Chapel en le Frith

CHAPEL, DOVEHOLES,

Distance: 9 miles

Difficulty: Difficult

Weather: Chilly, snowing, windy

Walkers: Pete Beal, George Whaites, Phil Welsh, George Dearsley, Alan Hart, John Laverick, Julian Ross, Colin Davison, Jock Rooney and Tips, Tom Cunliffe, Lawrie Fairman

Apologies: Mickey Barrett (colonoscopy. Camera up backside to you)

B Walkers: Geoff Spurrell, Tony Job, Mike Walton

Leader: Davison  Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: The road near Chapel-en-le-Frith railway station

Starting Time: 9.42am. Finishing Time: 2.40pm

When it snows, ain't it thrilling,
Though your nose gets a chilling
We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way,
Walking in a Colin wonderland.

This week’s diary may by a little short on ambulatory and geographic detail, given that all three pens in my pocket froze up, my notepad resembled a damp mop head and I lost the will to live about 30 minutes from the end of the walk.

Yes, as Spring approaches and the debate about global warming rages, the Wednesday Wanderers found themselves up to their cojones in… snow.

It did not help that our esteemed leader Mr Davison spent a lot of the time at the rear, barking orders to the bemused ramblers at the front.

Then, in a misguided effort to boost morale, he claimed it was “only an hour back to the cars” from the Wanted Inn, when it was actually nearer two.

Maybe Captain Lawrence Edward Grace ("Titus") Oates’ sacrifice was nothing to do with ill health and bad feet but came in disbelief after a chirpy assertion from Scott that the 'One Ton' food depot that could save the expedition was only a stone’s throw away.

It was fortunate that Mr Fairman agreed to abandon the day’s original route which he deemed “too dangerous” and said involved a path with “a 100 foot drop on one side”.

Incidentally, before I go on, I must apprise you of a cartoon I spotted which appears to feature Mr Fairman.

Lawrie?

Of course, there was little forewarning of the Nanook-style conditions to come as we set off from the station car park.

We crossed the rail line and went straight up the lane, passing Ridge Lodge.

We then passed an expensive looking gated property on the left.

At the top of the track we turned left and after about 400 yards we turned left again over a stile.

Mr Davison was soon a faller, trapping his ankle between gate post and wall.

We eventually reached a road and turned right.

After 100 yards we turned left, went through a farm and saw the vista that is Doveholes looming to our left. We reached a road and turned left.

This brought us past the railway station and down to the main road that leads out of Doveholes, arguably the town’s greatest asset.

In 2001, you may recall, the village was voted the ugliest village in Britain in a Radio 5 Live poll.

In a desperate piece of crisis news management, Ken Gibson, of the Dove Holes Community Association, said: "Although Dove Holes may not seem the prettiest of villages as you drive through, it really does have a community spirit second to none.

"The village sports two village shops, a busy rural post office, two pubs, village school and an active brass band."

 "We are proud to house the Buxton Mountain Rescue Club, where volunteers regularly give time to rescue people who have got into difficulties on the moors and hills."

No, a thumbs down from me.

We crossed the road and visited our old friend, the “Stonehenge” with no stones.

This huge Neolithic  earth and limestone monument sits behind a church, school and sports centre to the west, a small housing estate to its north, a playing field to the south and abandoned limestone quarries to the east.

That it survives at all seems a miracle especially as it was under cultivation by the 18th century, suffered quarrying in its northeast sector in the 19th century and would have been swallowed up by the quarries to its east were it not for the prompt action of some Buxton archaeologists at the turn of the 20th century.

Henge

No one really knows what the Bull Ring was used for. It may have served as an easily accessible meeting point or trade centre for the prehistoric inhabitants of the High Peak area, some of whose descendants are easily recognisable today by the way their knuckles drag along the pavement.

Maybe the stoneless henge once had stones after all.  A single standing stone (orthostat) was recorded as remaining in 1789, potentially the remnant of a stone circle. It has been suggested that stones from the henge were used as sleepers for the Peak Forest Tramway circa 1790.

Anyhow, we didn’t dawdle too long to consider the cavemen sitting around arguing about the price of flint arrowheads.

Instead, we took a track to the right and went down a tricky narrow path to the Tramway, where Pie Time was declared at 10.54am.

Since Mr Cunliffe’s walk the other week Pie Time has become the reverse of Fergie Time, like an egg timer with parallel sides. Barely had the Wanderers snapped the lids from their Tuppaware than an imaginary whistle had blown and we were off again at 11.03am. I intend to call this Cunliffe Time.

Someone said we should take the bull by the horns or the bull by the fetlock as the Tesco meat purchaser says. In any event, there was substantial confusion as an advanced party of Wanderers turned left, only to be recalled by a hitherto pre-occupied leader Davison and instructed to go straight over.

Repairs for Mr Hart

The Peak Forest Tramway, by the way,  was originally planned to be about four-miles long, running from Chapel Milton to the limestone quarries at Dove Holes but the Peak Forest Canal Company, acting on the advice of Benjamin Outram and Thomas Brown, their consulting and resident engineers respectively, decided to terminate the canal at the village of Bugsworth.

This was as far forward as the Peak Forest Canal could be cut without the need for a second flight of locks. Authorisation for this change in design was given on the 8 July 1795 and, as built, the tramway from Bugsworth to Dove Holes was about 6 miles long.

