Tag Archives: Peak District.

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. WIRKSWORTH CHURCH.

Day 13 postscript. St. Mary’s Church.

Arriving in Wirksworth, I discovered another church, St Mary’s, where I spent some time absorbing its history. I have lost the information booklets I purchased, so once again I’m relying on my photographs and Simon Jenkins.

The church is very welcoming and provides a wealth of information for visitors interested in the site’s history. I met the friendly team vicar, there are 10 churches grouped together, who was busy with a treasure hunt for a local school in the grounds. She explained the local custom of ‘clipping the church’ in September when the congregation, probably augmented, holds hands encircling the outside of the building. She wished me good fortune on my journey and emphasised I must visit Repton.

The earliest parts of St. Mary’s date back to the 13th century, including the lower part of the tower. Much was added in subsequent centuries. Sir George Gilbert Scott was responsible for major restoration in the 19th century. This is probably when all fragments of carving were incorporated into the walls, a gallery of early sculpture. These carvings suggest a church would have been established on this site as early as the 8th or 9th century.

Going around the church clockwise.

Starting in the north transept is a large collection of early carvings set randomly into the wall.

In the north aisle, there are two 16th-century chest tombs, exquisitely carved in alabaster, of the Gell family. Sir Anthony Gell (d. 1583) has his statue on his tomb. He established a Free Grammar School in the town in 1576. Alongside is the simpler tomb of his father, Sir Ralph Gell.

The chancel contains the tomb of Sir Anthony Lowe, a Gentleman of the Bedchamber, who served Henry VII, Henry VIII, Edward VI and Mary I and died in 1555.

The church is noted for containing an Anglo-Saxon carving of a lead miner, “T’owd Man”, the oldest representation of a miner anywhere in the world. It was moved here in 1863 from Bonsall Church for safekeeping and has never been returned. The church makes a good deal of this relic and has installed a video featuring him in a ghostly form, in which he recounts his perilous life as a miner. History brought to life.

There are more random, rather strange fragments of carved stones on the walls.

However, the most significant piece is a large coffin lid dating back to approximately AD 700. It is believed that this artefact belonged to one of the early mission priests who established the church here during the conversion of the ancient kingdom of Mercia to Christianity. The lid depicts scenes from the life of Jesus and other biblical stories in a complex composition. It was discovered under the chancel during those 19th-century restorations.

There are two fonts in the church. One is a Norman cauldron-type stone font, and the other dated 1662.

There were many Victorian stained glass windows. Perhaps the most notable is that in the north transept, which was designed by Edward Burne-Jones, a noted Pre-Raphaelite artist, and created by the William Morris workshop in 1907. It depicts Christ and various saints. (You may remember his window in Youlgreave Church).

The biblical significance of some of the other windows is lost on me.

I probably missed as much as I have highlighted here; the church was full of historical curiosities. The sad fact, the vicar told me, is that they only have a congregation of about fifty these days. It was built for five hundred.

PILGRIMS PROGRESS. YOULGREAVE CHURCH.

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Day 13 postscipt. A brief look around All Saints Parish Church in Youlgreave, with its Saxon connections.

Usually, when visiting churches, I pick up or purchase an information leaflet, and most churches have an electronic payment machine. I have mislaid my excellent guide to here, as well as Wirksworth Church, so I’m relying mainly on memory and Simon Jenkins’ comprehensive book – England’s Thousand Best Churches.

I arrived here from Bakewell, with the church tower dominating the village.

There was probably a wooden Saxon church on this site, but the present building dates back to the 1150 period and has been much modified since.

The oldest surviving parts are in the nave, featuring typical thick Norman pillars and arches. Since then, many different styles have been incorporated – a large Gothic chancel, Tudor windows, and a 15th-century perpendicular-style bell tower.

Blocked Norman door.

Perpendicular style tower door.

The Norman font originally belonged to the church at nearby Elton and is a simple sandstone affair, but with an added stoup with a salamander (a symbol of baptism) carved into its support.

Above the altar is the great east window, featuring stained glass by the William Morris Company, designed by the Pre-Raphaelite master Edward Burne-Jones.

I’m not sure about these windows. A Victorian and a C20 memorial to incumbent vicars.

Another stained window in the north aisle is a poignant memorial window to Rennie Crompton Waterhouse of Lomberdale Hall, Middleton-by-Youlgreave, killed at Gallipoli in 1915.The window glass was gathered from the ruined cathedral at Ypres and other destroyed churches in Flanders, and brought back to Youlgreave by his brother.

I have two photos of tombs within the chancel.

The first one I’ve identified as a fine marble tomb to a Thomas Cockayne, who died in a fight in 1488. The effigy is smaller than life size, indicating that he died before his father.

The other chancel tomb is a worn effigy of a knight with his feet on a lion, dated to the 13th century and thought to represent Sir John Rossington. Notice the tiled floor.

In the north aisle, there is a wall memorial dedicated to Roger Rooe of Alport, who died in 1613, and his wife, depicted wearing a top hat, and their eight children. The memorial is an ornate Jacobean-style piece, featuring the couple facing each other with their children standing below.

Another memorial is an alabaster plaque from 1492 commemorating Robert and Julia Gilbert, featuring a central figure of the Virgin, and kneeling figures of Julia and numerous daughters on one side, and Robert with numerous sons on the other. The inscription says that Gilbert “caused this chapel to be made”. They certainly had large families back then.

