Ladybower's eastern side.

A very varied jaunt of around 26 miles and 4700'+ of ascent.  Started from Cutthroat bridge and taking in Bradfield Dale, Broomhead Moor, Ewden Beck, Stirling wreck, Derwent and Bamford Edges.

The forecast for Saturday was not good, starting bright, but then showers some heavy and brisk winds.  As it turned out things were quite a lot worse than anticipated.  While not needing any of the extra gear I always insist on lugging around, I would have felt foolish and vulnerable had I not been carrying it.

I started on the Moscar path towards Strines Reservoir, this was pleasantly green, and I soon met the minor road which I would follow until leaving on the path past Sugworth Hall.  As tarmac sections go this was not bad at all, lovely views and a verge good enough to run on.  

There's tarmac and there's tarmac.  Minor road on the way to Sugworth Hall, Boot's tower lit by the sun.

The footpath, part of Sheffield Country Walk, goes through a 'tradesmen's entrance' to the side of the main gate to Sugworth Hall.  The main driveway is then followed before scuttling right into ancient rhododendrons.  The well maintained path wriggles delightfully through the  tangled shrubs.  Almost as soon as one's eyes have become accustomed to the shade, they are dazzled by the light streaming through the arch that forms the exit.

Footpath through the rhododendrons skirting Sugworth Hall.

As the eyes become re accustomed to daylight one can make out Boot's Tower framed in the arch (unfortunately not visible in the photo above as I neglected to use HDR mode).

The path passes within a hundred metres of the tower shortly,  access is permitted though I was unaware of this at the time.

Boot's Tower aka Boot's Folly aka Sugworth etc., etc.

It was a real pleasure to cross this open ground, a nice grassy path firm under foot, great views all round and the weather still holding.  The path starts downhill and then swings north east, approaching Strines Reservoir near its dam then following Dale Dike Reservoir.  March 2014 marks the 150th anniversary of the collapse of Dale Dike Dam and the event is commemorated in Bradfield.

 There is a choice of paths here, a lower path right on the reservoir's  shore and a higher parallel path.  I followed the higher path as I thought the views would be better (though it meant more tarmac later), I was not disappointed the views were superb.

Superb views of gentle countryside from Sheffield Country Walk path, Bradfield Dale.

The path swings up through woods to Blindside Lane, I followed the tarmac lane the couple of kilometres to Low Bradfield, there was plenty of interest.  Low Bradfield is quite lovely, a model village.  So much scenery behind me and only five miles into my run.  I ate a bun and had a good swig of cola.

Navigation now became a little trickier than I had anticipated.  My printer had failed to reproduce a rather important two centimetres of map.  I had not worried unduly as I just had to follow the edge of Agden Reservoir, unfortunately it was not visible from the road in.  In fact this reservoir turned out to be rather well hidden, for such a large mass of water, until one was a stones throw away.

I set off in the right general direction (north) and soon passed a Smallfield Lane, this was promising as Smallfield was the next visible thing on my map.  However a rather beautiful village, hanging in the hillside above me, caught my eye and I determined to take it in.  This village is High Bradfield, one of the most charming villages I have ever had the fortune to visit.  The photograph below gives a taste I hope.  This is somewhere I look forward to revisiting when I have time for lunch and a pint.

The charming village of High Bradfield, hung high on the hillside (and visited by Sheffield Country Walk).

I left High Bradfield, with some regret and turned back for Smallfield Lane.  There followed around two and a half kilometres of tarmac before swinging east across the moors on Dukes Road (path).  I had checked this section of tarmac on Google Street View and it looked pretty enough, it did not disappoint.

Dukes Road would be very difficult to miss.  No sooner are you on this bridleway, at first wide and well made, than the gentle views  give way to bleak moorland.  Looking behind me I could see the industrial cities of South Yorkshire, ahead was the High Peak, slightly left (south west) an ominous darkness was gathering.  As this was the direction of the wind, I elected to get into my waterproof while I was still dry.  This turned out to be a good call, by the time I had unrolled the jacket and got into it the rain was upon me, light at first, hail soon followed.  There was enough wind for the hail to hurt.

