thenorthwind wrote: ↑Sat Feb 18, 2023 10:59 pm
I assume you came up with the title and then had to plan a ride round it?
Probably at the same time TBH
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Right, I've finally managed to convert my photos back from HEICs (whatever they might be) to JPGs after something went weird with my phone.
But first, to liven things up, I think we'll have a quiz question. Answer at the end. What are these?
Don't go to Limmogy's, have chips instead....
After a pleasant train ride to Macc, I met up with Frog and Kev Raggedstone and naturally the first thing we did was visit the second best chippy in the world opposite the station. As well as the food you get lots of free banter with the owner as well, which is fun. It also put off the evil moment that we had to set off on the 1000' continuous climb up the Old Buxton Road to the forest. In fact we wanted to put that moment off so much, that after only a couple of hundred yards of riding we stopped and gave up and nipped into the Silk Trader to, er, stiffen our resolve. I got chatting to the bloke behind the bar, and he said that the Macc Lads do actually pop in fairly often. Better than that, they'd actually had a live band called the
Mock Lads recently who came all the way from Norway! The Norwegian Macc Lads, I can't picture it but there we go.
Cleaned my teeth, put on my best clobber....
We finally made it up the hill and were presented with three different kipping options - a wood, a shed, and a caravan. Perfect. We knew it was going to rain heavily overnight but Kev went for the woods so fair play to him, Lu decided he fancied the van, so that left me with the sheep shed which contained some huge bales of wool - Kev claimed they would be "too soft". Well that's me these days so no problem. Kev said he'd once bought a wool-filled duvet, and I've got a couple of Welsh wool pillows. We're always raving on about the importance of a decent mattress aren't we? Three inches this, four inches that, etc. In fact these bales formed a
four feet deep mattress which must be the comfiest kip I've ever had, and would surely be good down to -50c or something with an R-value of about a million. Admittedly I reeked of lanolin in the morning and had to avoid a number of sheep who'd taken more than a healthy interest in me.
The van was derelict but had obviously been a shepherd's refuge and it contained a couple of mattresses, a cooker, and a huge pile of books which would have kept us entertained for months. Apart from the raging rain and wind sweeping across from the Cheshire plains 1000' below at 2am - my corrugated iron shed sounded like 500 church bells dropped at the same time and the place leaked like a sieve - we all seemed to sleep well anyway, although Lu's van had an alarming habit of tipping down at one end and then back up again, rather like the coach cliffhanger in The Italian Job, if he moved too much.
She used to play for Wigan at the back of the scrum....
Lu kindly invited me to partake of breakfast in his luxury accommodation, although we both declined to consume any of the stash of porridge or baked beans (although Lu carried the Pringles round for the rest of the weekend! Once you pop.....). Then it was away up the hill to collect Kev, and continue the long climb up to the Cat & Fiddle pub. You can just about see the whole of Manchester far below.
I watched The Two Ronnies....
From the Cat & Fiddle there's a long bridleway across Axe Edge Moor to Dane Bower and its old coal mine and quarry, the ancient chimney providing an incongruous sight in this remote location. The views across the whole of Cheshire are superb from here. Crossing the infant River Dane was made considerably easier wearing my fancy new ArcticDry waterproof socks.
Eventually we reached Flash, the highest village in England, and the very excellent Flash Bar Cafe. Time for second breakfast. And of course it's never too early for cake, so Lu topped his full breakfast up with a generous slice of Bakewell pudding cake.
They'd never heard of Boddington's....
Suitably replete we headed off into the Upper Dove Valley, which seems to be little known and I've not seen many visitors each time I've been. Due to the soggy conditions we decided against a diversion via Tenterhill ford and Booth Farm, and just headed straight to Hollinsclough. I'm sure my promise of another cafe had no bearing on the lads' decision. Yes, it had been a good hour since second breakfast and two hours since first breakfast, so plainly we needed a reasonably unprecedented third breakfast. This one is a bit different because it's an "honesty cafe" hidden in a shed by the river. Choose your favoured wares, add up the cost on the handy calculator, type the figure into the machine, and swipe your card, all done! Nice coffee, a huge range of cakes and biscuits, along with honey, cheese, and plenty of other stuff. You could have stayed all day to be honest.
From here we headed south following the River Dove along various tracks and bridleways, up past Earl Sterndale. The great thing about this area is the varied scenery, with bleak moors and gritstone/shale one minute, followed by limestone and its associated cosy valleys and woodland the next. At this point there was a cracking view across the Dove valley.
They'll ask the recipe for chips and gravy....
Turning east we picked up the Pennine Bridleway, with more desolate moorland, until we dropped down through Priestcliffe into Monsal Dale and the old railway station on the Monsal Trail. Another thing I like about this part of the Peaks is as well as the well-known trails - Monsal Trail, Tissington Trail, High Peak Trail - there's loads of limestone bye-ways and tracks to explore, and there's a particularly concentrated number around Priestcliffe.
There's another good cafe at the old station, but we had a wander up and down the Trail before indulging in our third cafe of the day. To the west there are two entertaining tunnels, with a couple of bridges over the spectacular gorge of the River Wye. An amusing few minutes can be enjoyed watching the youngsters on their "abseiling experience" hurling themselves off one of the bridges with many a screech and squeal.
Oh, go on then, another coffee at the station cafe, and then head eastwards following the river through two more long tunnels past Cressbrook and its dark satanic mills. A display board reminds you of its grim past when orphans were effectively kidnapped from London and brought up here to work in the cotton mills. An idyllic life in the country indeed....
Sheep, sheep, everywhere....
The light was gradually fading as we hauled ourselves up out of the valley on a nasty climb and headed across more bleak fields to our chosen hostelry for the evening. I've been here a number of times, albeit only every couple of years or so. We'd only been there a few minutes when a lady said to me "oh hello Chris". It took me a second to recognise her - the bar lady from when I visited in 2021 two years ago. Anybody would think Bearboners are memorable or something! Sadly Bearlegged was unable to fulfil his guest appearance after all, but an extremely convivial evening was spent consuming excellent food and ale, and plenty of bollocks was spoken obviously.
Sheep on the pavement....
When we finally departed, the wind was really getting up although at least no rain was forecast. We made our way to my usual graveyard spot where there's plenty of space to set shelters up discreetly. However, the wind was now so fierce, Lu and myself were ready and waiting to deploy our Gatewoods but we bottled it and went for the indoor option and the gardener's shed. Raggy of course is made of sterner stuff and stuck with the alfresco alternative. I had the necessity of a "night time visit" at about 3am, and during my quick sojourn outside the wind was incredible with the trees bending alarmingly, so fair play to you there Kev.
Goodness knows what Harriett and Joseph made of Kev's proceedings, but Lu and myself were very cosy in our shed including a particularly relaxing first breakfast.
[cont'd....
