The Sheffield Round Walk Revisited

Saturday 15th March 2014

Sheffield is a heavily industrialised city, famous for its steel works, however it has two calls to fame. Firstly, I spent three years there at University, and secondly, the south-western segment, which extends into the Peak District National Park, is unusually wooded for such an industrial city. When I was at University in Sheffield I went around the signposted Sheffield Round Walk and thought I'd failed to complete it after being unable to locate its continuation after passing through Graves Park. Eight years ago I returned to Sheffield to complete the walk in the company of my sister at a time when there was a little snow on the ground. Unfortunately on that occasion we had to abandon the walk before reaching Graves Park as it was getting late. Since it is now twenty years since I graduated from University I felt it would be a good idea to revisit the walk and the city that was my home for three years.

First thing in the morning I caught a train to Sheffield and walked through the quiet city centre  all the way out to Hunter's Bar, a place that I’d visited many times when I was at Uni and is the start of the Sheffield Round Walk. It was great to be back. Near Hunter's Bar is Endcliffe Park, a delightful place that I often used to walk around on warm summer's evenings, and it was very busy now with dozens of people of all ages running around the park. I don’t know why, but it forced me to take paths away from the crowds on rougher tracks beside the Porter Brook where wild garlic fragrantly grew beside the river bank. It is a pity I wasn’t doing this walk later in the spring when the garlic would be in bloom, but there was still a delightful display of daffodils and crocuses to decorate my walk through the park.

The walk continues beside the Porter Brook through woodland that brings back so many happy memories for me of the many walks that I have taken in the Porter Valley and it was a pleasure to be back. The weather forecast for this day had been cloudy and windy, but although it was windy the sun came out as I walked up the Porter Valley and afforded me with a great day for a walk through the supposedly grimy city of Sheffield. As I walked through the wooded valley it was hard to believe that I was still in the city of Sheffield and there were houses at the top of the steep sides of the valley. After passing the Shepherd Wheel and through more delightful woodland I eventually reached Forge Dam, which was usually the limit of my evening strolls through the Porter Valley. Beyond the old mill pond I climbed the narrowing Porter Clough eventually reaching a road that marks the edge of the Peak District, having walked right from the city centre to the national park.

It was very windy as I walked along the road past the Mayfield Alpaca Centre that I’d distinctly remembered seeing the last time I’d been on the walk, in 2006. Now, when I reached the Ringinglow Road I went onto another footpath that gradually descends into the Limb Valley, a broader valley, but also filled with trees, as I slowly dropped down to the Ecclesall Road, and continued beside the Limb Brook into Ecclesall Woods. These are quite extensive woods, the largest semi-natural woodland in the county, but I was not able to see all of it on this walk as I followed the signs that directed me beside the stream through the woods and down to Abbeydale Road. A short walk along this busy road took me past the Dore and Totley railway station and after climbing over the River Sheaf and the railway line I continued to climb steeply through Ladies’ Spring Wood.

This ancient woodland was bedecked in a gorgeous array of woodland plants that unfortunately at this time of the year was not yet in bloom, though I’m sure a month later it is a tremendous display. At the top of the hill, looking down on the railway, I walked along the edge of the escarpment to the remains of Beauchief Abbey and a golf course. I am not a fan of golf so I quickly, and silently, nipped past the golf course to a short walk through Parkbank Wood that brought me onto Greenhill Avenue where a path led me behind the houses into another wondrous wooded valley that I would never have known was there if I’d been driving along Greenhill Avenue. I couldn’t help but think how lucky the people who live in Sheffield are to have so much delightful woodland within their city. A wonderful walk through Chancet Wood brought me onto the Chesterfield Road, where my sister and I had abandoned our attempt of the Sheffield Round Walk in 2006.

A short walk up the road that I have driven along many times brought me to the edge of Graves Park and Cobnar Wood, a steep sided valley that seemed to be such a special place that I decided I would stop there to have my lunch. When I had finished my lunch I followed the path beside the stream that took me out of the valley and into the popular Graves Park, the largest park in Sheffield. At the far end of the park I reached Hemsworth Road where I’d gone the wrong way in 1992, turning left down to the Chesterfield Road, but now I turned right. Considering the fact that I didn’t have a map in 1992 and was blindly following the signposts I don’t think I did too badly and it is quite possibly that at that time this had actually been the end of the Sheffield Round Walk. Now I checked on a map and so turned right beside the busy road until I reached the New Inn, which I remember stopping at when my sister and I later returned to the round walk to cover the section that we’d missed.

