The Hike 18 -The Upper River Dove to Hartington

With a still smarting leg, but determined to walk the walk as it was my last day, I looked forward to rambling besides the lovely River Dove once more.

The fair weather of the day before had changed to drizzle once more, so on it was with the waterproofs again. I am the lady in red, with Angela's great hat which was just as good in keeping off the rain as it was in keeping off the sun.It was Canadian, and I want one!

We started in the highest situated village of Alstonefield, an extremely old village as it turned out, and I adore that name. They called it that, because there literally were no trees up there (there are now though). It has a pretty church, with a proper Sheela na gig over the door; you can just about spot it on the right hand side of the tower in my photo. (Too high up for my iPhone, but I'll try to find another picture for you)
Here is what my mate Wikipedia has to say on the subject:

Sheela na gigs are figurative carvings of naked women displaying an exaggerated vulva. They are architectural grotesques found on churches, castles, and other buildings, particularly in Ireland and Great Britain, sometimes together with male figures. One of the best examples may be found in the Round Tower at Rattoo, in County Kerry, Ireland. There is a replica of the round tower sheela na gig in the County Museum in Tralee town. Another well-known example may be seen at Kilpeck in Herefordshire, England.

Ireland has the greatest number of surviving sheela na gig carvings; McMahon and Roberts cite 101 examples in Ireland and 45 examples in Britain.^[1]

Such carvings are said to ward off death and evil.^[2][3] Other grotesques, such as gargoyles and hunky punks, were frequently part of church decorations all over Europe. It is commonly said that their purpose was to keep evil spirits away (see apotropaic magic). They often are positioned over doors or windows, presumably to protect these openings.

Such a lovely church. I'm a Pagan-Zennish-Something'sOutThere person (so that Sheela na gig appealed to me), but I was charmed by the interior and definitely by the attitude of the people who had put tea making things out for ramblers like us. So hospitable!

Universal values, I feel!

After some time in the graveyard (like 'em!just look at that view, it's to die for, lol) we descended to the river and the hamlet of Milldale (visited that before, but the toilets were accessible then) and now rambled upstream along the River Dove, through Mill Dale, Wolfscote Dale and Beresford Dale.

We actually crossed the Dove into Staffordshire and back again, and the hills were different. Tessa explained that it wasn't so much limestone as it was gritstone here.

Whatever the type of stone, I thought they were damn impressive.
And although we felt as if we were walking on flat ground, we were going upriver all the time, so it was what we Dutch folk call "vals plat" or "fake flat". But it didn't feel as if we were ascending, and that made it a wonderfully relaxed walk amongst the sheep, right up to the final ascent into Hartington - phew, that was a proper hill again!

Isn't this the typical English cottage? Something for my retirement (if they'll still have me after Brexit?).

I limped into the nice tea shop and reflected on a week very well spent in Derbyshire.

The nitty-gritty:
We rambled 6 miles (9.5 km) with a ascent of 1,000 feet (300 m), in drizzle and damp dryness.
Alstonefield is the winner of 'Best Village' I believe; for me it is winner of 'Most Hospitable Church'.
If the Sheela na gig has tickled your fancy, do take a look on Google pictures - there are stunning examples to be found, new fangled ones as well.
Hartington boasts two tea shops; I visited the one behind the farm products shop.

And this concludes my Derbyshire Hikes series. I hope you have enjoyed rambling with me, and will join me on new adventures in the future.

Bye!

The Hike 17 - The Cromford Canal

Errwood was fun even in the pouring rain, but inflamed my varicose veins with swelling and pain as a result...oh bother!So I decided to take it a bit easier for a day and only ramble for a couple of hours around Cromford and its famous canal.

Britain's industrial history fascinates me, as its ripples still affect us today. Us Dutchies (famous in our own right in the Golden Age but not so much in the centuries following it) kept a beady eye on our island neighbours, and were quick to import, copy and emulate the British inventions. The fact that I am an independent working woman is (to my eyes) a direct result of women starting work in the factories, then starting the suffragette movement and paving the way for feminism.

The rambler's bus dropped me off in Cromford on its way to Crich, where their walk started. They then proceeded into the Derwent Valley, whilst I made a beeline for Cromford's famous Scarthin Book Shop, to while away a very pleasurable hour in one of their armchairs reading a book about the rise and fall of BIBA. (Oh! BIBA! Those were the days!)

