Three Shire Heads

THREE SHIRE HEADS

 

October 7, 2015

 

 

CLOUGH HOUSE CAR PARK IN WILDBOARCLOUGH, CRAG HALL, CUT-THORN, DANE BOWER, CUMBERLAND CLOUGH

 

Distance: Six miles  ​Ascent/descent: 1,330 ft

 

Weather: Heavy rain and thick mist, clearing later

 

Difficulty: Moderate, but tough in wet and boggy areas

 

Walkers: Peter Beal, Laurie Fairman, Jock Rooney and Tips

 

Leader: Fairman​Diarist: Beal

 

Apologies: Tom Cunliffe (caught in traffic, missed start), Alan Hart (weather wimp-out), Micky Barrett (entertaining Kiwis), Colin Davison (entertaining women), George Whaites (caught in traffic, put off by weather), Mark Gibby (hols in La Palma).

 

Starting point: Clough House National Park car park in Wildboarclough

 

Starting time: 9.45 am​Finishing time: 12.35pm

 

 

Fell-walking guru Alfred Wainwright was recorded as saying there was no such thing as bad weather - only inadequate clothing. And this from a man who took to the hills in his early days protected only by tweed jackets and trousers, stout boots and a flat cap.

 

But even the Lake District legend would have found his spirits dampened somewhat by the incessant rain and thick mist that greeted our small band of three Wanderers in Wildboarclough.

 

Perhaps AW was just made of sterner stuff than our threesome, who later decided to cut short our walk rather than continue in a fierce head wind over exposed 1,700-foot moorland in the continuing rain to the Cat and Fiddle.

 

The heavy rain had swollen the infant River Dane to unfordable proportions and turned the footpaths throughout the route in to sizeable streams.

 

Laurie and your diarist arrived at the Clough House car park and were left without phone signals wondering whether they would be joined by any fellow Wanderers when the timely arrival of Jock, who had been contacted by Alan at home shortly before setting off, brought a litany of excuses.

 

Sadly these included news of Tom, who reportedly had turned back after heavy traffic in Buxton. In fact he had decided to continue and, it later ensued, had arrived at our departure point a mere eight minutes after we left at 9.45am, five minutes after the advertised time.

 

On behalf of our band, your diarist can only say that we acted in good faith and on the information available to us. Tom later reported that he now has abandonment issues.

 

We decided our route must keep us west of the Dane, otherwise the swollen waters would have prevented us recrossing the river further north.

 

We left the car park and took the minor road to Crag Hall, an imposing building now apartments but once the administrative centre of the local mill and in later years to become the largest post office in the country.

 

We turned left at a fork in the road, then left again through a gate(17 mins) and up a track leading through another gate to open moorland. A stretch of wet and boggy ground, the worst parts forded with wooden bridges, brought us to a stile and the A54 Buxton to Congleton road (28 mins), which we crossed near a nasty blind summit.

 

Still in thick mist we continued over grass and moorland over three stiles and reached a gate leading to a minor lane at the cottage of Cut-thorn (40 mins). We immediately left the lane through a gate to the left, taking a rocky track to bring us to Three Shire Heads, a junction of the Dane and a stream to the east which marks the boundary point of Derbyshire, Cheshire and Derbyshire (60 mins).

 

None of our party could remember such a volume of water flowing down through this picturesque spot, where on balmier days familes bring their children to swim in the deep water of Pannier's Pool.

 

Early pie-time was declared here on the basis that a tree provided the only meagre shelter in the sodden landscape.

 

Your diarist's Peak District Companion (as I have mentioned before, this is a book, not a person) says of the spot: "The place is so wildly intimate, so tucked away from the world, that it would be no surprise to find Lorna Doone and John Ridd chatting by the water's edge. The rest of the Doone's would not be out of place either, for this was outlaw country centuries before Jesse James was even born."

 

It's notoriety was based on its seclusion amid confusing moorland and because of it's position at the junction of three counties at a time when constables and men-at-arms were prevented from pursuing villians across county boundaries.

 

It became the scene of prize-fights and cock-fights and even , it is said, illegal hangings. It also became a haunt of pedestrian hawkers and shady characters and coiners based in the nearby village of Flash, the source of the expression of Flash money, meaning forgeries, and flashy - something not as good as it looks.

 

With the rain still falling we recrossed the Dane by the packhorse bridge and continued up the left bank of the young river up a path that was becoming a stream in its own right. After several boggy sections, with ankle-deep water and mud, we crossed a stile to the right to keep close to the stream and eventually came to a path leading steeply uphill to the left, towards a chimney that was once part of the extensive quarries and lead-mining operations nearby ( 80 mins).

 

We climbed steeply to the right of the chimney to reach a track. Here Laurie took the initiative and decided not to aim for the Cat and Fiddle Inn over the top of the moor, but headed left along the track, to bring us again to the A54, which we crossed to go right, through a gate on to a track (93 mins).

 

At this point Tips pretended not to have seen or read a notice telling him that dogs were banned under the access agreement allowing walkers on to this piece of moorland.

 

This took us at a lower level towards Cumberland Clough, the route back to the car park, first along the track and then a path over the moor.

 

Under a law that is probably Murphy's or Sod's, at this point the rain ceased and the mist started to clear to give us views towards our downwards route and further to the south-west.

 

We gained the upper reaches of the steep Cumberland Clough (113 mins)and descended with some difficulty, at times finding it hard to distinguish between the fast-flowing brook and the path beside it, so much water was coming down.

 

We reached a junction of tracks (130 mins) and went through a gate to the right to take a rocky track which crossed a bridge to emerge on the lane just above the Clough House car park, which we reached at 12.33 pm (153 mins).

 

Laurie and your diarist debooted, swapped wet clothes (not with each other) and headed for the Stanley Arms a short distance up the valley, where we enjoyed a blazing log fire and fine Marston's Bitter at £3-20 a pint.

 

Next week's walk will start at The Cock at Whaley Bridge at 9.30am, with a stop at the Old Hall at Whitehough around 12.15pm.

 

Apologies already from Jock ( holiday in Turkey), Peter Beal (walking in Lakes), and possibly Laurie (hospital day before).

Pictures by Laurie Fairman