Cressbrookdale

The day before our walk had been glorious, full of the promise of spring. Unfortunately by the time we met up the weather had become rather drear. Moreover the toilets at Monsal Head were still closed.

Still, plenty to see on this walk.

And plenty of water.

Actually, rather a lot of water.

Gushing through the dry stone wall.

Peter's Stone (or Rock) standing tall over the valley. It's actually a landslip from the hill behind, it must have slowly descended to be able to keep its form.

Looking down at the sodden valley.

Magnificent geology.

A bridge definitely helps!

Looking up the dry valley heading towards Litton.

SEASON OF MISTS AND MELLOW FRUITFULNESS

Yes, autumn is upon us and I give thanks to the poet John Keats and his Ode to Autumn (which I studied for A level English Lit oh so many years ago) for the title of this post.

We've had another break for late holidays, but now we are both back for the forseeable future, and whilst we have been away autumn has snuck up. Sunny, dry days and chilly nights have pushed the trees into showing their glorious firey colours and we are hoping to capture some of this on today's walk.

After a brief debate we decided to head for Cressbrook Dale. It's somewhere we usually visit earlier in the year to see the orchids and wild flowers, but there are plenty of trees so fingers crossed we'll have something worth photographing.

We meet, as usual, at the Monsal Head car park behind the pub, to avail ourselves of the local conveniences, then back to our cars to drive down the steep narrow road into the valley bottom. Already we have lovely views of the golden leaves, but it certainly isn't safe to take photos whilst driving!

The little car park at the side of the River Wye is empty so we pull up and get ready for our walk. And yes, we have plenty of catching up to do so we are talking twenty to the dozen. It is a lovely crisp and sunny day, but we have had rain over the last couple of days so we are not expecting it to be totally dry underfoot, but it doesn't look like rain is a possibility now even though we pack our waterproofs.

We head up the road towards the very smart Mill, admiring the ponies in the fields and the trees on the opposite hill. We take the right hand road at the Mill and start the steady climb upwards. There are some lovely trees here but a good photographic view of them tends to be blocked by others that, so far, have refused to do anything other than stay green.

At the sharp hairpin in the road we walk straight ahead on a wide track which leads to a gate. It's a bit muddy at the far side of the gate, but at least there aren't any cows here - there had been on a previous walk, and I'm not fond of cows.

This field stays reasonably level for a while before decending in a slippery slope to the bottom. At the side of the slope, though, are blackberry bushes and we debate stopping to pick some. But there aren't too many fruit on them, no doubt others have been here before us, so we leave them and carry on. 

At the bottom we slide a little towards the small gated bridge over a completely dry stream bed (but we have seen this flooded and been unable to proceed) and at the far side we are into the woods. Yet again the vivid colour we were hoping for isn't particularly evident here, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a lovely walk. It is. It's a narrow winding path with a few undulations and rocky patches which comes out into the open, sheep and rabbit nibbled valley of Cressbrook Dale. It is completely dry here and with the sun shining it is warm enough to remove layers. 

We walk up the valley until we are beneath Peter's Stone (or Peter's Rock if you prefer) then scramble up to the rocky knoll that sits beside it where we find somewhere to sit for lunch. The sandwiches/salads are of little interest, but the coffee is superb and the buns - fresh cream eclairs - are perfect. We have an excellent vantage point here in the sun so we sit for some time putting the world to rights.

Eventually we descend via the longer, easier slope towards Wardlow Mires, double back on the main track beneath Peter's Stone, and head for the footbridge and stile which takes us up into Tansley Dale. We haven't ever walked up here before, but it is an easy stroll despite it being uphill, and part way up there is a huge warren full of rabbit holes.

At the top we study the map a while before rejoining the path behind a man and wife, and they are making very heavy weather of it. We have to keep waiting for them to get far enough ahead as we are walking much faster. At the next stile the lady struggles to get over then walks on while her husband stands and waits. As we approach the stile he asks if we need help! I give him a curt No Thank You, seething with indignation at his assumption of our ineptitude, and go over the stile in short order. He wanders off to join his struggling wife.