Do visit this shop if you have the chance, the number of books is staggering and the premises are worth it.
When I had finished my lukewarm espresso (sacrilege- pity)I ambled towards the Cromford Canal and Arkwright's Mill.
A Wetlander myself, canals are in my blood. It is always a pleasure to find one so tranquil as the Cromford Canal, with its ducks and swans and lovely towpath, and limestone walls and numerous wildflowers. And that typical Britishness of wooden benches in remembrance of people who loved walking that same towpath. Very handy they were!

We used to have these...they are called "trekschuit" in Dutch and they have almost vanished. We do not have this tradition of keeping up our heritage, unfortunately. We now have "fluisterboten" (whispering boats) which are practically the same thing, but painted a practical boring grey or green and with a noise-reduced motor and no character whatsoever. Such a pity!

Walking up to the first railway shunting stop along the canal took me an hour, and I didn't dare walk for longer, as my left leg started to smart again. I made use of a bench to rest and eat my packed lunch (and very nice it was), and watch the other walkers along the towpath. Quite a few boys and men asked me if I "had found some", meaning Pokémon...Oh dear, yet another fad that is passing me by...

No, didn't look for any Pokémon, but I did spot these tongue ferns. Do you know my local garden centre asks €15,00 for one of these? And here they grow on walls...

After an hours rest I slowly walked back to Cromford and a well-earned Old Mout Cider* (*pronounced incorrectly since 1947!Well I never) in the canal café, before buying the most amazing tasting cheese in the cheese shop: whisky-and-ginger-Wenslydale. Wow! Wish I could have taken a huge cheese instead of the tiny one that would fit into my suitcase.
And then I had to wait for the rambler's bus to pick me up again, so I took a look at Arkwright's Mill. 
All in all not a very spectacular rambling day, but a pleasurable one all the same.

The nitty-gritty:
The proper walk lasted 6 miles (9.5 km) with an ascent of 800 feet (240 m) - mine lasted 2 hours with a stop of an hour to rest the leg. It was sunny, 22 degrees.
Beware of wasps, there were many about.
You can find Scarthin Book Shop a little way past the Post Office (sorry, forgot to take note of the street name)and the cheese shop is next to the café at the start/finish of the Cromford Canal. Arkwright's Mill is signposted very well. 

Music For Semi-Insomniacs

For a laugh, but rather seriously meant anyway, I took up fellow blogger (this is her link) Susan Joy Clark's challenge to write my own "music for when you simply cannot seem to drop off" list.

I don't know about you, but sometimes I cannot shut up those damned chattering monkeys in my head for long enough to be able to fall asleep. I know from long experience that getting up is counter productive, so I stay in bed and toss and turn and grit my teeth (this has cost me four molars...). Long suffering as I am, I've found that putting on my headphones (I'd prefer none, but I have paper thin walls and a daughter sleeping in the next bedroom) with soothing music will usually do the trick before I get halfway through a song or ten.
And sometimes not...But then at least I have listened to great music. Sigh.

Right, here we go, not in any particular order, preference, genre or theme. Oh, the songs are almost all by female singers. So...If you are a misogynist, you'd better skip this list. If you are a woman who hates women, I fear there's no hope for you, dear.

#1; from The USA.
I discovered this trio some years back, and use this song (karaoke) to warm up my vocal cords before singing. They used to be massive in the USA until some controversy. I still think they are massive myself.
The Dixie Chicks:  Lullaby

#2; again from The USA. Oh, soooo1960s! But a beautiful song.
Jefferson Airplane:Comin' Back To Me

#3; from The USA. This woman has written so many great songs! I hope someone somewhere will write her a song as sweet as this one.
Stevie Nicks: Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You?

