Return to Millers Dale
It was a beautiful summer’s day in 2000 when Mick,
Larry and I decided to have a little potter around
Chee Dale and Millers Dale. It was left to me to
come up with a suitable walk with the hard bits in
the morning, the easy bits in the afternoon and a
pub in the middle.
We had decided to park
Mick’s Car at Millers Dale Station Car Park.
This, initially, was a little bit upsetting
for Mick who detests having to pay for
parking. However, public conveniences were
nearby and, as it had been almost two hours
since we had left Warwickshire, Larry and I
quickly found the coinage for parking fees and
without more ado made a B line to the Loos.
The walk today was initially to take us up the big hill on the other side of the River Wye (to the south of the station). Mick and I had both ascended it when we completed the Peak District Challenge earlier in the year. When we tackled it then we were about 16 miles into the walk and this bit had been the hardest part of the whole "ordeal". Today we expected it to be easier, as we would be "fresh", but it would still be the stiffest "climb" of this day. We took a route slightly east of the one Mick and I had used previously which meant we walked along the old Monsal Railway track, over the river, and resulted in us starting higher up than we had the two or three months earlier.
It was very pleasant walking up the wooded slopes but I certainly was relieved to cross over that final stile that took us out of the wood and across the fields to Priestcliffe.
From Priestcliffe, with
the sun shining on our faces we walked along
the lanes and crossed the A6 to reach
Taddington. As the first check point on the
White Peak Walk is slightly to the west of
Taddington, we were all aware of the village.
However, it was the first time we had visited
it and very nice it looked too. Just tucked
away from the busy A6, only a few miles from
both Buxton and Bakewell, it looked idyllic as
we wandered through it in the mid morning
sunshine which was getting warmer all the
time. Or was it because I was getting warmer
as we went up hill looking for a path on the
right that would take us across the fields to
Chelmorton and lunch.
We found the path and more uphill work took us to near the reservoir at Sough Top where we enjoyed "elevenses" while a group of cows grazed in the next field adjacent to the stile we had to negotiate to continue our trek. They soon moved when we started to climb over it but as the field the other side was full of their relations Larry, who would rather not be in close proximity to cows, made sure that either Mick or I were always between him and the cattle. He will deny this but Mick and I know the truth.
Cattle behind us, Larry in front, we wandered through the fields, crossing the Limestone Way as we dawdled along the path to Chelmorton. Yes, I know it seems strange us dawdling when a pub is probably less than a mile away, but we had made good time that morning and realised we would probably arrive at the "oasis" before noon, and opening time. We did, so we had a look at the village, which at 1200 feet above sea level is the highest village in Derbyshire. No wonder it seemed most the morning had been spent going uphill - it had.
This is where Larry fell
in love. I don’t know the lady’s name but
while Mick and I were in the Church Inn
drooling over our Yorkshire Pudding, mashed
potatoes and sausages, Larry was drooling over
the barmaid. Well maybe not drooling, but at
least panting a lot. He blamed it on the heat
but as we were in the shade of the bar with
pints of cool beer in front of us Mick and I
considered he was affected by something more
feminine. Needless to say under the persuasion
of Larry we stayed longer there than we had
intended, certainly eaten a more than adequate
lunch, and done more than just quench our
thirst, so it was certainly with effort that
we said farewell to the hostelry and continued
our journey.
Fortunately within 10
minutes Larry had got over being lovesick, but
I do know that he has revisited the pub!!The
sun was now really "doing its stuff" but most
of our route was now downhill, or on the flat,
so, although the afternoon’s ramble would be
longer, minimal ascending would make it
comparatively easy.
Continuing in a general westerly direction we soon reached the southern end of Horseshoe Dale, which continues north to become the wider Deep Dale. This area reminds me of the upper reaches of Lathkill Dale. It has the same rugged splendour and even the same vegetation with orchids overing the steep slopes. It also reminded me of an American "cowboy" Canyon and one half expected to see the Apaches on the skyline, bows and arrows at the ready to ambush the Palefaces travelling below. The romantic in me was coming out or was it because I’d had too much beer and too much sun?
Soon we were in Deep Dale
and visited a large cave on the eastern slope
and took a short break before continuing
north.
When I’m driving my car I hate it when other drivers want to get in my "boot" and I will often move over to let them pass, rather than hold them up, particularly if I want to motor along slowly and enjoy the countryside. Similarly when I am walking, if the path is narrow and some one wants to pass me, I "pull over", and let them pass. Now the path at the bottom of Deep Dale gets very narrow and we came upon three walkers going considerably slower than we were but would they move over and let us pass? No way. We must have followed them for well over a quarter of a mile before they decided to stop and let us overtake. Hooray. Now we could go at our pace, which was a lot easier than going slowly at theirs.
Soon we neared the mouth
of Deep Dale and Topley Pike Quarry. What a
mess. How ugly. It is difficult to believe the
beauty of the top end of the dale when you
reach its junction with the A6. I remember
walking past a lagoon full of some awful
looking liquid and passing spoil heaps. We
didn’t spend time here but quickly crossed to
the north side of the road, through the car
park and along the path that would lead us to
Wye Dale, Chee Dale and Millers Dale. We were
all looking forward to this.