The choir stalls, likely Victorian, feature some interestingly carved heads.

If I had looked up I would have seen wooden carved roof bosses.

I was most interested in the small figure in a semicircular niche, probably a C12th carving of a pilgrim, with his bag and staff. I felt a close infinity.

Another probably AngloSaxon stone carving depicts a man, could he be peeing in the bushes?

Elsewhere a piscina is held up by a ?Norman head.

That was an hour well spent. My present mileage of 8 to 10 miles per day gives me ample time to explore and interact with people along the way.

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. MORE HEIGHTS.

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Day 14. Wirksworth to Duffield.

It’s Market Day in Wirksworth and very busy, so I just set off without my usual morning coffee. I have to climb up to Alport Height somehow. There are numerous small lanes and field paths to choose from. The scattered houses of Gorsey Bank are my first objective.

I pass a small Catholic church on the way, and then Providence Mill. Wirksworth mills were renowned in the 19th and early 20th century for specialised tape manufacture. John Bowmer began tape making in 1883 at Providence Mill, later known as Gorsey Bank Mill. They produced narrow red tape to bind legal documents. (That’s where the term ‘red tape’ comes from.) The firm was later to take pride in the fact that it had manufactured the fuse-binding tape for every Mills Bomb used in the First World War. The mill is now an exclusive-looking private residence.

At the end of the metalled road, a wide byway, Prathall Lane, continues to climb. There is a wayside water trough, so this must have been a route regularly used by horses.

There are views back to the limestone quarry overshadowing Wirksworth and more rural scenes to the west. The summit of Alport Height with its antennae appears, so I just follow the little lanes in the right direction.

A path leads to the parking area next to the antennae. There is a toposcope, but to be honest, although the views are far-reaching, they lack interest, and the masts obscure half of it. The trig point is at 314 m (1,030 ft).

If this ‘port’ was on a long-lost trackway, could this be a marker stone? How do you date stones anyhow?

I don’t hang around on what is a bleak spot in the wind. My attempt at a shortcut back to the road is thwarted by a motocross track with noisy bikes churning up the sand. But what is this? Not noticed on the way up, but a rocky pinnacle in a small abandoned quarry. The Alport Stone. Chipped holds on one side tempt you onwards, but how do you get back down?

I have found some old photos of early ascents.

I make good progress by sticking to the quiet lanes, the type with grass down the middle.

The Midshires Way is encountered again, where it climbs onto a small ridge. Longwalls Lane must be an ancient track with signs of cobbles and worn down to the bedrock in places.

At its end, as I drop down to Blackbrook (who, according to all the signs, doesn’t want any more houses, like similar villages being swamped with developments), there ahead of me is The Chevin, a gritstone ridge above Belper leading me straight to Duffield. How much more appealing than Alport Height? In Blackbrook, I cross a ford and climb through trees to a cluster of houses at Farnah Green, where by the roadside is a 19th-century milestone. Derby 7 Wirksworth 6. And then I’m onto the ancient track across the Chevin, possibly the Portway, and maybe used by the Romans to reach their Lutadarum, a grand way to finish my walk today. Cobbled most of the way with views down into the Derwent Valley and Belper. I walk along with a local couple, and he explains the history of the area to me. I would have been puzzled by this isolated wall structure, seen by the wayside without his knowledge.

From the listed buildings site – Former firing range. Circa 1800. The range is comprised of a tall, tapering target wall, aligned north-east to south-west, approximately 25 metres long and 5 metres high. The wall is built of coursed squared gritstone, with a heavy flat gritstone coping. To the southeast of the wall are a group of five regularly- spaced rectangular coursed stone firing butts or platforms, the first being approx 150 metres from the wall, and spaced every 25 metres thereafter.

The firing range was built for the local militia, the Belper Volunteer Battalion, raised by the Strutt family who established the textile factory communities at Belper and Milford. Lt. Cl. Joseph Strutt was the battalion commander. The range was used during the Napoleonic Wars, and again in 1860, during the Boer War and the First World War. The firing range is important evidence of the part played by local militias in the national defence strategy of the early C19, and is a rare survival of the period.

Quite unique.

I left the couple and made my way down through the extensive and hilly golf course past the clubhouse onto the main road in Duffield.

I had not gone far when I noticed this sign by some steps.

Duffield Castle is a remnant of the estate of the de Ferrers family, who originally owned the village; however, they lost their local possessions to the king in 1266, and their castle, if it ever was finished, was demolished. All that is visible is the mound with traces of foundations and a well. As the sign says, use your imagination.

The train takes me back to Matlock.

***

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. LEAD AND LIME.

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Day 13. Winster to Wirksworth.

Winster and Wirksworth were both known for lead mining, a very valuable commodity in the medieval period, and both are mentioned in the Domesday Book. They prospered in the 18th and 19th centuries. On the map the deep Griffe Grange Valley, with its busy Via Gellia road, forms a barrier between the two villages. I need to find a way around this without incurring much height loss. The Limestone Way takes a far too circuitous route.

Winster is bedecked for the culmination of its festive Wakes week. I get a coffee from the village shop and sit outside watching the locals come and go to what is now the centre of village life.

