The views on this route start straight away, taking the path from Cutthroat bridge past Ladybower Wood to Ashopton quickly reveals wooded slopes and the reservoir. Turning north and contouring for a while set the tone for the rest of the day, fine fore, middle and distant views all at the same time.
Fine views before you've hardly started.
I was soon leaving the wooded valley side and heading up past Hurkling Stones onto Derwent Moors. The views just kept getting better and better as I headed towards the Wheel Stones, as the OS map calls them, also known as Coach and Horses.
The route had more stones than you can shake a stick at and I soon lost track, pretty sure these are Hurkling Stones.
Most of the time there was a rock formation immediately ahead, the next and often another was usually in sight and further in the distance the great land masses of the peak could be seen.
Looking north along Derwent Edge - Wheel Stones or Coach and Horses on the right.
The edge continues to drop away sharply until a little after Dovestones Tor, now the edge on the west becomes less steep and the drop to the east steeper so that the path follows a broad ridge. Even here there is little to obstruct distant views as the ground is not that bumpy.
Back Tor. The 'edge' path now follows a broad ridge, Lost Lad is just visible on the near horizon.
Stones continue to mark progress until Lost Lad is reached and the paths start to drop away sharply. I headed north, north east on a track towards Berristers Tor. The plan was to cross Abbey Brook and take a more or less direct line following Howden Edge to Featherbed Moss and then to join the path to Margery Hill shortly after. This was a line I had read about and which made sense.
When I reached the crossing with the right of way at Abbey Brook I could see my intended line ahead. However, I could not see a safe way to cross Abbey Brook which ran in a steep sided groove. Instead, I followed the RoW east until an easy crossing presented itself about a kilometre later. I must come back to follow some more of this path, I thought it outstandingly pretty and do not regret the detour at all. The bash across open moors back to Featherbed Moss was hard going and I frequently had to stop running to avoid tripping. I was lucky enough to see three mountain hares in their winter coats here, by 'eck they are big. They weren't stopping to have their photos taken unfortunately.
Green and pleasant, Berristers Tor left and the right of way path east.
Once back on Howden Edge my route became obvious once more. Various stones and outcrops punctuated the way, though none were as outstanding as those on Derwent Edge. A strong wind blew in from the west and a chill began to creep over me. I made the slight detour from the edge to the indistinct top of Margery Hill, the sky was now darker and the atmosphere felt suddenly bleak as I struggled into my wind proof at the summit before snapping the trig point and surrounding rocks.
Margery Hill, felt as desolate as it looks here.
I was glad to begin a descent that I thought would bring me shelter, though I was some way down before there was any noticeable decrease in the wind. As I neared Slippery Stones the sun reappeared and I started to warm up again.
Almost down to Slippery Stones and the Derwent valley. Fast and deep fords.
The fords at the northern end of Howden Reservoir mark the junction of the moorland and the more municipal round the reservoir paths and there were as many people here as I had seen all day. I had seen no one along Howden Edge and, once I set off north for the path following the Derwent, was to see no one again for a good while.
The path was mostly in sunshine while the valley side to my left was in shadow. This fortuitous chiaroscuro kept me warm enough and the views charming and gentle, a pleasant contrast to the open views on the tops.
The minor path on Ronksley Moor, following Lower Small Clough, was just visible from the Derwent path. Getting to the path involved another difficult crossing. I opted for knee deep immersion rather than risk a slip and complete soaking trying to use slimy submerged stepping stones.
Following the Derwent from Slippery Stones to Lower Small Clough.
The end of Lower Small Clough marked the halfway point of my route, a circumstance that I celebrated with coke, bun and flapjack. It had taken longer than expected to get here and I decided that it would be best to follow the more common path back to Crook Hill from Alport Castles (missing out Win Hill) to avoid getting caught in the dark later (though I did have my head torch).
Shooting cabin.
The way ahead became obvious once more as I headed into a huge cutting. I made sure that I did not stray into an old drain running at right angles to my path. It was sort of fun running in a channel whose sides were higher than my head, again the lighting added to the atmosphere.
Giant drainage ditch between the end of Lower Small Clough and the track down to Ridge Upper Moor.
My map did not extend far enough to identify the view in the photo above (looking back along the cutting). Subsequent research suggests that the group of rocks on the far horizon is Horse Stone.
The descent, on a well made track, to Ridge Upper Moor was steep and fast. For the most part terrain was predictable enough for this descent to be enjoyed without complaint from battered toes.