I ran on until I crossed Rushy Dike.  I intended to leave Dukes Road where it turns south west, however I was not sure whether the turn was clear enough to be easily noticeable.  Consequently I decided to keep my eye on the time, after crossing Rushy Dike, as there was little else to navigate by.  When the the bend came, it was pretty noticeable on the ground.

I left the path to head northish over the open moor, following the compass as there really was nothing to see.  I was aiming just east of grid north.  I wanted to meet Ewden Beck near where it is joined by Oaken Clough, it made sense to aim off to the east and follow Ewden Beck west.  Eventually I saw the shooting lodge to my right and the tree lined valley ahead.  I was pretty much bang on target which really had a lot to do with luck as I had had to follow groughs and detour round bog.

The valley floor, wonders both natural and unnatural.

I made my way down the valley side, indirectly, but safely.  This valley is the stuff that fairy tales are made of.  Everywhere was soft green and mossy, the river tumbled between boulders while rowan and birch looked kindly on.  Even the weather relented as if to smile on this magical place. It would be hard to imagine more of a contrast than between this scene and the bleak moorland I had just left.  I reached the valley floor at the junction with Oaken Clough.  I paused to get some photos of the stream, out of the top corner of my right eye I spotted something that was not of natural origin.

This was part of the wreckage of Short Sterling LJ628, fuselage ribs probably.  LJ628 crashed onto the moor on 21st July 1944 and despite the plane being smashed to pieces all ten of the crew survived, eight of the ten walked out!  I had not expected to see wreckage here as I was some way from the crash site.  I was also surprised that these pieces were so large, I thought all significant stuff had been taken by the Stirling Aircraft Project in 2005.

Close up of the debris seen at top right of the photo above.

Another aluminium rib.

Part of an aerofoil and control surface (and dead sheep for scale and atmosphere).

As I followed the beck I saw more large pieces of the aircraft including a section of aerofoil and pivoted control surfaces.  I had heard that some pieces of wreckage had been spotted remote from the crash site (at an unreported location).  Maybe they have been carried here then abandoned or maybe they were blown here when they still had significant amounts of sheet metal attached to catch the wind.

A tranquil, magical place.

I followed Stainery Clough out, the wooded valley soon gave way to open moorland again.  As if to emphasise the change in scenery, the hail re started with a vengeance.  Visibility became quite poor and the wind became bitter.  It was time for a bite to eat, but it was too wet and cold to stop and fuss.  I determined to make my way back onto the main route.

I set off on a bearing again, I had expected to run a bearing notwithstanding the weather, there would have been little to see had the visibility been better.  The aim was to meet the path some way after I had left it, but before the Howden Edge/Cartledge Stones Ridge fork.  I had enjoyed the path above Abbey Brook last time I was here and was determined to see more of it rather than take the shorter ridge path to Back Tor.  Several mountain hares later I dropped onto the path exactly where planned, a lot of luck must have been involved as I was drifting too far east every time I checked my bearing.  Somehow my guestimated course corrections seem to have worked out about right.

The narrow path high above Abbey Brook is pretty special, it is also pretty scary.  The hail had beaten up a fair muddy covering on the path, I took it steady.  There were gaps in the hail that allowed the odd snap, though I had nothing left that was dry enough to wipe the lens cover glass by now.

Path high above Abbey Brook, a break in the hail before turning south.  One wouldn't want to slip here.

The exhilaration of the Abbey Brook path over, it was time to swing back south along the track following Sheepfold Clough and on to Lost Lad, Back Tor and then follow the Derwent Edge path back down the reservoir.  The hail came hard for most of the run back, I found some shelter behind a boulder to get a bun and swap my cola bottle for a full one.

Eerie lighting, glimpses of a view through clearings in the cloud, sometimes I would see cloud below me over the reservoir.

I had the option of including a planned loop taking in Bamford Edge or heading back to Cutthroat bridge.  Despite the weather I was feeling OK and was well up for another six miles or so.  Shortly before the descent from Derwent Edge the weather relented as if to encourage me in my endeavour.  I took the 'straight off the end' path this time, an unlikely and fairly direct route to join the road for Bamford.

