Langley

LANGLEY

Distance: 8.5 miles

Difficulty: Easy

Weather: Sunny with a chilly wind at times

Walkers: Colin Davison, George Dearsley, Lawrie Fairman, George Whaites

Apologies: Jock Rooney (Isle of Man), Alan Hart (Malta), Peter Beal (Bath), John Laverick (Driving home from Surrey), Tom Cunliffe (wo*k^ng),

Leader: Fairman Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: Lay-by near Ridgegate Reservoir

Starting Time: 9.27am. Finishing Time: 1.37pm

Fingers crossed the worst of the winter weather is now behind us.

Building on the intermittent sunshine of last week’s walk around Eyam, the Wanderers enjoyed a bracing day, often bathed in sunshine, on one of the group’s “old favourites” – around Shutlingsloe.

                                                                 Ridgegate reservoir

We left the lay-by near the reservoir and followed the trail past a sign on the left to “Forest Office”.

The early part of the walk – entering Macclesfield Forest -  involves a steepish climb.

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

It was clear many trees had been uprooted since last we were here.

At 9.44am, we stopped for Mr Davison to remove his jumper, such was the temperature.

We reached the top of the climb at 9.57am, emerging from a tree lined path to enjoy the full unabridged beauty of Piggford Moor.

                                                                   Macclesfield Forest

                                        The Three Must-get-Beers (pic courtesy of C Davison)

                                       Now where’s that Matterhorn thingy? (pic by C Davison)

                                                                  Piggford Moor

We decided not to go to the top of the formidable crag. But instead of taking the usual boggy path to the left Mr Fairman had the bright idea of walking along the wall until the base of Shutlingsloe and then veering left.

This also avoided the steep and slippery gulley where a few Wanderers have come a cropper in recent years.

Mr Davison was initially sceptical but the manoeuvre was so successful that he was moved to tell our leader: “You are right. It is better”.

The new route also clipped a few minutes off our running time.

In the past we have reached the Crag pub at 10.47am.

Today it hove into view at 10.30am. So early, if fact, that Mr Fairman called Pie Time.

With no Tom Cunliffe to mither us…a full 11 minutes of ruminating was completed.

The ever resourceful Mr Davison then told us a story of how he’d bartered with a shopkeeper to buy tins of Cherry Blossom shoe polish for 50p instead of a pound on the basis he was bulk buying. (He had ordered two tins).

It just shows you the customer really is King! Although that’s probably not the four letter word the shopkeeper used to describe Colin.

We set off again at 10.41am, negotiating a stile on the right just past the pub and crossing several fields.

On a previous trip (in November 2012) this route took us through a field of turnips. But today there wasn’t a vegetable in sight.

We followed a sign for Oakenclough. A stile in the wall on the right led us to a metalled road which circumnavigates a hill on the right.

We followed the road and turned right onto a track just before the road rises sharply.

Then we veered left at a Y-junction, the other track leading up a further hill.

We passed George Osborne’s old home.

The Chancellor’s former constituency home, which was part-funded by his MP’s expenses claims, was sold for an estimated £400,000 profit, it has emerged.

The Chancellor bought the second home near Macclesfield, Cheshire for £445,000 a year before he was elected MP for Tatton in 2001.

He quietly sold off the property in January 2012 when it looked as though changes to constituency boundaries might mean he might lose his seat.

A neighbour told a national newspaper at the time that the house was sold for an estimated £800,000 to £900,000 without going on the market.

So much for “we are all in it together”.

Mindful of the good progress we had made and anxious not to arrive at the pub too early, Mr Fairman then came up with a second diversion to our usual route, this time with less success.

The Wanderers deemed it a little less enjoyable (mainly due to being on the road) than the usual route

Instead of going overland he suggested we follow the road (effectively turning left after the Osborne house).

At a T-junction we turned right and eventually reached a second T-junction where we turned right again.

The Hanging Gate now hove into view and we reached the hostelry at 11.45am.

Happily not only was the pub open but Luda was still in situ, her move to the Rose and Crown having been put on hold until Hyde’s Brewery finds her replacement.

Luda met us at the door with a plastic washing basket full of “socks and smalls”.

But soon she was pulling pints. Hydes Original was £3.00 a 25p increase from when we came this way in November 2012.

Luda urged us to try a new (stronger) ale called  L.S.Lowry.

“It has more of a kick,” she urged, “right up your jacksy!”

