Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

The mixture that has been the weather during the last few weeks may or may not have made the boffins in the Met Office look a little foolish, to say the least. More seriously, it is having an adverse impact on many Irish dairy farmers following what was for them a less than ideal winter; the combination of high feed and fertiliser prices, low grass growth due to sodden ground and a collapse in the price of milk is proving the undoing of many otherwise sound businesses and even may provoke an exodus from the industry yet. In these constrained times, alternatives are rare so forestry is coming out in the wash as one option because of the possibility of E.U. funding. It leaves me wondering if that could turn out a good thing for walkers but only time and progress with regard to access will tell on that score. Nevertheless, calling these times interesting would be an understatement…

That predicament puts into perspective any moaning that there has been about those unfulfilled dreams of sunshine holidays at home. As one sun seeker put it to me about enjoying Britain all year around, sunbathing isn’t much of an option away from the summer months and I only can agree. It also rather explains very well the traditional fixation with getting a summer with copious amounts of warm sunshine. Thought the greyness can irritate, those of a more active inclination always have the option of wrapping up warm for the cold and use waterproof clothing if they so desire facing the rain. A mixture of sunshine and light showers is more than bearable but calling quits becomes a less easy inclination to fight off when the rain turns heavy and incessant.

Regardless of being equipped to deal with what the weather puts your way, I still find the possibility of some dryness much more amenable and last Saturday week didn’t fail to supply exactly that. It was a merry counterpoint to the near pervasive wetness that has so dominated July’s weather. Casting my eye over the weather forecast map of Britain, the idea of hiking from Grasmere to Borrowdale by way of Grasmere Common and Greenup Edge came into my mind. In the event, circumstances did not allow for this so I stayed local to enjoy a pleasant afternoon’s and early evening’s walking along a mixture of thoroughfares as I wandered through some Staffordshire and Cheshire countryside.

A train to Kidsgrove got me to the start of my trek and the first task was to get out of Kidsgrove for Mow Cop, a village divided between Cheshire and Staffordshire. Following the Gritstone Trail as it followed canal towpaths before heading east on a mixture of road and footpath walking might have been the clearer option but I chose muddling my way across Kidsgrove instead. That may have taken longer than might have been liked but I now know better and got to crossing fields in due time anyway. My journey even took me through some corn fields as Mow Cop was made to grow ever nearer.

The final stretches of the way to Mow Cop Castle were over tarmac and I took the chance to linger a while on those upward slopes. Clouds packed the sky so sunshine was spotty and it looked like photographic ambitions of making photos of the aforementioned erstwhile summerhouse were to come to naught. However, the decision to hang about on National Trust property was rewarded when the sun got through to light up the Castle, built by a former resident of nearby Rode Hall. It is a well known landmark round these parts but there’s more to that to Mow Cop, as you’ll realise if you ever come by a free leaflet produced by the Mow Cop Resident’s Association with Heritage Lottery funding to promote their Heritage Trail. A read of the said document should reveal that a lot is packed into what looks for all of the world to be a small inconsequential spot. The Castle might be visible from as far away as Siddington and Marton but an afternoon or day long visit should be well spent if you put in the effort.

Making my way north from the Castle brought me to my turn for the South Cheshire Way in the sight of the Old Man o’ Mow, an artifact left behind after quarrying works came to an end. Downhill progress took me through damp pasture and into Hanging Wood where mud simply was unavoidable, hardly a surprise after the preceding weather. If anything, I should have encountered more mud than I actually did but that may be a consequence of the quality of the land that I was crossing. Beyond the wood, it was onto pasture frequented by curious cattle who were quickly left after me when I found a good track me to Acker’s Crossing and with an underpass taking me across the West Coast Mainline too.

A snippet of tarmac bashing landed me on the banks of the Macclesfield Canal. The plan was to follow the South Cheshire Way round by Little Moreton Hall until I met the Mersey & Trent Canal near Thurlwood. In the event, an absence of waymarks, well turned up turf and unpromising stiles gave me the wrong impression so I stuck with the canal towpath to pass Ramsdell Hall and pick up a more promising right of way that escorted me to Scholar Green.