An unlikely looking descent.

I crossed Ladybower on the A6103 then took the footpath down to the Derwent and Yorkshire Bridge.  Here I picked up the bridleway to take the Long Tour of Bradwell route to the crossing at Bamford Mills and on up to New Road.  As I left New Road and started up for Bamford Edge the weather started to close in again.  I quickly took the photo below thinking that it might be the only one I would get of the Edge.  As can be seen, wiping the cover glass was still a problem.

I thought this might be the day's one and only photo of Bamford Edge as the weather closed in.

It was not long before the wind and hail reached a ferocious pitch, the hail was in my face and really painful.  I pulled my buff right up and well over my nose so that it was just under my specs.  Somewhat surprisingly this actually stopped my specs steaming up, this had been a significant problem when I zipped my jacket right up.

I started to feel the cold a bit, feeling in my fingertips had been something of a variable commodity for some hours, but in general I had stayed warm enough.  Now the cold started to be a bit threatening, I was glad I had eaten again at Yorkshire Bridge.  As I was still feeling fine I picked up my speed a little to keep warm.  I took in my surroundings, felt the weather increase its efforts, chuckled a little and thought to myself, "this is where I want to be", as long as my feet don't hurt I'm good.

Bamford Edge, the hail was starting to settle quite well.

Despite the fact that I was still enjoying  myself, the threatening cold made me glad to be near the end of my run.  I took a few more pictures figuring that they would illustrate how bad the weather was if nothing else.

As I turned east towards Cutthroat Bridge the hail eased a little and for the first time I could see, in the distance, just how much had settled where conditions were favourable.

It did not take long to cover the remaining distance to the car, improving visibility meant that I could navigate by sight.  I planned an optimum sequence of unlocking car doors, removing and replacing clothing, setting of the blowers and eating buns, while I ran.  I was that cold.

Hail settling like snow in the distance.

My last bun on the inside and fibre pile on the outside I set off for Bradwell where I intended a serious raid on the Co-op.  I had not warmed up fully and my teeth began to chatter as I shopped.  The cashier, kindly, asked if I was OK.  I explained that I had been running and would be fine once I had eaten the armfuls of food I had swept up.  Another customer said that he was running a marathon, Manchester, for the first time and had just completed his last long training run.  I wished him the best then set about my feast in the car park, there were no chipotle wraps this time (the falafel ones are not bad).


Another cracking run* in the Peak District.  This one really had it in variety of both scenery and terrain.  I must visit Ewden Beck again and the Bradfields, I also want to do even more of the Abbey Brook path.


Given the weather I was pretty comfortable and I am happy with my present gear choices.  I was particularly pleased with my Montane Minimus waterproof jacket.

Sunday's ten miles at home went smoothly, I was lucky with a weather window.  Old Hill looked particularly fine, the thought of it being torn up by bulldozers choked me.

Old Hill, looking fine on a March day.

*Run/walk to be accurate, the Ewden Beck section was not runnable.

Bradwell, Stanage, Burbage and a bit of the Derwent Valley.

A pleasant and varied 20 miles or so with 3,385' of ascent.  The basic theme of the route was to run the Long Tour of Bradwell eastern half rather than following a skyline, watershed or what have you.  My route took me from Bradwell to; Aston, Ladybower, Bamford, Stanage skyline, Burbage, Upper Padley, Leadmill, Abney and back to Bradwell. 

I decided to run this route on Saturday more because it was a convenient length and had good view potential rather than as a recce for the Long Tour.  All the same, it did give me the chance to re familiarise myself with some sections where navigation is tricky.  I started north from Bradwell village and then via the footbridge at Hope Station took the footpath to join the route proper at Aston.  A mist hung over the fields below me as I continued north towards the woods on the western side of the Ladybower dam.  Last time I was here I could see the gritstone edges to the east.  There were no distant views today, but I enjoyed the subtle fade to grey of the views to my right where the mist was lighter.   On my left swirls moved in the corner of my eye, sometimes falling back sometimes moving ahead.  It was as if I had companions, spectres jostling for position on the narrow path.

