This really was the start. It was a perfect summer day. It would be hot later. Yesterdays Bank Holiday crowds were all back at work.
The first day of a long walk is always one of adjustments and doubts. Boots are too tight; the rucksacks sit awkwardly on the back; muscles, teased by unaccustomed work, begin to ache.
“Am I up to this?”
Rhythm returns slowly, but shatters with the first climb of the walk: Jacob’s ladder.
Once on the tops the unique attractions of Kinder become apparent. The walk runs along the edge of a vast plateau of peat, a strange wilderness world of deep groughs (deep water eroded channels) and wind sculptured rocks, seeming even weirder by being within sight of the South Lancashire conurbation. On one side sits Manchester airport, on the other, utter desolation.
The treacly, peaty broth does nothing to quench the thirst. Drinking water is a problem with few clear running streams. Across Featherbed Moss and on to the Snake road we were fortunate to be shadowing a chirpy party of schoolgirls doing their Duke of Edinburgh Award expedition: we begged enough water from their back-up crew to see us most of the way across Bleaklow.
If ever a name was descriptive of a hill, Bleaklow is surely it. The walk to the summit is through a complicated network of fifteen-foot deep peat groughs, directed by occasional guideposts. In clear weather, it isn’t a problem: just head uphill to the ridge top.
I made an unfortunate observation, “The book does go on a bit about navigational difficulties. You’d be hard put to get lost.”
Gaining the sandy summit of Bleaklow, the worst of the terrain was behind us; views were extensive and clear in all directions, there were only five downhill miles to the end of the day: we relaxed. Happily wandering downhill, ninety degrees or more off course, without a care in the world.
“Excuse me sir; is this the path to Torside?”
Only a chance meeting with a lost party of venture scouts concentrated our minds sufficiently to realise our error: although not strictly lost, we were quite a distance from where we had intended to be. Too much height was lost to retrace our steps to Bleaklow summit, so on we plodded, down by the side of a stream to the Woodhead Tunnel entrance. After walking along the old railway line, we regained the route at Crowden.
It was not a bad walk in the event and only added a mile or two to the day. I will revisit Bleaklow again, if only to see where we went wrong..
The Crowden Youth Hostel looked quite welcoming, but the lack of nearby licensed premises diverted us to nearby Padfield. Our hosts collected us from Crowden and drove us to their home, an attractive old cottage. The pub was a bit of a disappointment though: no food or real beer. After day-long dehydration, however, anything wet, cool and alcoholic was nectar. Guinness is not such a bad substitute in such circumstances.
Accommodation: Marcia Dodd, Wayside Cottage, Padfield, Glossop (01457 866495)
£25.00pp including lift from and to Crowden
This is another recommended stay, friendly and comfortable.
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