At first, the tramway was single track, with passing places, and the gauge was 4 feet 2 inches. The Tramway was the first to be built by Outram that fully complied with his famous paper, 'Minutes to be observed in the Construction of Railways', first published in February 1801 in the periodical, Recreations in Agriculture. This periodical was almost entirely written by Dr James Anderson, a Scottish economist (also described as a lawyer, scientist, agriculturalist and writer) whose daughter, Margaret, just happened to marry Benjamin Outram on the 4 June 1800. Do I detect some graft here?

                                                   Mr Beal shows how it should be done

                                         An old boar meets a friend. Mr Hart is on the right.

We went through a farm and pretty soon saw the Wanted Inn in the distance.

We reached the hostelry at 12 noon. Unicorn was £2.90 and Double Hop £3.

Here Mr Laverick confessed he was celebrating his 60^th birthday and like the Yeoman he is ordered a pint for all the Wanderers. What a jolly good fellow.

We have written before about the pub. But there’s more. The earliest reference to Sparrowpit is found in 1618 as "Sparrow Pit House" (which relates to the Wanted Inn).

On a map of 1640, the Sparrowpit yatte appears. This related to the "Sparrowspit Gate", which was the old road which continues to Peak Forest outside the Wanted Inn, which was built as a farmstead in 1618 by the Earl of Devonshire of Chatsworth House (1552-1625) who was the son of Bess of Hardwick, and appointed as Earl during that year. The tenants were the Vernon family, who had resided in the district for generations. It must have been a welcome sight for the travellers bound for the area, with its unpredictable weather.

The building stands on an ancient saltway route which began in Cheshire and ended in Sheffield. The sight of the long line of packhorses with bells on their necks to warn people must have been delightful .

In 1700 the farmstead also became an Inn, and was known as the "Three Tuns". The earliest coach road developed from the various packhorse ways linking villages, the first part to have been turnpiked from the west, from Manchester to Chapel-en-le-Frith in 1724; In 1749 this was extended eastwards, through Sparrowpit, to Peak Forest, which is when it became a prominent Inn, but the linking turnpike from Sparrowpit to Sheffield was not promoted and authorised until 1758.

In 1762 tolls on the turnpike included;  Packhorse carrying malt, salt, flour, corn or grain - 1/2 d
Packhorse carrying other goods - 1d

The salt ways from Chapel-en-le-Frith continued over Peaslows to Sparrowpit and down Winnats into Castleton. Winnats is supposedly haunted by the ghosts of two runaway lovers, Clara and Allan.

On their way to Peak Forest and marriage in 1758, they stopped at a Castleton Inn to refresh themselves, and check their route. Their talk was overheard by five miners who noted the couple's obvious wealth, and slipped out quietly to wait for them up Winnats.

Allan and Clara were murdered with a pick, their bodies thrown down a cavity and the riderless horses galloped into Sparrowpit, outside the Inn. The killers were never caught, and when the whining wind is lashing, you can hear Allan and Clara begging for mercy.

In 1820, the turnpike up Winnats was deprived of its main function, or so they thought, by the new road up Mam Tor, but we all know what happened to that! The Inn was still known as "The Three Tuns" in 1835, and what a sight it must have been, as "Yoho" was shouted, at the arrival of the stage coach on route, in Sparrowpit at midday, by the driver on its way to Nottingham.

Nearby to the Wanted Inn is Slack Hall, where one of the fields is known as Bedigo's. It was here on 13th June 1836 that a prize fight took place of some magnitude between Bendigo and Bill Looney (real name Charlie Langan).

The fight drew people from all over the country, and one can imagine the gossip that took place in the Wanted Inn after the performance.

 It was £100 a side and the fight took 144 minutes, and 99 rounds. In the 99th round, Looney "came in as blind as a bat". Nevertheless, he "rushed in with his right, when Bendigo mustered all his remaining strength, gave him another fall".

 Bendigo won all three events - first blood, first knock down, and the battle.

Afterwards, he still walked about a 1/4 of a mile to his carriage. No hot baths and rubs downs by the physio in those days.

In 1839 the name of the Inn was changed to The Devonshire Arms. It was owned by the Duke, who was also Lord of the Manor, and Joseph Vernon became Inn Keeper. In 1847, Samuel Vernon became mine-host here, he was also a quarryman, and in 1851 lived there with his wife Ann and four children.

In 1888 an immense snow storm covered the Inn, and anyone wishing to get inside had to go through a tunnel two to three yards in length. A similar occurrence happened in 1920. A picture of of one of these incidents is on the pub wall.

When the 10th Duke died in 1950, his second son became heir, and because of massive death duties, soon after put the Inn up for auction; however, it did not get a bid and remained "unwanted".

 In 1956 it was purchased by Mr and Mrs Jack Buswell from Whitehough, at the second auction. They redesigned and restored the house and, after much thought, renamed it.

However, it was not prize fights or the Duke’s patronage that captured Mr Ross’s attention…. but the many sex aids in the gentlemen’s toilet.

They included something unknown to your scribe called Pheromone Wipes.

As every schoolboy hopefully doesn’t know, Pheromones are chemicals that send out subconscious scent signals to the opposite sex that naturally trigger attraction.

When a person receives the chemical-hormonal signals, they automatically, instinctively respond - without even realizing what is drawing them.

The term "pheromone" was introduced by Peter Karlson and Martin Lüscher in 1959, based on the Greek word pherein (to transport) and hormone (to stimulate).

Whatever next?

Apparently, boar pheromones are sprayed into the sty, and those sows that exhibit sexual arousal are known to be currently available for breeding.