Misty morning, on the way to Ladybower from Aston.

I was soon at the highest point of this climb and so started the descent, gentle through the remains of bracken, then steeper in the woods on to what would be the midway point at just over 16 miles (CP8) in the race.  A hard turn south east and a short steep path took me down to the broad track alongside the reservoir past the overflow to the dam.  There was a lot less water going down the overflow than when I was here three weeks ago.  

A lot less water going down the plug'ole than last time I was here.

The 'Tour' then follows the made track alongside Carr Lane, the track crosses the lane after about 1500 metres.  Shortly after this the route leaves the track to follow a delightful path across green fields on the Derwent flood plain, to Bamford.

The Derwent crossing at Bamford really is something special, a collection of rude bridges linking piers, planks connecting widely spaced blocks and simple stepping stones.  The weirs and mill complete the scene with an attractive dynamic backdrop.  This all seems rather apt as it is thought that the name 'Bamford' comes from the Anglo-Saxon Bēamford meaning "tree-trunk ford".

Thornhill side of the crazy Derwent crossing at Bamford.

Bamford side of the crazy crossing.

I made my way through the village to the bottom of Bamford Clough.  Here a bit of a problem presented itself.  Bamford Clough was fenced off and closure notices were displayed prominently.  Apparently it had been closed since October and was to remain closed until April due to "exposed cables".  As no other alternative existed I decided to take the Leeside Road ; -). 

I made my way up the steep lane,  the concrete that has been dumped here and there was as slippery as ice.  The mist was waiting for me again as I emerged onto New Road, trees looked spooky cloaked in grey, there was still no sign of Stanage Edge.

A mad tree on Bole Hill, Stanage.

I followed the Long Causeway where it leaves the road and turns into track, past the car park, past woods and past climbers making their way up to the rocks.  At last, where the Causeway starts to swing east, I saw the edge looming above.  It was not long before I had made my way through the obvious break and turned off the track to follow the skyline path south east.

First sight of Stanage Edge, from Stanage causeway.

As the skyline mostly follows a contour line, I had looked forward to a bit of a rest when I ran this section in the Long Tour.  Rest it was not, the almost continuous trip hazards mean picking your feet up high and looking down to study the path immediately ahead.  Today, as I had arrived here much fresher, it was considerably easier to negotiate the rocky path.

At times, as I headed towards the southern trig point, the mist lifted a little and I could just make out Hope cement works shining a silvery white out there in the grey.

Stanage southern trig point, the mist is starting to clear.

In the kilometre from the trig point to Upper Burbage Bridge visibility improved considerably, this was welcome and earlier than forecast.  At the bridge, a little over ten miles or about halfway into today's route, I rearranged my ruck sac taking out a bun and some flapjack, finished a bottle of cola and put a full one in the side pocket.  I went through the stile and down to ford the streams, at the second arch I saw a nice black Labrador having a bath after a fell run.  The path beneath Burbage Rocks is well made and is downhill all the way to the Lower Bridge.  I passed many climbers with huge bouldering mats coming up the path.

Upper Burbage Bridge.

I crossed the road where the path ends near the Lower Bridge, I found a stile and short path leading along the road to the bridge and brook path.  This saved negotiating the dangerous bit of road by the bridge, I had not noticed this short path when running the Long Tour.

The path alongside Burbage Brook is really rather nice, it also very accessible so can be popular.  The route leaves the main path after a while and takes minor paths over Bole Hill* (the second and one of three Bole Hills within a few square miles) and through Bolehill Woods to Upper Padley.  Navigation is a bit tricky here, I had done OK in the event back in 2012, but knew that there was a more direct line.  Today I was determined to find it.

Burbage Brook meanders near Lawrence Field.

Near Lawrence Field (the field north east of the quarry that climbers know as 'Lawrencefield') I moved right off the main path and took a minor path that looked like it would skirt the edge of the woods, an efficient line.  The path seemed to come to an end in a tiny quarry.  The quarry was a gem of a place, full of millstones.  Now it is not uncommon to see the odd millstone in a quarry in Derbyshire or Staffordshire, it is unusual to see tens of perfectly formed and finished stones together.  Some were even stacked as if waiting to be picked for an order that never came.