The path took us through shady vegetation close to the Wye, under tall bridges that trains would have used on their journey from Bakewell to Buxton before we crossed to the north bank of the river near Mosley Farm and the beginning of Chee Dale. Here the path followed close to the river on our right with the almost vertical cliffs of the dale gradually steepening on our left. Soon the distance between the two became so narrow that the path took to the river and we continued downstream on slabs of concrete that had been conveniently placed on the river bed to act as stepping stones.
Retracing our steps back
down to the river, we rejoined the downstream
path which soon took us over our third
footbridge over the Wye and, as the path again
narrowed, we came to the proper stepping
stones. Today, unlike the last time I had been
here there was no rising river and no nervous
female travelling at a snail pace over the
stones. The water was clear, the "stones" were
high in the water. We all enjoyed this part of
our stroll and it was an ideal location for a
few photos.
The gorge continued and
in parts we walked under overhanging rocks.
These would have been very useful if it had
rained, but the shade of them was cool and
pleasant today. The next main landmark was a
stream entering the Wye from the north, which
we crossed via a small wooden bridge. Soon we
reached an area with wider banks and a
footbridge that transported us to the fields
that had materialised on the south bank. From
here a short walk south-east brought us to
another part of the old railway track. A turn
left took us over another old railway bridge,
which is now often used, for absailing to the
riverbank below. Mick informed us that some
years ago he had partaken in this activity
from this bridge. Neither Larry or I were keen
to have a go. We hadn’t got the equipment
anyway. So we continued along the railway
track – the Monsal Trail - at a leisurely pace
and soon reached Millers Dale Car Park and the
starting point for our trip home.
The walk today was initially to take us up the big hill on the other side of the River Wye (to the south of the station). Mick and I had both ascended it when we completed the Peak District Challenge earlier in the year. When we tackled it then we were about 16 miles into the walk and this bit had been the hardest part of the whole "ordeal". Today we expected it to be easier, as we would be "fresh", but it would still be the stiffest "climb" of this day. We took a route slightly east of the one Mick and I had used previously which meant we walked along the old Monsal Railway track, over the river, and resulted in us starting higher up than we had the two or three months earlier.
It was very pleasant walking up the wooded slopes but I certainly was relieved to cross over that final stile that took us out of the wood and across the fields to Priestcliffe.
We found the path and more uphill work took us to near the reservoir at Sough Top where we enjoyed "elevenses" while a group of cows grazed in the next field adjacent to the stile we had to negotiate to continue our trek. They soon moved when we started to climb over it but as the field the other side was full of their relations Larry, who would rather not be in close proximity to cows, made sure that either Mick or I were always between him and the cattle. He will deny this but Mick and I know the truth.
Cattle behind us, Larry in front, we wandered through the fields, crossing the Limestone Way as we dawdled along the path to Chelmorton. Yes, I know it seems strange us dawdling when a pub is probably less than a mile away, but we had made good time that morning and realised we would probably arrive at the "oasis" before noon, and opening time. We did, so we had a look at the village, which at 1200 feet above sea level is the highest village in Derbyshire. No wonder it seemed most the morning had been spent going uphill - it had.
Continuing in a general westerly direction we soon reached the southern end of Horseshoe Dale, which continues north to become the wider Deep Dale. This area reminds me of the upper reaches of Lathkill Dale. It has the same rugged splendour and even the same vegetation with orchids overing the steep slopes. It also reminded me of an American "cowboy" Canyon and one half expected to see the Apaches on the skyline, bows and arrows at the ready to ambush the Palefaces travelling below. The romantic in me was coming out or was it because I’d had too much beer and too much sun?
When I’m driving my car I hate it when other drivers want to get in my "boot" and I will often move over to let them pass, rather than hold them up, particularly if I want to motor along slowly and enjoy the countryside. Similarly when I am walking, if the path is narrow and some one wants to pass me, I "pull over", and let them pass. Now the path at the bottom of Deep Dale gets very narrow and we came upon three walkers going considerably slower than we were but would they move over and let us pass? No way. We must have followed them for well over a quarter of a mile before they decided to stop and let us overtake. Hooray. Now we could go at our pace, which was a lot easier than going slowly at theirs.
The path took us through shady vegetation close to the Wye, under tall bridges that trains would have used on their journey from Bakewell to Buxton before we crossed to the north bank of the river near Mosley Farm and the beginning of Chee Dale. Here the path followed close to the river on our right with the almost vertical cliffs of the dale gradually steepening on our left. Soon the distance between the two became so narrow that the path took to the river and we continued downstream on slabs of concrete that had been conveniently placed on the river bed to act as stepping stones.
With the river low and
sluggish it was a very easy stroll on the "stones"
through this part of the river gorge. Back on land
the path resumed until another bridge was crossed
to the south bank. - here the river was too deep
for stepping stones and the north side of the gorge
too steep to accommodate a path.
We crossed the bridge but, rather than continue
downstream on the south bank, we took a short
detour that took us to the abandoned railway bridge
that crossed the river a short distance further
downstream. Here were super views down into the
gorge and the river. It must have been a wonderful
experience to have travelled on this railway
through such wonderful scenery.