Across the way is the Market House, dating back to the 17th century, when it would have been the centre for village life. At one time, the ground floor was an open, arched space for the market while the first floor was for village assemblies. The National Trust now owns it, and some limited local information is available upstairs.

Time to make a start up that steep lane going south, the residents must be a fit lot. Pretty cottages and gardens are a pride to their owners. Although holiday lets are becoming more prominent. A lady is out checking on the hundred or so ducks hidden for the festive ‘duck hunt’.

At the top lane, the pinfold has become an attractive wild garden. I am impressed with Winster.

Soon, I’m above the houses, a footpath heads across meadows, forever upwards. There is surface evidence of lead mining everywhere you look.

A stiff wind gives the weather a fresher feel as I climb higher. I could continue through a network of fields for another mile or so, but there are an awful lot of cattle about. Why have the hassle when there is a gated road with no traffic running parallel? As I’ve written, I’ve no definite route, just places to visit along the way. I’m my own master.

I get to see the views just the same, and I have time for some wayside flower spotting.

In the distance is a working quarry, not realising I will end up beside it.

Down to Grangemill, a cluster of houses and a pub, the Hollybush Inn, at a busy crossroads. Here I found a bench for some lunch, watching the lorries come out of the working quarry opposite every minute or so onto the busy road down to Cromford, Via Gellia. There is a lot of lime dust in the air.

The Via Gellia is named after the Gell family who lived at Hopton Hall for generations, having profitable quarries and lead mines. The building of the Via Gellia is dated to 1791 and was designed to allow carts of lead ore or stone to travel down from the Hopton area to the canal and lead smelters at Cromford. One of the Gell family may have named it in the Roman style. Todays traffic disappears down the road into the deep wooded Griffe Grange Valley.

Back into the fields bordering the old quarry, I pick up The Limestone Way again. It’s not entirely clear on the ground. A runner coming towards me is lost, trying to navigate using his watch. I point out the way, and off he rushes to complete about twenty miles, in this heat!

Now, on higher ground away from the quarry nose and dust, I can see the hilltop of Harborough Rocks, which I wanted to include in today’s route.

A lady runner is also confused by the field systems, but she is only doing six miles and is much more relaxed, enjoying the scenery.

On to the High Peak Trail, the former line for the Cromford and High Peak railway, which I last met back in Whaley Bridge. It was built in the early 19th century to transport minerals and goods across the high ground between the two canal towns. I’m also back on the Midshires Way.

Up ahead are Harborough rocks—a popular low-grade climbing area of Dolomitic Limestone, full of pockets and jugs. Once again, I start reminiscing on sunny days spent here, but I don’t recall the noisy factory adjacent. A couple are climbing above the path; it turns out they are from Burnley, not far from me, and visit Craig Y Longridge from time to time—a small world.

Apart from the climbing, the other reason I wanted to visit here is to seek out the ‘Hermit’s Cave’. The cave has been excavated several times. Finds included human burials, dated to the Neolithic. Iron Age pottery and arrowheads, Daniel Defoe visited the rocks in the 18th Century and found the cave was inhabited by a lead miner and his family. If the Portway had come this way, could it have been used as an overnight shelter?

The High Peak Trail goes on and on.

One forgets that these railways were originally horse-drawn and used Fishbelly rail laid on stone blocks, a common form of early track construction. This had the advantage of providing a continuous soft path between the rails that was suitable for horses.

Eventually, field paths drop away from the line, no sign of Wirksworth yet, but the hill in the distance must be Alport Height, tomorrow’s objective.

I find myself walking through the remains of a massive quarry.

At last an ally takes me to the high street of Wirksworth.

A busy market town with an impressive High Street of independent shops.

In Roman Britain, this limestone area yielded lead, and they named a place Lutudarum, which is likely the present-day Wirksworth. Roman roads from Wirksworth lead to Buxton (The Street) and to Castleton (The Portway). It was in the 17th century that Wirksworth further developed from its lead mines and limestone quarries. Richard Arkwright owned a cotton spinning mill here, marking the beginning of the industrial age. When the lead ran out in the 19th century, large-scale limestone quarrying took its place.

I head to the parish church, St Mary the Virgin. The existing building dates mostly from the 13th century, but a church has stood on this site since at least the 8th century AD. One of its restorations was by Sir Gilbert Scott in 1870.

The church is notable for its Anglo-Saxon carvings, a large Anglo-Saxon coffin lid, and beautiful stained glass. Again, like Youlgreave’s church, I may do a separate post on St. Mary’s. However, in the meantime, here is the carving of the medieval or possibly even Saxon lead miner.

After a bit of shopping, it is time to catch the bus back to Matlock. You may recall a car fire halting my bus in Buxton; well, this time, a fire broke out in an abandoned building on the outskirts of Matlock. When we arrived, the police were in attendance and let us through. Five minutes later, as the black smoke enveloped the valley and fire engines were rushing to the scene, the roads were closed. By then, I was safely in my B&B.

***

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. PART OF THE PORTWAY?

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Day 12. Bakewell to Winster.

For the next stretch of my ‘pilgrimage’, I’m booked into a B&B in Matlock. I won’t bore you with my travel logistics. These days, it is becoming more difficult to find accommodation in the smaller towns and villages.