Let’s hope Mr Hart never got any on his trousers when he was admiring the specimen above!

We left the Wanted at 12.50pm, turned right and headed up the hill.

Again confusion reigned as Mr Davison was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he had gone back for some of those wipe-thingies.

When he emerged he told us to go right, over a wall and to turn left, crossing the fields.

At 1.16pm we reached a road and stopped for lunch until 1.21.pm. More Cunliffe Time.

We went down the road. Here my pens gave up until we reached the Chapel to Buxton Road (A6).

We crossed the road and after 50 yards turned left up a narrow track.

Here we lost Jock Rooney who decided, wisely as it turned out, to stay on the road.

The Wanderers sallied on, climbing some stone steps and passing some houses before reaching a road and coming face-to-face with a snow plough.

                                                               Snowplough ahead

By now the snow was falling quite hard and the wind was getting up.

But as if we were recreating a scene from the acclaimed Turkish film Yol, which you can read about here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yol we trudged on.

Our route took us up a narrow track where the wind was blowing snow into drifts.

I’m indebted to m’learned friend Mr Davison for the atmospheric picture below, which features Mr Ross.

                                                                          Julian Ross

We reached the cars by 2.40pm, de-booted and cleared the snow off the vehicles.

Clearly fired by the taste of our Scott-like heroics, Mr Cunliffe mistakenly directed your diarist to turn right rather than left at the end of the road leading to the station and we ended up heading back into the white hell before good sense prevailed.

                                       Oh for an avalanche… (picture courtesy of Mr Welsh)

We were back in the Cock at Whaley Bridge by 3.05pm.

Here we met up with the B Walkers who had started at Disley, walked through the Torrs to the Soldier Dick and then along the canal to the Cock.

Next week’s walk will start from Clough House car park, near Wildboarclough. The half way point will be the Hanging Gate and we will have a post-walk pint in the Stanley Arms.

http://en.parkopedia.co.uk/free/clough_house_wildboarclough/parking/

Happy Wandering!

Marple Bridge

MARPLE BRIDGE, MELLOR, SHILOH ROAD

Distance: 8 miles

Difficulty: Easy

Weather: Chilly, some blue skies, intermittent sunshine.

Walkers: Pete Beal, George Whaites, Phil Welsh, George Dearsley, Colin Davison, Leslie Davison, Tom Cunliffe, Lawrie Fairman, Micky Barrett, Jock Rooney and Tips.

Apologies: Julian Ross (laying a floor), John Laverick  (ill), Alan Hart (rumoured to be in Tenerife)

B Walkers: Geoff Spurrell, Tony Job, Ken Sparrow

Non walking Drinker: John Eckersley

Leader: Welsh  Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: The main car park in Brabyns Park

Starting Time: 9.36am. Finishing Time: 1.51pm

This is a walk well known to our leader and your diarist, who were often accompanied by the scribe’s late lamented dog Ollie.

We welcomed yet another Wednesday Wanderers’ debutant, Mr Davison’s handsomer brother Leslie, from Bristol, who maintained the Davison family’s  reputation for calamity by smashing a full pint of ale in the Norfolk Arms.

We set off from the Brabyns car park, crossed the main road by the Midland pub and walked through Town Street, Marple Bridge, turning right at Low Lea Road.

The track rises and leads eventually to the Roman Lakes. We undertook a similar start on October 31. On that occasion Mr Davison called our attention to a hole,  which turned out to be a wheel-pit, part of the remains of a mill built by the famous entrepreneur Samuel Oldknow.

Mr Davison was minded to wander off again for a further peak into the abyss but a lack of subsequent information leads me to conclude the excavations were no further forward.

Meanwhile, the leading group of Wanderers were passing another old relic, comedian Ivor Davies.

Ivor, originally from Collyhurst, had a long career in the clubs.

He had a brief taste of fame in 1979 when the TV show The Comedians, which had made household names of Charlie Williams, Frank Carson and Jim Bowen in the early 1970s, was revived by Granada producer Johnny Hamp.

He predicted big things for his new stars Ivor, Charlie Daze, Mick Miller, Harry Scott, Roy Walker and Lee Wilson.

Walker, of course, went on to front Catchphrase. Miller has flirted with stardom. But sadly Ivor’s TV career never took off.

The final ignominy came when a signed photograph of Ivor sold for just £1 on eBay last December.

Ivor

We were now on Bottoms Mill Road and at the end we turned left and then right onto the road (Lakes Road) that passes the Roman Lakes on the left.

Gushing Weir

The water in the river to our right was a torrent after the recent snow and rain.

Just before the Roman Bridge, we turned sharp left and climbed up a very boggy path towards Mellor golf course. This involved going right at what looked like a very recently erected small gate and over a railway footbridge. The path brings walkers to the 14^th tee.

We took a path on the right which briefly leads through a wood. But a few minutes later we were crossing the fairway and making our way past the equipment sheds and to the clubhouse itself.

We cut off the corner where the small car park is located and took the road to the right which leads to the Fox at Brookbottom. But after a couple of hundred yards we swung left through another wood and then right alongside a fairway.

This leads to a metalled road where we turned left heading up an incline towards Mellor Cross.

                                     The Wanderers, led by Mr Beal, head for the Cross.

                                                               Almost there….

                                                                      Mellor Cross

In the early 1970s, despite some local opposition, the local churches together raised a wooden cross on the highest part of Cobden Edge. Each Easter there is a march with members from all the churches and a service held at the cross.

