shortcrust pastry, bananas, caramel and fresh cream. I'd even brought forks to eat them with, but they weren't needed, the pies went down very quickly and very well.

A slight panic mid-lunch (another ominous rumble of thunder) made PC fetch out a small, flimsy brolly with a broken handle to cover us (and our buns) while we ate. It managed to do the job, saving us from soggy pies and diluted coffee.

The rain, though heavy, doesn't last long and by the time we've finished eating and drinking it has stopped and we're free to pour the rainwater from food containers and refill the rucksacks.

We've never walked this far along the trail before so, again, we have the benefit of newness. And as we walk we look up to see a glimmer of blue sky. Does this mean that the day is actually going to turn out nice after all?

The clouds gradually shift away and the grey murk starts to lift. We pause to admire the views at Ravenstor and a couple pass us in shirt sleeves and shorts - a sure sign that the weather is improving. Further along we see a metal speaker on a stand which turns out to have information on it 'Monsal Memories' - a series of six ten minute podcasts about the Monsal Line. It's a shame we don't have time to listen to them.

  
A little further on we decide it's time to turn around. It would be good to travel further, the sun is shining after all, but we have the same distance to travel back and we really can't be out too late. So we retrace our steps and see, a short way back, some wild strawberries. Tiny and sweet they are too good to miss so I    scramble up a slope and pick them. A real taste of summer. Further along  we see a huge swathe of them and temptation is too great. We have to stop and pick. It takes no time at all to gather a large handful - still plenty behind (oh, for more time) - and it really feels good to be eating them as we walk along. How come we missed them on the way out? And how come more people haven't seen them and devoured them? It's a very short season for the wild strawberries, so we're just grateful to have been lucky enough to find them. 

We're making good time, and enjoying the returning views though    PC's camera isn't too happy about getting soggy and will probably need some drying out when she gets it home. As we approach Cressbrook Tunnel we're greeted by swirling mist rising from the entrance and PC jokes that maybe the trains are still running. It certainly looks as though a ghostly train is on its way, but it's merely the effects of the warm moist air meeting the colder air of the tunnel. We can feel a distinct chill as we approach and the swirling fog extends some way inside before dissipating. Eerie.

We're on a bit of a march now so although we're enjoying the sights and the sun we don't have time to loiter. There are plenty of cyclists and walkers out, an indication of the popularity and accessibility of this trail. We pass a straggling group of primary school children who look as tired as their teachers, then we heading down the slope off the trail towards our cars. It's good to be able to take off soggy coats and boots although it doesn't look as though the rain has done with the day. A few more spots fall as we drive away.

MONSAL HEAD TO LITTON

Fantastic! Not only were we emerging from the enforced Easter idleness but the sun is out and the sky a clear, cloudless blue.

Parking at Monsal Head on the Little Longstone road is normally a straight forward operation, but today a long line of cars mean we are forced to park amidst a mass trespass (or organised walk to the uninitiated). Fingers crossed they wouldn't be walking our way - and a generous but misplaced invitation to join them (politely but emphatically refused) revealed their route to be different to ours. Phew.

A brief blip at the top of Monsal Head reveals that one camera was missing and the 'first time out' camera has flat batteries. This means relying on a mobile phone for photos and hoping the technological details will not be our downfall.

Too eager to set off we hit the first path we come to and, despite having been this way many times, don't realise it is the path leading down to the River Wye rather than across the viaduct -until we come to the water. A decision is made. We press on, and it's the right decision. We reach a weir, white water frothing down its steps throwing up spray which, in the wonderful sunshine, produces a perfect, personal rainbow.

We cross the footbridge and meander back upriver through a wide meadow sprinkled with spring flowers and head towards the viaduct, its towering black arches dominating the valley. A quick scramble up the valley side and we emerge onto the trail we'd initially intended to be on. This is easy walking on the remains of the old railway line, its track-bed more used to the pounding of feet now rather than the rumble of metal wheels. Trees provide shade from the sun but the April chill still makes itself felt, although that doesn't stop some people walking in strappy vests and shorts. What will they do when it gets really warm?

We stop on a bench for a drink (only cranberry juice) and to carry on catching up. So much seems to have happened over the last three weeks - to family members rather than us, of course, we seem to lead uneventful lives - but the repercussions inevitably affect us. There have been moments of pride, elation, frustration and worrying over plans for the future. The usual family mix.

We follow the path skirting the now-blocked tunnel towards Cressbrook Mill and the delightfully named Water-cum-Jolly Dale. Before reaching either place we veer uphill on a less distinct path we have used before (we think) to avoid a couple of undignified scrambles. This path keeps us high above the River Wye and looking down we can see a solitary swan gliding across the water among coots and other waterbirds. The looming limestone crags behind provide a dramatic backdrop although people walking on the path beneath in bright colours spoil the effect.

Our path dips and rises with the contours of the hill but we are constantly climbing. Soon we reach a vantage point above the aptly named Millers Dale (although there is another Millers Dale, or perhaps continuation of this one, to the west). We admire the view in the, admittedly, cold wind. We've been here before, on a good day and on a bad one where it was impossible to see more than a couple of yards ahead, but we've never been able to see so far or so clearly. We can even see the damned cement works at Hope on the horizon!

Finding a sheltered hollow to sit in keeps us out of the wind, so we break out our leisurely lunch. Today is not a day for hurrying. The views, the weather and the conversation are a perfect mix. Even the buns, calorie free fresh cream scones (no calorie count on the box means they must be calorie free) seems extra special. We spot a pair of buzzards on the opposite side of the valley, one constantly calling to the other with its long, drawn out cry. They circle slowly, lazily, and are soon directly above us. We look up to admire the banding under their wings and marvel at the graceful, effortless ease with which they catch the air currents. Higher they go, circling endlessly. Then to the right another buzzard becomes airborne and one of the pair goes to meet it as its partner carries on upwards. Soon they are only specks in the endless sky.

Still looking skywards we see a few vapour trails, an unfamiliar sight these last few days after the eruption of the Icelandic volcano. Man is obviously reclaiming the skies. A pity the airspace isn't left to the buzzards.

We spend far too long over lunch and despite not wanting to move on, we must.

The path skirts the hillside and descends steeply to the old railway track and Litton Mill. We cross the river, running deep and clear, and walk through the old mill complex, now houses and apartments, before joining the riverside path.

One house has a wild, unkempt garden facing the river and we pause to admire the profusion of pale yellow primroses growing there. A little way on and we stop again to stare at the banks of delicate white, nodding anemones sprinkled liberally over the woodland floor like icing sugar. Totally enchanting.

The river is full of large fish, trout, and an angler waits for us to pass before trying his luck with them.

Walking is easy. The strength of the sun is concentrated in the high-sided valley and it has become really warm. We spot a face in the limestone rock face to our left; two eyes, a nose, a thin-lipped mouth, and wonder how long it has been watching people walk this way whilst they have passed by, oblivious.

Soon we're under the looming crags at Water-cum-Jolly Dale and crossing the bridge over the thundering weir. Then it's a brief climb up to the path and back onto the Monsal Trail.

We're running late and have to push the pace as we reach the final climb out of the valley to Monsal Head. Back at the cars we have only a brief time to reflect on a brilliant day before, reluctantly, heading home.