My first walking holiday, part two

I am continuing to account my first ever walking holiday back in 1998:

Lathkill and Bradford Dales

Thursday 9th July 1998

After this walk I was in Elton Youth Hostel (which has subsequently closed) and it seemed to be a very different place to the previous two hostels that I’d just stayed in. This was a tiny, simple hostel with very few amenities. I still preferred Ravenstor, but this was a nice hostel, though I was beginning to feel a bit lonely. At Ravenstor I had lots of people to talk to from the two ladies I had meals with to the guy I shared a room with. At Hartington the only person I spoke to was the person who slept in the bunk above me. At Elton I hardly spoke to anyone.

I couldn't get out of the Hartington Youth Hostel quick enough and drove to a small picnic area on Moor Lane near Youlgreave. The walk started by crossing a few fields over to Cales Dale, a small dale that soon led me into Lathkill Dale. Once in the dale I got an idea to turn left and walk to the start of the dale and then back again via One Ash Grange Farm. This I did, which enabled me to get a glimpse of the caves and disused quarries at the top of the Dale where the landscape is rather bleaker than further down the dale. When I got back to the point where I had first entered the dale I had my lunch and realised that this was very close to the camp site at Haddon Grove that I had stayed in with a youth group many years ago. A lot of memories of my previous visits to the dales came flooding back.

After lunch I proceeded down the magnificent Lathkill Dale, which is easily one of the best, certainly one of the longest dales in the whole of the Peak District, it was great. At the end, in Alport, I circled round and travelled along Bradford Dale returning, slowly, to the car. By the time I was back at my car my feet were in agony. Although I have had other problems this week, I was mostly concerned about my blasted boots. I suppose I should have tried to break them in more before going on the holiday, but the thought of even more walking in them does not fill me with glee. I didn't want to take them with me next week. Back from the walk I drove to Elton and this very basic youth hostel. It was interesting staying there, but I was looking forward to a larger hostel. In the evening I had a walk around Elton and read, but I had not finished the British GP supplements. I had put an end to the dales now as my next walk was going to be along the Eastern Edges: Baslow and Birchen Edges.

My abiding memory of this walk is of the problems I had with my boots, but I also remember walking through a beautiful dale with sparklingly clear water in the river. This was a good walk so it’s a pity my boots are all that I really remember about it. Even more tragic is the fact that I have never been back to Lathkill Dale since, which is a great tragedy as it is a wonderful dale.

The Eastern Edges

Friday 10th July 1998

This was a much better day for me. I really enjoyed the walk and the blisters on my feet were giving me less of a problem. I left Elton and proceeded to the Curbar gap in the Eastern Edges. I had discussed where I was walking with a guy who had slept in my room and he suggested doing the edges to the north of where I had planned to walk. This sounded like a good idea, but I thought it would be an even better idea to do both so I walked along the planned route past Baslow Edge and on to Robin Hoods Pub where I had my lunch before heading back beside Birchen Edge. When I reached a crossroads I deviated from the guide book route that directed me back to the car past a bull and instead I went the other way (away from the bull!) north over the bleak moorlands beside White Edge.

At the end of the escarpment I crossed the moor over to the Grouse Inn and returned beside Froggatt Edge and Curbar Edge where magnificent views could seen across the Derwent Valley. I loved it all, particularly the bleak moorland passage and the on the final section beside Curbar Edge I was bathed in glorious sunshine with great views. After the walk I drove to Eyam Youth Hostel, which is a medium-sized hostel that didn't seem to have many people staying in it. For the first time I was now sleeping in a larger dorm with eight beds as opposed to the usual four, though I still preferred Ravenstor! In the evening I took a walk around the plague village of Eyam, which was very interesting and fascinating. The next day I was doing the Staffordshire (actually most of it was in Derbyshire or Cheshire and I only ever went into Staffordshire to take a picture!) Moors and then it was home for the weekend.

This was a good walk that has stayed in my mind as being one of the highlights of the holiday. The open country appealed to something inside of me much more than the enclosed dales and it would direct my yearnings for years to come.  I have returned to Froggatt and Curbar Edges in more recent years for a walk with a lady friend.

The Cat and Fiddle

Saturday 11th July 1998

I left Eyam Hostel at the start of the day to do a walk around some beautifully bleak and blustery scenery west of Buxton starting from the Cat & Fiddle pub (the second highest pub in England). This was an excellent walk that crossed over Goyt’s Clough and traversed Axe Edge Moor on my way to the Three Shires Head (which was a slight diversion from the text book route, but well worth the opportunity to visit a place that I had visited in my youth). The rain luckily stayed off for almost the entire walk and didn't start until I was getting near to the car; on my way home the heavens really opened. On my return people were saying how I've caught the sun with a rather red face and arms. I knew I should have brought some sun cream. I've had a great week on my own and although I was now home it wouldn't be for long. Monday morning I was catching a train up to Hathersage for more walking, but I had some problems: these boots. I had serious blisters particularly on the side of my left foot due to an indentation on the boot. Ow!

This completed the first week of my first walking holiday and I had a tremendous time that ensured I would be endeavouring to do this sort of thing again, many times and escalated to some epic walks over the rugged mountains of Scotland and Ireland. On these early walks I quickly learnt that it was vital to have the right equipment and the single most important of these was my boots. Unfortunately it would take me a long time before I found a pair of boots that comfortably fit my peculiar feet.