#4; from Ireland. Lisa always makes me smile. She uploads quirky musical videos, check her out! I have blogged about her, so look up the post if you like.
Lisa Hannigan: O Sleep

#5; from England. Mama are Zoe Young and Sarah McQuaid, and unfortunately their co-operation stopped after only one album. They both feature in the video. I love that album (Crow, Coyote, Buffalo) and think it is such a waste that they've stopped making music together.
Mama: Sunshine On A Rainy Day

#6; from The Netherlands. My favourite Dutch band! Check out their videos, they've uploaded loads. This one is live (they are wonderful live!!!) and I love it. I've blogged about them several times, so look up the posts if you can.
Jodymoon: I Could Wait Forever

#7; from The Netherlands. Again a home-country singer. Marike is held in esteem by the djs, but somehow she cannot seem to break through properly. Mind you, she has a faithful following, as this live Lowlands concert video proves.
Marike Jager: Like You

#8; from Norway. And lives in Sweden now, but to me all Scandinavians are different from the rest of us Western Europeans anyway. Intriguing people, beautiful song.
Ane Brun: Worship

#9; from The USA. Her album Currency of Man (see my review elsewhere in my blog)is my most played album of 2016. This song never fails to comfort me.
Melody Gardot: Once I Was Loved

#10; from England. Kate captivated me when we were both 18 and has inspired me ever since. She stays away from the limelight, and it's years in between her projects, but whenever she does produce something new it is always worth the wait. And if this song doesn't put you to sleep, nothing will (in a good way!).
Kate Bush: Snowflake

Non-toxic Sleep aides for emergencies:
- lavender pillow spray
- camomile tea
- a purring kitten on your breast
- a stiff drink (beware though, this will help initially, but makes for troubled dreams and other assorted nasties)
- an orgasm
- dark chocolate

Well, Susan, I hope I have not let you down?
Oh, and if there's anyone out there who wants a list with (more) males on it...let me know. There's lots more of where this came from.

Sleep tight!

The Hike 16 - Errwood Reservoir and surroundings

A burst fish tank this morning distracted me (understatement of the year!), but now that the fish have been rescued and the floor has been mopped, it is time to tell you about day 4 of my 6 day ramble around Derbyshire. 

Three glorious sunny days and temperatures above 22 degrees had not prepared me for the start of my 4th hike.

The bus took us to the Cheshire's Cat and Fiddle Inn,the second highest pub in England and this morning easily the one with the chilliest car park. It was a rush to get the waterproofs on and by the time we started walking the thinnest ladies amongst us were shaking with cold.
Lucky for us we started out with a gradual descent towards the river Goyt and with the Errwood Reservoir winking at us when it wasn't obscured by drizzle or downpour.

I not being among the thin ladies I quickly walked myself reasonably warm, so that I could enjoy the wild landscape and lovely gleaming heather. The first part was along a ridge, so it had wonderful views and plenty of gleaming wet limestone walls to climb.

Some of us are real die-hards!

Now, to you this may be a bleak, grey, dull landscape, but to me it was magical.

We ate our lunch on the ruins of Errwood Hall, and shared it with millions of midges who were not deterred by my Dutch anti-bug spray at all. So I wasn't sorry when Rose pressed on, and we descended even further towards the reservoir.

Now, see this little old lady? She unfortunately twisted her knee but kept her British stiff upper lip rigid and didn't say anything.

And what comes down, must unfortunately go up as well...
But to help us along the sun suddenly came out in force and everyone had to shed their waterproofs pronto. We steamed! When we had climbed the first hill, I was rewarded with this view.

The reservoir, right< not myself!

When we were there two things happened: the rain returned and unfortunately the stiff upper lip notwithstanding, the poor lady could not keep up any longer, and Rose had to devise a short cut yet again (glad it wasn't for me this time). Her plan was to phone for a taxi, walk up to the nearest real road and load the lady in and...

No signal.

So we huffed and puffed up to the nearest road in the by now pouring freezing rain(took ages)- no signal.

One of the men suggested stopping the only occupied car we met, in which a lady sat planning to walk her dog. And here is something which never ceases to amaze me: she agreed to take the poor dear to the nearest town - British folk are so helpful! Whilst the lady was helped into the front, two of the other walkers quickly furtively shot into the back seat of the car, where the dog looked on in amazement.

The driver looked rather amazed as well, but she drove off anyway.

And the rest of us plodded along, making our way back to Buxton.

To get there, by GPS, we had to navigate a bog, where the only interesting thing we met, besides sure-footed sheep who baa-ed us continuously (no doubt shouting "Turn back, you fools! You are walking straight into a bog!") was these two lovelies.

I love cats, so this sight sort of distracted me from the black muck seeping into my socks.