Where did merchants, drovers, and pilgrims, making lengthy journeys, stay overnight before the arrival of inns? Before starting this walk, I had never heard of The Portway.

“There are several ‘portways’ in England, such as the route over the Long Mynd in Shropshire, but the Derbyshire Portway seems to be the longest and the best-researched. The route in Derbyshire was first suggested by Cockerton, a historian from Bakewell, in the 1930s, who based his idea of a long-distance route on a string of ‘port’ place names such as Alport and Alport Height, which can be linked together by existing tracks and paths. These place names are reinforced by references to a ‘Portwaye’ in some medieval documents and two Portway lead mines. It seems clear that the word is Anglo-Saxon, and was applied by them to pre-existing, non-Roman routes.. A ‘port’ suggests a place of safety and shelter, so I think a portway was a long-distance route which had ‘ports’ for travellers at intervals of roughly ten miles. Sites where wayfarers could sleep, cook and graze their animals overnight. In Derbyshire, these are likely to have been on high ground for defence”

Stephen Bailey. Old Roads of Derbyshire. 2019.

An introduction from the book I’ve just been reading. Well, that adds another dimension to my walk. Again, like pilgrim routes, the portway is not defined precisely on any map, so my wanderings between significant Saxon religious sites can be combined with linking possible ‘ports’ together. They are likely to have had very similar routes.

I’m back in Bakewell for another four days ‘pilgrimaging’. As usual, I start the day with a coffee, this time in the Graze café.

The church clock is striking 10 as I leave the hustle and bustle and start to climb steeply up Butts Road. They provide a handrail for the elderly, and I make good use of it. At the top, there is a fresh breeze, so I’m hoping for cooler temperatures than of late. Alongside the cemetery, a gent is walking his dog. We stop to discuss the weather, and the conversation drifts to long-distance walking and eventually to climbing. He, in fact, moved here originally to be near the rocks. A pleasant interlude after the steep climb.

Suddenly, I’m out into rolling limestone country on a walled lane, and I feel I’m on an ancient route. A portway? Losing and gaining height as I go.

A short stretch on a road, and I spot the stile I’m looking out for. Pleased to be off the road, I enter a swaying sea of oats and, hopefully, by my passing, help to define the right of way. Skylarks are everywhere; it’s a glorious morning.

I reach the lane at Conksbury Bridge in Lathkill Dale. Across the way is the site of an abandoned Medieval village, but from here I can’t make out any features.

Going down Lathkill Dale for a distance, I’m unable to access the stream. A man is picking raspberries from a particularly fertile patch, and I join him for a while. Last year, there was hardly any, but this summer is giving a bumper crop. Ice cream and fruit for him this evening.

Continuing downstream to Alport is an option, but I want to visit Youlgreave, it must be nearly 40 years since my two sons and I did a Limestone Loop around the Peak District, staying in YHAs. I remember the one in Youlgreave being at the top of a steep hill away from a river. My sons were convinced every youth hostel was at the top of a hill at the end of each day.

Youlgreave was mentioned in the Domesday Book. It increased in size in the late 18th century when lead mining prospered. It is now a magnet for visitors, thanks to narrow streets, interesting limestone properties, and charming cottages. The village street is hectic, far too narrow for the number of cars using it.

All Saints Church dates back to the late 12th century, and I feel it would be best to dedicate a separate entry to my in-depth look around; otherwise, this post would become overly long. All I’ll mention here is a carving of a Norman traveller carrying his bag and shaft. Just like me.

The YHA is still here, looking as I remember it, but I don’t recall the cafe on the ground floor. Anyhow, I go in hoping for a pot of tea, but nobody is in a rush to serve me.

Wandering on, I reach the village fountain, which has an interesting history. A farmer’s daughter, a local spinster in her 70s. Hannah Bowman formed the Women’s Friendly Society of Youlgrave and had plans to bring water to the village. Previously, the villagers had to walk down to the valley for water. A 1,500-gallon capacity conduit was built in Youlgrave’s marketplace on the site of its ancient Saxon cross. At its opening in July 1829, the Derbyshire Courier voiced its approval: ‘The inhabitants of Youlgrave are rejoicing from at last having their anxious wishes realised by a salubrious spring of soft water being conducted to the village cross, where it now forms a beautiful radiated fountain discharging upwards of 10,000 gallons in 24 hours. The spring is as pellucid as crystal, almost equal in purity to distilled water. The cistern fills up overnight, and residents pay an annual charge of sixpence to use the splendid new facility”

It is still functional, owned and run by the villagers.

From the fountain, I take the lane down to the valley, where a clapper bridge spans the River Bradford. Lower down the river is proving popular with locals who, in this heatwave, are enjoying paddling and swimming in the deeper pools created by the weirs.

By the lower clapper bridge I sit on a bench for a spot of early lunch before the climb out of the dale.

I’m not sure which way to navigate around Castle Ring at Harthill, marked by a red arrow above. The Bronze Age hill fort is on private land. This entire area, including nearby Stanton Moor, is characterised by numerous prehistoric circles and standing stones.

My choice is influenced by the fact that I’m now on the waymarked Limestone Way, last crossed in Miller’s Dale. So to the left we go, proving very pleasant in the shade provided by the stately beech trees.

