LADYBOWER TO THORNHILL - MAKE IT UP AS WE GO ALONG

Our planning for today went a little awry, so it was a last minute decision to meet up at Yorkshire Bridge then make it up as we went along. Not usually the best way to sort out a walk but we were confident that we would come up with something worthwhile.

 

To start with the lay-by at Yorkshire Bridge is closed. The County Council's end of year rush to spend their road repair budget has targeted this lay-by (among many other stretches of the drive here!) which means driving up to the Heatherdene car park (excellent toilets but now a Pay and Display) and re-planning. Fortunately there is a lay-by a little higher up near the fishing centre, so we duly head there to park.

Already it is getting windy, blowing papers out of PC's car boot which then have to be chased down the road and recaptured. And it is pretty chilly, but the sky is clear and if it is going to rain it won't be soon.

We have a quick look at the map, devise a sort-of route, then head off back down the road (A6013) to the dam wall. There is a fair amount of traffic this morning, which doesn't please Mollie, but when we take the path running away from the dam and down the slope she begins to relax. 

On this stretch we meet some other dog walkers (one with a very friendly Jack Russell terrier) and a couple of small groups of hikers - looks like it could be a busy day.

When we come out on the small side road we turn right and pause on the bridge over the River Derwent to admire the view before turning left and looking for our next footpath. This path, on our right in a few yards, climbs upwards and brings us out onto the old railway line which now runs level and straight for walkers, cyclists and horse riders.

It is pleasant, easy walking and despite the wind it is also quite mild. We are able to indulge in conversation without being troubled with map reading or too much of a view. 

The trail (it is the linear Thornhill Trail apparently) dips to cross a minor road, then rises again at the far side. We spy a bench with a rather ugly pictorial monument next to it and decide to pause for a nip of Ramblers. OK, so we haven't been out long, and we were late setting off, but we feel the need! We sit, enjoy our drink and a chocolate treat, then some coffee, and as Mollie eats her biscuits we are greeted once again by the fussy Jack Russell terrier.

It is tempting just to sit here and gossip, we aren't that far off lunchtime, but if we stay we won't get going again so we press on.

The trail isn't too long, and it is straight, but we keep our eyes open for a path on our right which will take us up to the Thornhill road. Before we reach it we meet, yet again, the Jack Russell looking far dirtier than before. Mollie is ecstatic and greets the terrier like a long-long love. It's owner wryly informs us that the dog has rolled in something smelly and will be having a bath as soon at it gets home!

 

We soon reach our right hand path, a short but robust climb up a field, and emerge onto the road. Here we turn left and begin to walk towards the village of Thornhill, admiring the last of the snowdrops, the first of the daffodils and the hellebores which are flowering in abundance. The road loops around to the right and, ignoring the left hand turning, continues straight on, past the small church and to where the road becomes 'unsuitable for traffic'.

 

At least we know that we are unlikely to be dodging many cars on here even though there are some isolated houses. Once again we are looking for a right hand path, one we have been on before but in the opposite direction, and eventually we spot it half hidden in a hedge. It's a pretty steep stile from this direction - the field it leads into is a good 4 foot higher than the road - but we manage it before pausing to take our bearings.

 

Clearly not a terribly well used route we do manage to make out where the path leads to, which is across several fields and a number of stiles and extremely narrow crushes. One is so narrow at the bottom that Mollie cannot squeeze through and we have to take her along the field wall to a broken-down section where she can hop through easily.

 

We wait at one stile for a flock of suspicious and scraggy looking sheep to scamper out of our way before we proceed to the end of the path and a narrow gate which leads to a boggier section of path. Not too bad, though, as it hasn't rained much recently.

 

Emerging from this we come to a vague 'crossroads' where, after a brief debate, we plan out the rest of our walk, heading left and following the signpost pointing towards Win Hill. 

 

This first section of the path is very boggy although some stepping stones have been considerately laid. Further on though the path has been churned up by less-than considerate cyclists. Surely they should be aware that cyclists are not allowed on Public Footpaths!