All in all it was rather longer and wetter than we had anticipated. But that made my whisky back at the hotel all the sweeter.

Right. The nitty-gritty:

We walked 8 miles (13 km) according to the official route, according to my iPhone step counter rather more, and had 1,000 feet (300 m) of ascent.

The weather was not that friendly: mostly drizzle to rain to half an hour of hot sunshine, 18 degrees in the sunshine.

Buxton has toilets and café facilities in the park, all a bit run down but the tea was good.

Join me on my next ramble? I will take you along the Cromford Canal.

The Hike 15 - Haddon Hall

This is the third part of my 6 day ramble around the beautiful Derbyshire tors and valleys.
HF gives their walkers the Mondays off - or is it their walk leaders? Anyway, I was very kindly invited by fellow rambler Neil to visit Tudor-built Haddon Hall near Bakewell.

Haddon Hall is a fortified Medieval manor house, and claims to be 'the most perfect English house to survive from the Middle Ages'.
Picturesque it certainly is, so it has been scouted as one of the great period costume locations for films and has lately featured as Mr. Rochester's home in Jane Eyre.

The great Houses are one of the most wonderful inventions of the British Isles in my opinion. I can remember visiting my very first one when I was 13: Hampton Court, and I was captivated and have been visiting them ever since.

Haddon Hall was first built in the Norman era, and it was extended and extended again during Tudor and Elizabethan eras, making it a fascinating hotchpotch of styles. The terraced gardens are in the care of Arne Maynard, who is a decorated RHS Chelsea gardener, and definitely worth a visit.

Photo by Neil Carruthers

There is something about those uneven paving stones of a great courtyard that makes my heartbeat slow down; for me it is not hard to imagine the people of the past crossing that courtyard carrying their cords of wood for the kitchen fires or baskets of freshly caught trout to be boned on the enormous slabs that serve as working tables, and it has a soothing effect on me. Time passes, without any interference from me and thus it un-stresses.

The video room showed a documentary about a Tudor feast prepared in the kitchens just as it would have been in Tudor times, and I was charmed by the (to me nameless) cook who spoke so enthusiastically about stoking fires until the temperature was just so and who painstakingly put real gold leaf onto a pie meant for the Lord of the Manor.Not to mention skinned a peacock and made it breathe fire...

But videos are little compared to the real thing, and will you just look at the walls of this church? Brought up in Protestant Calvin Holland, where austere church walls are plain boring whitewash, it was amazing to see that in Norman and Tudor times (before the Reformation that is), churches were made pretty by painting the walls with geometrical patterns and (in this case) the Tudor rose.
There was a tomb in this church; kudos to the sculptor.

What struck me that Haddon Hall had rooms that you can call cosy, even by modern standards. The wood panelling and ceilings made it warm (even on that chilly August day)and I could smell the wood smoke from the fire in the banqueting hall all the way up in the rest of the house.
My favorite room was the parlor, from c.1500, with a lovely view on the surrounding hills and gorgeous painted ceilings.

Haddon Hall is proudly called a home, in other words the present Lord and Lady actually live there. Obviously you get nowhere near their quarters and that's as it should be. They have added some pieces of their family's history, some interesting, some (to my eyes) weird. In one of the rooms there is a modern settee, stained and totally out of place. But I liked this study for a formal portrait very much.

When we took our illicit brought lunch into the garden, the sun came out. The gardens are filled with flowers and give you a stunning view over the valley. I will not bore you with the many photos I took of the flowers (visit my Google+ Collections Flowers page if you like, they are there), but this view of the river Wye from the top terrace you must see.

The nitty-gritty:
I walked 4.785 steps around Haddon Hall, and very uneven steps they were! In fact, that's a bit of a thing: if you are not very steady on your feet, you would be wise to take a cane/rollator or make certain you have a steady arm near you. Another thing is that dogs aren't allowed, but assistance dogs are welcome in the hall and grounds.
It has a good restaurant and a nice gift shop in the old stables just outside the gateway.
To get there set your GPS to A6: Haddon Hall, Bakewell, Derbyshire, DE45 1LA. The entrance fees are 13.50 for an adult, 3.00 for the car and bring-your-own-lunch is forbidden. Well, frowned upon. Well, we were politely but firmly told off about it. We had just finished it anyway...hah!
Next time I'll tell you about a properly exhausting ramble around the Errwood Reservoir. Join me?