But there were no takers among the Wanderers.

I wonder if there are other painters who have had a beer named after them and whether it’s a successful marketing ploy. Somehow I can’t see people asking for “a pint of Caravaggio and lemonade top.”

I also wonder if people would drink a pint of Lowry if they knew that Laurence Stephen Lowry (1 November 1887 – 23 February 1976) lived with his mother, was a timid voyeur in a buttoned-up mac and died a virgin.

There was no time to ponder this, as Luda began regaling us with a story about a local landlord.

Confided Luda. “I call him Nosey Parker. 

"Anyway he’s 52 and he’s going out with a 25-year-old,” she claimed with a look straight out of Les Dawson’s Ada Shufflebotham  repertoire.

Shutlingsloe

At that moment who should walk through the door but the B Walkers. And as luck would have it Terry Jowett was celebrating his birthday (cue free ale) on March 1, another Piscean.

As every schoolboy astrologer knows, we are reaching the end of Mercury's retrograde phase. The communication planet moved only a few 'minutes of longitudinal arc' between February 25^th and February 26^th.

But it was enough to persuade stout fellow Terry to put his hand in his pocket.

As Jonathan Cainer writes on his website:  ‘Imagine Mercury as a train reversing into a buffer, then trundling ahead once more. Though it won't be till March 21 before it gets back to where it was on February 7, some can feel the sense of change already!’

I know I can! Can you?

                                                                Moor the merrier.

Anyhow, Terry’s star was certainly in the ascendance as far as the Wanderers were concerned.

We left the pub at 12.47pm taking the usual route down.

                                                          Lawrie’s second detour.

We turned left out of the pub and descended some steps, negotiating a stile on our right.

Luncheon was taken from 1.03pm until 1.10pm.

We wandered through some farm buildings following a sign marked “Gritstone Trail”.

We passed Fran Cotton’s palatial house.

According to the Sunday Times Rich List (2012) Fran Cotton is the 30^th richest British sportsman with a personal fortune of £30m.

We reached the cars at 1.37am.

There was no inclination for further libations in the Leather’s Smithy, so we headed off home.

Next week’s walk will start from the Soldier Dick at Furness Vale at 9.30am.

The half way point will be the Swan at Kettleshulme.

Happy Wandering!

Eyam

EYAM, CALVER, FOOLOW.

Weather: Overcast, later sunny

Distance: 10 Miles.

Difficulty: Easy

Walkers: Colin Davison, Alan Hart, George Dearsley, George Whaites, Julian Ross, Lawrie Fairman

Apologies: Peter Beal (walking in Robin Hood’s Bay), Tom Cunliffe (drinking in Lancaster), John Laverick (fitting a bathroom)

Leader: Davison. Driver: Whaites. Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: Car Park of the Miners Arms

Starting Time: 9.50am. Finishing Time: 2.34pm.

After three weeks of rain and mud the Wanderers enjoyed an excellent walk with terrific views, good banter, fine ale…oh and more mud.

We last came this way in April 2011. Apologies but I’m going to reproduce from that day’s diary a bit of historical background to this wonderful village (Eyam).

Eyam is famous worldwide as the village ravaged by the Great Plague, imported from London in 1665. The legend of how the community went into voluntarily quarantine only for residents to develop the grim red skin lesions will forever be remembered in the nursery rhyme Ring a Ring o' Roses. The opening verse is displayed in iron work on the gates of the local primary school. Between September 1665 and October 1666, no fewer than 76 families were stricken and 260 people, around a third of the population, met a painful death.

But the pretty Derbyshire hamlet has another claim to fame: the mining of lead and fluorspar and under the village is a complex honeycomb of mine shafts, steeped in history.

Lead mining in Eyam is believed to have dated from Roman times. Derbyshire lead was exported through the Trent ports at the time of Edward the Confessor. Lead mining reached its height in the mid-eighteenth century, when businessmen sometimes paid tithes in excess of a thousand pounds to the rectors of Eyam. In 1792 800,000 gallons of water per day were pumped through the labyrinth of shafts. And lead mining continued to prosper until the 1880s when lead with more silver content than Derbyshire could produce was imported from Australia.

That should have killed the mining industry. But a brilliant piece of entrepreneurship was to revitalise the local economy. Over the centuries huge spoil heaps of what had been waste minerals from mining dotted the countryside around Eyam.