 

 

 

 

The path starts to climb a little but as we enjoy the opening views we are both quite surprised at the height we have reached with minimal effort. Of course, before long we do have a steeper stretch to negotiate, but overall it is a pretty painless ascent.

 

We can certainly feel the breeze up here, but it is sunny and it feels wonderful to be out. As we continue in a generally uphill direction the path runs along Thornhill Carrs - steeply up to our left, steeply down to our right. Mollie spots some sheep meandering along the right hand bank and trying to hide beneath a stunted tree. It isn't working.

 



Further on we decide it is time for lunch, so we find a comfortable spot sheltered from the wind and with wonderful views ahead. I have a traditional 'heavy salad' whereas PC is on the sandwiches. Mollie, of course, devours her biscuits then looks longingly at us as we eat our buns. Today's choice, an early Easter treat, fresh cream hot cross buns. With jam in them too. They are extremely good and Mollie is disappointed not to be asked to help.

As we finish our coffee we become aware of the chill; darker clouds are looming and the temperature has dropped. We pack up and return to the path which leads us straight to the base of the final climb up Win Hill. But that isn't our destination today, instead we head down, but rather than negotiating the steep Parkin Clough path we veer off on the track that angles away from it to the left. It still goes downhill and, as we hoped, meets the straight(ish) and gently descending path through the woods.

It's very easy walking now, an easy meander, and being in amongst the trees keeps off the wind. Soon we come to a gate on our right which, once through it, takes us down a rutted track to the road which runs alongside the western edge of Ladybower. Not far now fortunately as there is a distinct feel of rain in the air.

It doesn't take too long to reach the gate leading onto the dam wall, but not before I have skirted, and PC has studied, three frogs, two of them in a very amorous position!

We cross the walkway over the dam, the wind whistling through the railings and making a musical hum to accompany us. Soon we are on the road and walking back to the cars. We have enough time to take off our walking gear and sit for a while to plan our next walk, then the heavens open. Talk about lucky. Another 5 minutes and we would have been soaked.

So, despite not having had any particular plan for today, it has all turned out rather well. Fingers crossed that our next walk (semi-planned) is just as good.

VISITING HOPE CROSS AND THE HIDDEN RIDGE AND FURROWS

This is a walk we've promised to return to for some time, and at last we're ready for it. Yes, the day is terribly gloomy with patchy fog and threats of rain, but we're treating it as atmospheric rather than murky.

We've parked at the side of the road near the Yorkshire Bridge Inn, and are careful of the traffic speeding past. I'm the later of the two, as usual, and PC is almost ready. As I'm hurriedly pulling on my boots she comes to join me at the back of my car, carrier bag in hand. I expect her to bring something out of it but no, she merely stands there a little forlorn, holding the bag. The reason: she's forgotten her rucksack! How can anyone forget a rucksack? Well, if anyone can, it's PC. At least she remembered the coffee. So we load her stuff into my now bulging rucksack (making sure the buns don't get squashed), and she offers to carry it at some point. I suggest she takes it when we come to the uphill bits!

We set off in the morning chill but are soon warmed up by walking. First we cross the oh-so-familiar path across the dam wall and turn right at the far side. The first part of the walk is by the side of the reservoir, level(ish) and easy, so we can chatter away without running out of breath. The trees are still managing to hold onto some of their golden autumn colour but the low cloud means we aren't getting much of a view across the water.

As we round the point at The Springs we get a clear sight of the creamy-white arches of the bridge which carries the A57 to Manchester, and we can hear the traffic noise too which carries loudly across the water. The tree colour on the hillside opposite looks quite promising, but we need the murk - sorry, atmosphere - to lift before PC can take any worthwhile photos.

We're pretty much alone on this stretch of the walk. We do pass a lone walker going in the opposite direction but other than that it's just us and the scenery. Every now and then we come up against pockets of bright autumn colour on the valley side, and an almost-break in the clouds lets us look up to Crook Hill and see the top.

