AROUND DAMFLASK RESERVOIR

It's going to be a simple, easy walk today. Time and transport issues mean we aren't able to stray into the Peaks so we've decided to take a turn around the Damflask Reservoir instead. As an added incentive we're stopping off at the pub in Bradfield.

The weather is particularly grim and murky. It isn't quite raining, but it's certainly under consideration.

Damflask is easily accessible on the W outskirts of Sheffield. It was completed in 1896 and covers the site of the village of Damflask which was washed away in the Sheffield Flood of 1864. Now it is home to sailing and rowing clubs, anglers and walkers.

We park on the road which runs across the dam wall and tog up against the biting cold. A short walk along the pavement takes us to the footpath which runs along the southern edge of the reservoir. It's easy walking, but a little muddy in places after the recent heavy rain.

On a few of the trees nearest to the road there are some bird feeders, and we watch a while as blue tits, great tits and nuthatches visit in a constant stream of airborne traffic.

There are a lot of people out this morning, despite the weather, but it's to be expected in such a popular, easily accessible location. Joggers (one with a pram), birdwatchers, couples, groups and dog walkers pass us in both directions.

We spot an interesting exotic-looking duck on the water and decide to capture a shot of it. Without success. As we close in on it the camera-shy fowl swims away thwarting our efforts. David Attenborough clearly need not worry about competition from us.

There are more people looming up behind us now so we decide to sit down on one of the conveniently placed benches and enjoy a drink from the secret flask until they pass. It warms us up wonderfully. Then we have a coffee too since we have time to spare. It's a pity there isn't much of a view though.

Suitably replenished we set off again, and soon find a couple of photographic Canada geese who are more than happy to pose for us. We continue walking and before we know it we've reached the end of the reservoir and Low Bradfield. It's only 11.15 am, far too early to go to the pub. After a brief debate we decide to walk back to the car along the opposite side of the reservoir then drive to the pub for a late lunch.

For a short distance we're on the road, but only one car passes us before we're on the path again. This must be the dog walking side as we see more of them here. The path is more undulating on this side too which must make it harder for joggers with prams. It's a pity visibility is still so poor as the views towards the Ughill Moors would have been worth seeing.

Then we spot the exotic duck again. It has paddled all the way to this side of the reservoir to avoid us, but PC whips out the camera before the startled duck can hide behind a shrub and manages to capture it and its white-feathered partner for posterity.

Next we're at the ranks of sailing boats, and the chance for another photo opportunity before we walk up to the road at Low Holdworth. We pause to admire the first house with a lovely stream channelled through its garden and snowdrops blooming on the grass verge.

It's only a short walk back to the car on a pavement muddy with decomposing leaves.

Then it's off to the pub for lunch, and it is only just past noon. We can't believe how quickly we've done the circuit of approx 3.5 miles. Our next walk will have to be a little more ambitious.

STANTON MOOR AND NINE LADIES STONE CIRCLE

We'd never tried to get to Stanton Moor before mainly because it's a long way for PC to travel and with her in-built sense of mis-direction it would be unlikely that she'd ever arrive. Also, we've always known that we'd not be able to do a long walk here because of time constraints, so given that I'd be doing the driving and PC still wasn't ready for any very long hikes we decided to take today as the perfect opportunity.

The first stumbling block is PC's unnerving ability to confuse left with right, an interesting quirk when she's the navigator for the day and decides on a route through the centre of Sheffield. Despite mounting stress and blood pressure levels we survive the city and continue along a route that I'm familiar with; Baslow, Chatsworth, Beeley, Rowsley then turn right. From here PC has to navigate again - panic ensues. It's a good job I'd checked the map before we set out and had tried to memorise the route. After losing the road completely then turning the map upside down we crossed over the swollen and fast flowing River Lathkill and turned up to the village of Stanton in Peak. Phew. Now I know why she always leaves the map reading to me.

We pass the long, high wall of Stanton Hall and enter the village's steep, narrow, winding road. A local bus coming downhill towards us makes us breathe in and whilst PC is enjoying the view of the quaint cottages I'm negotiating the parked cars hoping we're going in the right direction as she's abandoned all pretence of navigating.

Luckily the road opens out onto Birchover Road and we're heading for Stanton Moor. I knew the footpath we need and as luck would have it we managed to park right next to it where there is only room for one car. There is a lack of parking space up here although some of the verges have clearly been used so much that there is room for a few cars to park, particularly in the week.