I recognise the parking place on the road, which I’ve used many times for climbing at Cratcliffe. Despite being on the ‘Limestone Way’, this is gritstone country. Britain’s geology frequently baffles me. One of those stone circles can be seen by a tree in the fields below. Ahead are the twin rock pinnacles of Robin Hood’s Stride; the trees have grown since I was last here.

Let the Limestone Way wander on; I’m off to take a look at those climbs of old, and there is a Hermit’s cave to be found somewhere. There are voices in the trees. I’m hoping for some climbing action. I get to enjoy some high-standard bouldering with friendly youngsters.

Everywhere seems overgrown as I try to find my way to the Hermit’s cave, but eventually, there it is. You can just make out the figure of Christ on the cross.

https://derbyshireheritage.co.uk/curiosities/cratcliffe-hermitage/ gives a link to the Portway.

I peek around the corner at the imposing main crag. Did we really climb up there?

Below the rocks – everybody had a Hilary in their lives.

I find my way back to the Limestone Trail and begin the slow, now weary climb up Dudwood Lane, which is initially metalled, but soon becomes rough.

Portaway Mine, presumably a lead mine, is marked on the map.

One of those lovely stone squeeze stiles lead me into Winster through parkland..

There is a meeting of villagers in the church, St John the Baptist’s, so I won’t disturb them. The tower dates from 1721, and restorations to the body of the church were completed in 1885.

Today, the village is bedecked with bunting for its Wakes Week celebrations. I only have five minutes to spare before my bus.

“Lead mining, for which Winster was renowned, may have originated here in Roman times. The boom in mining from the late 17th century turned the village into a prosperous town, one of the largest in Derbyshire.

Historically, Winster was also a main crossing point for many roads and trackways, one of the most important being The Portway, an ancient trading route that passes close to the village. Salt routes from Cheshire came through the village, as did the main turnpike from Nottingham to Newhaven in later years.

With more than 70 listed buildings, Winster has one of the most impressive street scenes in Derbyshire, and the main street is an array of impressive buildings which merge with a jumble of cottages up the bank on the southern side. The Old Market Hall, which dates from the 17th century and is now owned by the National Trust, together with The Old Hall and Dower House, are particular highlights”

I’m lucky to catch that bus as the roads have been closed for resurfacing until today.

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. THE SHORT, HOT DAY.

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Day 11. Monsal Head to Bakewell.

The day is forecast to be the hottest of the year, and I’m trying to avoid any references to baking hot in Bakewell. I skip breakfast at the hotel to get an early start and make the most of the cooler part of the day. As it is, I only have a short walk ahead of me.

That view accompanies my wake-up coffee in the room—a good start.

I walk along to Little Longstone, at one stage, a pavement cleaner prepares the way. There is a pub, a Congregational Church, a pinfold and a pump.

Field paths head off down the hill.

I arrive in Ashford-in-the-Water. The information board tells me ‘Ford by the ash tree’. It was known in the Doomsday Book for lead mining. This was where the ancient route of the Derbyshire Portway (from Nottingham to Castleton) crossed the River Wye, a route that had existed since the Bronze Age before falling out of regular use in the Middle Ages. That reference directs me to the LDWA website, and I end up ordering a book on Abe titled The Old Roads of Derbyshire: Walking into History: The Portway and Beyond. I wonder where that will take me.

Ashford is a touristy village, but at this time of day, it is pleasantly quiet and quaint—lots of little limestone cottages.

I search for the church, dating back to the 12th-century, but with extensive modifications. It is currently hosting a flower festival, but I arrive too early for it to open. I content myself with the 15th-century cross base in the grounds.

Well dressing is a significant and unique historical tradition in the Peak District, possibly a Pagan ritual giving thanks for water, important in limestone areas. I come across several collages created on clay-covered boards at the village wells.

I leave the village by the timeless bridge next to the mill. The busy A6 bypasses the village.

The path follows the river, then passes by weirs and lakes, all of which were constructed for the watermills.

I try to follow paths closer to the river at Lumford Mill, but have to retreat. I then avoid the main road and climb through the woods next to an exclusive-looking private school.

I head straight to the parish church, All Saints, in the higher part of town. The church was founded in 920, during the Anglo-Saxon period, and the churchyard features two 9th-century crosses that I would like to see. First, I come across the medieval stone coffins of various sizes leaning against one of the walls.

The two Anglo-Saxon crosses are in the churchyard. The one surrounded by railings was found at Hassop, about a mile away, where it may have been a marker or prayer cross on an ancient pathway.. My phone camera is refusing to take pictures due to overheating, so I only have a front view. Before it lost its head, it was thought to be 10ft tall. The other cross, dug up in nearby Beeley, has also lost its head, but the carvings are better preserved. Apparently, both crosses are covered in the winter months to lessen erosion.

I mostly put my phone away to cool down whilst looking around the church, but this site has a detailed history and lots of photos.

There is a large collection of carved Saxon and Norman stones in the church’s porch. These have intricate patterns and detailed insignia. It is thought that Bakewell was a centre for stone carving, supplying the northern Mercian area.

Inside the church, the choir stalls feature some fine misericords, and a side chapel is designated as the mortuary chapel for the Vernon and Manners families. There are yet more carved stones in an alcove.

It’s a short walk down the hill to the centre of town. Bakewell is another busy touristy market town full of nooks and crooks, mellow stone buildings, quaint courtyards, and enough shops and pubs to satisfy the crowds. Next time, I will have more time to look around, and hopefully it will be cooler.

