The plan for this holiday went through many different permutations. Several years ago I planned a four-day walk across the Peak District starting from the market town of Ashbourne to the industrial town of Marsden. After much indecision on what I would do during this week I eventually decided that I would do the Peak District traverse followed by a continuation along the Pennine Way as far as the railway station at Gargrave (where I’d started two and a half years ago). A couple of weeks before starting family concerns scuppered the start of the walk intended for Saturday. With the actual Peak District traverse now abandoned I settled for a completely different walk to act as a prelude to the start of the Pennine Way the following day. The walk that resulted was tremendous and more than made up for the disappointments of the rearranged weekend.
This walk was from Hathersage in the Hope Valley to Edale and the start of the Pennine Way. Coincidentally this was the start and finish points of a rather significant walk that I did in 1998 that was my first ever backpacking walk; the first time I walked from one point to another carrying all my gear on my back (admittedly just my clothes and toiletries since I was staying in hostels). I remember this walk with great fondness as I enjoyed the feeling of backpacking so much that it was the inspiration for every walk that followed. On this occasion, I decided I would follow the course of that momentous walk, though eventually I deviated from the original route. Setting off from Hathersage I felt curiously enthusiastic about the week ahead of me. I was thoroughly looking forward to the week's walking that I had ahead of me and the sunny weather that greeted me seemed to wave me along.
Back in 1998 I deliberately followed the course of the White Peak Way, so that is what I did now as I walked alongside the River Derwent for a couple of pleasantly enjoyable miles until I reached the village of Shatton. Crossing the road and the railway line I climbed up through the tiny village of Thornhill on an interesting path that didn’t seem at all familiar. My path took a route over steep ground above a small disused quarry in a small wood. I may not have remembered it, but it was a fun walk. The only problem was the recent rains had left a slippery, slimy layer of mud on top of the still hard ground underneath. Gradually climbing I passed through an area of heather moorland (that was sadly just past their flowering stage), and turned left in woodland to reach the top of Win Hill. At the rock-strewn and windy summit I had great fun jumping about on the rocks and enjoying the views of Edale to my left and Ladybower Reservoir to my right. I have done quite a few walks around Edale over the last ten years, but none of them have followed the route I’d just taken (not since 1998). However my onward route was now frustratingly familiar.
Taking a well-known route I dropped down the knee-shatteringly steep south-western slopes of Win Hill to the bottom of the Hope Valley and on the other side I climbed the tedious slopes of Lose Hill. The sheep populated fields of Lose Hill were a marked contrast to the part wooded and part moorland climb up Win Hill. I know which hill would win in my book! Lose Hill is actually the more popular of the two hills as it lies at the eastern end of the Great Ridge that marks the boundary between the White Peak and Dark Peak areas of the Peak District. At the summit of Lose Hill I had my lunch beside a dedication plaque that I don’t remember seeing before. It lies below the summit on the eastern side, and you probably wouldn’t find it unless you were looking for it. It’s amazing how nondescript it is; most people probably haven’t seen it. I only saw it because I was looking for a shelter from the wind! Shows what happens when you don’t look around you as you are walking.
Setting off along the Great Ridge I buttoned up against the cold wind. This ridge is a very familiar place to me and walking along it again reminded me of my first visit. It was 1992 and I was in my first year at University in the nearby city of Sheffield when I walked up to Hollins Cross on the Great Ridge. That feels like a long time ago! Now, when I reached Hollins Cross I dropped down below Man Tor along a narrow steep-edged path past Mam Farm and onto the Mam Tor road. At the far end of the inspirational landslides that obliterated the road in 1976 I climbed the very steep southern slopes of Mam Tor. I thought of this as the south ridge and I had been keen on trying it as an alternative route to the top, despite the National Trust wisely trying to put people off using the route by planting trees beside the road. Going around them, I climbed the ridiculously steep slopes of the south ridge and found that despite appearances it’s far too steep to be a considered a ridge (and besides its more eastern than southern!). At the wind-swept summit of Mam Tor I descended the regular path to the road and across to the Lord’s Seat ridge.
Up to Hollins Cross I had been following the 1998 route precisely, but the diversion onto the southern slopes of Mam Tor was only the start of a much wider diversion. Because of my early start, and quicker pace than in 1998, I still had several hours of walking left so I continued along the widening ridge over Lord’s Seat. After a while it started to rain, and kept raining for a long time. After the ridge broadened on Rushup Edge I turned right back towards Edale and dropped down into the valley on the Chapel Gate track. At the bottom of the valley I passed through Barber Booth and over the railway to Edale village where I stopped off at the Moorland Centre (National Park Information Centre). When I emerged it had stopped raining and I was able to continue walking through the valley with views of Mam Tor and Lose Hill on my right as I came to the youth hostel. This was a great little walk that failed to be dampened by a little rain and was an excellent dress rehearsal for the Pennine Way starting the next day.
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