It's drizzling with rain - our fair weather fairy has clearly deserted us - so we drag on our waterproofs and set off up onto the moor. The moor is fenced now so we go through the gate and along the well used path towards the prominent Cork Stone, a large natural gritstone monolith standing proudly against the elements. There are foot and handholds worn into the side and iron rungs for climbers. There must be a good view from the top, but not today with the murky, misty drizzle.

Stanton Moor is gritstone on top of limestone and an area of national archaeological importance. Not only is the well known Nine Ladies stone circle here, but there are at least 70 other cairns, circles and burial mounds, most now hidden beneath swathes of heather.

It is also an area with much evidence of past and more recent quarrying. Relatively recently a long-standing battle was won to prevent the re-opening of some quarries and a peaceful protesters' camp of 9 years (I think) eventually moved away.

There's a disused quarry next to the Cork Stone and we pass it as we head roughly north. There is a trig point over to our right, but we know that we won't get a particularly good view from there so we don't even attempt to push through the heather to get to it even though the rain has almost stopped.

Next to the path is a twisted, stooped tree sculpted by the prevailing wind. It looks ancient, as though it has witnessed life up here for centuries and its knowledge has weighted down its branches, but it probably isn't actually very old.

At the next disused quarry we pause to look at a young silver birch with raindrops clinging to its leafless branches like purple twigs festooned with diamonds. It's quite magical.

Ahead are silver birch woods, quite sparse but very elegant in their winter state. They set us remembering another birch wood - one that doesn't exist. One we both saw and can both still picture with absolute clarity. A very eerie incident. We realise that we have to write about it, so with a bit of luck it will be one of our next blogs. Watch this space.

We wander through the trees towards the stone circle. So far we've only seen three people, all walkers, but at weekends it is probably heaving, so we really appreciate the tranquility.

Then we reach the King Stone, the outpost of the stone circle, and walk down to the Nine Ladies. The last time I was here there was a fence around the monument and people camping (probably the protesters although I didn't know that at the time) but now the fence has gone and it is a haven of peace. I wander around the stones as PC is drawn to the old oak, or Wishing Tree. There are all kinds of things hung from it; an old glove, ribbon, decorations.

We find somewhere to sit - not next to the charred remains of a fire - and fetch out the secret flask to make a toast. We enjoy sitting and contemplating the stones as we eat lunch undisturbed. The nine ladies are actually ten, one stone is 'fallen', and you can just make out a small mound or embankment too. There are lots of legends and myths about the site, but whatever the truth is, it was once a very important place and should still be respected.

Our peace is shattered when an enormous dog bounds up to greet us completely ignoring its owner. We don't really mind, but on its departure PC is left quite muddied. Tranquility descends again and out comes this week's buns. We plan to take a photo, but our eagerness to eat them takes over and the photo is forgotten.

Strawberry Tarts; sweet pastry, creme anglaise, fresh cream and strawberries. They smell of summer and taste divine. Wonderful.

It's time to move off, and we decide to investigate the tower of the east of the moor. It rises up quite prominently although hidden at first by the trees, and PC remarks that it's like Rapunzel's tower. It is actually to commemorate the Parliamentary Reform Bill of 1832 - nowhere near as romantic as the fairy tale. And it looks in need of some maintenance

We're on the path back now, and we can see down the Darley Dale valley towards Matlock and Riber Castle in the distance. Lots of the fields in the valley are flooded, and we also have a bird's eye view of the ugly sprawling works between Darley Bridge and Warrencarr.

We detour a little to find that we're on a 'Drive' where the local gentry use to have themselves and their guests driven in their coaches to enjoy their estates. Thank goodness times have changed.

We climb uphill past an enormous clump of rhododendron bushes - an ideal spot for childhood hide and seek and the perfect spot for an ambush, but they are a very invasive non-native. A group of men pass us going in the opposite direction, PC thinks we've seen them before on one of our other walks, but I can't remember. I must have been reading the map at the time!

Soon we're back at the Cork Stone and it's only a gentle stroll back down to the car. All we have to do now is find our way back to PC's house but that, as they say, is another tale.

BAMFORD EDGE AND BACK AGAIN

There had been some early doubts about today's walk. Yesterday had been bitterly cold with a biting wind that had made us wary of venturing onto any high ground, but this morning all was clear, cool and relatively still, so we set off for Bamford Edge feeling optimistic.