More road walking awaited before a crossing of the A34 took me off road again n a driveway that changed to a narrow path between two overgrown hedges. Another minor road crossing ensued as I picked my way through the fields, one a grain field, to the south of Rode Hall. After passing through Bratt’s Wood, I needed my navigational wits about me to make up for a waymarking malfunction to reach the aforementioned Mersey & Trent Canal. Knowing that I was less likely to come into conflict with a landowner given the time of day and my being out of sight of any habitation may have meant that I could go direction finding with a certain confidence that was found lacking earlier in the day.

On reaching the canal, I had a decision to make. Looping back to Kidsgrove’s train station was one option but the option of spending some of the evening hours extending my stroll to Wheelock proved too tempting. Thus, I plied the towpath, marvelling at the number of locks that I was passing. The village of Lawton-gate was passed without delay while Thurlwood offered the chance to relax a while in the company of swans and ducks. From there, I took to a steady pace to shorten the distance to the M6, under which I was to pass. Farm machinery was in action in the fields for the harvesting of silage and what I believe to be oil seed rape but I am no expert on the latter; the sight of a working forage harvester rather than a combine is what is sending my thoughts this way. The activity was a reminder that agriculture continues to bustle if not flourish in some places, even if it is suffering in others.

After passing under the M6, the hubbub of traffic and farm machinery was left behind me for quieter parts. Wheelock proved to be very near at hand as I found myself making light work of the remaining distance on a pleasant summer’s evening with patchy sunshine. My destination isn’t the largest of places and its situation on the Cheshire Plain means a less dramatic aspect than that at Mow Cop but it remains a pretty spot nonetheless. Having a direct and regular bus connection played a part in my deciding to finish there. In hindsight, I suppose that I could have stayed there a little longer but my mind was set on going home and the next bus came at a good time to end a day that was far from wasted by my exertions.

Travel details:

Direct train from Macclesfield to Kidsgrove and bus service 38 from Wheelock to Macclesfield.

July has been a quiet month for me on the hill wandering front. Between having other things that need to done and not being enticed by the current mix of damper weather, getting out of doors has tended to be a largely bicycle-borne affair. Thoughts of enduring endless power soakings have helped to turn my mind to other things but the opportunity offered yesterday by a dry sunny interlude from the water was too good to miss. Ambitions of heading to Cumbria for a trot from Grasmere through the fells to Borrowdale had been entering my mind. However, circumstances were such that the idea needed to be parked for another time and I opted for a more local stroll instead. That took me from Kidsgrove in Staffordshire to Wheelock in Staffordshire by a round the houses sort of route that I’ll describe in another posting.

Suffice it to say for now that the sights of well berry-laden rowan trees (or mountain ash if you prefer) along with ripening corn in the fields is a reminder that autumn is at hand. The colours of the leaves may not be changing for a while yet but the fruits are ripening and blackberries are already there to be had along with other fruits that I cannot name because my knowledge of botany isn’t what it might be. Seeing nature’s larder becoming stocked to the level that I have seen it is a reminder of a country saying whose verity is hard to verify: masses of fruit on trees and bushes is a harbinger of there being a cold winter ahead. The logic behind this is that nature provides in plenty to tide birds and such like over a period of want. To my mind, it belongs in the same category as the forty days of rain following St. Swithin’s day with there being some truth in that from a meteorological standpoint. Apparently, the weather can get locked into a pattern around this time of year, be it dry and sunny or, as we are having it, wet and rainy. To whose wishing their life away, the latter outcome is a distinct disappointment but others among us will realise that there is more to the year than the months of July and August. Of course, that’s little comfort to those wandering to save the year’s harvest even if a mixture of sunshine and showers does help with the ripening of corn; bringing in wet grain doesn’t pay as well. We all can only hope for a drier interlude while making what we will of what we get.

I suppose that it might be easier if I lived in Greater Manchester but early Sunday morning getaways from Macclesfield are an impossibility if you are dependent on public transport. Buses don’t move until around 09:00 and train companies must regard Maxonians as right layabouts given that nothing runs north until at least 10:30 (saying that, earlier starts are possible, again at ca. 09:00, if you are heading south). The situation may not be the best but I often contend with it in place of settling into a rant.