I found a way up through the quarry, it looked like others had used the same route up which was heartening, and sure enough the path continued on the higher ground.

Abandoned stones in a tiny quarry.

My choice of path turned out to be fortuitous for a reason other than the discovery of the gem of a quarry.  Not far down the path, there in the dead bracken was some paper crisp edged and well defined, not your average piece of a litter but a pristine twenty quid note!  It was a little damp, but otherwise OK, I put it into my ruck sac pocket for safe keeping.

You don't see many of these in the wild!

I carried on down my chosen path, a larger path crossed after a while, which suggested I was on target and sure enough the gate through a wall into Bolehill Wood (CP14 in the event) appeared shortly.  I had forgotten how steep the descent through the wood and past the main quarry was.  Though it took me by surprise I handled it without incident.  There were a couple of moments of 'doubtful control' but on the whole I was pleased with how much better I am handling descents these days.

Crossing the bridge over the railway takes one past signals with the semaphore arm and lamps at eye level.  This unusual view fascinated me and I had to have a photo or two.  The improving light allowed a reasonable depth of focus on the tracks and signal box in the back drop.

Nice old railway signal from the bridge at Upper Padley, looking in the direction of Grindleford Station.

I had fond memories of the path along the Derwent to Leadmill Bridge, it was green, easy going and peaceful, even twenty five miles into an event it seemed restful.  Today I had run considerably less than that so this section seemed shorter than I had remembered.

 

Leadmill Bridge.

I turned onto the road and over the bridge, second right up the lane to Hazelford Hall to follow the tracks and paths along Highlow Brook (past the third Bole Hill) before taking Abney Clough, at Stoke Ford, for Abney.  I made sure I could locate the check point for myself at Stoke Ford, I happened to be temporarily running with someone who knew the location  in 2012.  It all seemed a bit easier when I was not feeling the mental numbness from the exhaustion of my first ultra.

However, despite my sharper mental state I managed to make a corker of a navigational error in the last few miles.  I navigated onto the lane out of Abney and onto the byway.  For some reason I then forgot to navigate further.  I must have run about a kilometre down the byway and past the path that turned down Bradwell Edge before I noticed what I had done.  I had to own up to that mistake as anyone who knows the route will know that I could not otherwise have taken the photo below.

Looking north from Brough Lane.

The descent down the Edge to Bradwell is steep, here one becomes very aware of how much of a battering one's toes have already suffered.  I completed the descent then managed a good pace through the village.  There is over a kilometre of tarmac before the finish, this is easily forgotten when descending the edge.

I was pleased with my run, I had managed a much better pace than in recent runs, it was my first 50+ mile week since last July and also heralded the start of proper back to back ultra training again.  I sat in Bradwell Coop car park with a sandwich and litre of strawberry milk for recovery.  I looked up at Bradwell Edge and do you know, from that angle, it was very hard to believe that it was even possible to run down it.  I gave myself a little nod of respect.

I felt fine on Sunday's back to back, I enjoyed my local route as much as I always do.  The particularly fine weather had me out smiling in shorts and short sleeves.  The mood was somewhat spoiled when I saw a planning notice for an open cast mine tied to a stile on Bignall Hill!  This will affect a number of the paths that I use and I can't see it improving the view, bugger.

* Update - A little research has informed me that a Bole hill or Bail hill was a place where lead was smelted in the open air.  The name is a description rather than place name (though it may later become incorporated into or become a place name). 

Back to back to backs

Day to day
My left knee injury is holding up as I start to increase my mileage back up to 2012 levels.  I have now finished an easy going 'back to marathon fitness' phase of my training.  I followed this with a couple of easy weekends and it is now time to restart back to back runs.  If all goes well after the first back to back 'hard' weeks of back to backs I will start to enter some ultras.  I am hoping there will still be places for the Ultra Brecon 50.

There is no doubt that my knee injury is still there, but reducing my stride length seems to have kept things from flaring up. I do seem to be running quite a bit more slowly than I used to.  I am not yet sure whether this is due to the change in stride length, age related decline or the lack of any speed work for a good while.  As my confidence in the knee increases I have now rescheduled some speed work back into my training.  A 10k lunch break pace session and a couple of other fast short runs didn't seem to do any harm.