We park up in the lay-by on New Road next to the access stile, pleased that no one else is there as there's only room for three, maybe four, cars.

Setting out we encounter our first (and hopefully last) problem. I bound athletically over the stile (only a slight exaggeration, honest) and wait eagerly at the other side for PC. And wait. And wait. The stile is eye-wateringly high and PC, conscious of keeping her bionic hip where it's meant to be, is struggling. However, with a suitable amount of cussing and contortions she heaves herself up and joins me on the far side. And we're off.

It isn't a very steep track up towards the disused quarry almost due north of the stile, but we're aware of the incline and keep using the bionic hip as an excuse to pause and admire theextensive views rapidly unfolding as we climb. The bionic hip, naturally, is fine. It's the lungs that seem to suffering. We're obviously carrying too much weight - in our rucksacks!

The light falling on distant Stanage Edge is wonderful, sculpting the rock face into sharp relief. Fingers crossed that the camera does it justice.

The quarry is quite overgrown now with a boggy morass in the middle, but there is a rough track up the side . I'm sent up first to try it out. If I fall PC won't follow, but hopefully she'll phone for help. As it is, I clamber up easily, it isn't as bad as it looks, and PC follows with ease. Once up there one side does drop away quite dramatically, but my remark about falling into the ravine is not appreciated, so we rapidly ascend to level ground before stopping again.

From here we admire the full length view of Stanage Edge. It's rare to be able to see all of it in one swoop of the eyes, and this is an excellent spot. PC tries out her magic camera skills, hopefully to be followed by magic computer skills, and I'm glad that I don't have to cope with the photos.

Then we skirt the top edge of the quarry and walk along a track following a slightly higher elevation than Bamford Edge itself. Here we're quite exposed and the wind is beginning to make itself felt. We walk along the well-worn track between boulders and the burnt-back heather. We wonder if this has been a controlled burning - it is extensive - or an accident. It's easy to see how moorland fires could quickly spread out of control up here on these barren, windy expanses.

We decide it's time to stop for a drink so we find a big boulder to sit behind out of the wind. Out comes the secret flask and the coffee flask. A couple of measures of Ramblers Restorative does just what is says on the bottle and PC, since she isn't driving, holds her cup out for a top up. Once the Ramblers has taken effect we enjoy a coffee and sit a while enjoying the view and feeling mellow. The buns are brought out for display - they're for lunch - but they prove an incentive to get moving and find somewhere to stop to eat.

A short distance further on we follow a path down onto Bamford Edge.

Whenever we come here we have to stop and stare. The views are spectacular. OK, so the cement works manages to rear it's ugly head - couldn't it be disguised, it really is a major eyesore - but ignoring that we can see a wonderful panorama taking in Abney, Castleton, Mam Tor, Win Hill, the distant Kinder range, and as we proceed along Bamford Edge's wonderfully rocky ridge the views of Ladybower and Derwent Edge open out. We can see the Derwent Dam, the Wheel Stones and Crook Hill, all places we've enjoyed walking, and will revisit again as soon as we can.

We have to keep stopping to enjoy the views. It is a must on this walk and it has to be one of the best places in the Peak District to get an impression of space. Perhaps we should keep it secret, though. It doesn't get as many visitors as it deserves, and it is all the better for that.

The ridge path descends and crosses a tumbled dry stone wall and heads across wilder Bamford Moor, until relatively recently the sole preserve of grouse shooters. The wind is blowing keenly now so we head up onto the moor a little way so we're less exposed. We find a comfortable nook and settle down for lunch. As we eat we see a lone walker trudging along the track towards Bamford Edge. He waves, we wave back, he continues on his way. That is the only encounter we have we another soul all day. It's wonderful up here.

At last the buns emerge. Lemon Muffin Cheesecakes: muffin pieces, creamy tangy cheesecake, white chocolate flakes, biscuity base. Perfect. Thank you Mr Morrison, you've done us proud.

Suitably replenished we set off back, the first part of our return journey retreading the path we've just been on. In the time it's taken us to eat (and drink, and chat) the wind has gathered strength. There is always the chance of strong gusts on this exposed edge, but now those gusts are powerful. We keep well away from the steep drops wherever possible. For some reason the smell of the burnt heather is very strong now although we didn't notice it on the way out. Perhaps the cheesecake has sharpened our senses.