Ridge Upper Moor looking green and welcoming.
In the woods I looked for and found the ford across the River Westend. Like many 'fords' today this one could not really be distinguished from 'river' in general except that a path stopped and started on either side of it. The Westend was wide and moving fast, not so fast that I feared being carried away, but fast enough to make staying upright a challenge. I had not run more than a hundred meters along the other side when I saw a perfectly solid bridge. That isn't shown on the map!
I continued along the track and somehow managed to miss a path on my right. Fortunately this became obvious as the track met a road within a few hundred meters and I retraced my steps. The path was actually signposted to Alport Castles, I'll blame low blood sugar.
It's a fair old slog up to the Castles with the best views behind you, here I met the first people since Slippery Stones. If I had known what I was in for, the journey up would have been easier as the 'castles' are truly fantastic. Once again the hard winter sun lit the scene magnificently. One is left with the impression that a chunk of Petra was transported to the Peak District where it acquired a thin covering of rough grass over the centuries.
The incredible Alport Castles, the Tower.
Alport Castles edge, Little Moor and Rowlee Pasture.The path across Rowlee Pasture gave great views to the south west and seeing Win Hill made the idea of including it look tempting again. I had started to make a little time and calculated that I could make it. I would be able to descend in half light and it would not get truly dark until after Yorkshire Bridge. I had a contingency plan for this last mile or so which was to retrace my outward route, rather than face the uncertain paths through the woods on the other side of the A57 in the dark.
I took the right of way skirting woods down to Hagg Farm and beyond, crossed the road and ran into woods, crossed the Ashop via the luxury of a good bridge then started the steep climb up through trees to Hope Cross.
Last big climb, Win Hill, a bit more than half the ascent to go.
So began the climb along the 'beasts back' of Hope Brink. The summit seemed a long way off, but I covered the four kilometres fairly steadily. I could not resist looking back to see Lose Hill and Great Ridge in the sun's late glow. At this point I realised I would be in shadow while I made my descent. There have been several occasions on recent runs when I have realised the importance, or even just relevance for photographic purposes, of taking the angle and direction of light into account when planning a route.
The light did not prove to be a problem as I began my descent. This was fortunate as the bridleway down was difficult underfoot. As I stopped to photograph an attractive lichenous sign post that said 'chipotle and chilli bean wraps' (spelt Yorkshire Bridge), I was passed by another runner taking the same path. I gave chase just for the fun of it and was soon whizzing down a slightly slippery woodland path. This path was a sheer joy after the earlier stony steps and in my enthusiasm I forgot to keep a check on my direction. Frequent deviations to avoid fallen trees and many linked paths soon had me disorientated. I sort of realised, but was having too much fun to care. As long as I was heading down I couldn't go too far wrong. The path then began to level which meant I was headed the wrong way. I decided that I would retrace my steps if a way to my right did not present itself soon. It was not long before I did see a way down to the edge of Ladybower, I was quite a long way north of the dam when I got down.
I followed the path along the water's edge to the dam, artificial lights were starting to twinkle in the last of the natural light. There was just enough light to allow photographs of the overworked over flows (with elbows braced on the parapet). Stunning.
I did not put my torch on as I started up the path back to Cutthroat Bridge, I wanted to be sure that I knew where I was relative to the road so as not to miss the car park. A printing error meant that I did not have a map of the final few hundred metres, I did not want to rejoin the road knowing not whether to go up or down. In the dark progress was slow and I started to think that I had missed the turning. I saw a fence leading down towards the road and decided to follow it. Part way down I saw a bridge ahead and to my left and realised that I had anticipated the path by about ten metres!
I put on my head torch before crossing and following the road back to the car, my those wraps tasted good.
I mapped the route using few nodes which would cause an underestimation of the distance, with that and semi intentional and unintentional deviations I think I ran closer to 27.5 than 25.5 miles. All in all a cracking run not far short of category A, but feels a lot less. The research I am putting into routes these days is really paying off. I am particularly grateful to mountainboxer for his description of the original route (to which I added Win Hill and changed the start to suit my training needs).
My venerable C-lites were in such poor condition when I started this run that I actually took a spare pair of shoes with me for safety, the old ones just made it all the way. I think they had a fitting last run, perhaps I should have thrown them into the sink holes for a grand exit. It turned out to be the final run for a trusty pair of gloves too, when I drove off forgetting that I had wedged them between roofbars and roof while I got the wraps out.