The path goes through a field and soon we are at the field gate onto a lane. The couple are there before us, and standing in the gateway with the gate open, looking puzzled. They are following a guidebook rather than a map, have one small rucksack between them and are clearly not regular walkers but there are signs here so they shouldn't be lost. I tell them we'll close the gate, but they just stand there looking vague, so I pull the gate shut as they shuffle foward. We then turn left along the track which runs between two stone walls and keep our eye open for our next path, which is across some fields. The husband and wife trail along a little way behind us.

Just before the track meets the road there is a stone stile and a footpath sign pointing across the fields. Again, we are over in no time and heading across the field at a good pace, determined to get well in front. We need not have bothered, the couple seem to have continued onto the road which leads to Litton. 

The fields slope down a little, then start to climb giving increasingly good views across Cressbrook Dale. We cross another track, with a very steep stone stile, then we reach the field with the cows. Time to be brave. These seem to be quite young, and a curious Jersey ambles towards other while the others look on with interest. PC takes some photos and I manage to walk past without running. The cows had been clustered around our next gateway but most have them have moved away so our way is clear.

Part way across the next field we turn to admire the view behind us and discover that we are being followed. Keep calm! 

Soon enough we are out of the fields and into the woods at the top of the Cressbrook Dale valley. This is quite a precarious walk, the path has been cleared a bit but although it is narrow it is on a definite slope, and there are still plenty of brambles trying to snag at our legs. 

We pause for a moment to enjoy the view which opens out through the trees to the opposite side of the valley and the rock faces at Wardlow Hay Cop, which look magnificent and very prehistoric. Further along we decide to take the path that goes downhill with the benefit of a stepped section, rather than keep to the high level track, and we eventually find ourselves back on the track near the hairpin bend.

From here it is a steady downhill walk along the road, although there do seem to be a lot of cars all of a sudden, and the return to the car park which is now, understandably, full. And we have time to sit and chat (even more) before making plans for our next walk in a couple of weeks time.

SPRING IN CRESSBROOK DALE

PC is off sailing the seven seas with her husband, so for now it's just me and my camera.

Out again, but not on my own this week as Husband has a day off work and is joining me. We don't get out walking anything like as much as we would wish so he's jumped at the opportunity. At least the weather looks to stay fine and we even have some sunshine.

We park the car in the small parking area at the side of the River Wye at Upperdale. We're the only ones here as we're quite early. We pull on our boots then hoist our rucksacks on to our backs (why is mine heavier?) in near silence - no catching up to do and we ran out of sparkling conversation on the journey! Such is married life.

This first part of the walk is on the road, heading towards the imposing facade of Cressbrook Mill, but before we reach it we spot a duck on the river looking extremely exotic in temperate Derbyshire.

This proves to be a talking point as we can't quite decide what it is. (Turns out it is a male Mandarin Duck.) Once the duck has refused to stop to have its photograph taken we move on, and in a nearby field we see some interesting sheep. These, fortunately, are more obliging. My first thought is that they are Hebridean sheep. Why? No idea, but on checking various websites on returning home I'm pretty confident - although if I am wrong please feel free to let me know as I'm no livestock expert.

Ahead is the old mill, now converted into smart living accommodation, and it is the first time Husband has seen it in many years. I tend to forget how infrequently he gets out into the walking heart of Derbyshire despite travelling all over the country for his job.

We take the lane to the right of the mill and begin the steady ascent. We pass a lady with a very old dog, but other than that we see no one else. The birdsong is clear and we can enjoy the fresh green leaves bursting into bud. On the banks at either side of the road there are wood anemones in bloom, sprinklings of white like mini snowdrifts. As we reach the top of our climb and take the footpath towards the Dale we encounter more flowers growing beneath the straight trunks of thin woodland with the sun lighting the path ahead, a typical English spring scene.

It's a straight and fairly level path to a narrow gate and I'm relieved that there are no cows here (there had been in the past when I'd been with PC). However, at the other side of the gate the ground is churned up, a sure sign that cattle are, or have been, in the vicinity. I keep a wary eye open but as we walk into a more open field I can breathe a sigh of relief. No cows. But there is a lovely view over the trees to the distant Cressbrook Dale.