We ignore the path up to higher ground and start the long, steady decline passing an old quarry with an almost-complete millstone abandoned in situ. What a lot of skill wasted, but it is rather a poignant monument. Much better than it being stuck in someone's garden as an ornament.

As we lose height the wind loses its ferocity. Looking back, though, we can see the clouds racing across the clear blue sky. PC quotes a line from a film, I immediately recognise it. Oh, how wonderful to be film buffs! (Actually, it was from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade - not exactly highbrow but a classic in it's own way.)

Crossing the brown, bracken-covered slopes we notice a number of square stakes stuck into the ground, some in lines, others in squares, some seemingly randomly placed. We're curious, but have no idea what they're for. Perhaps on a later walk up here we may reach enlightenment.

It isn't long before we're in sight of the car, with only the stile to negotiate. It's easier this way, fortunately, so there's no opportunity for a humorous photograph. Never mind.

We did well today. Later in the afternoon the wind's strength began to build and by late evening a gale was howling and the rain was beating down. It makes a change for luck to be on our side but we won't complain . We've had brilliant weather. The big question is, how long can our luck hold out?

LADYBOWER, DERWENT TO HOWDEN

or WOT, NO CAMERA?

It's a seriously cold and frosty start this morning, especially at PC's house, but we drive carefully to our usual parking place at the side of Ladybower determined to make the most of the day. Cold it may be, but it is also perfect walking weather.

Suitably togged up we set off down the road towards Fairholmes (and the loo) but we pause briefly to admire the view and take some photographs of the frost and the thin sheen of ice floating on parts of the water. Except that PC has forgotten the camera! She tries to blame me (apparently I should have reminded her - as if. I have enough trouble trying to remember me) but I'm having none of it. Instead I produce my new phone with a flourish. It has a camera on it, not a good one, but better than PC's absent one! I wrestle with the technology and manage to take the photos. Next stop, the loo.

We watch the antics of the birds on the feeders for a while before walking down the bath towards the Derwent Dam. Last week we could hear the water thundering over it, today it is silent. The large stretch of grass in front of it is white with frost but rather than cross it to reach the steps which climb up the side of the dam we detour along the road and take the sloping path instead. Soon we're at the top of the dam wall and on the wide path that marks the beginning of our walk proper.

The light is beautiful, the sky impossibly blue and the water looks serene. It is a picture of tranquility. As we walk we discuss all manner of intellectual subjects: politics, physics, astronomy, the meaning of life, marmalade, orange gin.

We spot a house across the water hidden behind trees. It's the first time we have noticed it, but being mapless (much to PC's shock) we can't name it. We'll have to look when we get back to the car, if we remember. (I checked, it's called Birchinlee.) We also see a tree growing in the water. It's probably a sign of how high the water level has risen as we can't imagine it being able to survive for long being permanently semi-submerged.

We're walking in shade, this is the sunless side of the reservoir, and the bitter chill is becoming more pronounced. PC is getting ready for a sit down so we head for a bench where the path turns and brings us into sunlight. Our trusty sitter-onners stop our bums getting wet from the frosty bench and we open up the official flask (coffee) and secret flask (Ramblers Restorative). The combined effects of both drinks warm us up considerably.

The sun is very bright here and we can feel its warming rays even from 93,000,000 miles away (we're back onto physics again).

With our drinks finished we get up to go, only to have our pre-warmed bench immediately commandeered by another couple moving in with unseemly haste. Talk about fast movers!

We continue towards Howden Dam and even from a distance we can see the tell-tale sheen of white that indicates water pouring over it. Here, though, the water is perfectly calm and fragile swathes of softly rumpled ice break up the surface in random patterns. Very pretty, but lethally cold.

It isn't long before we're walking in shade again but we decide to press on to find more sun and also see the dam at close quarters. We cross a small stone bridge then make our way up a slight incline. It isn't very sunny here, and although we reach the top of the dam the fall of water is obscured by trees. We back track a little way to sit on a wall which is comfortable enough for lunch; sandwiches, coffee and fresh cream slices. They're hard to eat with the cream squelching out at every bite, but we are undeterred, and our persistence is rewarded. They were worth the effort.

Afterwards I run (yes, run) down the footpath to the base of the dam where I'm able to take a photo of the water cascade. Then I run (considerably slower and with lots of breathers) back.

Now all we have to do is retrace our steps. There are considerably more people out now, a lot of them on bikes at this far point of the reservoir circuit.