Ladybower is narrowing now and just around the bend, out of sight, it returns to being the River Ashop (joined by the River Alport before it reaches Ladybower), a very narrow river to feed such a large, thirsty reservoir. Two cyclists disappear up a track to our left which means we haven't that far to go to reach the track we need.

Soon enough we see a white gate across the wide path (it wasn't there last time, was it?) with a sign saying Path Closed due to landslip. Fortunately, the path we want climbs up to the left so after a few sniggers at 'Council-Speak' on the notice we set off up the path. You will notice that, at this point, PC does not actually offer to carry the rucksack!

Once we're on the track, which is quite muddy in places, it all starts to seem very familiar. A large swathe of conifers has been cut down with just a few, single specimens jutting skyward. The path climbs quite steeply, but the views back are superb - except for the jutting conifers blocking the way. Three quarters of the way up PC pauses to take some pictures, and I press on to see if there's a better view from the top. There is, so PC joins me and then offers to take the rucksack! I refuse - I'd much rather talk about her (he he he).

From here we enter the wood; dark, dank and eerily still. PC says it's like Primeval. Very reassuring - not. The path is very wide, and to our left is a partly collapsed stone retaining wall. We remember that from last time and scramble over the fallen stones to walk on the broad walkway that must have been the proper path in the past. It isn't until we are clambering over the assault course of fallen trees that we realise that, even though we'd walked on here last time, it had been a bad idea. It's not such a good idea now, but with an inelegant amount of reaching, stretching, cursing and grumbling we do eventually reach the far end. We'll remember for next time - we hope.

Here we reach the ruins. There is no name on the map for this tumbled down and moss shrouded collection, nor it is possible to tell from looking at the remains what the purpose of the buildings was. But it is likely that it could have been a farmstead at some time, there are paths to and from here and Hope Cross, at a crossroads of old packhorse routes, isn't far away. The impenetrable conifers would not have grown so it would have been possible to farm here, although it would not have necessarily been a particularly hospitable location.

We leave the sad remnants behind and a little way past them take a sharp left hand path which is wider and smoother than the other boggy tracks. This climbs steadily upwards taking us high above the deserted buildings quite quickly. The trees form an enclosing tunnel around us with the promise of light in the distance drawing us on. It feels very earthy, very old.

As the trees on our right become wider spaced we see the features that so intrigued us on our last visit. Beneath the trees and damp grass are the definite curves and hollows of ridge and furrow ploughing. How old are these ghosts of farming practises? Who knows? Certainly older than the trees whose roots grow over and into the gentle mounds. Maybe they are linked to the empty buildings we've left behind, or possibly they were here already. It's certainly a tough spot for a ploughed field, without the trees as a shelter the wind would rip mercilessly across the land, but this is angled on the kinder side of the hill, so maybe the crop was worth the effort. Again, I've been unable to find any information on this patch of ground and we wonder if it has been overlooked since it is out of the way and easy to miss.

We amble on, pleased with ourselves. We've done most of the climbing now, and we've seen 'our' ridge and furrow field again. We pause to study and old unused gatepost, its partner nowhere near as substantial, then press on towards Hope Cross which is now in sight. A pair of walkers pass us, deep in conversation, and we look back to see if they notice the field. They don't even take their eyes from their feet - they'll notice nothing.

We see a perfectly formed red toadstool (fly agaric) which demands its own photograph then prepare to emerge into the open.

As always at this point, and I do mean always, it has started to rain. I don't think we've ever been to Hope Cross on a perfectly clear day. So since I have to down the rucksack (yes, I'm still carrying it) to get out my waterproof coat I fetch out the Secret Flask too. The Ramblers' Restorative does just what it says on the Flask. A couple of nips each and we're raring to go - after we've clambered over the two stiles.

Someone has left some yellow flowers on top of the cross which look very cheerful in the midst of the drizzle and low cloud. I go around the high wall to study the cross. It is dated 1737 with its four sides signed Shefield (yes, one f), Edale, Glossop and Hope. It is believed that this is a restoration or a replacement of an earlier cross.

