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).