Pie Time was declared in a hollow below the cross at 10.50am. We resumed our walk at 11.01am, going first to the local Trig Point. This the highest point in Stockport,  at 328 meters (1076 feet). The area was once a plantation, but is now a wildlife preserve above the pastures of a working dairy farm.

                                        Mr Cunliffe helpfully obscures the Trig Point.

Nearby were some stones and it was here, in 1975, that John Bu'Lock identified what he thought was a possible cairn.

As every schoolchild knows cairn is a term used for a man-made pile (or stack) of stones. It comes from the Scottish Gaelic: càrn (plural càirn).

Cairns are found all over the world in uplands, on moorland, on mountaintops, near waterways and on sea cliffs, and also in barren desert and tundra areas.

They vary in size from small stone markers to entire artificial hills, and in complexity from loose, conical rock piles to delicately balanced sculptures and elaborate feats of megalithic engineering.

Cairns may be painted or otherwise decorated, e.g. for increased visibility or for religious reasons.

In modern times, cairns are often erected as landmarks, a use they have had since ancient times.

Since prehistory, they have also been built as sepulchral monuments, or used for defensive, hunting, ceremonial, astronomical and other purposes.

Far from being a load of old Bu'Locks, the Mellor cairn – later called the Shaw Cairn - turned out to be very important.

For several years, Ruth Collier, Kath Lowe and John Clarke excavated the site with help from students of Marple Hall School.  They uncovered parts of a funerary cairn built around 4000 years ago, with more than a dozen cremation burials, some within stone cists, which were given names like Willie, Pericles, Cecil and Hector.

Experts reckoned that those associated with burials were consistent with the building of the cairn in the Late Neolithic or Early Bronze Age but the finds included around 500 flints, many dating from the Early Mesolithic Period indicating that the Cairn was built on the site of much earlier activity.

A fine example of a plano convex knife was amongst the finds along with an almost complete ceramic food vessel.

The area has another claim to fame. To the right of the cross, down a lane is a house called Three Chimneys.

It is here that Edith Nesbit, author of The Railway Children was said to visit.

The story of Edith Nesbit's Peak District connections began to unfold in 1999, when nosey  librarian Gwenda Culkin and her assistant, Barbara Matthews, were surprised to find that their microfilm reader had been booked for several days by a lady with a London telephone number.

The researcher was Laura Probert, archivist of the Nesbit Society, one of five members of the society who had travelled to various parts of the country to investigate locations that might have been used as the setting for The Railway Children.

Laura had been drawn to New Mills because she had learned from two biographies of Nesbit that the author had visited her stepsister, Saretta Deakin, living in the area with her husband, John at Three Chimneys.

This was the very name used in The Railway Children for the cottage that was home to three children and their mother during their father's wrongful imprisonment.

Although foliage obscures the view from Three Chimneys today, it would have been possible at the time of Edith's visit to see a panorama that closely resembles one described in the book: 'It was hilly country. Down below they could see the line of the railway, and the black yawning mouth of the tunnel. The station was out of sight. There was a great bridge with tall arches running across one end of the valley”.

Laura also established that Edith visited our old friend Aspenshaw Hall (see last week’s diary), where the owners - the Woodcock family - were 'dazzled, amazed and amused by their visitor’.

According to biographer Julia Briggs, 'provincial Derbyshire had never seen anyone so unconventional, so advanced.'

Later, a search through electoral forms in the Record Office at Matlock revealed that the Deakins had never resided at Three Chimneys at all, but had lived in a house called Paradise. However, almost immediately after making this disappointing discovery, the librarians were relieved to find that Three Chimneys is located next door to Paradise and so would have been well known to Edith during her visits.

Gwenda and Barbara read as many Nesbit publications as possible in order to see if the New Mills area had acted as a source of inspiration in any of her other works.

They were thrilled to discover that a short story written for the Weekly Dispatch is set in the fictitious town of Old Mills, 'where great mills and factories stare one in the face at every turn'.

Another short story called From the Dead actually names Mellor and Marple, both of which are located within a few miles of New Mills, and “Apinshaw”, clearly a corruption or misspelling of Aspenshaw.

One of the most memorable moments in the book involves Roberta waving her red-flannel petticoat to bring a train to a halt before it runs headlong into a landslide.

New Mills historian Derek Brumhead was able to tell Gwenda and Barbara that a landslip had occurred in the nearby village of Buxworth, where a newly constructed railway viaduct had been swept away.  Although this had taken place in the years before Edith's visit to Mellor, it had been well publicised in the area and would still have been talked about at that time.

There is also an incident in the novel where a boy from a canal boat throws coal at the children. The Peak Forest Canal runs through the countryside where Edith stayed and at the time of Edith's visits there was a coal store at Strines Station, which is close to Three Chimneys.

                                                         Jenny Agutter, sans undergarment

We walked down Black Lane, turned right at the end and at the finish of the next track turned left, bringing us to the five ways interchange.

We went straight over into Shiloh Road, striding on until a sign on the right for the Little Mill Inn. Here we turned left. This is a bridle way that leads to a big house with its own ménage.

Here we turned left (rather than risk more mud to the right) and were soon back on the main road that leads down into Mellor and then Marple Bridge.

A few minutes later (at 11.57am) we were at the doors of the Oddfellows pub, which fortunately was not only open but boasted a roaring fire.

Bollington Best (4.2 AVB) was £3.30. Pedigree £3.20. There were no complaints from the Wanderers about the quality of the ale.