These contained barytes and fluorspar and once their commercial value had been identified lead became a by-product of these valuable commodities. Barytes was used for making paint. Fluorspar is a key component in the metal industry.

John Robinson had been an employee of Glebe Mine in the centre of the village. But in 1895 he began sending fluorspar to South Wales to the tin smelters. The mixture of waste materials from Eyam was ideal for smelting because it was low in silica. Using a traction engine and 100 horse drawn carts he moved the fluorspar to railheads at Grindleford and Hassop. In 1904 Robinson, together with George G. Blackwell and Sons, shipping agents from Liverpool, started exporting fluorspar from Eyam to the United States for the new basic open hearth furnace, where it was used instead of dolomite as a slagging agent. The operation was so successful that by 1911 the American Senate had put a one dollar per ton tariff on the imports of fluorspar, their own producers being unable to compete. The export business soldiered on until the Americans killed it by quadrupling the tariff in 1922.

In 1938 Yorkshire businessman Henry Ellison heard about the Robinson operation, now run by John’s grandson Frank and came to Eyam. The prescient Ellison calculated war would soon break out and the country would need huge amounts of metal. He asked Frank Robinson if he could design and build a high grade fluorspar producing plant in the village at the site of the old Glebe lead mine. After a week of deliberation Robinson said it was possible so the Tyke handed over £50,000 (around £800,000 by today’s standards) with the exhortation: “Get on with it and the best of luck!”

By 1939 the plant, using a new process known as froth flotation, in which the minerals are removed on a soap bubble, was fully operational. It was to produce seventy per cent of the country's high grade fluorspar which was necessary for the war effort in the production of hydrofluoric acid and also in the making of aluminium. Ellison’s business acumen helped to build the Spitfires for the Battle of Britain and the landing craft for D-Day.  In the 1940s and 1950s around 120 workers toiled at Glebe Mine, 20 underground. They used drill and blast techniques to extract the fluorspar. The work was highly skilled and very dangerous. Today many similar plants worldwide are modelled on the work of Frank Robinson and his mill manager, Frank Bagshawe, at Glebe Mine.

In 1959 demand for fluorspar exploded. There was no room to develop further within the village, so a new plant was built at Cavendish Mill in Stoney Middleton. The extent of the mineral workings was awesome. Some of the vertical shafts were as much as 220 m deep. It is possible to walk the three miles or so through old workings from Stoney Middleton to Great Hucklow.

                                                  On the plus side…it has a new bathroom.

More graves

Colin strides out….

We set off from the pub, passing the Eyam Tea Rooms on our right.

We also passed the Weslyan Reform Chapel on our right, walking through what is known as Burch Place.

But the Wanderers had gone not 200 yards when Mr Fairman pointed out an error.

We were going the wrong way. So we retraced our steps and at the Tea Rooms (now on our left) we turned left.

We followed a sign pointing to “Stoney Middleton”.

                                         

                                  Stone where plague hit villagers put their money in holes full of vinegar

Soon we passed a bizarre stone (see photo above) that looked like a giant, odd-shaped 10-pin bowling ball.

Turns out the plague-hit villagers put coins in the holes (which were filled with vinegar as a form of disinfectant) for neighbours to collect and go and buy food for them.

A forerunner of the modern idea of getting money from the "hole in the wall".

Unusually for the Wanderers this walk also began with a descent. (Yes that’s right, we actually went down).

We went through the picturesque village of Stoney Middleton, where we turned left just before we reached the main road.

In front of us was a strange church, half church, half Roman Catholic Basilica (see below)..

Alan photo-bombing again

Originally the church of St Martin in Stoney Middleton was built by Joan Eyre in thanksgiving for the safe return of her husband, Robert, from the 1415 Battle of Agincourt.

Much of the church was pulled down in 1759 after a devastating fire and all that remains on the original fifteenth century church is the square tower.

Subsequently the main body of the church was rebuilt, in the same year, with an unusual octagonal nave.

The architect also designed the stables of Chatsworth House and those behind The Crescent at Buxton, Eyam Rectory and Stoke Hall near Grindleford.

A century ago church historian, Dr. Charles Cox, grumbled that the architect would have ‘been better to confine his talents exclusively to secular work’.

The interior is of interest, as all the pews face the centre.

We passed the church on our right and took a path to the right.

Here, some roofers exchanged good humoured banter.

We reached a road and turned right.

Soon we found ourselves on the outskirts of Calver.