 

 

In the woods at the side, though, there is the most glorious carpet of anemones turning the whole woodland floor white.

 

 



 

 

It's a fairly steep descent here, dreadful when it's slippery, but no problem today. At the bottom is a narrow gated bridge over the dried up stream bed. It's hard to remember that on our last visit the bridge was close to being submerged.

 

The walk along the path in this wooded part of Cressbrook Dale is always very lovely. Birds are very active (we even hear an owl - it must have trouble sleeping) and the ground is carpeted with flowers, mainly anemones but there are bright yellow celandines too. We are following the dried riverbed which looks strangely sinister and primeval.

 

 

 

We continue through the woods until they give way to the wider, open spaces of the limestone dale. Immediately the search is on for the orchids which thrive here, but sadly it seems we are too early - or the weather has been too unkind - because they aren't flowering yet. I do find one eventually and

once I've seen one it is easy to spot dozens, but as yet they are just clusters of leaves with promising buds.

 

The Dale widens out with the sometimes-stream completely dry missing from the bottom. Ahead is a new bridge, replacing the stepping stones over the non-extent water and leading up Tansley Dale. Here we pause for a nip from the secret flask (yes, Husband knows all about it) and I take a scenic photo of said flask on top of the bridge with the Dale in the background, just for PC.

 

 

We continue up the Dale and into the breeze. It isn't too bad, but it is noticeable. The Dale dog-legs and soon we are approaching Peter's Stone, a monumental limestone dome where there was once a gibbet (see an earlier post). We walk up towards the stone then climb to the prominent outcrop beneath it where we can sit and enjoy the wide ranging view up the dale and down past Wardlow Mires towards Foolow.

 

 

After a while we take the path towards Wardlow Mires until we are in the Dale bottom again then turn back. From here there are splendid views of Peter's Stone, though it is a wonder that a gibbet could have been erected here.

 

 

We head off back down the Dale and find a suitable hollow of ground in which to sit for lunch and shelter from the ever present wind. The coffee is very good, and I initiate Husband into the ritual of the buns. Today we have Toffee Pecan Danish Swirls - very sticky but very satisfying.

 

It is tempting to lay back and snooze. Out of the wind it is quite mild but the sun has gone in and the clouds seem to be gathering, so we gather our gear and retreat.

 

We watch some Pied Wagtails bobbing about in the short grass and on the drystone walls before going through the gate into wooded area. Here there is a steep sided clearing with cowslips which we hadn't noticed on our outward walk. I pause to take a picture before we continue.

When we eventually cross the bridge over the dry stream we turn left and follow the course of the stream toward Ravensdale Cottages. Just before the cottages the stream reappears from underground and we can see it bubbling up from beneath some rocks, but beyond the cottages it has disappeared again!

 

Behind the cottages are the cliffs of Ravensdale and there is a notice saying that climbing is not allowed this year as ravens have actually nested on the crags for the first time in many years. Despite using our binoculars we couldn't see them, but it is excellent news, and we hope that climbers don't try to disturb the birds.

 

From here it is a short walk up the long driveway to rejoin the road, and then we are on the downhill stretch to Upperdale and the car. It has been an excellent walk, Husband has thoroughly enjoyed it and so have I - although there has been less conversation than usual! Next time I'll be out on my own again, though.

 

CRESSBROOK DALE TO PETER'S STONE

The looming grey clouds which promise rain can't dampen our enthusiasm. Another week's walk has been forcibly crossed from our diaries and we need to make up for lost time.

We've parked at Upperdale Farm and decide to pull on all our waterproof gear when we feel the chill of the wind sweeping down the valley. We're hardy souls, but not daft. We set off down the road towards the old mill, now fancy dwellings rather than an industrial space. As we veer off up the right hand road we pause to look at the mill pond. In the centre, on a raised nest, is a coot. Then we see, to the right, its partner swimming in the water with three tiny balls of fluff. It's amazing how fast they can swim; surely they can only be a day or so old given that mum is still on the nest. We watch them for a while, daft grins on our faces, before setting off up the road reflecting that it's seeing such gems that add a special something to our walks. We pity those who forge forward with their heads down seeing only where they are

their feet.

