A RELATIVE DESCENT OF THE PEAK DISTRICT – STAGE 2

A RELATIVE DESCENT OF THE PEAK DISTRICT – STAGE 2
This is not intended as a walk guide
It was almost the end of July and still the heat wave continued, although not as
intense as for the first section of my marathon walk. Once again though it called for
an early morning start and the alarm clocks were set for 5 am.
On this stage of our walk, Alfie and I were to be accompanied once more by my
sister Jackie and her husband Richard, but joining us this time was their grandson
Robert aged 10. The rucksacks were packed with provisions and we drove in the
early morning light to drop a car off on Snake Pass at Doctors Gate Culvert, before
continuing on the long drive to Crowden and the car park which had been the
terminus of stage 1.
How lucky we were to have sunshine and clear visibility yet again which would make
our planned route over Bleaklow much easier and safer. The moors of the High Peak
can be dangerous places and demand to be treated with respect. Wainwright
referred to the top of Bleaklow as being “a sea of ooze and acid wasteland where
nothing can grow”. Little wonder that the mountain rescue teams are called out
frequently – once you reach the high plateau you find yourself at the mercy of the
elements, far from civilization and most forms of transport, and there can be a
serious threat of death by exposure for most of the year.
Fire is a major concern during dry spells and only the week before our walk about
fifty acres of Bleaklow had been ravaged by a blaze which had burnt deep into the
peat, taking several days to extinguish. Access Land on the moors was subsequently
closed to visitors, but the Pennine Way and Doctors Gate which are rights of way,
remained open but subject to extreme care.
It was early as we left Crowden, our car being the first to arrive in the car park.
Robert was eager and enthusiastic, but blissfully unaware of how far he would be
walking, Alfie meanwhile jiggled about, full of beans and straining at the leash,
impatient as always to get the walk underway.
We crossed over the unusually quiet main road and through a gate taking us onto
the concessionary path beside Torside Reservoir, heading south-west to the dam
wall. The dry spell had taken its toll on the water level, replaced with a vast expanse
of mudflats, patterned with a multitude of tiny footprints from a variety of birds and
wildfowl. A rich meadow of fresh grass had formed in one area which was being
systematically strip grazed by a family flock of Canada geese and their adolescent
chicks.
The sun, glinting over the horizon, shone down the valley like a laser, picking out the
whitewashed gable wall of a cottage a mile or so away, whilst opposite, the towering
mass of Bleaklow looked a daunting and monumental climb ahead of us.
The concessionary path was overgrown in parts and my walking stick became a
handy machete to beat a way through the bracken and bramble. Birds were singing
and chirruping all around, and at one point our binoculars were quickly scrambled
when Richard saw a lone cormorant gliding like a dark shadow over the surface of
the narrow strip of shallow water, to which the reservoir had been reduced.
Eventually we came to a wooden bridge and gate, from where we passed through
Tinsel School Wood. A couple of rabbits hopped about under the pine trees before
seeing Alfie and quickly disappearing in a flash of bobtails down their burrows.
Our route was to take us over the dam wall at the side of which was a giant stone
stairway where water from Crowden Brook gently cascaded down from a culvert.
Beyond the dam wall Rhodeswood Reservoir appeared to be almost full.
A cacophony of howling and barking dogs echoed all around from the Torside
Boarding kennels - it was obviously breakfast time, and I reminded Alfie how lucky
he is that I prefer to holiday in the UK in cottages that accept spoilt pets!
Now we came to a junction of paths and trails, and the start of our ascent to
Bleaklow. After walking along a track leading to Reaps Farm, we crossed a stile and
began the long climb beside Torside Clough which stretched beside us like a deep
dark shadow, hidden from the low-lying sun.
Suddenly there was the loud noise of decelerating jet engines and a huge plane
glided off the moors above our heads on a descending path to Manchester airport. It
was so low that I could almost make out faces peering from the tiny windows.
