Youlgreave

YOULGREAVE, ALPORT and environs

Weather: Initially overcast, later sunny

Distance: 9 Miles.

Difficulty: Easy

Walkers: Colin Davison, Alan Hart, George Dearsley, George Whaites, Jock Rooney and Tips, Chris Corps and Fergus, Tom Cunliffe, Pete Beal, Lawrie Fairman, Julian Ross, Syd Marland, Nigel Crank, Steve Courtney, Mike Brockbank, John Laverick.

Apologies: Mickey Barrett (still mopping up his house), Phil Welsh (visiting his father)

Walkers: Geoff Spurrel, Mike Walton, Tony Job

Apologies: Pete Morrall (prep. for Spain), Ken Sparrow (family duties).

Leader: Corps  Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: The George, Youlgreave

Starting Time: 10.15am. Finishing Time: 2.18pm.

This report contains hyperlinks, which allow you to view web pages describing some of the locations if you are already connected to the internet.

Things did not bode well when Tom Cunliffe’s car would not start at the Lantern Pike and then your diarist hit unusually heavy traffic at Buxton, only to discover that many of the Wanderers were actually behind him.

In the event we gathered more or less on time in Youlgreave around 10am.

First things first…what is this bloody village actually called?

Is it Youlgreave, Youlegreave or Youlgrave.

Either the locals cannot agree or Derbyshire County Council’s signwriter is dyslexic.

 

The name possibly derives from "yellow grove" (the ore mined locally being yellow in colour). Anyhow, no fewer than 15 Wanderers (is this a record? Ed) and two dogs gathered for what turned out to be an excellent walk, efficiently crafted and led by Mr Corps in very pleasant weather.

The last time your diarist walked in and around Youlgreave with the Wednesday Wanderers was May 11, 2011. The history of the area follows a similar pattern to that of the many White Peak villages whose prosperity was founded at the height of the lead-mining industry in the 18th & 19th centuries.  This has left its mark in the surrounding fields, which are dotted with the mounds and scars of old workings.

With lead underground, if not in their “pencils”, the Wanderers set off from the George, turning right from the frontage of the pub, past the imposing church on the left.

This is the church of All Saints, possibly one of the most impressive churches in Derbyshire. It probably dates back to about the 13th or 14th century, but many modifications have been made and much restoration was carried out around 1870. Externally the impression is dominated by the broad, big and tall perpendicular tower, with its angle buttresses, large western door, large west window, two tall bell openings, battlements and eight pinnacles, and tall and wide arch towards the nave.

We went along what turned out to be (reasonably enough) Church Street until we reached the odd looking monument to the right which apparently was the village’s own water supply in years gone by.

We swung right here and past a sumptuous looking house on our left, (pictured below) the name of which was not obvious.

                                                                        Lovely house

We went through a gate and up a short climb, then through the gaps in two walls, before turning right.

Within a few yards we swung left, following a sign pointing to “Over Haddon”.

                             
                                                         The green, green grass of....well Derbyshire


After a while, we then traversed a very muddy path to a huge farm which turned out to be Meadow Place Grange.

The farmhouse is actually a listed building and dates back to the mid 18^th century. I’m sure, like me, the Wanderers were agog at its chamfered quoins.

Meadow Place Grange

The house also boasts a central flush doorcase with raised fillet to edge and bracketed

stone ovolo-moulded hood. You don’t get those in Ikea.

We were soon heading through woodland and going downhill on a pleasant track.

We crossed a bridge and turned right, passing Lathkill Lodge on the left.

At 11am we were walking alongside a picturesque river.

Meandering gently....and so was the river

The river Lathkill rises just below Monyash and flows down to meet the Wye just below Haddon Hall. The valley it forms is apparently one of the finest of the limestone dales and the upper part is a National Nature Reserve, in the care of English Nature.

It is a famous trout-fishing river, and Izaak Walton, no less, declared it to be the 'purest and most transparent stream' he had seen. There are many water-based birds to be seen - wagtails, dippers, waterhens and coots for instance.

I’m sure I heard a passer-by say “look at all those old coots”. But I could have been mistaken.

We crossed a road and Pie Time was declared at 11.07am.

Despite exhortations from Mr Cunliffe, showing all the tact and empathy of a traffic warden with chronic piles, to move us along, the Wanderers enjoyed nine minutes of mastication before heading up the hill (effectively a left turn from the path we had walked).

At 11.20pm we took a path on the right which was signposted Alport.

Haddon Hall was visible in the distance.

At 11.40am we took another path to the right (following the yellow arrow), through a five-bar gate and onto a track. To our left was a giant quarry (pictured somewhere below). To our right was a high wire fence, protecting a field.

Giant quarry

Some Wanderers thought this was a deer fence. Mr Laverick surmised that they might have been cultivating truffles in the field. Obviously another champagne Socialist.

It was around this point that Mr Cunliffe retold an interesting story, offered to him some years ago by the wife of a policeman, herself a former WPC. Apparently, she confided, the police used to communicate with one another by banging their truncheons on the pavement. A kind of primitive Morse Code.

Mr Ross, himself a former member of Her Majesty’s Constabulary of course, had not heard of this ingenious tactic and was greatly amused.