At the traffic-lights (with the Eyre Arms on our left) we took the B6001 road to Bakewell, here called Hassop Road.

Sir William Hill was on our right. Not a person, a hill.

Mr Fairman couldn’t quite remember whether the escarpment was named after a man called Sir William, or Sir William Hill.

Having scoured Google I’m none the wiser.

But the clue was in the name.

We took a path to the right and began a steady (and quite strenuous) climb.

Near the top we took a path to the left.

Pie Time was declared at 10.55am.

With no Tom Cunliffe to badger us…a full 11 minutes of gourmandising was enjoyed.

We reached a metalled track and soon came upon some heavy machinery engaged in the mining of calcium fluoride, as every schoolboy knows an inorganic compound with the formula CaF2.

We crossed a muddy area where excavators and earth moving equipment had been and we went through a gate on the left.

We took a path on the right and went up a hill before turning left onto a muddy track.

We negotiated a five-bar gate and found ourselves on yet another muddy path.

We passed a herd of cows and here (at 11.45am) the sun came out.

The views to our left were quite spectacular.

Spectacular view

Discussing the route.

There was a slight delay as Mr Davison and Mr Fairman compared possible routes.

The option was: take the moor and arrive at the pub in 75 minutes or take the road and get there 30 minutes sooner.

You don't need to "phone a friend" to see which we went for.

Colin, who could find a hill in Holland, led us up another hill. There was what looked like a lake on our right but it was actually water being pumped out from underground mine workings.

Here we left the road for a path on the right.

This would take us like an arrow to the village of Foolow.

We passed Brosterfield Farm on our left and reached the Bull’s Head in Foolow at 12.46pm.

Bull's Head

Unfortunately a few minutes earlier a pelaton of cyclists from Sheffield had dismounted and were all round the bar like a crowd of Lance Armstrongs at a cut-price steroid sale.

Mr Davison (62 on February 21^st)  gamely offered to buy birthday ale…but it was a full 11 minutes before he could get served. Bombardier was £3.30, as was Black Sheep.

As if that wasn’t enough of a pleasant surprise Mr Ross then opted to buy a second round to celebrate his 53^rd birthday on February 20^th.

It transpires that these two very generous Wanderers share the same birth sign….Pisces. Key characteristics of Pisceans are that they are loving, sensitive, intuitive, spiritual and idealistic…(do we need a second look at their birth certificates? Ed)

Pisceans, however, are also victimised and moody.

Their lucky days apparently are… Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. That fits because clearly Wednesday proved an “unlucky” day as their pocket money duly disappeared over the bar. Fine fellows, both.

Colin....and a lot of bull

We left the pub just before the Yorkshire peddlers at 1.39pm.

We turned left and after 100 yards or so took a path on the right.

Effectively you are walking parallel to the road but over fields.

Paraglider

To our left we spotted two paragliders.

We stopped for lunch at 2.01 pm and after masticating for eight minutes we returned to our walk.

On the outskirts of Eyam Colin suddenly fell.

                       Colin perhaps showing how Eyam villagers reacted when the plague took hold

Was he the victim of a slippery patch of mud, was it the residual shock of buying a birthday round or was our leader re-enacting a scene from 1666 in Eyam, struck down by bubonic plague? Or was he just being moody like a true Piscean?

He was soon back on his feet, however, and striding forth via a rather gloomy looking estate back into Eyam for the ritual de-booting session in the Miners Arms car park, reached at 2.34pm.

This pub was virtually empty. Old Speckled Hen was £3.20 and Ruddles £3.

B Walkers' diary.

Walkers: Geoff, Tony, Ken, Wally and Terry.

Route: 394 bus to Lane Ends (above Compstall), Mill Brow, Hollywood End, Mellor Hall, Mellor Church, Tarden, Linnet Clough, Bottoms Hall,  Lakes Road, Marple.  Distance 5 miles.

After a couple of weeks without a walk, or Wednesday beer, we set out energetically, with the first pause at the Hare and Hounds to assess the sample menu - main couses £11 - £16  - never open at lunchtime on Wednesdays. We were heading east for Shiloh Road, but with only the Little Mill at Rowarth as a watering hole in the area, we  turned sharp left at a junction for Mellor Hall, negotiating a very slippery path. The hall is beautifully maintained, with nice tidy gardens and an attempt to reconstruct the walled vegetable garden (plenty of work ahead there. Now back on a road, we were soon in Mellor churchyard, enjoying the sun and an early lunch (actually killing time until the Devonshire Arms opened). This rest was well timed, for the doors opened as we arrived. Robbies bitter met with general approval, probable cost £3.20 a pint. They were doing a decent lunch trade.