That reality means that I need to keep ambitions in check so as to get something from a Sunday’s wanderings; staying near to home is best. Saying that, the longer hours of daylight mean that you can gain quite a lot even with a later start and my start on the Spring Bank Holiday weekend’s Sunday was tardy. Still, my mind did turn to the idea of popping over to Baslow for a spot of northward hiking to one of the stations on the Hope Valley railway line. In the event, a late bus ensured that connections were to be missed so I popped down to Leek instead. The idea of a long stroll to Buxton became a plaything for my mind before I saw sense and decided to walk home instead, an equally long hike but any concerns about missing trains or buses home can be set to one side when your own exertions are taking you back to your own doorstep again.

The route was to be a variation on a theme taken for a yomp from Leek home on a December day a few years ago, my first proper outing in Staffordshire as it happens. That time, I got benighted on the last stretches but presence of mind allowed a headtorch to light the way and I also helped my cause by sticking to road walking rather than "fooling" around in fields in the dark. This time around, there was much less of the tarmac bashing and I was well home before light failed.

As ever with starting from a town centre, some street navigation was in order before softer surfaces were reached on Leek’s outer reaches. In places, this can require concentration by my vague recollections were enough to see me as far as Haregate where I found a public footpath. Crossing pasture and meadow, the strength of the sun was by now unmistakable. Benches with health messages were placed at irregular intervals along the way. It’s an interesting idea but I was left wondering if they were preaching about the benefits of regular walking to the converted rather than the sedentary types who could do with seeing them. Saying that, I suppose that a spot of encouragement never goes amiss.

The growing season already had been busily obscuring man-made objects like road signs but public footpaths are far from immune too and it only takes a meadow to obscure the line of a public right of way. Also, my upbringing on a dairy farm makes me feel uncomfortable trampling grassland with there being a need for it and I stuck with the obvious line of trespass. That led me among more of humanity than is usually my habit as I followed a track that hugged the shoreline of Tittesworth Reservoir closer than others that I have followed in the area. Still, that didn’t take too long and the easier terrain was no harm either though the indentations probably added to the distance being covered.

Next passing point for me was Meerbrook and tarmac was the surface over which I went from the shores of the reservoir to a public footpath making up part of the Staffordshire Moorlands Walks. The crowds were behind me at this point as I carefully picked my way to Greenlane beneath and beside the Roaches. From there, it was on past Roach Side Farm, again with some attention to route finding so as not to disturb their Sunday afternoon before I found metalled road again near Roche Grange where I found a mock fortune teller placed out on the side of the road and in the sun. Though there were other (real) folk enjoying the weather like I was, the road was untravelled by traffic until I found a right of way leading to Clough Farm. More of these were stitched together to take me to Danebridge and the late afternoon grew more pleasant. Before I crossed over the River Dane, I found what can only be described as an installation with more scarecrow-esque characters at a fake bus stop and awaiting an infrequent "buz" with humorous signs added to suit. It was all in jest, even if it was a striking reminder of my plans having been changed for me, and has set me to wondering if there was some sort of scarecrow thing going on in this part of Staffordshire of which I wasn’t aware.

After Danebridge, I was back in Cheshire and it was now into evening time. A more direct off-road option was in mind than the one that I followed but it’s never the slips that make for good navigation but the ability to correct them and that definitely the order of things. Even so, I passed through a short piece of shady woodland and reached Hammerton Farm as planned. From there, it was onto the A54 and the Wild Boar pub, which incidentally had opened up the area at its rear for camping. I left the Congleton-Buxton road for more soft surface travel near Longgutter before tarmac bashing took over again. Again, I was following a quiet lane and with good evening views of Shutlingsloe, Sutton Common and Croker Hill. That lane eventually gave me a sidewalk at Higher Sutton (they turn up in the most unexpected places in Cheshire) and my lane took me ever onward towards Sutton, Macclesfield and home. It may have cooled down noticeably by this time but there were still groups of hostelry patrons out and about, a grand evening (or night as one farming chap said to me and I thought that you only said that when it was dark; it was equally ironic given that I arrived home in daylight this time around) for it.