When the road turns a hairpin bend we take the footpath straight on, going through a gate which, last time, had been guarded by young bullocks. Fortunately there were long gone and we passed through with ease (and a steady pulse rate. I don't do cows).

Over to our right the sheer cliffs of Ravenscliffe loom, and to our left is a wood full of anemones.

We walk steeply downhill and come to the bridge at the entrance to the Cressbrook Dale nature reserve. Today the river bed is bone dry, grass and weeds growing amongst the rocks, but on our last visit we'd had to paddle to the bridge which only skimmed the fast flowing water by a few millimeters and was in danger of becoming submerged. On that occasion, the valley upstream had been turned into a series of small lakes complete with resident ducks. Today we cross dry shod.

Once over the bridge we are in a botanical haven. The trees are not yet in full leaf which means that the anemones are thriving, and we have to stop to photograph a clump of pink flowers which are showing off in the middle of their white

family members. There are bright yellow celandines and in the numerous clearings cowslips are blooming. The dry river bed is home to blackthorn, its white flowers promising a bumper crop of sloes in the autumn. Later on in this season there will be ramsons and meadowsweet, their leaves fresh but their flowers not ready yet. Deeper in the wood it is clear that trees get little light, and that the air is moist. We stop to stroke one tree which seems to be wearing a soft, furry overcoat of moss which has turned its bark green.

The rain has turned to a determined drizzle and we have to be careful over the

limestone rocks which have become slippery underfoot. There is only once spot which could cause any problems but we're careful. Now the woodland has given way to open valley bottom, and we spot our first orchid. Of course, we have to take a photograph of the vivid purple beauty, but the camera is being uncooperative. By the time we've finished the poor specimen must be in contention for the most photographed orchid in England.

We stop for a coffee. The rain has passed over, the view is lovely and we've found somewhere comfortable to sit. A couple of walkers come down from Tansley Dale and stop to talk about the wild flowers. Apparently Tansley Dale is awash with cowslips. The couple seem unsure of exactly where they're heading, they only have a guidebook and no map, but they set off anyway. We pack up our rucksacks and head further up the valley.

We walk past Peter's Stone (or Peter's Rock, it depends whether you believe the map or the marker post) to peer down the valley towards Wardlow Mires then double back on a path that takes us up towards Peter's Stone, an impressive limestone outcrop believed to resemble the dome of St Peter's in Rome. More sinister, though, is the fact that it was apparently the site of the last gibbet in Derbyshire in 1812. We didn't know that when we decided to picnic amongst the orchids at its base!

Our lunch spot is chosen in blissful ignorance of past associations and we enjoy our picnic complete with fresh cream slices - just enough jam, just enough cream - which we eat with sticky relish. We finish off with coffee and a sip from the flask to keep the chill at bay. The clouds are gathering again and the temperature is dropping. It's too cold to sit for long so we set off back.

We had planned to take the uphill path which then drops down to the bridge, only to vary the route and views on the return, but sitting down in the cold has made hips stiff so we return on our outward path.

When we reach the awkward rocky part of the path we find a small group sitting on it eating their lunch totally blocking the way! There is no other way around so they have to move their belongings for us to pass and immediately settle down once we've gone. They'll be in for a shock as there are more people out walking now. We muse over the foolishness of some people as we head back to the bridge. The sky has brightened again although the sun resolutely refuses to shine. At least it isn't trying to rain anymore.

We cross the bridge and head left along the side of the dry river bed. Why doesn't this river have a name on the map? Is it because it's only a part-timer? Here the banks are smothered in ramsons, the pungent flowers still curled up deep in their buds. In a few weeks the air will be a solid wall of garlic scent. Lovely.

There are a few bluebells out, especially close to Ravensdale Cottages, but they stop abruptly. Perhaps in a few years they will have managed spread, although the ramsons are probably tough competitors for the available space.

We only have to walk back downhill now and along to the cars. It hasn't been a particularly long or strenuous walk, but we both feel tired. It doesn't stop us planning for next week though when we go hunting for bluebells (we hope).