But it could account for a lot. Perhaps, if only the Great Train Robbers had stuck to the grass they might never have been caught. In a bid to corroborate Mr Cunliffe’s tale I trawled the internet. But the only reference I could find to law enforcement officers hitting the pavement with truncheons was the few blows that missed Rodney King in Los Angeles.

We went through some woods and then off to the right on a path that led down a short but steepish slope. Over a stile we saw a road below us and alongside the road, a river.

We eventually walked down to the road and turned right.

We soon came across a sign saying “Alport” and turned left shortly afterwards.

We went over a bridge, which offered a lovely view (pictured below) and some Wanderers stopped to capture the quintessential rustic English scene as a giant (empty) hay waggon thundered past.

We went through a static caravan park, following a path to “Stanton”.

We met a road and turned left, turning left soon afterwards up a track to Park Hill Hall. This turned out to be Mr Corps’ only error. Three faults in an otherwise unblemished round.

A quick check of a flappy thing revealed an incorrect manoeuvre and we quickly moved back to the road where Mr Rooney’s unerring memory for the location of pubs soon put us back on track.

                                                                        Rustic views

At the bottom of the road we turned right and then left at a sign saying “Stanton in Peak”.

Having negotiated a steepish hill we reached the Flying Childers at 12.42pm. Mr John “Statto” Laverick volunteered that we had walked 6.63 miles. We had started at 540 feet above sea level and climbed 1083 feet in all.

Our highest point had been 965 feet.

Flying Childers

The other Wanderers had figures of a different kind on their minds….2.80 for Pale Gale Ale (from the Storm Brewing Company) and 2.80 for Bristol 400.

Talking of beer, ex Wanderer Mr Ivor Jones is inviting all Wanderers to celebrate his 80^th birthday with him next Tuesday at the Boar’s Head, Higher Poynton.

But back to Stanton. Flying Childers was a famous undefeated 18th century Thoroughbred racehorse, foaled in 1714 at Carr House, Warmsworth, Doncaster, and is often cited as the first truly great racehorse in the history of Thoroughbreds.

Has anything better ever come out of Doncaster?

Flying Childers gained the name of his breeder, Colonel Leonard Childers, in addition to his owner, the Duke of Devonshire, often being referred to as either Devonshire Childers or Flying Childers or sometimes simply Childers.

Although the Duke received many offers for the colt, including one to pay for the horse's weight in gold, he remained the animal's owner throughout his life.

First racing at age six, the 15.2 hand colt won his maiden race, held April 1721 at Newmarket, to defeat Speedwell.

He then won his second race in October, also at Newmarket, in a walk over, and his third race. It is said he completed this race, over the Round Course at Newmarket, in 6 minutes, 40 seconds and that he moved 82 1/2 feet per second or 1 mile per minute. Almost as fast as Mr Hart when he nears the half way pub.

 By comparison, this would be nearly 40 seconds faster than the unbeaten Frankel ran the Newmarket Rowley Mile in his famous 2,000 Guineas victory of 2011.

We set off again at 1.25pm, back down the road we had dutifully climbed around an hour before. At the bottom we crossed the road and took a path directly opposite.

At 1.44pm we had lunch until 1.53pm.

We reached a road, turned left and went through a five bar gate.

We took a path to the right and this brought us to a small bridge and the short climb that brings you back into Youlgreave.

At 2.18pm we were back at the cars and de-booting before enjoying more ale in the George, where John Smith’s was £3.02 and Bakewell £3.30.

The George

Mr Corps was rewarded for his excellent leadership with a round of applause, a rare accolade.

B Walkers report

Walkers: Geoff Spurrel, Mike Walton, Tony Job

Apologies: Pete Morrall (prep. for Spain), Ken Sparrow (family duties).

Journeys, walk and beer:

We took the 9.54am  199 bus from The Rising Sun to Buxton via Peak Dale, arriving just in time for the 11.00am  65 (Sheffield) rather dirty bus to Tideswell via Peak Dale, Wormhill, Millers Dale and Litton. 

We got off at Litton at about 11.25am and walked towards Cressbrook along a very quiet road. The short cut to Litton Mill was adjudged too steep, but the road down from Cressbrook Hall to the Mill proved nearly as demanding of arthritic knees and backs. 

We paused for lunch on a wall by the mill, then set off in deepish mud and light drizzle round Water-cum-Jolly, and then on drier tracks as we approached Litton Mill (famed for the sever life led by the apprentices). Faced with alternative walks to Tideswell (uphill. and not noted for its pubs), and Millers Dale (gentle climb to The Angler's Rest), we settled for the latter, arriving well enough ahead of the 2.25 ish 65 bus to sample pints of Adnams Southwold bitter (£3.00). 

We saw more of the return journey through cleaner bus windows, and alighted at The Eagle for excellent Hydes Anniversary beer at £2.00, and Carling at £2.25. The 15.30 bus got us back to Hazel Grove by 16.30.

Distance computed: 5.1 miles. Height gained: positive, to our surprise.

Food report: Geoff ate at the Soldier Dick last Monday, and was well pleased with quality.

Next week’s walk will start at Chapel en le Frith railway station. The “livener” will be at the Wanted Inn, Sparrowpit and after the walk Wanderers will drive to the car park at the back of the Roebuck in Chapel. Sadly you diarist will be wo^rk*ng.