At this point a path took me past another golf course into an area with fewer, less developed trees than I’d encountered earlier, where the terrain looked more abandoned rather than wild and so held less interest for me. As I approached the Gleadless Valley Nature Reserve the scenery began to improve, but before going very far into the reserve the round walk turned towards the west back into the city to return to Hunter's Bar. The delights were now few, but among them was a steep descent through the typical Victorian municipal park of Meersbrook, which commands extensive views over the city. After passing over the Chesterfield and Abbeydale Roads, a brief excursion along the top of Brincliffe Edge failed to compensate for having to walk through endless Victorian city streets in order to get back to Hunter's Bar. I am not a city person, but if I had to name a favourite city it would definitely be Sheffield. It won my heart when I was there twenty years ago, and I have continued to be drawn there ever since.

The Northern Carneddau

Saturday 6th September 2003

In my goal to walk up all fifteen mountains in Wales above three thousand feet I had just three left to complete, but there was a major obstacle in my way: the weather. As I sat in my car at the Bont Newydd car park near the village of Abergwyngregyn on the North Wales coast, rain was hammering down. Up to this point in my walking experience I had never walked in weather anywhere approaching this severity, so I was seriously considering abandoning the walk. I got the plan for this walk from the Walking Britain website where it says “not all of the route follows clear paths so it is recommended you choose a day with good visibility and remember that this part of the Carneddau offers few places to shelter in poor weather” but eventually the rain stopped and I cautiously ventured out of my car and headed off into the reserve. Coedydd Aber is a National Nature Reserve whose main attraction is the waterfall of Rhaeadr-fawr, Aber Falls, and I’m sure the rest of the reserve is also worth a visit, but I have little memory of it, and actually I don’t even have vivid memories of the waterfall. I have never been back, though I have thought of returning many times, if only so I can take the path to top of the falls.

On this occasion I stayed on the main path to the foot of the falls and after a moment continued round to the right along the path to the river, Afon Garn, where I crossed a dilapidated fence and made my way slowly up the valley. It must have been a scary moment for me as I headed out onto the featureless hillside in poor weather when I didn't have the confidence gained from previous excursions in poor weather. Eventually I reached a path at the top of the shallow col, whose reassuring hand led me along the path gradually climbing the hillside soon plunging into low cloud. Slowly I passed around Drosgl and drew near to the outcrops of Bera Bach, where despite wet rocks I climbed up to the top before continuing along the ridge carefully following my compass as I made my way across the bleak hillside.

Two years after this walk I returned to the area to bag the lesser tops that I had missed out on this occasion, so it was then when I stopped to bag Drosgl and head across to Bera Mawr, the twin of Bera Bach. I had other concerns on this occasion as I was still developing my skills in bad weather and didn’t want to risk tragedy by veering off route. My goal on this walk was to visit the three tops that are more than three thousand feet high and nothing else mattered. I also had poor weather two years later during this part of the walk, and since I have never been back to the area around Bera Bach you can say that I’ve never actually seen anything from the top. The closest I’ve gotten is in 2006, while visiting the three-thousand foot high mountains of Wales again, I passed close by on my way up to Carnedd Llewelyn, which was when I took the photo below.

The weather had not improved as I bypassed Garnedd Uchaf and headed towards Foel Grach, but just as I was beginning to feel I could navigate anywhere it started to rain heavily again. Fortunately there is a purpose-built stone shelter near the summit of Foel Grach that was a welcome sight in the pouring rain and was a great relief for me to be able to have my lunch in the dry while the rain fell outside. Once the rain stopped I emerged from the shelter and after visiting the summit of Foel Grach I headed back along the ridge to the top of Garnedd Uchaf, which I found without too much difficulty despite not having a GPS to pinpoint the location. I had somehow, with the aid of little more than a map and compass and not much experience of using them, been able to safely locate the summits of two of my three target mountains, despite bad weather.

My third target was Foel-fras, which lies a little further away from the other two along a ridge in a north-easterly direction. I was now feeling very happy with myself and my ability to navigate in bad weather and it wasn’t too long before I reached the top of Foel-fras and the last three thousand footer of my week’s holiday. All that remained now for me was to continue along the ridge slowly losing height as I passed over the top of Drum (Carnedd Penyborth-Goch) following a developing track as it passed below the long line of small tops north of the Afon Anafon and pick up the route of the North Wales Path dropping down into the valley and back along the road to my car. This was a ground-breaking walk as this, more than any other walk, established my ability to walk in bad weather. Despite being at the top of open grassy hills I had been able to use my compass to navigate a route to the top of three three-thousand foot high mountains and come back down again. I would never be the same again.