***

I catch my bus with seconds to spare, but not all goes to plan. As we are passing through Buxton on the way to the railway station, a car at the lights suddenly bursts into flames and explodes shortly after the driver escapes. All very dramatic. The fire brigade arrive quickly to quench the flames.

The road is closed, and by the time I walk to the station, I’ve missed the Manchester train. There is one every hour, but unfortunately Northern Rail decide to cancel the next one. So, a two-hour wait, and by the time I’m in Manchester, the rush hour is in full swing. Everyone is hot and bothered.

The only good outcome is that as I’m walking home through Longridge, a long time later, two friends spot me from the wine bar and I’m dragged in for a welcome pint.

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. MAINLY MONSAL.

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Day 10. Buxton to Monsal Head.

I say ‘mainly Monsal’, as it takes me, with all my exploring, almost half a day to reach the Monsal Trail.. Slow progress, and be warned, a long post, but hopefully an interesting one.

In Buxton, I had spotted this café the night before and earmarked it for breakfast—a great choice, with perfect scrambled eggs on sourdough.

The walk out of Buxton along the main road is not good, I’m more than pleased to see a footpath into the fields. The viaduct is on the defunct Cromford to Whaley Bridge railway line, mentioned yesterday. On past Staden Farm to the rim of the massive Staden Quarry, where I was hoping to see some climbing action. We used to come here when the sun was hot, as the main wall faces north. Yes, there was a rope at the top, but no sign of the climbers. Barbed wire prevented me from looking down the face. I chat to the farmer and his wife, mainly about cows and calves in the fields. The threat of prosecution from the public weighs heavily on them.

Onwards through Cowdale and across newly mown fields, a walker is ahead of me, but he goes off in a different direction.

There is a small church, Christ Church, King Sterndale, by the road. There is a medieval cross in the nearby village, which I regret not visiting.

Back into the fields, the Midshires Way starts to drop steeply into Deep Dale. It arrives at the base right below Thirst House Cave, and I scramble up to have a look.

I don’t venture too far into its depths. Roman artefacts have been found here, but it dates far further back, with a bear’s skull.

Deep Dale is a delight, a sunken gorge full of bird song, mainly Jackdaws from the higher crags, and carpeted with flowers. Nobody else about.

The limestone path is uneven in parts, and the summer foliage is encroaching, so slow progress is required.

The end of the valley has been despoiled by an overflow of waste material from the adjacent Topley Pike Quarry. How do they get away with it in a national park?

Escaping the modern industrial devastation, across the A6 at Wyedale, I am on the road leading to the former Midland Railway Line, Manchester to London—the Buxton to Bakewell section, which closed in 1968. As well as passenger transport, this line served the limestone quarries hereabouts. Thirty to forty years ago, we would use stretches of it to reach crags in the valleys. The tunnels were closed at that time; since then, they have been opened and illuminated, and the route has been surfaced, making it suitable for cyclists and mobility vehicles – The Monsal Trail. So I expect it to be busy.

All routes lead to the Blackwell Mill cycle hire depot at the beginning of Cheedale. One is not actually on the railway until then, the bridges you pass under carry the Great Rocks Dale branch of the railway, which still operates to several quarries. This is as far as many people reach, all very pretty, but on a dusty road. This map may clarify the complexities of the initial trail, but there again…

I meet a man checking, just visually, the bridges. Every few years, they have to do a more detailed rope assessment. A pleasant job on a sunny day like today, we stroll along together.

Anyhow, I’m now on the trail for the next 5 miles, cyclists come whizzing past in both directions. The rest of us just saunter along.

To start with, the railway cuts through the limestone.

And then along the gorge of Cheedale.

The river is down below the towering crags. Plum Butress is one of the first climbing areas I recognise through the trees. A route called Sirplum goes through the overhangs and ascends the nose. Happy memories of climbing in the sun with my mates, I’ve become distracted in no time. The first bridge I cross gives views down to Chee Tor. The bridge man is down there somewhere.

The first tunnel, Rusher Cutting, is only a short one, 111m.

The next one, Chee Tor No.2, is also short, 83m and unlit, but the next Chee Tor is much longer, 367m, and has roof lighting.

Back in the open, there is some excitement at the next bridge. A group of children are being introduced to the delights of abseiling. 40ft to the floor.

A more serene pastime is old-fashioned photography, which involves using a coated glass plate and developing the image on-site with all the necessary chemicals. A lot of equipment to carry about. I wish I had taken note of his details to view his work.The object he is going to focus on is this limekiln, a 20th-Century concrete structure hiding Victorian kilns. During the C19th the demand for quicklime, used in steelmaking, chemical industries and agriculture, increased. Quarries and lime kilns were developed alongside the railway, coal for burning was transported in and quicklime out.

It’s time for lunch. The cafe at Millers Dale is on the line. I sit inside, out of the sun, surrounded by railway memorabilia and enjoy a quiche and a Bakewell slice.

The additional viaduct, they built two, is being renovated. The river is a long way down here.

More tall lime kilns appear close by the right-hand side of the trail.

The crowds have thinned out after the cafe at Millers Dale. Cyclists keep appearing on their return trip.