Resuming our walk, we passed via Mellor Golf Club to Linnet Clough scout camp for a pee break. and down through a rocky path / stream to Bottoms Hall. Choices of path were both uphill - to Marple Bridge and the Royal Scot or Norfolk Arms (longer) or up Lakes Road to the centre of Marple. We opted for the latter, with no

pub in mind. A 394 bus arrived, so we headed back to the Rising Sun for a final pint. The Theakstons was in particularly fine form. What a pity Jock was unable to join us for Winter Olympics on many televisions.

Let the record show thanks to Mr Whaites for providing transport for the A Walkers..

Next week’s walk will start at 9.40am  from the lay-by next to the reservoir just along from the Leather’s Smithy pub, Langley, Macclesfield.

The half way point will be the Hanging Gate to check whether Luda has indeed moved yet. We will finish at the Leather’s Smithy.

Happy Wandering.

Whaley Bridge

THE COCK WHALEY BRIDGE, TAXAL CHURCH, TAXAL NICK, WINDGATHER ROCKS, PYM CHAIR, DUNGE FARM, THE SWAN AT KETTLESHULME, TODD BROOK, THE COCK

Distance: Nine miles

Ascent/descent: 1,650ft

Difficulty: Moderate to difficult

Weather: Rain, sometimes freezing, and at times very strong winds

Walkers: Peter Beal. Tom Cunliffe, Colin Davison

Apologies: Alan Hart (virus picked up on recent trip to Benidorm), John Laverick (dodgy ankle), Julian Ross (doctor's appointment), Laurie Fairman (fed up of getting wet), Jock Rooney (Isle of Man), George Whaites (painting and decorating), Steve Courtney (Caribbean), George Dearsley (wo*k^ng).

Leader: Davison          Diarist: Beal

Pictures (below): Courtesy of Colin Davison

Starting point: The Cock, Whaley Bridge

Starting time: 9.35am.            Finishing time: 2.24pm

For the third Wednesday in succession the Wanderers were blighted with wet weather of the most unpleasant kind.

Forecasts of persistent heavy rain and wind gusts of up to 100mph were surely unconnected to the almost unprecedented amount of excuses (sorry, apologies) received this week. At least Laurie was man enough to admit that 'three weeks in a row pissed wet through is just too much'.

As it turned out his foresight was bang on. Had he been there he would indeed have been sodden for a third time, as well as being buffeted by high winds and freezing rain, with snow on the ground, and confronted at one stage by a raging torrent that forced a change of route.

Colin decided to use his recently-awarded bus pass to travel to the start at The Cock by the 199 Skyline bus. Because he didn't want to be a 'twerly' this meant his arrival would be delayed until 9.47am.

So it was just the two Wanderers – Tom and your assistant deputy diarist for the day – who left at 9.35am to take the familiar start up the steps near the pub and along the route of the former Cromford and High Peak Railway, in weather that at this stage was not too threatening.

The line was built in 1831 after an ambitious scheme to continue the Peak Forest Canal across the Pennines was ruled impractical because of the expense. It carried coal,. limestone and other tradeable goods between Cromford near Matlock and Whaley Bridge, where loads would be transferred to barges for Manchester.  Inclines were so steep that horses and later steam engines were used to pull trains up. It was the highest rail line in England, reaching 1,266ft at Ladmanlow above Buxton, before it closed at the end of the 19^th century.

At the foot of the restored incline at Horwich End we took a footpath to the right, leading over a footbridge and up to a children's playground, where we bore right down Mervil Road to reach the main Whaley to Buxton road.

At the start of a track opposite we waited for Colin who duly appeared striding up the road. We followed the track downwards to a footbridge over the River Goyt. From here we took the steep tarmaced  path up through the graveyard to Taxal Church.

My Bellamy's Peak District Companion, published in 1981, describes Taxal as 'having a pleasing air of privacy born of the prospect its secluded, arboreal setting commands'. It also talks intriguingly of church pews on the terrace outside its pub 'for those who like a drink with a view'. Sadly no more.