It isn't late and the sun is still bright but it is beginning to feel much colder as though the afternoon has robbed the sun of some its warmth. We pause on 'our' bench for a brief rest, but all the coffee is gone so we don't stop for long. There's another bench close to the top of the dam and we pause again for a few minutes.

From here it's a steady walk back to the car, and as we're in shade the chill is back in force. No doubt the icy fingers on the reservoirs will be extending their reach tonight.

We've done well, two good weeks with good walks and good weather. We're going to keep our fingers crossed that it lasts.

Ladybower Meets Bionic Woman

This is it. Our first outing of 2011 and PCs first outing with her new hip. From now on she should be named BW (Bionic Woman) but perhaps she needs more body parts replacing for that, so we'll keep her as she is

Giddy with excitement we clamber into my car at PCs house and set off for Ladybower; me driving and relying on her navigational skills. Hmm.

An interesting drive which seems to take in all the back roads of Sheffield eventually leads us down to the reservoir complex, and we soon turn off the A57 onto the familiar road beside Ladybower and Derwent. At this point PC remembers to stop navigating.

We park in the familiar spot next to the cattle grid, quickly boot up, PC dons her new, posh coat (mine is my old, grubby one) and we are soon walking. For the time of year we're doing very well with the weather, considering how much snow and ice we've had so far this winter. Today it is positively mild and although the sun isn't shining the smattering of raindrops are only half-hearted and soon give up.

We've decided to keep the walk short(ish) and flat(ish) to give the new hip a gentle introduction to our outdoor pursuits. This path running along the side of Ladybower reservoir stays close to the water and undulates only gently. It also has the benefit of a number of benches for us to take a rest and enjoy the views.

It is so good to be out again. It seems ages since our last walk, but we are soon back into the old routine; plenty to talk about and lots to see. Up on the opposite hills, beneath Derwent Edge, there are still remnants of snow, and we even see some ice clinging to the edges of the reservoir.

We pause when we find a suitable bench and enjoy our first cup of coffee. Why does it always taste better out of a flask and in the open?

Suitably refreshed we press on but soon come to the steps leading down to the exposed pipes. PC says they will be no problem, and proves it to be so using her mantra of 'bad down to hell and good up to heaven'. (She means legs, by the way.) We pause on a bench where the trees open out affording a good view across the reservoir before setting off again.

A little way further and we stop to look back down the length of the reservoir just as the sun peeps out to illuminate the distant green hills. A superb photo opportunity, making it look more spring-like than wintry. After the photo PC decides that it's time to turn back, so we return the way we came, pleased at how far we've managed to come.

It's time for lunch (just) so we revisit our last stopping spot and fetch out the sandwiches and coffee. And being our walk we have to have bun too. Big, fat choux buns full of thick, fresh cream. Well, it is a long time since we were last out and the diet can start tomorrow.

The sun is trying to shine as we walk back, but it probably only manages an E for effort as it doesn't quite break through the clouds. Not that it bothers us much. Again we dip down past the huge water pipes and up the other side. There is a suitably positioned bench at the top of the slope and PC makes use of it for a breather.

We're on the last stretch now and we see more walkers out enjoying the respite from the cold. We pause to listen as PC thinks she's heard a helicopter, then we realise that it must be the sound of the water cascading over the dam.What a pity we can't see it.

There is just enough time for another photograph before we head up the gentle slope to the road and the car park.

It hasn't been far, and it hasn't been adventurous, but it has been brilliant to be out again. And as a first walk with the new hip 'the girl done good'. By summer, who knows what we'll be able to achieve

LADYBOWER, CROOK HILL

Not an auspicious start to the day with high winds and driving rain on the agenda, but by the time we meet at the car park at the side of Ladybower the sky has cleared and we are hopeful. Hopeful, not stupid. We pull on all our waterproof gear, just in case!

The last time we walked this way PC had forgotten her camera. This time, though, she'd remembered it - but the battery wasn't working. Grovelling apologies ensued, but it was the proffered bottle of Old Tom (with chocolate - can't wait to try it) that clinched it. For that particular ale I'd forgive anything. Anyway, she has a mobile phone that takes pictures, so that would have to suffice for today.