Travel Details:

Service 108 from Macclesfield to Leek.

About this time last year, I was feeling a tad sore after a weekend in Scotland where I was surprised by some of the best weather that I had seen there in a while. It was as if I was taken by surprise and reluctantly left because I was of the opinion, rightly or wrongly, that a certain lack of planning meant that I may not have made the most of it. Looking back on it now, it may not have been as wasted an opportunity as I thought it to be at the time. After all, that Sunday sojourn on Kerrera sharpened my appreciation of island scenery and perhaps inspired the Hebridean island hopping session that occupied me for a week later on in the year.

This year, with various things that have been going on in my life together with a stretch of lacklustre weather, I would have been forgiven for being surprised by the weather yet again, just like last year in fact. Now that I think of it, the weather has behaved similarly on both times. The run up to the same weekend last year would have been no preparation for what eventually arrived either. However, there is an important distinction between the two years: the locations blessed by good weather. Last year, Scotland got it better and had a generally good May with the TGO Challenge seeing more dry sunny days than usual. England did better this time around but it all depended on where you were and when you were there; it turned wet in Cheshire on Monday.

Overall, Cheshire did well with a steadily improving Saturday that coaxed me out on the bike in the evening time after an afternoon shopping expediton. Sunday was even better and I spent my afternoon and evening on a stroll from Leek back home by way of Tittesworth Reservoir and Danebridge. On Monday, I popped up to Cumbria to hike the Cumbria Way from Coniston to Skelwith Bridge before skirting Loughrigg Fell on the way to Ambleside. That was the cause of taking me through a honeypot or two (Tarn Hows comes to mind as a particular fleshpot) but the quieter parts more than made up for this.

One plan did fall by the wayside and that was the idea of following the Derwent Valley Heritage Way north from Baslow until either Grindleford, Hathersage or Bamford; the end point was to depend on progress and the time of the next train home from either of these stations. The plot certainly was fluid but a late bus caused its abandonment on Sunday so it goes onto the ideas shelf for another time. Another route option is to go around by Baslow Edge, Curbar Edge and Froggat Edge, proper hill wandering if you will and a variation of the original theme, but that also still awaits its opportunity and goes beside the DVHW on that proverbial shelf.

All in all, I cannot declare 2009′s Spring Bank Holiday weekend wasted and, anyway, that’s not the way that I feel about it at all. Any period of time that allowed chances for walks and cycles can only have been used well and, as if that were not enough, it has sown the seeds for future excursions too so it has been more than fruitful. Having more good weather than was expected can be a test too because you need to pick where you want to go when the temptation is to go out and gorge yourself; having only so much time has its uses. Trip reports for the walks themselves should follow but there’s the prospect of good weather next weekend so that may cause the postponement of their appearance. Of course, that depends on how things come together and only time will tell on that score.

Whenever I get to plotting an outdoors outing, I almost invariably turn to maps for ideas. That’s not to say that guidebooks don’t get perused as well but there’s something very immediate about casting one’s eye over a map. Scotland’s enlightened access legislation means that any track can be fair game but more care is needed south of the border. In fact, I have had enough experience of the English and Welsh rights of way network that a growing distrust needs to be confronted but I use any path. I need to be careful not to overdo things but anything that looks unpromising could be left for another route. The sorts of things that leave a poor impression are rickety styles, poor waymarking and overgrown paths. A somewhat unpleasant experience last year has got me very wary about complex route finding too near habitations on other people’s land.

Anything that’s part of a long distance trail should be fine but there is a part of the Pennine Way proceeding through fields in North Yorkshire that looks like yet another unloved part of the rights of way network. Saying that, seeing the attention lavished on the Gritstone Trail reassures me more then just a little. The mention of the GT brings me to Staffordshire’s moorlands. Yes, there are some neglected parts and I came across them while I was out hiking on Sunday but a good deal of care is apparent too. I passed along part of the Staffordshire Way but the moniker "Staffordshire Moorland Walks" is one that is seen a lot on maps for where I was wandering.