The fast runs were run without orthoses in what, these days, would be described as 'minimalist' or 'barefoot' footwear or what runners of my vintage would call 'shoes'.  This is not to say that my physio's warnings were wrong, my shortened stride and the shoe type more or less preclude heel landing and consequent foot rolling.  However, the reason I have shortened my stride is not to prevent over pronation, it is because hyper extension of my knee hurts in real time.  Especially, shock following an over extended landing, i.e. jarring a foot when the knee is more than straight, causes excruciating pain and is probably the cause of past 'flare ups'.


Lighter evenings
It is still pretty dark for most of my longer midweek run, though there is some light in the sky for the first three miles now.  It has been fun navigating new extensions by head torch.

Some light in the sky now, though this is still early in my evening run.  Wedgwood monument Old Hill, Bignall End.

I cover some of the same ground in daylight on rest weekends.  I am getting to the point where I have to carry reading glasses for navigation, so I was surprised that my eye was caught by fungi only about 10mm across the other Sunday.  Apparently these are Scarlet Elf Cups, Sarcoscypha austriaca.  When I got closer I found more and larger fruiting bodies though the colour was not so good as those shown.

Bright red fungus, larger associated growths were not quite so intense in colour.

I tend to enjoy my midweek long run all through the year now.  Buying a head torch good enough to use off road must be one of the best decisions I have ever made.  I was starting to have serious motivational problems as a result of having to use routes lit by street lights.  I bought a Silva Trail Runner, the extra downward shining LEDs are a nice touch and I find it works well for me.  The Li ion rechargeable model wasn't made when I bought mine.  I have the old four AA cell waist belt type which I use with 2500 mAh rechargeable batteries.

All around all the reservoirs - A Ladybower Loop

A circuit of Ladybower, Upper Derwent and Howden reservoirs, from Cutthroat Bridge.  Taking in Derwent Edge, Margery Hill, Slippery Stones, Alport Castles, Win Hill and Yorkshire Bridge.  Great views, varied terrain and a cracking last day out for my venerable C-lite 2s (may their soles rest in peace).  25.5 miles, 5635' of ascent.

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.

Great Ridge and Kinder Skyline in the distance, from Win Hill.

Win Hill summit, time to get a move on, not much light left.

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.

A hole in the Peak District space time continuum

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.

Map of my intended route.  I ran a slightly different (longer) descent to the dam and retraced my outward route from there back to Cutthroat Bridge.

Edale Skyline

Getting away from it all.

I'm just making it home from work in time to see the sunset over my local route.  I even drive a way that gives me two different views of it.  On a bright day there is a surprising amount of light left in the sky, all the same, by the time I am changed and out it is dark once past the street lamps.

It was raining and windy when I set out for last weeks evening run, halfway round the rain turned to snow.  The ground was boggy and sodden where it wasn't muddy and slippery as hell, or actually flooded.  The rain and snow on my specs made the tree roots even trickier than usual.  The puddles on the Apedale Road were deep enough to submerge my shoes for a wash off when I left the woods behind and turned for home.  I haven't enjoyed a run so much in ages, I don't know why this one was special, but it's always good to know I have escaped the city.

 Leaving the city behind me for a while.

Edale Skyline and a window in the weather.

My knee hasn't been causing too many problems so I thought it was time to pick my mileage up a bit.  Views from the Hope valley run a fortnight ago made me think about running the Edale Skyline, I chose to do the race route, a category A of about 21 miles (plus the run from and to the car park), as the distance and ascent suited my purpose.  As a break in the weather was forecast for Sunday, that seemed like a good time to do it.

I met a bunch of people in Edale car park who were kitted like runners.  They were doing the half route (end at Mam Tor) in the same direction as I.

The sun showed its face as I started up the zig zags.   There was a haze in the sky but it was still possible to see most of the route from Ringing Roger, I allowed myself some optimism  concerning navigation.

Looking south east towards Win Hill before the real descent started.

