Lathkill Dale and Harthill Moor

Saturday 4th April 2009

In preparation for a week spent walking along part of the Pennine Way at Easter I thought I’d do a long walk in the Peak District that combined two walks from a guide book that I’d used ten years ago. One of the two walks I’d done before, almost eleven years ago, but the other involved crossing a part of the Peak District that I’d never actually been to before, which was quite an achievement. The first part of the walk was from Walk 12 in “One Foot in the Peak District” by Charles Hurt (a book that I'd used for many of my early walks in the Peak District), and started in the village of Elton. I had stayed in a youth hostel in Elton during my tour of the Peak District in 1998, but that has long since closed and I hadn’t been back to Elton since, or ever done any walking in the area. For this walk I parked beside the Church and walked down the hill, north, across grassy fields, passing between Anthony Hill and Robin Hood’s Stride. Following the map carefully I crossed many fields, passed Hopping Farm (and caravan site) and dropped steeply down into the upper end of Bradford Dale. The prescribed route had me bypassing the valley to the south, but after crossing an enormous number of fields I was ready for a change, and besides, the beauty of Bradford Dale is too much to pass by.

So I dropped down into valley and followed the small river through the delectable narrow wooded valley past the ruins of former settlements in the valley and into the more developed section of the valley where a series of weirs have created lagoons for the aid of fishing. The easy path and sunlight shining through the trees combined to make this a most refreshing section of the walk. I had passed this way eleven years ago while completing Walk 28 from the guide book, but I remember at that time being a little distracted by my uncomfortable, cheap walking boots. I had no such problem this time as I wasn’t wearing boots, but a pair of multi-activity shoes that I now always wear for easier walks off-mountain. While I followed the river below the village of Youlgreave the valley opened out before joining the River Lathkill at the village of Alport. Here I followed the River Lathkill upstream into, perhaps, one of the most popular and spectacular stretch of dales in the Peak District, the beautiful Lathkill Dale Nature Reserve. The early section of the walk passed a series of weirs before entering a long, narrow, wooded valley that was ablaze with many varieties of plants and animals. This was a lovely walk through a really peaceful and calming valley that seemed to go on forever with little trace of human interference in the scenery besides the path. As lovely as the riverside walk was, it doesn’t compare, for me, to being at the top of a mountain with the overhanging trees giving the scene rather a claustrophobic feeling so it was with a trace of relief when I eventually emerged from the wood. The scene now changed from one dominated by trees to one where rock was in abundance and I had a smile on my face. I was now skipping from boulder to boulder along the valley floor, where the river had vanished underground (a common occurrence in the Peak District), passing caves and the remains of old quarries to finally reach the end of the valley. Turning almost 180° around I climbed a track that skirted the southern edge of the valley before turning south towards One Ash Grange Farm. Just past the farm the path descended steeply and, briefly, quite enjoyably down into Cales Dale, before climbing steeply back out of the short valley.

I was now following the Limestone Way and I would, more or less, stay on this Long-Distance Path all the way back to Elton. The path crossed a number of fields on the high moorland to the south of Lathkill Dale before reaching the car park where I had started my walk eleven years ago. I was intrigued to discover that this small car park where I had parked for free eleven years ago was now ‘pay-and-display’. I had some satisfaction in walking past the car park and taking a track that gradually descended the hillside, dropping back down towards Bradford Dale. Eventually I reached the bottom of the valley once again, but the valley was now not so bright as it had been in the morning as grey clouds had begun to come over, making the day, and the valley, rather gloomy. To avoid retreading my steps through Bradford Dale I decided to follow a path along the northern bank of the river that soon climbed the steep hillside back out of the valley and into the village of Youlgreave. I had never been to this village before so I was keen to have a look at it, but I found it was rather dead with few shops and those there were closed on a Saturday afternoon. After noting where the Youlgreave Youth Hostel was I dropped back down into the valley and crossed the river, rejoining the Limestone Way as it made its way across grassy fields climbing steeply up onto Harthill Moor.

Rounding Castle Ring, the site of an Iron Age Fort, I followed the path to Robin Hood’s Stride, a collection of rocks that I had glimpsed on my outward journey. Deviating slightly from the path I climbed up to the top of the Stride where I stopped and surveyed my surroundings, especially to the south. It was great to be standing on rock again after so much walking through grassy fields. A little distance from Robin Hood’s Stride was another collection of rocks that are marked on the map as Hermit’s Cave. When I investigated I found the top had better views than from the Stride and a cliff face that was so high and steep it was enough to give me the shakes. It is a pity that the cliff is surrounded by trees as it would an awesome sight from all around if it could be seen clearly. Returning to the path, I followed the Way back into Elton where I wearily walked through the village, past the old hall that used to be the youth hostel and back to my car. This walk, although tiring at the end, epitomised everything that the Peak District is best at: spectacular narrow valleys and high, open moorland. This was a great walk to get me into form for the Pennine Way, but it didn’t give me the enormous satisfaction I get from climbing a high mountain. For that I would need to look outside of the Peak District.