We set off at 12.46pm, going back up the hill for a few strides before turning left at the converted chapel.

We walked parallel to the main road until (after crossing two fields) we found ourselves on the road that leads to Mellor Church. Here we turned right and duly entered the church grounds, declaring luncheon at 1.08pm.

Among the gravestones was one to Thomas Brierley (see my picture below). It boasts a sundial and insignia of the Masonic Lodge, plus what appears to be Hebrew.

Thomas Brierley, it transpires, was born on July 16, 1785 at Mellor. He was also known as Tommy and some references call him Didymus - perhaps confusing him for an uncle of that name or as a common alternative to Thomas.

Tommy became a blockprinter at the mill at Strines Printworks where calico was printed and later a carter who plied his trade between Ludworth and Disley.

He was a regular attender at the local Freemason’s Lodge, which migrated from Manchester to Mellor in 1822 and met at the Devonshire Arms and several other hostelries in the locality before it eventually shifted to the Shuttle Inn (renamed the George) at Ludworth.

Returns to the Clerk of Peace between 1834 and 1841 show that the Lodge averaged about 20 members each meeting; chiefly miners and minor tradesmen.

Tommy’s connection with Freemasonry is told in this anecdote:

When the Duke of Devonshire was Provincial Grandmaster for Derbyshire, Tommy and some friends walked to Chatsworth House in a park laid out by Capability Brown where they were refused admittance as the Duke was home.

After a great deal of pertinacity, Tommy managed to get a servant to present a message, hastily written in cipher on a paper scrap. The Duke instantly came in person and showed his humble brother and his friends over the house and ordered lunch to be served to them.

So the old dodgy handshake worked wonders even back then.

Plaque

Tommy seemed to have some periods of illness and had recourse to the sick funds of the society.

A number of members complained and made unpleasant personal remarks, as apparently his illness coincided with a slack time at Strines Printworks.

Even more ominously Tommy was the Lodge’s sometime Treasurer.

Was Tommy a serial malingerer? Was he dipping into the funds?

Friends said that he was "an honourable man and this charge grieved him sore." (Other sources refer to him as one who was prone to display his membership of the masonic fraternity and to make it known that his worth was not sufficiently recognised.)

Either way, he then had a stone coffin made by Azariah Ollerenshaw, a stonemason of local repute, and for which he lay down so that the coffin could be accurately cut for his body and head for a perfect fit.

The coffin was then placed, exposed on a previously purchased grave site at St. Thomas' Church, Mellor.

The lid was carved with some Masonic symbols and underneath the words, "I am belied," referring to the accusations of feigned illness.

(He might have used Spike Milligan’s epitaph “I told you I was ill”)

It lay there for some years and became quite a tourist attraction.

However, it eventually created too much unwanted attention for the vicar, Rev. Matthew Freeman, who ordered it to be buried.

Remember Tommy was still alive at this stage.

Not to be frustrated, Tommy had a memorial headstone prepared covered with 'cipher-writings' and ornate and masonic emblems which was placed over his grave before he died.

Subsequently, when he finally died, there was talk of burying him in his stone coffin but it was found to be too heavy to remove to the house.

 Instead he was buried in a wooden coffin presumably beside the stone one.

A real coffin dodger, was Tommy.

The cipher on the headstone was presented as a mystery in books and newspaper articles right into the latter part of the 20th century.

The headstone is actually written in five pig-pen variations. The text at the head of the stone says "Thomas Brierley made his ingress July 16th 1785, His Progress was ____ Years And his Egress___".

The headstone was never completed after his death (possibly because no one was interested and his father survived him only one more year and was of advanced age).

The cipher at the foot of the gravestone says "Holiness of the Lord". The Pigpen Cipher was used by Freemasons in the 18th Century to keep their records private and surprisingly the cipher on Tommy's grave seems have a non-standard symbol for the letter "S".

It is possible the variation in the cipher is a clue to or a key to documents that he dealt with as the treasurer.

However, at the time of its placement in the graveyard the common impression was that it contained the old charge against his fellows and was purposefully written in Hebrew to defy objections to it being placed over the grave during Thomas' lifetime.

According to some, Tommy fell to his death from the church tower, but other sources disagree so this story may be an urban legend.

To add to the mystery, a bronze plaque was added to the stone in recent times with more cipher upon it, the cipher used being similar but not identical.

He is reported to have died in 1854 aged 69 years.

So, another one Lawrie has outlived.

We walked down the steep steps from the graveyard, across the field and through the farm beyond.

This brought us to Townscliffe Lane and by 1.51pm we had reached the Norfolk Arms.

Here Black Sheep was £3 as was The Broughton.

We were joined by the B Walkers who had started in Brabyns, followed the canal to Strines and meandered via the Roman Lakes to Marple Bridge.

John Eckersley soon joined the party.

Next week’s walk will start from the car park at Chapel railway Station at 9.35am. The half way point will be the Beehive and after de-booting we will convene in the Cock at Whaley Bridge.

Happy wandering!

Little Hayfield

LITTLE HAYFIELD, HAYFIELD, BIRCH VALE, ROWARTH

Distance: 9 miles

Difficulty: Moderate

Weather: Chilly, windy, some blue skies, showers later

Walkers: Pete Beal, George Whaites, Phil Welsh, George Dearsley, Alan Hart, John Laverick, Julian Ross, Colin Davison, Tom Cunliffe, Lawrie Fairman, Micky Barrett, John Jones

Apologies: Jock Rooney (Isle of Man)

B Walkers: Geoff Spurrell, Tony Job, Mike Walton, Ken Sparrow

Leader: Cunliffe Diarist: Dearsley

Starting Point: The Lantern Pike, Little Hayfield

Starting Time: 9.40am. Finishing Time: 1.50pm

On several occasions during our rollercoaster walk a number of Wanderers appeared to opine to leader Mr Cunliffe:  “You can’t”. (At least that’s what I thought they said).