We set off up the steep bridleway up Hag Side. Behind us, across the water, is the dramatic Derwent Edge which we had walked a few weeks ago, and the massive Wheelstones are prominent. We climb quickly and can soon see up the valley towards the dam which has water gushing over the top in a white, foaming cascade. We can even hear the pounding torrent from here. The light is perfect and PC takes a photo - just hope that the phone camera is able to do it justice.

This is a steep uphill climb which takes us beneath the trees where we startle some sheep who leap athletically over a fence to avoid us. A heavy shower of rain suddenly bursts down on us but no sooner do we pull up our hoods than it stops. It's going to be one of those days.

We both agree that the uphill slog isn't so bad. certainly not as bad as we remember it. Are our memories playing tricks? Or are we really getting better at this sort of thing?

Within no time we reach the top and as we go through the gate we are suddenly exposed to the howling wind, and another sudden torrent of rain. We turn our backs to the weather but this is more than a quick, passing squall so we retrace our steps back onto the bridleway where we gain some shelter from the rise of the hill and the trees. Sure enough, a few minutes patience is rewarded and the rain stops enabling us to strike out again.

We turn left on the path which is awash with rainwater. The trees to our left provide no shelter as the wind is coming across the moors from the right. It's hard to make ourselves heard, quite an achievement. The views are opening up as we trudge soggily up the gentle grassy incline: Bleaklow, Kinder, Mam Tor are all in our sights as we look around. Closest is the Vale of Edale to our right with Rushup Edge clearly defined. To think, we were only up there last week.

A couple of waterproof-clad walkers approach from the gate in the wall ahead of us. So we're not the only mad people out on the hills today. We pause a moment to exchange pleasantries, and we all remark upon our collective lunacy. At least if we're carted off to the loony bin we won't be alone. They head down the path as we push on up. The rain has abated but the wind is blowing hard.

Through the gate at Bridge-end Pasture (what bridge?) we're faced with an extremely waterlogged field and we become bog-hoppers as we try to avoid getting sucked into the mire. It's pretty much impossible.

At the crest of the field, though, we have a wonderful view of the twin peaks of Crook Hill. Again, the sun is shining and it is a perfect picture, so the lack of camera is cursed again. We drop down quite quickly across fields that don't seem to be the slightest bit boggy and go through a gate next to the high stone wall which takes us into the open access area around Crook Hill.

There's a distinct track leading around the base of the first hill and we follow it easily then veer off on a far less distinct path (Ok, so maybe it wasn't a path at all) up the side of the hill. Our aim is to reach the top but we come across a sheltered nook away from the wind and with glorious views over the valley to Derwent Edge. It's too good a place to pass so we sit down and have a drink from the (not so) secret flask and a coffee to wash it down. The sun is shining, the colours are magical and we aren't being buffeted by the wind.

We plan to hike to the next hill for lunch, but we're past noon now and the picnic police won't get us so we stay where we are and break out the sandwiches. Before the buns are brought out we see the rain clouds hurtling towards us again so we pour the coffee and keep our heads low. When the rain comes it splashes into our coffee cups and threatens to swamp us. We sit it out as the rain sheets across the landscape, then five minutes later the sky is clear and we are rewarded with a rainbow.

Postponing the bun fest we lever ourselves up from our comfortable spot and set off to have a look on the other side of the hill. We can see along the length of Ladybower stretching at the side of the A57, and the long ridge leading up to Win Hill. We drop sharply down then climb up again to reach the top of the higher of the twin hills. It's worth the effort. The 360 degree view makes up for the climb. For now the sky is perfectly clear and we spend ages admiring the views and trying to commit them to memory. We wave to someone on the top of Win Hill, but they don't wave back. Maybe it's not a person, but a trig point.

We trudge down the hill trying to pretend that there aren't cattle prints scored deep into the ground, and soon reach the broad track that goes through Crook Hill Farm yard. Instead we take a slight marked detour through a field, startling some sheep, and arriving at the end of the farm track where we only have to cross over. PC becomes slightly disorientated and tries to set off in the wrong direction. Like horses, she needs steering!

The cattle are in the large byre next to the path, and are making a heck of a racket. Thank goodness they aren't out in the open. However, a long, low, loud rumble of thunder rolls along the A57 valley and we know what will follow. We're in the open and can see the rain racing along the valley. Just enough time for us to pull up our hoods before the rain hits us.

There's something primitive and elemental about being out in this kind of weather. You can't do anything about it, you just have to accept it, the same as man has had to do for thousands of years. It's an enriching feeling, if a bit uncomfortable.