My first visit to the Black Mountains

Wednesday – Friday 1st – 3rd September 1999

With no walk to write about I thought I’d take a look back at the first time I went up a mountain, that is, up a hill more than two thousand feet high. The highest I had been, up to this point, was along the edge of Kinder Scout, which is about two thousand feet, but no higher. My first proper mountains were the Black Mountains, in Wales, and ever since, I’ve had a special affection for these hills as they were the start of something great. During the year leading up to this I had been walking frequently in the Peak District, but now I wanted to venture further afield and my eye was drawn to the Brecon Beacons National Park, or more specifically, Hay-On- Wye. This town, on the north-eastern corner of the park, is famous for its second-hand book shops, and as an avid reader of books this was particularly tempting to me so I decided I would visit it after the August Bank Holiday and maybe do some walking in the area while I was there. I didn’t make any other plans before going, not even booking my accommodation. I took my car thinking that if necessary I could always come back home.

On that fateful Wednesday morning I set off along the Motorway network, past Birmingham, and along slow A-roads to Hay-on-Wye. I really liked looking through the bookshops in Hay even though I failed to get much success from the two authors I had been specifically looking for: Agatha Christie and Ian Fleming. Despite this I still ended up buying more than £30 worth of books, which was a feat I would repeat on almost every subsequent visit. At the end of the day I drove to the youth hostel in Brecon where I was able to get a bed even though I hadn’t booked ahead. The next day I drove back to Hay-on-Wye and took a narrow country lane that climbed up the hillside into the Black Mountains (and reaches it's highest point at the Gospel Pass, 538m, higher than any road in the Lake District, and probably anywhere else in England or Wales). Instead of parking at the top of the pass, where I frequently parked on subsequent visits, I parked below the summit of Hay Bluff, though still at the heady height of 480m where extensive views of the Wye Valley could be seen.

So began my first ever mountain walk, and one that I have repeated on more than one occasion. Climbing steeply I walked up to the top of Hay Bluff where a trig point awaited me with awesome views across the wide Wye Valley. Once I had caught my breath I proceeded down the broad ridge of Ffynnon y Parc to the top of the Gospel Pass before climbing the steeper hillside opposite to the oddly named Lord Hereford’s Knob or Twmpa. These two hills are higher than Kinder Scout, at 680m, and so can easily be called the first mountains (in the British sense) that I’d ever climbed, and with tremendous views across the Wye valley as well. After leaving a stone on top of the summit cairn of Twmpa (a practice I now despise, but I didn’t know any better back then), I set off along the broad tongue south-east of the summit, along Darren Lwyd. At the end of the ridge I got my first view of the magical Vale of Ewyas, a valley that is famous for its horse riding stables, but for me will always be special due to my memory of the many walks I have had along its broad ridges. 

After descending steeply down from Darren Lwyd I reached the valley road and the tiny hamlet of Capel-y-ffin where, after resting for lunch beside the bridge, I set off on a walk up the hillside opposite that is also one of special significance for me. Every time I have walked in this area subsequently I have tried to incorporate this path, such is the affection I have for it. After passing two chapels I followed a path across a few fields and then along a farm track before starting to climb steeply up the hillside towards open country. I remember at this point sitting, under some trees, upon a stile in the wonderful weather feeling completely relaxed and contented. This memory of being so high in spirit has stayed with me ever since and has drawn me back to the area. For the first time, I was experiencing  the euphoria that comes from a great walk in tremendous surroundings and brilliant weather. It is this feeling, found time and again while walking through mountains that compels me to spend all my holidays walking.

The path I was on continued into open country as I climbed very steeply through bracken zigzagging up the hillside. I remember sweating profusely in the hot, late summer weather and having to rest frequently as I tried to make my way up the hill, the views of the valley getting more awe-inspiring the higher I climbed. Eventually the gradient eased and I emerged onto the broad ridge on whose top lies not only the Offa’s Dyke Path, but the border between England and Wales. Once at the top of the ridge I headed north following the clear path of the Offa’s Dyke passing on my way, though little known to me at the time, over a point more than 700m high, beating both Hay Bluff and Twmpa. By now the heat was getting to me as I had run out of water and I wasn’t used to this strenuous walking. Eventually I arrived back at Hay Bluff at the northern end of the ridge where the steep slope I had taken at the start of the walk brought me back to my car where, mercifully, an ice-cream van was parked nearby and after several cans of pop I was much refreshed.

That night I stayed at the Capel-y-ffin Youth Hostel, which tragically has now closed (how my heart breaks). The following day I was feeling sore from the previous day's strenuous walk, sunburn, and my cheap walking boots. Wearing trainers instead, I did a much shorter and easier walk around the southern end of the Vale of Ewyas, starting at the lovely Llanthony Priory. I climbed back onto the Offa’s Dyke Path at the top the ridge and passing over Hatterall Hill I walked to the southern end of that great ridge. Returning along the bottom of the valley I passed through the village of Cwmyoy and Llanthony Wood before reaching the priory once again. This was a lovely walk in hot, sunny weather but all my energy had gone into the walk of the previous day. It had taken me all day to complete that walk, but in more recent visits I have walked considerably further and in a shorter time, which must be a testament to how much fitter I am now. In comparison, that original walk was easy, but at the time it was a great challenge and one that had a profound and everlasting effect on my life. The following spring I was back in the Black Mountains; I wanted more.