We left the church at 9.55am along the track to the left between Glebe Farm and The Rectory, reaching after a few yards a Peak and Northern Footpaths Society sign indicating right to Windgather Rocks. We followed this straight uphill through fields to a line of conifers in a small plantation, where we bore left on a metalled track before slanting right almost immediately upwards across heather moorland, now with a dusting of snow, towards Taxal Edge.

We reached the small col in the Edge, known as Taxal Nick, at 10.30am, when we bore left through a gate declaring 'No Bikes' and followed a drystone wall south to a farm where we negotiated two muddy gateways before striking right up a snow-covered slope to Windgather Rocks, now clearly in view. Strong wind and freezing rain were now increasing.

At the south end of the rocks we sought sanctuary from the wind and rain in a natural cleft in the gritstone, possibly used as a sheepfold, and declared pietime at 10.54am. It was short-lived (eight minutes) before predictably Mr Cunliffe urged us onwards. We ignored the muddy path following the wall here and stuck to the road for a mile,  reaching the T-junction at Pym Chair at 11.30am.

An information board here informed us that the eponymous Pym was either a) a non-conformist preacher who used this lonely spot to deliver sermons out of reach of the church authorities, or b) a highwayman who lurked in rocks that at one time overlooked the pack-horse route to relieve travellers of their valuables. Who knows.

We turned right here to descend towards Jenkin Chapel, but after a few yards were met by an appalling sight. In a lay-by near the top some cretinous environmental vandal had dumped a fridge, a chest freezer and three bulky television sets on the roadside. We reflected on the mentality of someone who would choose to drive all the way to do that when they could have been disposed of for less that the cost of the fuel involved.

We continued steeply down the minor road for 300 yards before crossing a stile on the right at 11.38am. The path took us down a slippery grass slope covered with light snow down to Green Stack Farm, which we skirted on the right, continuing down through fields and a series of stiles.

At one of these, as Tom clambered over, Colin enquired whether he was likely to fall, in which case he would get his camera out. No sooner had the words left his lips than Colin's legs shot from under him and he was left spread-eagled in the snow. How we laughed – in fact we thought Tom wasn't going to stop.

We reached Dunge Farm – once grandly titled Dunge Valley Gardens but now looking a bit worse for wear – at noon and crossed a small bridge across a stream bursting its banks. We continued for about a mile down a track later becoming a lane past Chapel House on the right to reach a junction at Five Lane Ends. 

Here we headed straight on for another half-mile before taking a concessionary path over a stile to the left past Wright's Farm. This brought us to another junction of tracks where we bore right below Bents Farm and down a flight of stone steps to the left, emerging immediately in front of The Swan at Kettleshume. At 12.35pm

The village probably took its name from a Viking settler called Ketil – so Bellamy says. Let's hope he wasn't the subject of racist allegations from another Viking called Pot. The village also, until 1937, had one of England's few candlewick mills.

A few eyebrows seemed to be raised among the smartly-clad diners in the genteel  Swan as three dripping individuals arrived in their midst demanding beer (Marston's Bitter at £3).

Suitably warmed and refreshed, we left at 1.04pm to head across the Whaley to Buxton Road, bearing left down Kishfield Lane. At the bridge crossing Todd Brook at the bottom of the lane we decided to abandon lunch in view of the weather and turned right over a stile to take a narrow muddy path climbing high above the brook through woods before dropping to the point where we intended to ford the stream at a weir. The mud here was a foot deep and the rain becoming torrential.

Here our problems started. What is normally a gentle brook which can be crossed over the lip of the weir was a torrent. A walking pole pushed in to the water could not find the bottom and we debated whether to plough through and get wet or retreat. We decided the water in the middle could be four feet deep or more and so took the option of climbing the 100-foot high bank to the right to reach another muddy path which brought us to Gap House Farm, a very smart establishment with stables.

Here we met two ladies even wetter than we were, out tending their horses. They directed us through their well-heeled farmyard and minutes later, at 1.50pm, we were back on the main road, with a simple walk back downhill to the Cock.

Sadly, 20 feet from reaching his car, Tom, who had remained upright over nine miles of sloppy and slippy moorland, managed to stumble on a kerb and fell painfully, bruising his ribs. This required immediate remedial action at the Cock, where Unicorn was £2.80 a pint.

Colin chose this moment to declare that as next week was his birthday he would get the traditional round in. Tom was on his driving limit and declined – so it should be placed on record that Colin's birthday largesse amounted to a pint bought for your diarist. He seemed quite pleased that everyone should be informed of this.

