Pennine Way, part one

Tuesday 20th September 2011

Kinder Scout and Bleaklow 

My first day on the Pennine Way was a wet one with rain for most of the day and low cloud over some of the most challenging and bleak terrain in the Peak District. Setting off from the youth hostel I walked across the fields of Edale to Grindsbrook Booth, the official start of the Pennine Way, and immeditately started the way across fields that I’ve walked over many times before on the lower slopes of Kinder Scout. The first time I walked on that path was in 1992 while walking around Edale with my Father; it was chucking it down with rain and we were slipping and sliding all over the place until we eventually reached the small hamlet of Upper Booth. I’ve never had any problems since and despite the rain on this occasion I still had no problems. The road beyond Upper Booth took me past Lee House and up the valley to Jacob’s Ladder. I had been on this steep path only once before and that was in descent back in 1998. There are two routes up Jacob’s Ladder: a walled lane and a steep stony path. My Harvey Map claimed the Pennine Way takes the lane, but common sense (and OS Maps) directed me onto the steep steps of the ladder and so eventually I came onto the misty moor.

Turning right I climbed up onto the Kinder plateau and past the eerie looking Edale Rocks, with the whole area in the low clouds having a spooky feel to it. I remember being told many years ago not to go onto the Kinder plateau in bad weather as it can be a dangerous place. Although I am experienced enough now in navigation to not be worried by such weather, it still left me in awe of the bleak, challenging surroundings. I continued across the barren landscape along the path to a very large cairn in amongst the featureless expanse. The trig point of Kinder Low must have been somewhere around there but my maps indicate the Pennine Way doesn’t go to the trig point and actually passes just west of it. This was quite a disappointment for me as I’ve only once before been to Kinder Low, and I couldn’t find it on this occasion. After passing the area of Kinder Low I walked alongside the western edge of Kinder Scout to the Kinder Downfall. This waterfall is one of the highlights of the Pennine Way, and of the Peak District, where the River Kinder falls off the edge of the plateau. Previous times I’ve been at the Downfall there hasn’t been much water in the river and such is the funnelling effect of the landscape the water has gone up the waterfall. Not so on this occasion. There was loads of brown water pouring over the falls, but such is the shape of the Downfall, and the wet rocks, I was unable to get a good look at it. Soon I moved on and continued along the western edge to the north-western corner of the plateau and down slippery steps to the top of William Clough. Beyond the pass I was now on virgin ground, the first section of the Pennine Way that I hadn’t previously been on before, as I climbed up Mill Hill and turned right onto a long dreary traipse across the peat bog of Glead Hill. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to walk along the Pennine Way before the flag stones were laid on the boggiest sections. No wonder Wainwright said “I’ve had enough of it” after writing his Pennine Way Companion. On a day like this, walking along the old path would have been an awful quagmire, thank God for the flag stones! After several miles of walking I eventually reached the top of the Snake Pass road, and there, with my back to the traffic, I quickly had my lunch in the wind and rain. 

Starting off again I walked towards Bleaklow, which is a very different hill to Kinder Scout. Without the rock tors that dominate the edges of Kinder Scout, Bleaklow is left with a huge mass of peat bog and no redeemable features, especially in the poor weather conditions that I was walking in. For most of the distance to Bleaklow Head I was walking at the bottom of deep channels in the peat called groughs that provided no view of where I was going even if the weather was good, and made navigation a guessing game. I followed the Devil’s Dike drain at first before walking along the boggy floor of Hern Clough until eventually I reached the barren summit of Bleaklow where onward progress was more of the same until I ended up in Wildboar Grain which develops into the spectacular Torside Clough. After the boggy crossing of the depressing Bleaklow it was a joy to be on the edge of this striking valley and to have views for the first time since climbing Jacob’s Ladder. I skirted along the top of the of the western edge of the clough all the way down into the valley of Longdendale and Torside Reservoir. 

After crossing the dam I climbed up to a delightful tree-lined walk beside the reservoir that sadly ended all too soon at the A628 road. Crossing this busy road was not as difficult as I feared as a fleeting gap soon opened up and I was able to dash across. A short walk along a farmer’s road brought me to Crowden Youth Hostel (a soulless place some distance from the old youth hostel marked on my maps) and the end of my first day on the Pennine Way. Despite the poor weather this was an exhilarating walk, but  the hills I encountered after Kinder Scout were too tedious. Fortunately Torside Clough and Longdendale were ample compensation.

Win Hill, Lose Hill and Mam Tor

Monday 19th September 2011

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.