Disturbed by the plane and our merry little band of walkers, an angry grouse flew
across the heather squawking ‘brrrrrrr go-back, go-back, go-back’ as it went.
We paced ourselves up the steep path, stopping regularly to admire the views and to
get our breath back. Robbie noticed the large disused quarry near Hey Edge above
Crowden, probably sourced for stone in constructing the reservoirs, and commented
on how it looked like the crater of an extinct volcano. Longdendale below looked
positively beautiful, even with the string of five reservoirs and chain of massive
pylons which line its route. It’s hard to imagine that in the Domesday survey the
valley was described as ‘waste’. The surveyor obviously did not see it from above on
a lovely summer’s day!
As we slowly climbed Clough Edge toward Bleaklow Head, the views behind us
became more and more dramatic, whilst the landscape ahead was a colourful array
of bilberry bushes and cotton grass set in a delicate purple haze of flowering
heather, interspersed with boggy patches of carpet-like sphagnum (bog moss).
We stopped frequently by the side of the path to dine on a breakfast of bilberries,
tempted by the little purple packages of vitamin C. Jackie even emptied one of the
water containers and we all contributed to slowly filling it up with berries whilst
wandering along. After half a mile or so, Robbie’s lips had turned purple with the
juice and our mottled hands looked like we had developed a nasty rash or infectious
plague!
By now the path had turned into a gentle climb as we approached Bleaklow Stones
at 2060 feet. We felt as though we were on top of the world, but the crowning glory
on reaching the highest point was a bit of a disappointment as the landscape
became more bleak (hence the name!) and a bit boring, with the path following a
maze of channels and rough stone gulleys like miniature dry river beds between
mounds of peat.
To top it all, a black cloud passed overhead, blocking out the sun and suddenly
dumping a heavy shower on us. Out came the waterproof coats, but our bare lower
legs were whipped with the heavy raindrops which stung like sleet. This in fact was
Bleaklow being kind to us – perilous weather conditions can set in very quickly which
reduce visibility and place walkers in jeopardy. It is not wise to venture onto
Bleaklow without checking out the weather forecast in advance, and without
someone who is an experienced walker/map reader.
There was no trig point at Bleaklow Head, just a post stuck in a mound of stones,
which Robbie climbed to pose for a photo, justly proud of his achievement.
The Bleaklow plateau is so vast that you lose sight of the edge and any landmarks to
guide you. Fortunately there are little stones carved with arrows and an acorn which
are extremely helpful, and of course the causeway of thick slabs laid by the Peak
Park on long stretches of the path.
Alfie loves children and was happy to play hide and seek with Robbie who hid in the
heather and let Alfie find him like a search and rescue dog, then off they would
scamper like two boys together, checking out the path ahead and playing at chase.
There was to be no long descent on this stage of my walk, as the second car was
parked high on Snake Pass, but we did have a slight downhill stroll after passing
Alport Low, after which wondrous far reaching views began to appear.
Manchester is an amazing metropolis from up on the moors, and we could just make
out the new Hilton tower which reared up above surrounding skyscrapers. Football
fan Richard also found the Manchester City football ground through his binoculars.
It was nearing lunchtime and more walkers were beginning to appear on the moors,
but I felt as though we were the early birds that had captured the best part of the
day.
The last bit of the walk was superb as the path dropped down beside Devils Dyke.
We left the Pennine Way at a spot marked on the map as Old Woman, and followed
a section of Doctor’s Gate. Here the path was lined and edged with fabulous well
worn cobbles, laid down centuries ago by the Romans to link Anavio (Brough) with
Melandra (Glossop). There would have been no helicopters then to carry the stones
to the hilltop, just a few hundred slaves and someone cracking a whip!
The parked car came into sight bringing our walk to an end. The third stage of the
walk would be across Kinder – yet another potentially arduous undertaking, which
would have to be tackled under suitable conditions, and who would be accompanying
Alfie and I was yet to be decided.
Sally Mosley