The Hike 14 - Dovedale, Derbyshire.

On the second day of my 6 day ramble in The Peak District we descended to the River Dove, beloved by both Jane Austen and her heroine Lizzy Bennett.

The Peveril of the Peak is situated in prime position for an excursion to Dovedale; all it takes is a short walk first up the hill towards Thorpe Cloud and then down again to the river and world-famous stepping stones.

Our HF leader Tessa told us that on a good day (and it was a very good day) those stepping stones gather quite a crowd, counting up to  a million visitors a year (what?!).
What I didn't grasp immediately was that those visitors on the whole drive their cars to the nearest carpark, walk down to the steps, walk across the steps and back again, and depart. So my fears of having to cope with an almighty foot traffic jam along the river were unnecessary.

Mind you, when I saw those steps, my unconscious musical brain began to sing "Is that all there is? Is that all there is? If that's all there is my friend..." Not very spectacular, are they? 1,000,000 a year???
Makes you look at the Great British Public with different eyes, doesn't it? Rather sweet, really.
What was also sweet, was the hulk of a man carrying his enormous Husky across, shouting "e's afraid of the water!" all the way. I wasn't fast enough on the draw of my iPhone, otherwise I would have photographic proof for you. Golly, poor dog, that water was at least 3 inches deep!

But none too soon we rambled along the river bank, and left all steps steppers far behind. And I adored it! What a pretty, friendly river the Dove is. The footpath was flat enough in most places to walk with eyes on the scenery (instead of constantly watching your feet)and the pace was more relaxed on this walk, so I could leisurely take photographs and chat to my fellow ramblers.
And those limestone cliffs took my breath away (in a good way this time, no hyperventilation going on thank you very much).

There were natural caves*, and a little peak called Lover's Leap where some unfortunate young woman in Napoleon's day had tried to throw herself off but failed, and lived to tell the tale.
*Tessa told us of the Prehistoric bones found in the cave in the photo below, and of the mystery about the Roman coins also found there, which pre-dated the invasion of the Romans.

Hey, no mystery to me: the Romans simply traded with the Celts before they invaded, in fact that probably was the reason they invaded in the first place, they wanted the tin and lead mines for themselves - elementary my dear. You can post me the honorary seat in Oxbridge post haste and I'll pack my bags to come!

Just to put things into perspective for you, the sprightly man in red on the right is 81 years old. Neil was fitter than me. Just saying.

We followed the Dove upstream for a while towards a small village called Milldale, passing stunning rock formations along the way.

Well, to me anyway, since the highest rock in my neighbourhood measures 2 cm.
Milldale has the much needed toilets. Perhaps I should explain the concept of 'a comfort stop' to you first?
Us blunt Wetlanders are used to speaking our mind in all situations, so I would say "I need a wee" whenever...right? And have been known to drop down wherever as well. When a woman needs to go, she needs to go...
Not so in civilised Derbyshire! Neil explained the comfort stop to me and it had nothing to do with having a beer (as I had hoped!). Obviously I needed a comfort stop. Behind a conveniently placed limestone rock. But the rest of the women all held out until Milldale. Good for them!

The gorgeous Milldale packhorse bridge (Viator bridge)with the toilet building on the other side.
Milldale is not only an attractive village, it has the added bonus of Polly's Café. Polly sells delicious cakes and ice-cream as well as soup, coffee and tea out of her tiny front room.

From Milldale we ascended (steeply!!!) to the footpath on top of the hill. And I am chuffed to be able to tell you that this time I was winded but fine.

If you are a rambler yourself you already know this, but it is greatly satisfying to reach the top of a steep climb!
The footpaths back to the Peveril of the Peak led us through sheep pastures, and sometimes cow pastures as well. Climbing all those limestone walls was sometimes hilarious, as the styles definitely were built pre-obesity times. Someone in our group re-named them Weight Watcher Styles.

This signpost made me laugh: we did climb the walls all week, and so do the other ramblers. 'Please use the steps and styles provided' would be a better one!

It was a beautiful ramble, I enjoyed it.
The nitty-gritty:
It was a 7 mile walk (11 km) with 600 feet (180 m) ascent, 19.076 steps for me, in sunny weather with 22 degrees C.
You can find Polly's on Millway Lane 2, Milldale.