The Carneddau

Friday 5th September 2003

During my holiday in Snowdonia, my first ever walking holiday there, I had set myself the challenge of walking up all fifteen three thousand foot high mountains in the National Park, however, I had already failed in this endeavour because I’d not gone to the top of the precipitous Crib Goch, but I was not to be deterred by this and was determined to visit the top of all the other mountains. I had done two on the first day, two on the second including Snowdon, and then Snowdon again the third day, while on the fourth day I topped the three three thousand foot high mountains in the Glyderau. While I may have only done half my target with just two days left, those two days were spent in the Carneddau, ‘the largest contiguous area of high ground (over 2,500 or 3,000 feet (910 m) high) in Wales and England’, to quote Wikipedia. In this area are seven recognizable tops above three thousand feet, although only one is classed as a Marilyn, which means it has a drop of more than five hundred feet.

When I tried to repeat this walk in 2009 the weather was terrible, but for this walk I had brilliant weather all day as I climbed what I believe are two of the best mountains in Britain. I parked my car beside the A5 trunk road where there is plenty of road-side parking and after crossing the road walked past Glan Dena and Tal y Llyn Ogwen onto the steep hillside following a route beside the Afon Lloer on as far as I can recall ground that was rather wet, but that doesn’t make sense as 2003 was a very hot and dry summer, so either I remember incorrectly or the hillside was well watered from the stream, or maybe the muddy path that I remember was in 2009. The path wasn’t very clear, but it was possible to follow the right route thanks to posts that marked the way so eventually I drew near to Ffynnon Lloe, though before reaching the lake I turned left towards the eastern ridge of Pen yr Ole Wen, which has some sporting scrambles before the terrain levels out to leave me with a pleasing walk to the summit.

I seem to remember thinking at this point that I was fed up with all the scrambling that I was doing, which looking back seems amazing. Now I think that a bit of easy scrambling livens up a walk, but back then I’d become used to striding out along the grassy ridges of the Brecon Beacons National Park, where there is no scrambling. My dislike for scrambling wouldn’t last very long and soon I would embrace it and eagerly seek it out. Pen yr Ole Wen was my first three thousand footer of the day, and is usually climbed direct from Idwal Cottage up the stupendously steep southern ridge (although it’s so steep that ridge doesn’t seem to be an accurate description). My reading around before coming to Snowdonia convinced me to take the longer route via Ffynnon Lloe, and if I’d disliked the scrambling on that route I can’t imagine how I’d have reacted to the south ridge. I came down the south ridge in 2006 and it almost destroyed my knees, they were aching for weeks after.

Having climbed my first three thousand feet high mountain of the day, the walk stayed then above three thousand feet until I’d bagged my fourth mountain of the day starting with a thoroughly enjoyable walk along a narrow ridge past the large cairn of Carnedd Fach and up to the top of Carnedd Dafydd. This is a grand mountain with some truly stunning features, most notably the crags that line its northern slopes, Ysgolion Duon. Carnedd Dafydd may not be a Marilyn, but I feel sure that if it was in Scotland it would have earned the right to be a Munro. A fabulous walk along a narrow rocky ridge took me across Bwlch Cyfryw-drum to the scree covered slopes of Carnedd Llewelyn, but my first target was not the highest point in the Carneddau, it was its partner, Yr Elen.

Yr Elen sticks out from Carnedd Llewelyn and is connected to its bigger parent by a short, narrow ridge. After crossing the stony slopes below Carnedd Llewelyn I passed along the narrow connecting ridge and up to the summit of Yr Elen where, given its vantage point sticking out from the main ridge of the Carneddau, the views are stunning stretching all the way out to the Menai Strait and Anglesey. Returning along the narrow connecting ridge, I climbed the stony slopes up to the top of my fourth three thousand footer of the day and the highest in the Carneddau, Carnedd Llewelyn. There are another three three thousand footers in the Carneddau, but they would have to wait till the next day. My next target was several nearby, lower hills that I wanted to bag, in the same way as I’d bagged the western hills of Snowdon earlier in the week I was now keen to bag these, which is really quite pathetic.

An easy descent leads to the satisfyingly narrow ridge of Bwlch Eryl Farchog at the end of which is a short but satisfying scramble. I could have gone around the scramble but since I didn’t then surely I was already beginning to appreciate them. Another scramble led me to the top of Pen yr Helgi Du, a grass topped hill of not modest proportions but still less than three thousand feet. A relatively broad grassy ridge led me to the much broader top, though smaller height, of Pen Llithrig y Wrach where a satisfying descent brought me down to near the inlet for the Llyn Cowlyd Reservoir and a bridlepath that led me all the way back to my car. This is a truly great mountain walk that as I found in 2009 cannot be ruined by bad weather. Carnedd Dafydd and Carnedd Llewelyn are great mountains that are a joy to climb especially in the good weather that I was blessed with on this walk.