Much of the skyline visible in this shot west from lower on Crookestone Hill, starting from Lose Hill on the left.

The run east towards The Roman Road on Win Hill was delightful except for some sludge at the bottom of Crookestone Hill.  I looked back up to the moor and thought I could see the group I met in the car park, some way off.

The ascent of Win Hill via the Roman Road was easier than the direct slog up had been a fortnight ago, but still had its moments.  There were some cracking views of the reservoirs to the left.  I could not see the group behind me, I thought I might meet them as I retraced my steps on the first part of the descent from the summit and did indeed meet them, just before I took the stile to head away.  I really enjoyed the path towards Twitchill  Farm, just steep enough to be fast without being painful.

 

A charming start to the slog up Lose Hill

I was hoping that the different path up Lose Hill might be less of a trial than the one I used last time.  It wasn't, Lose Hill is just a slog.

 

Looking back along Great Ridge.

  The Great Ridge was as busy as ever.  By now the wind had risen and was more or less directly in my face making the ridge surprisingly hard work.  There was a brief respite on the descent to the road, though the wind soon picked up again as I passed the half way point and started up Lord's Seat.

Lord's Seat.

Apart from the wind the ascent to Lord's Seat summit was pleasant enough.  Though the path was very muddy in places,  considering the recent rain, it was not as bad as it could have been.

Lord's Seat Summit.

I did not have a custom map for the Mam Tor to Brown Knoll section so I had stuffed the OS Explorer OL 1 in my sack.  I was hoping I might manage without having to wrestle the large map in the wind.  As I headed along Rushup Edge from Lord's Seat I could swear that I saw the Brown Knoll trig point and this emboldened me.  I followed the race route and soon found myself without a visible path.  Though I could no longer see the top of the knoll, I reasoned that the bump I could see was Horsehill Tor and that I needed to aim to the left of it.  This strategy worked well enough though I kept drifting slightly rightwards, in consequence I was fortunate to encounter the beautiful beehive cairn about 120 meters to the right of the race route.

I made a determined effort to move further west at this point, while this did bring me onto a more direct route the ground was boggier than nearer the edge.  After reaching the summit the ground soon deteriorated from boggy to very boggy to scarily boggy.  I went in up to my knee at one point and swear I was still sinking until I fell forward onto a solid tuft of grass. 

 Trig point on Brown Knoll, must be on a raft.

I headed down following the broad ridge and then drystone walls until I reached the path crossing near Edale Cross/top of Jacob's Ladder.  Here I saw the first other person since leaving Rushup Edge.  The change in terrain from broad brown and featureless to rocky and angular and, finally some shelter from the wind, seemed to echo the change from the solitude of Brown Knoll.

Though I am not, and never have been a 'ticker', it seemed a shame not to make the detour to Kinder Low, so I kept north leaving the sky line path.  I met a dog and a couple of ladies at the trig point.  I had to wait patiently as they posed on the landmark before I could take my snap.  this was no hardship as shelter from the wind meant that I had warmed up considerably.

 Kinder Low, surrealy like a beach.

 I could see a direct way back to the skyline path so set off across the peat, curiously dry and pleasant to run on.  I was surprised to see that snow and some frozen rivulets of water hung on in sheltered spots, despite the recent heavy rains.

 Snow at Edale Head.

As I made my way along the edge the sun sank below a temporary horizon only to reappear again several times.  The boulder fields were magnificent in the low light,  I must admit to wandering off my intended path, drawn by their irresistible charm.

Boulders in the low light.

As I neared the end of my skyline route the sun started to go down for real.  I took a last look at the skyline and a last photograph before reaching Ringing Rodger, for the second time, and starting my own descent.

 Last of the light.

This is a surprisingly hard route, not to be underestimated.  There is plenty of ascent, but it is the terrain, from plain energy sapping to quite technical that makes the route so demanding.  I chose my route and direction to suit my training needs.  If I just wanted a grand day out I think I would do the route clockwise from Mam Tor car park (thus missing out the unnecessary distance and ascent/descent from/to Edale).  Take a friend, Brown Knoll is a lonely place even for one used to solitude.