The flat topped cross sits next to the ancient roman road which ran from Glossop to Brough and which is still, in places, a path. Here is one of the heavily used stretches and it has been said that, at certain times, roman soldiers can still be seen marching here. Never actually seen them ourselves, so we can't substantiate this!

We walk along the side of the path keeping between the high wall and the tree line to protect us from the rain. There are more walkers out on this side of the hill, though not a large number. Soon, though, the rain stops and we discover that we should have walked on the path this far, as we've come up against a no-stile. Basically, there are some fencing rails and a gap where the step should be. PC curses as she climbs over it, damning it as the worst stile in the Peak District, although she'll probably reallocate the title elsewhere in the future.

It's up and down underfoot next to the treeline, but we shun the well trodden path because we're a bit perverse like that. We do see a lot of fungi, though, ranging in colour from sickly cream to deep burgundy, and do benefit from shelter provided by the wall. Some of the sheep give us odd looks, but they're sporting purple splodges on their fleeces so they've no need to stare!

By the time we're in sight of our turn-off back down into the woods we're more than ready for our lunch, and fortunately there are enough tumbled sections of wall to provide somewhere comfortable to sit.

It's nice to get the rucksack off (yes, I'm still carrying the rucksack) and enjoy a cup of coffee. PC's made a good flask of coffee today (even though I've carried it all the way here) and as the first cup is downed the sky looks as though it might manage to clear. After the coffee we eat our sandwiches (yes, carried them too), have a second coffee, then fetch out the buns.

Mr Morrison has provided puff pastry fresh cream mince pies for us today. They're 'new', a welcome precursor to the Christmas season (unlike the infernal jingly songs blasted out in every shop and supermarket at this time of year which are only guaranteed to make goodwill to all men evaporate at super speed). The mince pies go down extremely well, and are washed down by the final dregs of coffee. At least when the rucksack is packed it is much lighter.

From here it's going to be pretty much all downhill. What a pity then that the path (a Footpath, not a Bridleway) has been churned into a slippery mess by mountain bikers. We pass two on our way down, but they don't seem even slightly ashamed that they are on a footpath and shouldn't be there.

The second part of the path through a young conifer plantation isn't nice to walk on; stony, rutted and churned in the centre, slippery at the edges. But when we can look up from where we're walking the views opening up across to Crook Hill are superb. The cloud has lifted and although the sun isn't shining at least it is clear.

We turn right on the broad track which contours the hill so remains fairly level, and since the trees to our left have been cleared we can see the patchwork woodland on the opposite side of the valley. Narrow lines of russet and pointed triangles cut through dark green blocks to make geometric shapes. We could make some interesting mathematical questions using the shapes - how many trees will you need to fill a space the size of...maybe not.

The path is a little soggy in places with one or two puddles, but we haven't walked too far when it suddenly changes and becomes a gouged hollow in the ground. Clearly diggers have been cutting a deep track though why the cut needs to be so severe is a mystery to us. From hereon we are walking below ground level on muddy (sometimes extremely muddy), stony ground. It isn't particularly pleasant as we have to watch where we're putting our feet as opposed to enjoying the view and when it starts to slope down we have to be doubly careful.

At one point, where a stream discharges on the track, we have to do a balancing act on a log to avoid being sucked into the mud. The potential for humour or disaster are great, but both are avoided. Eventually the path nose dives and takes us down to the broad path that skirts the reservoir. Now all we have to do is walk back.

We've made good time, but the clouds are gathering again and the light is fading. As we approach the path to the dam wall there's a biker repairing a puncture. Poor guy, hope he hasn't far to go afterwards or he may be caught out.

We're soon across the dam and back to the cars. I take off the rucksack and hand PC her flask (yes, I've carried it all the way and no, I won't let her forget it), but we don't have time to linger. Next week's walk is already planned so we're into our cars and away before the dusk swallows us up.

LADYBOWER TO THORNHILL AND BACK - WITH THE ASTON DETOUR!

