From the Buxton – Manchester train, just outside Chapel-en-le-Frith.
Northumberland is England’s northernmost county, and an area that I don’t know well at all. Boasting a National Park, and a coastline declared an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, there’s clearly a lot going for Northumberland if you’re into wide open, wild spaces. This photo from Sugar Sands, just south of the tiny coastal village of Craster, hints at the joys that coastal walking here has to offer.
No snow to report in these parts since the last “Photo Friday” missive, but the recent wet and stormy weather has now stripped most trees of their leaves. Low-lying shrubs are still adding some colour though, as could be seen in Grin Low woods this morning, just above Buxton. In Buxton itself, there was a thick mist, revealed as a low-level valley fog from the modest heights of Grin Low — a beautiful day to be out for a stroll…
If summer 2010 seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye, then autumn’s arrived and departed even more briskly. Barely are the trees past their best with this year’s showy display of fall colours, and an Atlantic depression has swept across the country, hastening the trees’ progress toward their skeletal winter outlines, and blowing in the first lying snow of the winter. It may not last long, but it’s downhill from here for a good few months now…
If you’re looking for lost people, Esk Pike, or more likely the adjacent Esk Hause, is a rich hunting ground. “Hause” is the local Cumbrian term for a mountain pass, col or gap, and so most “hauses” in the Lake District carry paths well used by fellwalkers.
During a recent foray along the Mam Tor / Lose Hill ridge, I observed a common natural optical phenomenon — namely the Heiligenschein (German for “holy light”). Like a number of such common effects, it seems to go unnoticed by many, as it can be quite subtle.
This rather short post is unlikely to be of much interest to you, unless you have a desperate urge to see Buxton’s Market Square as it stood at around midday on Friday 15th October. Rather, I’m trying out moblogging (mobile blogging) for the first time, now that I have a suitable phone.
Looked like a pleasant evening, so I went for a bimble up past the Cat & Fiddle Inn today. Parking near Dane Head on Axe Edge Moor (under 10 minutes’ drive out of Buxton) there are expansive views straight away, without having to work for them. Having lost track of how early it’s getting dark these days, I ended up curtailing my planned walk by walking back along the A54 — not much fun in the darm, sans headtorch. Worth it for the prospect out over the Cheshire Plain though, with a 3-day old crescent moon adding a little something special.
A little over six months ago, I wrote about one of my favourite short walks in this part of the Peak District. I’ve been back along various bits of the Mam Tor / Lose Hill ridge since then. The last time, towards the end of July, was notable for coinciding with “flying ant day”. The crowds descending from Mam Tor that late summer afternoon were preoccupied with keeping the myriad flying insects out of their eyes and ears and hair — easier said than done when every ant nest for miles around has sent forth a squadron for their annual mating ritual.
Every now and then, the UK weather forecast will make mention of the “Cheshire Gap”, usually in relation to rain showers that are predicted to track through the gap and spoil the good folk of the West Midlands’ day. So what exactly is this gap of which the meteorologists speak?
Shining Tor rises to the West of the Goyt Valley, and, if starting from the shores of Errwood Reservoir, gives a good 1000 feet of ascent — at 3¾ miles, the circuit should take about an hour at a fast walking pace. The route shown starts from the Errwood car park, and essentially circles around Shooter’s Clough, visiting the top of Shining Tor (559 metres) before returning to the reservoir.
From Clough House car park, it’s a pleasant 4½ mile circuit out to Three Shires Head and back. Taking in secluded river valleys, mature woodland, a couple of miniature waterfalls, open sheep pasture, and heather moorland, there are also some gentle hills to stretch the legs nicely — 285m ascent/descent in total. Should take about 1¼ hours if you don’t hang about, but on a nice day there are plenty of excuses to dally, particularly at the packhorse bridge at Three Shires Head.
It won’t be long before the days are noticeably drawing in much faster as the summer gradually merges into autumn. So I’m glad I made the most of one of the finest, balmy summer evenings we’ve had this year (there haven’t been that many), by climbing up onto the western edges of Kinder from Hayfield, a day after the summer solstice.
It’s been several months since I’ve been out for a countryside bimble with a largish group, but that’s now been put right. It was nice to catch up with a few folk that I’ve not seen for ages, whilst exploring nooks and crannies of the Derbyshire Dales — in this case, Tideswell Dale, Miller’s Dale, and Cressbrook Dale, with a diversion to the little village of Foolow to add some variety (and beer).
Living within spitting distance of the hills has opened up all sorts of photographic opportunities. For one, I’m now much better placed to take full advantage of the golden hour, that brief period at the beginning and end of each day when the light can take on an almost magical character, temporarily transforming the landscape with subtle gradations of tone and colour that are denied to most daytime vistitors.
I’d had my eye on this one for a while. Looking for a decent local walk (by which I mean something that starts and finishes at my front door in Higher Buxton), the obvious contender for the “long” version — something that would while away a complete morning or afternoon — was a bimble southwards over Grin Low (paying a quick visit to Solomon’s Temple) and out to Chrome Hill and Parkhouse Hill.
It’s been a bit quiet on this blog lately, due in no small part to me now finding myself living in Buxton, rather than Cambridge. I say “finding myself” — as if I woke a few days ago and was taken aback by the sudden shift in scenery — but of course this move was planned. With the hard work of moving complete, but with much remaining to be done to get things shipshape here, I finally gave in to temptation yesterday, and headed for the hills. Just a 3-hour amble, but very enjoyable. A few pics…
OK, so it wasn’t entirely necessary to walk into town today (there are buses “up to every 10 minutes” after all — for which read “no buses for three quarters of an hour, followed by four in quick succession”), but it was such a beautiful day that it would have been rude not to travel “à pied”.
With cold weather returning to the south of the UK again, and with it, crisp clear air, blue skies, and even a little more snow, it was well worth de-icing the car this morning, and driving the 20-odd miles to St Ives — a handsome market town on the River Great Ouse in Cambridgeshire.
Yup, it’s Friday again. I’ve a tendency to come out in a rash at the mere thought of battling my way across country on the A14, especially on a dreich evening such as this — so, in spite of the vertically challenged geography of Fenland, I snuck a peak at the BBC weather for “Cambridge” tomorrow. The walking group are heading over to Thetford Forest, the “largest lowland pine forest in Britain” (cue awed Oohs and Ahhs). It looks rather pleasant, and I badly need to get out of the constructed concrete, tarmac, steel and glass cityscape for a bit, even if the alternative is flat and grey and squelchy.