However, having taken on the mantle, he was not going to be swayed from his carefully charted course, which involved more than the usual number of climbs.

I am indebted to m’learned friend Mr Beal, whose computer calculated we completed 1830 ft of ascent/descent.

We also had the pleasure of a new recruit’s company.  John Jones was given a warm welcome and like his fellow walkers was to enjoy some thoroughly energising views as we negotiated a loosely designed circle on the Cheshire-Derbyshire border.

We set off just five minutes late, walking from the Lantern Pike across the road and past the long abandoned public swimming baths to the gate at the end of the track.

In previous walks we have turned left here. But our leader was like an Exocet going straight on and up the heather-carpeted hill opposite.

On reaching the top we turned right, following a well worn path to Hayfield village.

This eventually brought us onto the road where we turned right  and passed the former grammar school on our left before turning left.

Here, like a TV chef revamping a traditional dish, Mr Cunliffe introduced some new “ingredients”, finding paths that even seasoned Wanderers had not previously walked.

We went through a children’s play area and came upon another road, going straight over up some stone steps.

Having walked past some houses we turned left again onto Highgate Road and past a dwelling called The Old School.

Within a few yards we took a path to the right and saw a steep hill facing us.

Initially we went to the left of it. But any lingering hopes that there might be a tunnel or even a funicular in the locality were soon dashed.

Around this time Mr Jones showed his prowess as a Horse Whisperer, when we came across a miniature pony, which appeared to have escaped from a field. Mr Jones removed two wooden bars from a fence and coaxed the beast to rejoin its equine pals. Let’s hope they don’t end up any time soon as Tesco value meals.

                                                             Jones, horsing around.

We came to a barn and turned right and then first left. There was a multi-directional sign here, one offering “to Peep-o-Day”. But we took another signalling “Birch Vale”.

Around this point we passed a rather spooky, derelict building, pictured below. It was clearly a mill of some kind but whether industrial or private was hard to tell.

We were soon in for another steep climb. On the top we turned right and began to go downhill.

Mr Welsh, accessing a new App called Maverick on his mobile phone, volunteered that we were 392m above sea level and that Barnsfold Farm was to our right.

                                                                      Spooky Mill

At this point the wind picked up and Pie Time had to be delayed as we descended for some shelter. Pie Time was eventually declared at 11.09am on Morland Road, just a few yards from The Grouse pub.

But almost before you could say “cucumber sandwiches, vicar?” we were off again at 11.17am. Our leader was later to exclaim:  “eight minutes is a long time” as no doubt many of us have told our wives.

However, it seemed to set a new Wanderers record for brevity. The fact that our leader had brought with him no food may have had something to do with his urgency to move forward.

We crossed onto Station Road and took a short path almost directly opposite. We turned immediately left and walked a few hundred yards to return to the road we had been on.

This is the road that leads to Mellor. But at the Sycamore pub we swung right onto a path which, after a short climb, took us to a T-junction of tracks. Here we turned left and right and then right again, following a “public footpath” sign.

Impressive view.

We negotiated a wall on our right and soon found ourselves passing a very grandiose pile called Aspenshaw Hall. It is a Grade 11 listed building dating back to the earthy 18^th century. I’m sure as they passed, many Wanderers would have appreciated the notable rusticated quoins. I know I did.

The building also boasts a Tuscan doorcase with open pediment. You don’t see many of them nowadays!

Originally the seat of the Buckley family, it passed by marriage to the Bower family, a clan of some note in the neighbourhood. Names of two of the Bowers appear on the Trust Deed of the first Hayfield Grammar School erected in Jumble Lane in 1719, namely Thomas Bour, of Worksop, yeoman and George Bour of Aspenshaw.

The Bower family were the first to recognise the industrial potential of the area around the Torrs in what is now New Mills. In addition to farming they developed a Fulling Mill, a Paper Mill and a Tanning Yard in the gorge around 1700.

Fulling or tucking or walking ("waulking" in Scotland), as every schoolboy knows,  is a step in woollen cloth-making which involves the cleansing of cloth (particularly wool) to eliminate oils, dirt, and other impurities, and making it thicker.  The worker who does the job is a fuller, tucker, or walker.  The Welsh word for a fulling mill is pandy, which appears in many place-names.

In 1710 George Bower the youngest son of Edward Bower married Elizabeth, daughter of Edmund Buckley, of Aspenshaw and in 1722 inherited the Aspenshaw Hall and estate.

Their son was Buckley Bower. Though his wealthy background meant Buckley had no need to work he became a successful Stockport lawyer. His father died in 1753 and Buckley inherited Aspenshaw and its extensive lands which he, like his father, continued to expand.

Buckley was a far sighted man who enclosed and improved a large portion of the Thornsett uplands in 1774. Transforming the landscape, building farmhouses, constructing walls and changing moorland to productive pasture some half a century before the surrounding areas saw the same changes.  Buckley married Frances Pennee in 1747. They had 4 children George Buckley, Robert who died in infancy, Frances Clare and Lucy.