Down there is Raven Tor, the jewel in the crown of Peak District sport climbing, ie using bolts for protection. In 1982, Ron Fawcett initiated the action with Indecent Exposure, 7c, a multi-pitch route that reached the top of the crag. 1984 Moffatt’s Revelations 8b became the hardest route in the country. 1988 was Martin Atkinson’s Mecca, which at 8b+ was one of the hardest routes in the world. Ben Moon beat Moffatt to Hubble 8c+, the hardest route in the world at the time. In 1998, Steve McClure climbed Mecca Extension, 9a, and quickly followed it with Mutation 9a+, putting the Tor on the world map again. Fancy your chances, it’s even steeper than it looks?

I have time to dally and look at some of the flora lining the trail.

The chimney of Litton Mill can be seen down in the trees. Built in 1787 as a cotton spinning mill, it gained notoriety for exploiting its pauper apprentices. Later, it produced yarn for hosiery and was eventually converted into apartments.

Litton Tunnel, 471m goes through a spur in the hills and emerges overlooking Cressbrook Hall before diving into my last tunnel, Cressbrook 431m. (I will not reach the longest Headstone at 487m).

On emerging from Cressbrook Tunnel I can see up on the hill my hotel for the night, but first I have to leave the trail and drop into the Wye valley for the footbridge at Upperdale. An angler is fly fishing for brown trout in this idyllic spot.

A bit of a slog up paths brings me to the popular tourist viewpoint at Monsal Head. It is some viewpoint. The Wye Valley is laid out below with the Headstone viaduct prominent in the foreground.

Monsal Head Hotel lords over the scene. Faded glory on the outside, but luxury in my room, where I was keen to have a shower and freshen up before a meal and a few drinks in the stable bar.

I can watch the sun go down from my boudoir.

It’s been a long ten miles, but every mile was full of interest. A classic walk.

This is what Ruskin had to say about the valley in 1871.

There was a rocky valley between Buxton and Bakewell, once upon a time, divine as the Vale of Tempe. You enterprised a Railroad through the valley – you blasted its rocks away, heaped thousands of tons of shale into its lovely stream. The valley is gone, and the Gods with it; and now, every fool in Buxton can be in Bakewell in half an hour, and every fool in Bakewell at Buxton; which you think a lucrative process of exchange – you Fools everywhere.

I think we have mellowed since then and have learnt to live with and interpret our industrial heritage.

***

PILGRIM’S PROGRESS. THE HIGH PEAK.

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Day 9. Whaley Bridge to Buxton.

I have my pilgrim shoes on once again, actually, they are my new boots. I bought a pair of HH lightweight boots about three years ago, and they have served me well. Last time out, I noticed a slit in the uppers, and the soles are wearing out. No problem, because I was so pleased with the original pair that last year, I purchased the same to be kept ‘under the bed’ until needed. They should fit straight from the box, I hope.

I’m continuing my ‘pilgrimage’ from home, Longridge, to Lichfield, following in the footsteps of Saxon monks through Mercia. I’ve crossed Greater Manchester and I’m heading into the Peak District proper.

My train from Manchester covers ground I recognise from my last trip. New Mills., Peak Forest Canal, arriving back in bustling Whaley Bridge. There is not a lot of ancient history in Whaley, although the name is of Anglo-Saxon origin. The Romans chose here for the crossing of the river Goyt on their road from Buxton to Manchester. Coal mines and mills were the biggest employers until the early 20th Century, and the canal and railway improved prosperity.

The only cafe open is the Bridge Bakery, which proves very popular.

I sit outside with my drink, indulging myself with a Pain au Chocolat for my second breakfast.

Getting into conversation with a charming lady with a tale to tell. Both her husband and son-in-law suffered a stroke within 24 hours of each other. I end up staying much longer than planned. The morning is disappearing by the time I leave.

It starts off well alongside the Goyt.

It was back in 2019 when the Todbrook Dam, directly above the town, leaked, causing a hurried evacuation. I had not expected the repairs to be continuing, so my planned paths were initially closed and diverted away from the dam. (The repair is running over budget and behind schedule). A bit of improvising was needed. In hindsight, it would have been easier just to follow the road, which I end up on in any case.

The ongoing path, when I find it, skirts that all-too-familiar developer’s metal fencing before flower-filled meadows.

I reach the few houses and the church at Taxal. Last night, I drew a red line on the map with my possible route, mainly based on the Midshires Way in the forest on the west side of the Goyt Valley. I meet a gentleman preparing to go metal detecting somewhere hereabouts. He suggests a better way on the east side, closer to the River Goyt.

I have time to explore the small 12th-century church. It is dedicated to St. James, associated with the Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. It is only later that I read there are examples of his symbol, the scallop shell, around the church. The bell tower is the oldest structure within the church. I admire the stained glass of the East window.

While sitting outside, another man appears through the graveyard, walking his dog. He also recommends the lower route, especially if you have a dog, which I obviously don’t.

So the decision is made, dog or no dog, let’s go with their recommendations. I drop down to a ford over the shallow Goyt but resist the temptation to get my new boots wet.

I’m soon on lovely paths, often in trees and then in open meadows, with the River never far away. I think I have made the right choice as the Midshires Way seems to involve a lot more steep climbing. My path just gradually ascends over the next couple of miles.