These are Staffordshire’s answer to Ireland’s Looped Walks and have been conceived, very nobly, as a network of self-guided walks by Staffordshire Moorlands District Council. You will not find them highlighted on OS Landranger maps but they are given the same level of prominence on Explorer maps as point-to-point long distance trails. That might have the potential to confuse just a little and some may decry the idea of cluttering up mapping but they remain very useful. Good waymarking makes them more user friendly too. As it happened, Sunday saw me traversing portions near Biddulph, Rudyard and Leek but a previous escapade saw me rounding Tittesworth Reservoir with a side visit to Hen Cloud too.

What took me onto those looped walks on Sunday was a yomp from Congleton to Leek. It was meant to be other way around but for my own muddling and a missing bus delayed my start as well. It also meant a change from my initial plan of going from Leek to Rushton Spencer by way of Rudyard Reservoir and then following the Gritstone Trail for most of the way to Congleton, possibly with an ascent of The Cloud included for good measure. However, the onset of summer time has granted us longer evenings so sufficient daylight time was available for me to complete the walk. The walk out of Congleton to reach another part of the Gritstone Trail, a section shared with the Biddulph Valley Way, certainly took long enough to bring home to me the size of the town and how far its train station is from the town centre.

My patience on the exit from Congleton was rewarded by a peaceful amble among woodland along a now disused railway line that once ran between Congleton and Biddulph. That embankment was left to pick up part of the Staffordshire Moorlands Walks loop that goes around Biddulph. That stretch took me across the A527 and over the fields to The Talbot in Poolfold. Another road crossing followed and another exit into green fields was found in the said pub’s car park. That proved temporary and I found Country Landowners Association signs bearing waymarks and welcoming caring walkers around The Moor House, perhaps a reassuring touch.

The hotchpotch of public footpath and road walking was set to continue after I left the Staffordshire Moorlands Walks waymarks after me to cross High Bent. My journey took me around by Boons’ Meadow Farm on tarmac before I again crossed fields to reach a byway called The Hollands. After another road crossing, I was following field boundaries again. There were copious views at this point with the familiar sights of Croker Hill and Shutlingsloe visible in the northern panorama. Looking east, I could just about make out The Roaches beyond Gun. There was enough cloud in the sky to ensure that unbroken sunshine was a pipe dream and my photographic exploits were attenuated as a direct result.

With all of the twists and turns taken by my route, I would have been forgiven for tiring by the time that I reached Halfway House. As it happened, I must have missed the footpath for Birch Trees Farm. However, I had mixed feelings about following a right of way through a farmyard so I wasn’t sorry to have passed it and I knew where I was in any case. It may have meant that I needed to contend with motor vehicle traffic for longer than I might have liked but no major perturbation was felt on my part.

Reacliffe Road was found soon enough at a switchback bend and, a short downhill stroll later, I reached the second loop of the Staffordshire Moorlands Walks for the day. I was bound for Leek but this is where you would be going for a circuit of Rudyard Reservoir. The quiet wooded lanes and paths were an agreeable way to reach the dam of the said reservoir before I dropped down to follow its outlet stream for much of the remainder of the walk. There was another uneventful road crossing too but I was on the lookout for the junction that would see me go along a path that take me under the old Macclesfield-Derby railway line and on to the A523 on the outskirts of Leek. Perversely, the centre of Leek sits atop a hill and, by this time, my legs were telling me that they had done enough for one day as I made for the bus station.

Though the day had its moments of sunshine, they were limited throughout the walk but that also meant that I wasn’t to be scorched by the strengthening sun, never a bad thing. Because of circumstances, the route followed was a tricky one but it was dispatched with only one unscheduled diversion and that was far from being a hardship. All in all, I enjoyed a good few hours and revisited somewhere where I hadn’t been for a while. Many stretches were quiet too, which helped for a spot of relaxation along the way. Hopefully, the short outing can act as a springboard for other excursions.

Travel details:

Service 38 from Macclesfield to Congleton. Service 18 from Leek to Hanley followed by service 25 from there to Stoke train station for a Virgin train to Macclesfield. There is a service 108 connecting Leek and Macclesfield but that is irregular and the last one had long gone by the time that I reached Leek.