Trentabank Reservoir

TRENTABANK RESERVOIR, SHUTLINGSLOE, MACCLESFIELD FOREST

Distance: 7.6 miles

Difficulty: Easy

Weather: Grey skies, some light showers

Walkers: Tom Cunliffe, George Dearsley, Lawrie Fairman, Colin Davison, Chris Corps and Fergus, Pete Beal, George Whaites, John Laverick

Apologies: Jock Rooney (with the B Walkers), Julian Ross (imbibing with ex-work colleagues), Alan Hart(Madeira cruise), Nigel Crank (Health & Safety inspection), Phil Welsh (unexpected event)

Leader: Fairman Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: Lay-by near Trentabank Reservoir

Starting Time: 9.37am. Finishing Time: 1.26pm

This is a popular walk with the Wanderers. We came this way on January 4th 2012, November 12th 2012, and February 20th 2013 to mention but three previous outings.

But with the changing seasons and, of course, the Wanderers’ famed camaraderie, it never disappoints.

Today’s walk also included a visit to the Hanging Gate and its charismatic landlady Luda (about whom, much more later) which only adds to the enjoyment.

Trentabank is the uppermost of four reservoirs which collect water from the hills at the head of the River Bollin. Water from Trentabank and Ridgegate supplies Macclesfield with the town's drinking water. The other two reservoirs are Bottoms and Teggsnose Reservoirs.

Pity the homeowners who have to tell friends “I get my water from Bottoms”.

From the lay-by we crossed the road and picked up a path rising from right to left as you look from the road.

The early part of the walk involves a steepish climb and by the top of the hill your diarist’s breathing was the kind usually heard only by stethoscopes or female victims of dirty phone calls.

We followed a sign for Shutlingsloe which took us in the direction of the so-called Matterhorn of the Peaks.

At 1,660 feet it is the third highest peak in the county of Cheshire (Shining Tor being the highest and Whetstone Ridge second highest).

                                                                    Trentabank reservoir.

The area surrounding it is called Piggford Moor.

Messrs Corps, Davison and Beal decided to go to the top of Shutlingsloe. The remaining Wanderers took the traditional route to the left, rather boggy as it was.

Beal and Corps (and Fergus)  conquer Ever....Shutlingsloe (pic by Colin Davison)

                                                                 En route towards Shutlingsloe (pic by Colin Davison)

Lawrie jumps the bog (with Fergus just behind) pic by Colin Davison

We went through a gate, following a sign to Wildboarclough and up a hill to a metalled road, where we turned right. We crossed a number of fields and eventually came to another road where we turned right and soon arrived at the Crag Inn.

Here an early Pie Time was declared at 10.34am. There were the usual urgings from Mr Cunliffe to resume our walk early.

But the Wanderers showed the sort of adherence to custom and practice made famous by Peter Sellars in the 1959 film I’m All Right Jack and the obligatory 10 minutes of mastication was fulfilled.

Talking of films and Mr Cunliffe, Wanderers might care to view the You Tube video (by putting the URL below into their web browser) which reflects on Tom’s unusual use of his sticks.

If Mr Hart is reading this in some sunny climes I know he will appreciate this little bit of Wanderers trivia.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nXzyVAth-Rw&feature=youtu.be

                                                                                                Piggford Moor

After Pie Time, we took a path immediately on the right (after the Crag). At 10.55am it began to rain, lightly.

We crossed two stiles, passing a field which I recall was full of turnips last time we came this way, and reached a metalled road.

There is an imposing hill to the right but the lack of signs meant it could not be identified.

At 11.15am the rain became rather heavier and how we missed Mr Hart’s magic waterproof over-trousers which usually clear up bad weather. Fortunately, it was only a shower.

As the road began to rise up a rather ominously steep looking slope, we took a path to the right.

We crossed a wooden bridge, reaching another road where we went right and immediately left up a hill.

This is High Moor and at 11.37am the joyous sight of the Hanging Gate pub hove into view.

A few fields remained to be negotiated but by 11.45am, having walked 5.15 miles,  we were squeezing into the friendly bar like Japanese subway commuters in the rush hour. But happier.

Also unlike our Oriental friends, the rather cramped conditions were soon forgotten as Mr Beal and Mr Whaites announced they were buying birthday ale.

Mr Beal was 65 on Saturday November 2 and Mr Whaites 71 on Thursday October 31^st.

I’m sure fellow Wanderers, like me, have already put those dates (or the corresponding Wednesday)  in their 2014 diaries.

                                                                           Hanging Gate

In the rush to get to the bar it’s easy to miss a second sign outside the pub which carries the legend

“This gate hangs here and troubles none. Refresh and pay and travel on.”

Pub sign

Multi-tasking while pouring Hyde’s Original at £3, Estonian-born landlady Luda was soon up to 78rpm, regaling the Wanderers with news, gossip, political wisdom, catering tips, homophobia  and ethnic vitriol, not necessarily in equal measure.

Some of this was missed by Mr Cunliffe who was out back in the loo “turning his bike around” as Luda colourfully put it. I suspect Tom was emptying his panniers too.

