THE PEAKLAND WAY - story by Colin Banks
Charity sponsored walk in aid of Cancer Research UK 25th- 28th May 2007
by Colin BanksIn the year following the terrible death of my wife Marie from cancer, I was searching for something to do to mark the anniversary. My friend Dave Barras had a copy of the guidebook of the Peakland Way, a circular walk devised in 1973 by the Marathon Hiker, John Merrill. The guide mentioned that the walk was intended for an eight-day holiday but that some had completed it in four days. It seemed the ideal challenge; especially as Marie had introduced me to fell walking and we had had many holidays walking in the Lakes and other locations. Subtitled “100 miles around the Peak District” it was suitably impressive for raising sponsorship although Dave and I were unprepared for the considerable generosity of friends, family and colleagues. By the time we set off we had over £2500 of backing and therefore a great deal of justification and pressure to complete the walk. We started training for the event and completed a number of long walks of 20+ miles to get fit.
Day 1
After leaning against the monument in the Market Square in Ashbourne we ascended the Channel out of the centre. Over the hills to Mapleton and the Dove Valley, it seemed pleasantly warm with a slight drizzle. We weren’t getting wetter at least and did not require waterproofs. By the time we passed Coldwall Bridge about an hour later the Sun was shining and we were enjoying striding through the grass meadows towards the “model” village of Ilam, home of Izaak Walton The Compleat Angler.
There we walked through the grounds of Ilam Hall and down to the River Manifold. At the foot of the Limestone cliff below the Hall many springs bubbled up to fill the river yet barely quarter of a mile upstream the riverbed was bone dry. Leaving the river we cut across country to Throwley, bypassing a number of loops of the river and then heading to the magnificent white wall of Beeston Tor, a 200 feet high cliff of limestone, riddled with caves. This marked our re-entry in the Manifold Valley as we take up the trail made from the old Leek and Manifold Light Railway closed and converted in 1934. The stunning limestone dale provided easy walking and with 29 miles to cover we needed to stride out. Wettonmill provided a place for an ice cream and the sudden sound of running water where the river almost mystically flows in it bed before disappearing underground a hundred yards later. Continuing to |Hulme End and the terminus of the old railway, we break out of the dale into the Staffordshire Moorlands. With our lunch in mind we crossed the open field towards Brund Mill where we sat by the river in the sun and munched away. Three miles to Longnor again across field with cattle and the odd bull meant that we might get a nice pint of bitter in one of the nice pubs there. Dave told me the Swaledale trick of calming frisky cattle, which stood us in good stead on a number of occasions. We softly said “coosh, coosh” to the cows and they stopped in their tracks. This even works when there is a bull present and although these were Derbyshire cows they understood the Yorkshire method.
Disappointingly every one of the four pubs was closed despite being before 3pm. We walked down hill to the Dove and back into Derbyshire and then up again over Hitter Hill and on to Earl Sterndale and the Quiet Woman Inn. The headless landlady of the sign was little comfort as this pub too was closed. Dave and I were keen to get to journey’s end and at mile 19 we ascended Sterndale Moor passing between the two vast chasms carved out of the hillside by quarrying equipment. We entered the tranquil Horseshoe Dale carpeted with wild flowers including some beautiful orchids. Turning the right hand corner we entered the more sinister and ever darkening Deepdale. The broken up pathway in the bottom of this dry limestone dale was hard to walk on but thankfully dry. Our walking poles were handy in keeping balance. Passing Top Pike quarry and crossing the A6 3miles south of Buxton we entered the Wye Valley. The spectacle of this dale and Cheedale were left behind as we ascended in to the small village of Wormhill, still with 5miles to go we were not in the mood for conversation or photography! We kept our heads down and passed through the three dales in order to reach the Devonshire Arms, now a classy bistro pub. Mercifully, despite our dishevelled appearance they served us with some very nice Bombardier before we were driven home to tea by Dave’s wife, Gill. 29 miles is a very long way to walk.
Day 2
This seemed an altogether easier day in terms of mileage but with much more climbing. We were joined by Dave’s sister in law, Janet and her daughter Hannah. We plodded through fields of long grass out of Peak Forest and then past the old lead mines of the 18th century as we approached Mam Tor, pressed close behind by black rain clouds. This peak is the first gritstone bastion heading north into the Dark Peak. All the dry stone walls change from limestone to gritstone construction. Rain fell for about an hour and then things cleared up just as we climbed on to Mam Tor. Ominous clouds appeared to the North, as we head down the ridge to Hollins Cross. We gently dropped across the slope into Edale by Barber Booth and then headed for Jacob’s Ladder as we took the first steps on the Pennine Way. We sat and had lunch by the footbridge before our assault on Jacob’s Ladder and then Kinder Scout. Kinder Low was a welcome sight when it came in to view. The precipitous westerly edge of Kinder was our companion for the next three miles with a brief stop at Kinder Downfall. We plunged down to the gently sloping valley of the Ashop River, the Snake Path. Pints of Theakstons were welcome in the Snake Pass Inn.
Day 3
As we set off on the third day the weather was none too good. Rain had set in for the day and the gloomy, heavy sky promised no respite. The route down the Ashop valley and then up on to Win Hill would normally have been pleasurable with good views of Ladybower reservoir, site of the practice runs for the Dambusters raids. However the visibility was poor and no photography was possible without rain splashing all over the lens. Still we were in good spirits hoping for relief from the rain. None came as we descended into Thornhill and then along the River Derwent to Hathersage. The riverside walk was tranquil with the main road across the fields. A mad flock of swallows were swooping frantically for flying insects near a farm by the river as we approached the stepping stones. We stood, fascinated by the aerobatics of the thousands of birds snapping up the flies on the wing. Taking refuge in the Little John Inn, with pints of aptly named Storm Brewery beers from Macclesfield, we warmed up with hot bowls of vegetable soup.