At one point, men from the Environmental Agency are ‘electric fishing’, monitoring the fish population.,

A road comes in from somewhere, and the car park is busy with people walking babies and dogs.

I don’t need to cross the dam; an unexpected lane goes alongside the east side of Fernilee Reservoir, following the line of the old Crompton to Whaley Bridge railway. Completed in 1831 to carry minerals, coal and goods through the hilly rural terrain, the highest and steepest in the country at the time. It closed in 1967. I enjoy my easy stroll along here.

The interpretation boards recount the valley’s history before the construction of the two reservoirs. Stockport Corporation built Fernilee Reservoir in 1933 for drinking water, covering the old gunpowder mill, paint mill and several farms.

When the last member of the Grimshaw family of Errwood Hall died in 1930, Stockport Corporation acquired their estate as well. In 1968, it completed the Goyt Reservoir, now known as the Errwood Reservoir. The dam of Errwood Reservoir requires a bit more effort to reach, and once there, I see that the water is very low, the ugly side of reservoirs.

Lunch is taken sitting on some rocks. It would be interesting to follow the course of the old railway over to Buxton or the Goyt to its source. But having rejoined the Midshires Way, I’ll be content with that. I almost miss the path, leaving the road and dropping down to a stream.

It is now continuous climbing for 600ft or more, I wonder if this has been a packhorse route.

Good to be up on the open moor on a day like this.

There are improving views northwards over Chapel-le-Frith to distant Kinder, and is that Castle Naze above Combs?

I know I must be getting near White Hall outdoor centre when I spot apparatus in the woods and hear screaming children enjoying themselves. A boy comes hurtling past on a zip wire.

This P&NF sign dates back to 1938, number 95. I wonder where number one is?

The skylarks are in full force, but I fail to get a decent audio of them.

The straight road was Roman, up from Buxton heading to Whaley Bridge. It has been resurfaced lately, allowing for carefree walking to my highest point of the day, which is about 1,500 ft. My attention is drawn to a line of gritstone crags to the left. I start imagining climbing routes up them. I expect they have already been documented. (Later at home, I track them down – https://www.ukclimbing.com/logbook/crags/buxton_boss-17725/#overview) I’m starting to tire, so stop for frequent drinks of water. I’m glad I brought plenty, as the temperatures are in the mid-twenties. The traffic-free lane meets up with the main road, which I am worried about walking down. But after a short stretch, a footway appears all the way into Buxton.

The houses are on the grand scale, most now split into appartments.

In the centre are the Dome, the Opera House, the Baths and the Crescent, to name a few. Regency architecture is everywhere.

As I sit in the shade by the church, its bells ring out, 4pm. St. John’s, the parish church from 1811, doesn’t look particularly inviting.

Time to fill my water bottles up at the well. St. Anne’s Well is built on the site of former wells, and pilgrims of old would have stopped here for the pure warm water. They also visited the mineral spars. Buxton Mineral Water is bottled from pipes at this site. A couple have travelled from Leicester to fill up many gallon containers.

After the disappointment of St. John’s church, I seek out the oldest building in Buxton, St. Anne’s Church. Unsigned, it is tucked away down an alley. A single-storey building from the C17th. It was the parish church until St. John’s was built. Unfortunately it is locked at this time of day.

There are some interesting old pubs in this part of town.

My room for the night is in the market square, located above The Vault, a former bank that has been converted into a pub.

I received emails from them. “Rooms@theVault is a Self-Service concept that requires very little interaction between yourself and the staff” – scary.

On the day I received instructions on gaining entry to the property.

“ACCESS –Your accommodation is located above The Vault pub, which is situated on the corner of Buxton’s Marketplace, opposite the Town Hall. Facing the pub, turn right for 20 yards down Chapel Street. Turn left along Torr Street (by the balloon shop) and you will see a wooden gate clearly marked. Walk down the passage to another clearly marked wooden gate. Take the wrought iron staircase to the black door and entry keypad.
REAR DOOR ACCESS CODE – 1303

ROOM ACCESS – Once in the building, you have been allocated Room 3, and your key safe code is 0033.

KEYS – On your keyring is a metal door key, a key card for the electric slot in your room and a plastic fob (when held to the entry keypad, this automatically opens the rear door).

EXIT – When leaving the building, you need to press the door release switch, which is located to the right of the exit door. The staff in the pub have no responsibility for the guests staying in the accommodation and will not be able to assist with check-in“.

What could go wrong? Well, I can’t find the first wooden door to start with, as I walk up and down Torr Street, nobody can help. I realise the wooden door is open, so I can go straight down the passageway. The outer door opens with the magic code, but I don’t initially see an obvious way to get the room keys out of the coded box. I eventually sit on the bed in my room. I need a coffee, it’s been a long day. Modern technology sometimes confuses me; dare I go out again?

The room was perfect, clean, spacious and well-appointed.

View of the marketplace.

The TV is in another world to me. I am unable to get a news channel to appear among all the other suggestions on Netflix and Disney. And no, I don’t want to watch a five-year-old episode of Love Island.

I venture out with care, clutching my key and remembering the codes. Fish and chips £12. Just to retain my sanity, here is a blast from the past, some of you may recognise. Established in 1972, I would often call in to buy equipment if climbing in the area. Nothing to do with Joe Royal, the footballer.***