The big news is that she and her husband are moving, having bought the Rose and Crown at Allgreave. I have found a picture of the hostelry, below. Doubtless that will feature on a future WW itinerary.

                                                                                Rose & Crown

The move was partly prompted by Hyde’s Brewery bosses  continually upping the rent on the Hanging Gate, which nows stands at £800 a week or, as Luda put it “an awful lot of sausage and mash”.

The six bedroomed pub in Allgreave was on with Meller Braggins for £250,000 but Luda picked it up for £220,000, largely because shortly before contracts were exchanged it was burgled.

The thieves took everything they could lay their hands on. Luda condemned them as “gypos”  or Irish (or maybe Irish gypsies).

She then had a pop at Yorkshire folk for their tight-fistedness. Mr Davison, who was born in Yorkshire of Irish descent, wasn’t happy.

                                                                               Luda

Turning her wrath to ne’er do wells in general she proceeded to rail against new EU legislation which will allow thousands of Romanians (including Roma gypsies) into the UK.

“You might as well open your pockets, the Romanians are coming,” she wailed.

Then in an attack on political correctness gone mad she turned her wrath onto the gay militants who had insisted that a pub in the Over Peover area called the Gay Dog drop the word Gay.

The Dog was built in 1805 by Baronet Thomas Wetenhall, and once comprised three cottages - a grocer’s shop, shoemaker and small farmstead - but it was not until 1860 that it became a public house, known then as the New Inn. Subsequent incarnations saw the inn named the Dog and Rot and, in the 1960s, the Gay Dog.

After the homophobe furore, the owners changed its name to The Dog Inn.

It was probably the arrival of the internet – and especially Google – that torpedoed that particular monicker.

Weirdos seeking al fresco sex with strangers  – dogging as it’s known – began to arrive by the charabanc load and the pub’s name was changed again….to simply The Dog.

Luda’s rhetoric continued, covering her years as a waitress at the Legh Arms (from the age of 17), to innovations in dispensing ale, the sale of Gradbach Youth Hostel for a paltry £300,000 and of course the gossip that the “lesleys” (lesbians) who ran a nearby pub have now split up.

You don’t get this sort of stuff in Alfred Wainwright’s journals. It was like Ruby Wax reading the news on acid.

At 12.34pm it was sadly time to leave Luda. We took the traditional path down the steps from the pub, turning right and picking up a path also on the right.

At 12.49 luncheon was called and lasted until 12.57pm.

As we set off again, down a somewhat slippery slope, Tom was nearly a faller, keeping on his feet - just - and executing a manoeuvre that left him facing the opposite direction, for which  Bruno Toniloi might have awarded a “9”.

Our chuckles had barely subsided when Mr Davison fell, ending up on all fours in a posture that resembled a frightened cat with its back arched.

We went through some farm buildings then negotiated a stile onto a road and turned right.

We passed Lees House Farm where a black and white dog came out to sniff Fergus but actually preferred Tom’s gaiters.

At the top of the hill we turned left and we were soon back at the cars at 1.26pm. After de-booting we went to the Leather’s Smithy where Theakston’s was £3.25.

B Walkers report:

B Team: Walkers: Geoff, Wally, Tony, Jock and Tips. Apologies: Terry (cruising in Eastern Med), and Ken.

Walk: 199 bus to The Cock at Whaley where we were joined by Jock and Tips, exuberant as ever.

To avoid the sharp climb from the Goyt to Taxal Church, we walked up the road towards Kettleshulme before turning left at the signpost for Taxal. After a short stop for Geoff to don waterproofs, we continued along the road, then turned left across a muddy field towards Madscar Farm.

Past experience of mud at Madscar caused us to take the high path, and we came out at the gate to Madscar. Sticking to the track brought us to Fernilee Dam, and after an early lunch, we continued up the track and road to The Shady Oak. Marston's bitter in good form at £3.00 a pint, but bad news from the landlady, who reckons it will close next summer. 4.2 miles so far.

Wally was struggling with a painful knee and hip, made worse by leaving his stick at home. So it was out with the 61 bus timetable, which shows the bus to New Mills passes the pub at 9 minutes past the hour. After a second pint, Jock left to walk back to his car in Whaley.

 It was at this juncture that Tony realised his bus pass had been lost during the walk, and when disrobing failed to locate it, he had to rely on the innate good nature of bus drivers to get home via The Soldier Dick and a 199. (Remember the phrase " Same again please, but I've just lost my pass." Never failed yet!)

Excellent Old Speckled Hen at The Soldier Dick for £3.70 a pint.

Next week: 10.00 am start. Marple Bridge - P.F. Canal - Romiley - Chadkirk - Marple - M. Bridge.  Drink: Hare and Hounds, and Norfolk or Royal Scot. No buses until Tony gets a replacement pass

Next week’s A walk takes us to Castleton. We will meet outside the Church, opposite The George pub at 9.45am.

The half way stop will be at the Cheshire Cheese, Hope.  Hopefully, if it’s open.

Happy Wandering!