Buckley Bower was also “a lover of the chase”, but alas something of a coward when it came to jumping fences at speed on a horse. Therefore, he kept a servant to accompany him on these occasions for the purpose of taking down the fences when required.

This servant was called Ben Cooke who “with one arm, hunted his masters pack of harriers for a long period of years, until, both from age and infirmity, he could no longer follow them.” Doubtless he died a pauper for his troubles. If only we could have a manservant to give us a fireman’s lift up some of the more arduous climbs.

                                                            Aspenshaw Hall

Lovely view

After the hall we swung right onto a path on the right, through a farm (12 noon) and past Casper’s Cattery.

We now found ourselves on a particularly boggy path.

At 12.10pm we arrived at the Little Mill, where Bank’s was £2.70 a pint and on good form.

There was a lot of talk here of mettalurgy and the minerals associated with lead mining.

Lead ore, of course, is most commonly found as lead sulphide (PbS), galena, a heavy, shiny grey metallic ore with a conspicuous cubic cleavage. Not quite the conspicuous cubic cleavage, however, that normally gets MY attention.

We set off again at 12.56pm turning left out of the pub then right passing Brookside Cottage.

We then passed a rusting Fordson vehicle, badly in need of some TLC.

Fordson was a brand name used on a range of mass produced general-purpose tractors manufactured by Henry Ford & Son,  from 1917 until 1920 when it was merged into the Ford Motor Company, which used the name until 1964.

American engineer, inventor, and businessman Henry Ford built experimental tractors from automobile components during the early 20th century, and launched a prototype known as the Model B in August 1915.

He formed Henry Ford and Son in 1910 in Dearborn, Michigan, taking his young son Edsel Ford as a partner, which was later incorporated on July 27, 1917.

I suspect the rusting carcass was probably originally something more like this (below).

Van

One of the best sellers in the Fordson range of commercial vehicles produced at Dagenham, the 10cwt van, was a very attractive and economical proposition for light delivery work. Like all Ford products, it was backed by first-class service facilities, and all components when due for overhaul were reasonably cheap and easy to replace. Those were the days, eh?

We came onto a road and turned left and then right and right again at an old fashioned red phone box.

We passed Harthill Farm and soon came to the house with some bizarre, bird-like creatures on gate posts. Gryphons anyone?

At the house we turned right, went through a gate and turned right again.

This track runs almost parallel with the road from Glossop to Chinley, although a lot higher up of course. At 1.30pm it began to rain and also we were hit by very powerful winds. It was a pleasure to descend to the back of Clough Mill, where your diarist lives and sadly had to take his leave to deal with an urgent e mail.

He was unable to return to the Lantern Pike, where the Wanderers met up with B walkers Tony Job, Geoff Spurrell, Ken Sparrow and Mike Walton.

The non-appearance of a scheduled bus had thrown the B walkers' plans into disarray. Eventually they set off from The Lantern Pike, taking the same route towards Park Hall and on to Middle Moor which the A walkers had taken earlier.

They reached the wall at the top of Middle Moor and turned right before dropping into Hayfield and the comfort of The Kinder Lodge.

From there they followed the Calico Trail back to The Lantern Pike, thus ending a walk which Wally described as "the longest four miles of my life."

The Wanderers were indebted to Tom and his chef Chris for sustaining us with a liberal supply of chips.

Next week’s walk will be setting off from Brabyns Park Car Park at 09:30.

Half way stop will be at the Oddfellows Arms in Mellor, and we will meet after the walk in the Norfolk Arms in Marple Bridge.

Happy Wandering.

Bollington

BOLLINGTON, MACCLESFIELD CANAL, HIGHER HURDSFIELD, CALROFOLD, ELY BROW, BROOKHOUSE, THE ROBIN HOOD AT RAINOW, VIRGINS’ PATH, INGERSLEY VALE WATERFALL AND THE DOG AND PARTRIDGE IN BOLLINGTON.

Distance: 8-9 miles.

Difficulty: Easy.

Weather: Dry but cloudy with snow and ice underfoot.

Walkers: Tom Cunliffe, Lawrie Fairman, Alan Hart, Pete Johnson, John Laverick, Julian Ross and George Whaites.

B walkers: Tony Job, Geoff Spurrell and Mike Walton.

Apologies: Micky Barrett (Goa hols), Colin Davison (out on the piste), George Dearsley (working), Jock Rooney (Isle of Man), Ken Sparrow (aversion to buses), Phil Welsh (job interview in France).

Leaders: Fairman and Hart. Diarist: Hart.

Starting point: Free public car park opposite Spinners Arms, Bollington.

Starting time: 9.32am. Finishing time: 2.10pm.

Another new recruit joined the Wednesday Wanderers in the form of Pete Johnson, friend of Julian and an ex-colleague still employed by Greater Manchester Police. We hope the warmth of our welcome was in sharp contrast to the weather which was decidedly chilly.

Nonetheless a half-hearted flurry of snowflakes which heralded the start of the walk soon fell away and we were treated to a largely dry day while the rest of Britain fought heavy snow showers and blizzards.

Our initial leader Lawrie had bowed to health and safety guidance, choosing a flat start along the Macclesfield Canal. So after a brief call at the orgasmic pie shop of F.Smith the baker we turned right out of the car park, crossed the road and headed right until we reached the aqueduct carrying the Macc Canal over the road.