We're pretty certain that the rain has set in for the rest of our walk; visibility is negligible and even the sheep are squelching. Out come extra jumpers (PC) and the rucksack cover (me). Naturally, by the time we reach the bottom of the hill (the oddly named Toadhole Cote), the rain has stopped and the sun is shining again bathing everything in rainwashed light.

We cross the road, pause to admire some very neat hedge laying, then take the path running at the side of the reservoir. Some sheep, looking very clean, wander towards us before veering off, and we disturb a jay which flies overhead for a while before disappearing.

Soon we enter Fearfall Wood and are keeping our eyes open for somewhere suitable to stop. The uneaten buns are calling to us. The last time we were here it was bluebell time when it was considerably drier and sheepless. There are a lot of sheep about today.

We do the ugly up and down between the huge water pipes then we're on a long straight stretch in Lee Wood where we finally find a bench to sit and unpack the buns. Raspberry Rapture it says on the packet - very appropriate we agree as we hungrily devour the delicious raspberry cheesecakes. There's even another cup of coffee left in the flask and we drink it, enjoying the view and feeling very mellow.

It isn't far back to the cars now and soon we're crossing the road and stripping off our soggy gear. The changeable weather hasn't stopped us or hindered us, and we both agree that it's been a great day out.

Sadly this will be our last walk for a while. PC is going into hospital to be transformed into BW (Bionic Woman) complete with new hip. It will take a while for her to be fit enough to venture onto the hills so in the meantime we'll resort to going for drives before progressing to short strolls. Naturally, we'll have to keep occupied by visiting cafes on our trips, but we'll take up the challenge of sampling coffee and buns with stoicism and determination! And we'll keep a record too.

EDALE, RUSHUP EDGE, CHAPEL GATE, BARBER BOOTH, EDALE

We knew this was going to be a big one, so plans were afoot to meet early. And you all know what happens to the best laid plans ...

Mild for the time of year, and with the sun attempting to shine, made today's start promising, until entering the Vale of Edale where the clouds pressed in smothering the hilltops in mist and threatening rain. Undeterred we met up at Edale's large car park, fed the meter with coins and after pulling on every item of clothing we possessed, set off looking like Bessie and Billie Bunter.

A short stroll down the road brings us to the bridleway that runs up past Hardenclough Farm. The footpath takes us over the young River Noe - its source is only a short distance, but steep climb, away on Kinder - and already the water is running fast and deep.

This first part of the walk is easy, a tarmac track with a gentle incline. Just enough to get us warmed up. Once we leave the farm behind us, though, the track deteriorates and branches: right up and over a stile to go across the fields to Barber Booth, left on the bridleway towards Greenlands or straight ahead on a barely noticeable footpath although there is, hammered into a tree trunk, a yellow arrow. Not very clear but we know from a previous walk that this is the path we want.

The path skirts the wall and remains under the cover of trees, but it soon emerges from cover and deteriorates. It is seriously muddy and is getting steep. We pause to admire the view (or to remove a layer) before slogging on. And it is a slog. Too late we recall how hard this initial climb had been last time. It's straight uphill across the contour lines. We have to keep stopping to catch our breath and cool down, as well as to admire the ever-expanding view. It's glorious in this late autumn light despite the clouds. Edale is snuggled cosily beneath the protective arms of the hills, the last glowing colours of golden trees standing out against the still-lush greens and mellow browns.

Then we glance up the valley and see, well, nothing. A huge sheet of rain is speeding towards us like a heavy grey curtain. We quickly don waterproofs again and prepare for the worst. Heads bowed we continue upwards, but the promised downpour is nothing more than a sprinkling as the wind whips it away before we really feel it.

We're at the stage of taking a few steps and stopping. This really is a tremendous slog.The only consolation is that it's early on in the walk where we, supposedly, have enough energy reserves to cope with it. But will we have enough energy left to last the course. Hope so, as neither of us is fit to carry the other!

We reach the road - three cheers - and pause to look at Mam Tor. It's impressive ancient ramparts are clearly visible here, and we wonder how on earth anyone could even think of attacking such a well defended site. They'd be knackered before they ever reached the top!

We walk up to the next stile where we cut off a bend in the road and reach the bottom of Rushup Edge. As we clear the dip between Mam Tor and Rushup Edge we are treated to the glorious views that, if you're really careful and crouch down, don't include the cement works. The sun is shining, but not on us (typical) although we can enjoy it at a distance.