This is to be a bit of a landmark walk, not because of where we're heading, but because it's the first time since the op that PC will be driving both ways. We've planned to meet up at the side of the road near the Yorkshire Bridge Inn but end up meeting at the nearby loos. As PC says, "Great bladders think alike!"

After our brief rest-stop, which includes pausing to watch the antics of the squirrels and birds on the feeding stations in the car park, we move to park up in the lay-by on the A6013.

Although we've had rain recently it's dry today, though murky and bitterly cold. The temp gauge in the car reads a measly half a degree - and we can well believe it, so we layer up against the chill.

We've a low level walk planned so as not to put too much strain on the bionic hip, so we head up to the dam then take the footpath that cuts sharply downhill towards a sparse woodland which leads us to the Yorkshire Bridge over the River Derwent. It's easy to forget how close we are to millions of gallons of water (6.1 x 1 000 000 000 gallons apparently).

We cross the small road, pausing briefly to admire the river, then take the footpath heading gently uphill. It's obviously well-used and churned up after the recent wet weather. It crosses the old railway line (built to facilitate the building of the Ladybower Dam) which is now a path and will be our return route, and continues uphill.

It's a steady climb which soon warms us up - but PC is finding it hard (which she doesn't admit to until much l Edge ater on) and we keep stopping to admire the views across the valley

towards Bamford.We cross open ground, a broken down wall, a stream and mud before entering some woods. Here a flock of oblivious sheep approach us, pause photogenically for a moment, then panic when their leader suddenly realises that we're real live people. I didn't think we were that scary.

Pretty soon we hit a crossroads of paths - although it is hard to tell - and decided that, since we're doing so well that we'll head straight on across the fields.

In the first field we encounter more sheep, but these are more intelligent than the last lot as they get out of the way sharpish and we're left admiring the views and the sun on Offerton Moor and Shatton Moor whilst trying to avoid the hideous cement works. For once we're grateful for the hazy mist.

The next few fields provide a series of challenges with each one having a cunningly devised stile to test the resilience, leg length and girth of any walker. But we have ways of surmounting such obstacles despite not being Size 0 nor having legs up to our armpits and we soon reach the lane which runs between Thornhill and Aston.

Here we make a fundamental error. We turn right instead of left. I take full responsibility for the mistake, and can only put it down to giddiness or lack of oxygen to the brain (I'd already mistaken a fence for a gate). So, rather than heading along the road towards Thornhill we actually walk towards Aston instead.

It's a pleasant enough walk between the high roadside banks and oblivious to our error (despite consulting the map frequently!) we pass through the pretty hamlet of Aston and take a seat at the roadside to enjoy a drink from the secret flask (Ramblers Restorative today - perhaps I should have had some before we set out) and a cup of coffee.

Suitably refreshed we press on and when we see the railway line ahead and the sounds of the main road I start to have some doubts. Pausing on the bridge over the railway I consult the map and realisation dawns. After a few choice curses we decide it will be easier to continue to the main road, follow it to the Thornhill turning then climb up to our intended destination. PC is adamant that she's feeling fine so off we go with a brief pause for PC to photograph some snowdrops.

The main road is busy and noisy, and we have to cross it frequently as the footpath dodges from side to side, but we make good time and are soon on the road up to Thornhill. It's deceptively steep but we push on and arrive at the very attractive hamlet - only having added 2 miles to our total!

Now we're back on track and we pass a house on our left with a glorious display of snowdrops - singles and doubles - completely carpeting the ground beneath some trees. The look absolutely beautiful and must have been there years to have covered so much space.

A short distance further we cut across a steeply sloping field to reach the dismantled railway line where there is a conveniently place bench. We sit down gratefully. The sun is shining and our stomachs are rumbling. Time for lunch while enjoying the views through the trees. With sandwiches and coffee out of the way we fall on the buns with relish; wonderful fresh cream eclairs loaded with calories. Essential eating!

It's easy walking now, the old railway line causing no problems. We follow it to where it ends at the dam wall, and cross over it and back to the cars. We've walked further than we intended but PC has done well and we're really encouraged as we plan something a little more adventurous for next week.