See below for details of next week's walk.

Pete and Tom

Antarctic? No Cheshire

Hilly and chilly

Mother Nature eh?

Pete marches on

         

Full flow

Next week's walk will start at the free car park past the church at Eyam with a lunchtime stop at the Bull's Head at Foolow (open 12.00noon until 2.00pm). The walk will take in breathtaking views from Longstone Edge and will be approximately nine and a half miles in total. Our final stop will be at The Miner's Arms in Eyam (open 12.00noon until 11.00pm).

Apologies in advance from your (stand-in) diarist, who will be in Robin Hood's Bay, North Yorks, and Tom, who is on what he describes as a two-day sabbatical in Lancaster (I think this involves drinking).

Bollington

BOLLINGTON AND ENVIRONS

Distance: 5 miles

Difficulty: Easy

Weather: Rain and wind.

Walkers: Peter Beal, George Dearsley, John Laverick, Tom Cunliffe, Colin Davison, Chris Corps and Fergus,  Lawrie Fairman, Jock Rooney and Tips,  Jamie Philp

Apologies: Alan Hart (in Benidorm from Feb 4-11), Steve Courtney (Caribbean), George Whaites (painting and decorating)

B Walkers: please see blog

Leader: Fairman Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: The main car park in Bollington

Starting Time: 9.39am. Finishing Time: 12.10pm

This was not the Wednesday Wanderers’ Finest Hour. A truncated walk due to high winds and driving rain.

Rain makes note-taking awkward so apologies for a less than fulsome diary, too.

The one saving grace was the very welcome largesse of Mr Corps and Mr Laverick in jointly buying birthday ale.

Mr Corps was 56 on Tuesday January 28^th and Mr Laverick 61 on Tuesday February 4^th. Long may their lums reek, as they say in Scotland.

We welcomed a new Wanderer, Jamie Philp, a friend of your diarist, who lives in Bollington.

But it wasn’t to be an auspicious debut for the accountant, turned hearing aid consultant.

As he walked towards the assembled Wanderers the six foot plus Jamie managed to bang his head against Jock Rooney’s opened tailgate, causing him some considerable, albeit temporary discomfort.

Then not 30 minutes into the walk, he was forced to retire due to lack of fitness. We hope he will return when he is in better shape.

We set off from the car park and turned left as usual, stopping briefly for pies in our favourite pie shop.

Pie Heaven

We turned right at the end of the road, entering Ingersley Road and passing the Cotton Tree pub.

When in Bollington we usually head straight for White Nancy. But not today.

Instead we followed a sign for “Pott Shrigley” and turned right at a public footpath sign.

We reached a metalled road and turned left at a gate after about 50 yards.

We went through a “kissing gate” and began a climb.

We past two duck ponds on our right and the climb became steeper (10.16am).

We negotiated a five bar gate and turned right along a wall.

The gusting wind was blowing from right to left and making walking difficult at times.

We went through another five bar gate at the top of the climb (10.26am) and straight on over a wall.

A path with what looked like tractor treads was visible in the distance.

We crossed a muddy field and reached the path, turning right.

Mud, mud, glorious mud….

The predicted rain now began (10.37am), light at first but soon becoming heavy.

We passed a farm on the right, went through a five bar gate and turned right.

The farm was called Brink House. We were now on the road which links Bollington to the road from Macclesfield to Whaley Bridge.

We crossed a stile on the right at a sign post (on the left) signalling a narrowing road.

At 10.51am Pie Time was declared on reaching a decrepit wooden shed.

Pie Time….Gimme Shelter

Bellies filled and a few bladders emptied we sallied forth at 11am.

The path began a descent. At the bottom we came to a fork by a stream and veered left.

We passed Winterside Farm, which looked an expensive property.

                                                                      One Shade of Grey

Because of the inclement weather, the decision was taken to cut short the walk and head back to the cars. We were soon back at Hedge Row, turning left back onto the road we had earlier taken to exit Bollington.

Mr Cunliffe could not resist a visit to the Pie Shop.

After de-booting we headed for the Dog and Partridge where Unicorn was £2.70. Mr Davison managed to knock over a full pint.

Fittingly a plasma screen was carrying further news of the floods in Somerset.

Next week’s walk will start from the Cock at Whaley Bridge at 9.30am. The projected half way stop is the Swan, ending at the Cock. Your diarist, sadly, is w^*king.

Happy Wandering.