A flight of steps on our left led us to the right bank of the canal which we walked along for the best part of an hour. Our pace was restricted by the icy conditions which required due care and attention. On our right was the Adelphi Mill, built in 1856 by brothers George and Martin Swindells. The mill, which produced cotton, silk, rayon and nylon, closed in 1975 and its 176 feet tall chimney which had dominated the landscape for more than 100 years was removed.

Classic scholars among the millworkers would have known that the name of their workplace, Adelphi, was derived from the Greek adelphos, meaning brothers. What joy that knowledge must have given them as they started their 12-hour shifts.

At bridge 29 we switched banks (27mins) and left the canal at bridge 34 (56mins). The towpath exit led us to a road where we turned right uphill passing The Three Crown at Higher Hurdsfield on our left. A few yards beyond the pub we turned right at a wooden public footpath sign (59mins) and headed uphill through the snow-shrouded fields. After a brief pause to eat the legendary pies while they were still tepid, we continued upwards following yellow arrows on marker posts until the crossing of a wooden stile brought us to a road (63mins).

We turned right, passing Cliffe Farm on our left and at Calrofold Lane we took the right fork (68mins). This led us to a road at the end of Cliffe Lane (78mins) which we crossed and followed a path uphill. This took us through knee-high snowdrifts until we reached a pair of adjacent stiles.

Your diarist crossed both of these, while Lawrie stumbled and fell between two stiles. After following the main group into and down the field indicated by a yellow arrow, Lawrie retraced his steps backwards to search for an alternative route.

Julian and John followed while the rest of us formed a splinter group which walked through fields parallel with a road on our left. Led by Tom, who was anxious to escape the snowy fields, we clambered over a gate, reached the road and turned right.

Your diarist found himself de facto leader as we walked along the road past Brinks Farm on our right. Shortly afterwards we turned left to follow a public footpath sign leading into a farmyard (106mins). As we paused for a snack and port, we were joined by a friendly cairn terrier which seemed to prefer our company to the healthy food which we offered him.

With no sight of our companions, we continued to the other side of the farm until we reached a Gritstone Trail sign pointing straight ahead. We ignored this, turning right for 40 yards before turning left over a stone step stile (110mins) into a field with Rainow in the distance below.

Our breakaway group continued downhill over a series of stiles, passing to the left of a farmhouse before crossing a footbridge over a stream (124mins). Then we headed uphill again until we reached a lane via a stile (132mins).

We turned left to reach a road and turned right, passing Holy Trinity Church, Rainow, on our right, and arriving at The Robin Hood on our left (140mins). The Black Sheep cask bitter was £3 a pint and the guest ale, a rather sharp-tasting Lazy Daze, was priced at £3-05.

By the time we were ready for our second pints, our co-walkers arrived some 20 minutes behind us with macho talk of battling snowdrifts and other adversities of nature. More fool them was the general reaction.

AN INTERESTING FACT ABOUT RAINOW

Your diarist recalls an amazing story which came to a bloody end in Rainow in January, 1977. The Pottery Cottage Massacre, as it was called, started a few days earlier when a prisoner named Billy Hughes, aged 30, from Preston, was being driven from Leicester Jail to a court in Chesterfield.

Hughes was charged with stabbing a man in the face and raping his girlfriend. He somehow overpowered his guards, slashing their throats with a blade, before making off in the vehicle. Hughes crashed on icy roads on Beeley Moor on the outskirts of Chesterfield.

He then arrived at Pottery Cottage, near The Highwayman pub on the road into Chesterfield. It was occupied by Arthur Minton, a 72-year-old retired grocer, his wife Amy, 68, their daughter Gill Moran, 38, son-in-law Richard Moran, 36, a sales director, and their 10-year-old granddaughter Sarah Moran.

Wielding an axe he had found outside the cottage, Hughes forced his way inside and made the entire family his prisoners. For several days, while police hunted Hughes, he was holed up in Pottery Cottage. He forced Gill Moran to have sex with him while systematically butchering her family.

Eventually he escaped in a car with Gill, the sole survivor, until he was stopped by a police roadblock in Rainow. He threatened to kill Mrs Moran with the axe he was carrying and she suffered a head wound as police opened fire. Hughes was shot four times and died.

Mrs Moran sold the story of her ordeal to the Daily Mail for around £60,000 – a huge sum in those days. Less than a year later she married a man named Mulqueen, and six months after the wedding she had his baby. This is yet another example of the resilience of the so-called weaker sex.

END OF INTERESTING FACT

We left the pub by the rear exit and turned left into Stocks Lane, passing the village stocks on our left before heading right into Chapel Lane. We continued until Sugar Lane where we turned right and followed the public footpath sign to the rear of Flagg Cottage (150mins).

This brought us along The Virgins’ Path back to Bollington. For the uninitiated, this was the two-mile path from Rainow into Bollington which brides took in the days when Rainow had no church. Friendly farmers lay down slabs across their fields to prevent the brides’ white dresses from becoming muddy.

After pausing for lunch at Ingersley Vale waterfall (180mins) we returned to the car park to de-boot (195mins). From there we drove to The Dog and Partridge, where Robbies’ mild was £2-45p.

We joined the B walkers who had taken a route from Poynton up to the Middlewood Way at Higher Poynton. From there they had walked some six miles to Bollington.

Next week’s walk will start at 9.35am from The Lantern Pike pub car park at Little Hayfield, High Peak. It is anticipated that the walk, led by Tom, will reach The Sportsman pub, on the outskirts of Hayfield, around 12.30pm, and that we will be back in The Lantern Pike at 2.15pm.