Want to ramble with me some more? I will be uploading a new hike in this series soon.

The Hike 13 - The Edges and Chatsworth, Derbyshire

Well, you prepare (or attempt to) for six months and then all of a sudden the time is there; you travel for 13 hours (car, metro, train #1, train #2, train #3, taxi)to go rambling in The Peak District.

The least said about this journey the better - suffice it to mention that 4 hours next to a kicking three year old on the lap of his mum was not the luxurious experience Eurostar had promised me...

To start this story off, I am the chubby incognito one in the hat close to lovely Tessa, one of our three leaders. Would you believe that bear hung there all through without complaining the once?

I met another Dutch girl in the taxi from Derby (a proper girl, not a middle-aged one like myself)and we were late for cream tea but just in time for the quick ramble around Thorpe Village. Our hotel, Peveril of the Peak, is situated next to Thorpe Cloud. Cloud is an ancient Saxon word meaning 'peak', Tessa explained, and the next photo will show you why those Saxons named this hill thus!

I would have given it another name; the old Dutch "tiet". But never mind that.

Thorpe was small but sweet, with your typical English church and graveyard.

Perhaps I should explain that I have 'a thing' for graveyards. They do not frighten me at all, and I visit them wherever I travel as I always find them very tranquil peaceful havens.

The Peveril turned out to be a somewhat old-fashioned but very friendly hotel with great food. Let no-one ever dare mention to me that English food is awful!Perhaps it kind-a was in the Fifties (-to Nineties), but nowadays it is good to great. 

The next day, up bright and (very) early due to the time difference I had my full English before booting up and boarding the rambler's bus to the Gritstone Edges of Froggatt, Curbar and Baslow.

The names alone made my heart speed up with anticipation! And I wasn't disappointed. The trail along the hill ridge was spectacular (especially for a flat Delta-dweller like myself), with amazing views, blooming heather, huge rock formations and very good company.

As this was my very first organized hike/ramble I didn't quite know what to expect - would I be the odd one out? But the other ramblers turned out to be an extremely friendly bunch.

By the way, my t-shirt reads " You Only Live Once"

After some hours we descended through Chatsworth House park, where it resembled Brighton Beach. Cars spilled over from the carpark into the gardens themselves, somewhat spoiling the view we had of Chatsworth House itself.

I was glad I had visited it before, unspoiled.

From Chatsworth, after lunch underneath a great oak, we had to slog up the hill to Edensor.

Quite a sweet little village, but for me the Gateway to Hyperventilating Hell.

After Edensor we had to climb a series of hills to get to Bakewell,and that 1,300 feet (300 m) ascent almost did me, flat country walker, in. First my head started to pound, then my vision started to waver, I became very short of breath and to top it all our leader Rose set off every time just as I heaved myself up to the others so I didn't get a chance to catch my breath.

In short, I couldn't keep up and was overheating. I panted my distress to another walker, Jane, who took matters in her own hands and shouted towards the front that "the Dutch lady" was in trouble.

By the time Rose had reached me I was kneeling on the grass and almost throwing up. But: I got extra water from the others, some kind man lent me his spare hat (so sorry mate, I have forgotten your name but I will be forever grateful)and Rose decided for my sake to take a short cut to Bakewell through the woods, so I could walk in the shade.

The only snag was that the descend was extremely steep, causing some of the others difficulties in turn...Sorry guys and girls - mea culpa! But it saved me. The hat helped straight away in keeping my head cooler, I got my breath back and the nausea passed to a memory I will not forget in a hurry.

In Bakewell we had 45 minutes to stand in line in the local pub and I bought myself a pint of blissfully cold and sweet cider to get my strength back.

I completed my very first proper Derbyshire ramble by taking a cold shower by choice(another first!)and falling asleep until it was time for our briefing for next day's ramble. 
Hey, I did it! But I was sore the next day...whoa.

The nitty-gritty:
We officially walked 9 miles (14.5 km) which came down to 24.097 steps for me (it certainly felt more than 14.5 km!!) in sunshine, temp. 23 degrees.
The name of the nice hotel I stayed in is The Peveril of the Peak, Thorpe, Dovedale, Ashbourne, Derbyshire DE6 2AW, grid reference SK157505.