Reluctantly leaving the pub we struggled up the hill, still wet and cold, assailing the windy heights of Stanage Edge. A northerly gale had picked up and we wisely had our sandwiches sheltering in a small copse surrounded by the huge frost shattered boulders which had crashed down from the rock face during the ice cold months of winter. On top of the Edge the cold and rain hit us full force and the only thing to do was keep our heads down and battle through the weather. Briefly we dropped out of the wind at Upper Burbage Bridge. Mercifully we followed the track at the base of Burbage Edge which remained relatively sheltered.
The National Trust’s Longshawe estate was the sheltered retreat during the following few miles. The formal part of the grounds next to the big house with its lawns and ha-has gave way to a beautifull wooded area which provided a great wind break. We reflected that the worst place to be in the face of a brisk North Easterly wind would be on top of high South Westerly facing edges. Three such edges were ahead of us before journey’s end near Chatsworth Park. Froggat Edge, Curbar Edge and Baslow Edges potentially offered the most picturesque outlook of the Peak District beneath them. But we were walking quickly, giving scant regard to the view, barely noticing the Wellington Monument as we dropped down at the southern end. It was grim and cold but we made it and were grateful for the warmth of the pub, trusting in better weather for the morning.
Day 4
Leaving the Robin Hood Inn and entering Chatsworth, the rain was falling again. I had been unable to dry my boots out fully in the twelve hours since were last walking and so my feet were wet from the start. The rain subsided by the time we reached the bridge at Chatsworth House and I had been able to photograph some of the deer, who were none too co-operative. It was still early and the Park was quiet, still with the Bank Holiday onslaught to come. The sun came out and as we walked by the River Derwent we could enjoy conversation for the first time since the Snake Inn. The cattle had kept the grass well trimmed and it was a pleasure to be feeling warm too. We treated ourselves to a coffee in Beeley and then crossed the wet fields to Rowsley where the holiday shoppers were filling the car park at the Peak Village centre. Gladly we headed back to the fields over to Congreave and then to Stanton in Peak. Many of the fields had been left uncut, ready for silaging, and after the rain it was as if we were wading through ponds. Trousers and boots became soaked through and I regretted abandoning my shorts. The lovely village of Stanton was left behind as we climbed up the road the Stanton Lees and the moorland walk past the Nine Ladies stone circle, which nestled in a copse attracting the attention of some young people. No ritual sacrifices were taking place so we strolled past and the down past the quarries to Birchover where it was time for a pint and lunch. The Red Lion offered us fine ale and the unusual feature of a glass covered well in the bar. Dave and I decided to stick to the local beer and left the water alone!
Restored, it was time to set off anew across another farm and then on up the well worn track to Robin’s Hood Stride. Down the hill came a linear gaggle of fell runners who could gasp a “hallo” as they sped on past. The twin rock towers at the top of the hill are reputed to be separated by the length of the stride of the mythical figure. He must have been a big man. Dave could not have managed it and he is 6ft 7in.
Passing Elton we descended into Gratton Dale back into limestone country with a corresponding reversion of the dry stone walls to the white rock. A peaceful little used dale, Gratton took us the two miles or so to further tracts of agricultural land for us to cross. The “coosh, coosh” trick came in handy a couple of times as we switched between grazed and ungrazed fields, stiles to climb with varied expertise and diminishing elegance. The walk through the long wet grass was slower than we would have liked and tiring. We were glad to reach the village of Parwich, after slipping and sliding down the muddy slopes from the moor top, but with six miles to go we forced the pace and crossed the Bletch Brook on the Limestone Way to Tissington. Even the modest down slopes were starting to hurt my knees and we were glad the reach the village, pass through and then onto the Tissington Trail. As time was passing we dare not even take a glimpse of the well dressing as we set of on the last four miles into Ashbourne.
The skies were clear and the rain a forgotten nightmare as the darkness approached. The flat walking afforded by the converted railway line was easy but seemed endless; we thought we were walking quickly but tiredness must have taken its toll and the time we took belied the perception. At last the track finished as we crossed our outbound path which we had taken four days earlier. We climbed our last slope and then plunged down the “Channel” back into the centre of Ashbourne. After a jubilant photo call at the Market place we retired to “Ye Olde Vaults” for a pint of Deuchars IPA, hardly local but who cares! Gill drove is back home where a hot shower and take away curry awaited.
Acknowledgements
The rewarding Peakland Way had been a tough task indeed, eight days would truly have given us the opportunity to enjoy the fantastic area where we live. We had wanted to push ourselves, to rise to the implied challenge of the “few” to whom John Merrill refers in his excellent guide book. I would like to acknowledge the splendid support of our sponsors whose generosity gave us the will to drive on to the end of the trail. Gill was our road crew dropping off and picking up when needed and providing hearty meals to welcome us home. Janet and Hannah walked with us for three days and more than proved themselves. Their good company made the miles pass quickly. It was nice to see Dave’s colleague Chris Finerty who willingly walked on the Sunday through all the bad weather and met us on the way in to Ashbourne on the Tissington trail.
© Copyright - Colin Banks 2007.