The wind up here is extremely strong and we debate which of the two paths we should take. There's a bridleway and a footpath running parallel but either side of a stone wall. The footpath is on the Edale side, the bridleway on the Castleton side. Because of the wind, and the direction it is blowing, we decide on the bridleway for safety. We don't want to be blown off the edge.

My major concern is that there are cows ahead. PC looks at the hoofprints in the mud and declares them to be horses. The girl needs her eyesight checking. They are cow prints, lots of them!

The ridge is still climbing but it isn't too steep and there are plenty of ups and downs. For the most part the cows are out of sight then, cresting a hump, there they are. In full view. On the path. Loads of them. With young. I only dither for a moment before leaving the path, crossing a ditch and striding onward next to the wall. The cows watch me. PC is behind me saying something probably not very helpful - I can't hear because of the wind -and I don't pause to look back until I'm past the glowering herd. PC is stood next to them, TAKING A PHOTO. Doesn't she know the danger she's in? Admittedly the cows don't even blink, but they might have. I sprint on, leaving her to her foolish foibles, and find safely behind a gate. When PC catches up, blithely unconcerned, we have an essential pick-me-up from the secret flask. Ah, that's better.

It would be good to stop for a while but it's far too cold, the wind is blowing straight at us and we must press on. The path becomes wider but less distinct as we reach the high point of the ridge at 540m. The views to our left are excellent with the sun shining benignly on a patchwork of fields, but to our right the towering Kinder massive is covered in cloud.

We debate crossing the wall to find somewhere to eat, but behind the wall is a sturdy post and wire fence that makes us decide to keep on our side. It's easy walking and we're really covering the ground now, but we're hungry so our talk turns, naturally, to food: bruschetta, lasagne, chilli, pizza. Mmm.

At a metal gate the bridleway and footpath merge, and we have to cross a fast flowing stream to swap onto the northern side of the wall. The path here is almost sandy where the gritstone has eroded.

The path dips slightly then, with a fork to the left which leads down to the Chapel-en-le-Frith road, we turn sharp right across the moor. Here we see the only other person out walking today, a man sat huddled in a protected hollow of ground eating his picnic. Pity we can't oust him, he's in the perfect spot!

We press on speedily now, our stomachs rumbling. The wide track is waterlogged in places and we have to detour across the springy peat. It must be pretty grim up on Kinder. A couple of narrow tracks lead off towards the Kinder Plateau, and it may be good to follow them someday, but it would take more time than we usually have available.

We're on Chapel Gate, a track that was the old packhorse trail from Edale. As we start to descend we find a hollow to our right which looks promising. Yes, just right for lunch and providing a fantastic view down the Vale of Edale.

Out come the sandwiches, coffee and - joy of joys - fresh cream scones. How come everything tastes so much better out in the open? We devour everything with unseemly haste but maximum satisfaction. We can't linger, though, as this walk is taking longer than we'd intended, so we haul ourselves to our feet and continue our descent.

The wind is behind us now, helping us on our way, something we could do without given the state of Chapel Gate. It is seriously eroded, presumably due to the huge amount of water run off which, today, is a fast-flowing wide stream, but the track is also used by mountain bikers and motorcyclists.. I believe that the 4x4 brigade see it as one of their 'rights of way' too, but hopefully they will have enough sense to avoid it given the state it's in - but perhaps that is hoping too much. At least we see none of them today.

Surprisingly we descend fairly rapidly, our energy levels are obviously replenished, and at the bottom we debate whether to cross the fields towards Manor House Farm, or stay on the track. We decided to keep on the track, which may not have been the wisest choice. At one point the path is completely flooded and we have to scramble up onto a slippery bank to negotiate a way around the water. Yet again our supreme agility is put to good use!

A few spots of rain are starting to fall, and looking back we can see more clouds gathering with intent. We have no intention of pausing - we've already overrun our time on the parking meter - and as soon as we reach the road we're able to stride out. It's heads down and pushing the pace now as we stomp along the road between Barber Booth and Edale, but it doesn't take us long.

At last we stagger into the car park and as we are removing our muddy gear the rain that has managed to hold off all day finally decides it can wait no longer. The heavens open.

Our timing has been perfect (unless you count the overdue parking) and we're dry as we drive home through the torrent. It's been an excellent walk, but we are both seriously tired. We'll pick something a bit less challenging for next week.