First Walk of The Year

Picking up on the theme of feeling proud, I got out for a short walk in the Peak District today. Of course I loved it! Not quite every moment of it, but just the act of putting one foot in front of another in a repetitive, rhythmical motion certainly had me feeling bright, breezy and slightly righteous!



I respected the limitations of my hip with keeping the walk short (4.5 miles and on the flat, pretty much) but still enjoyed a bit of springiness with some short hopping from boulder to boulder. That is until the cold wind penetrated, with rain and the start of snow driving across the moors and into me; the first obstacle before the hills.





The views across to Carl Wark and Higger Tor were as mysterious and thought provoking as usual. Different angles revealed different aspects, it's just a place that makes me feel so aware.

Twisting and turning across and inbetween the strewn about boulders, it seemed there were individual micro climates. Well worn areas where sheep nestled in the dips and hollows, descending towards small fords that needed to be crossed. These had their own character and charm.

At one point I came across some puddles fringed with sedges, moss and grasses, reminding me of tropical palms leaning over a beach. I guess it was from this point on that 'Midnight at the Oasis' drummed through my head until I reached the end of the walk...


I carried along Burbage Rocks for about the mile and a half or so to the head of the valley (Fiddlers Elbow) where I could drop down a level onto the shooting party road (I forget the name; it's not a road but just a path that leads through the valley to Longshaw). By now the weather had deteriorated into snow where I was, and looking over the valley where before I could see this end of Stanage, now it was lost in the mist.

Dropping down the 30 metres or so and being sheltered by the rocks was like dropping into another climate. No more driving weather, instead a benign environment with pleasant (though not extensive) views. I didn't really mind either way; it was just great to get outside. I didn't stop for a brew, very unlike me. But I did notice how the snow and ice was retreating in it's thaw, retracting from embracing the ground but still holding the grounds shape in remembrance.

A few people were about now, and it was interesting to tell from their clothing who were regular walkers and who were out for their occasional foray into the outdoors (I wouldn't wear jeans on a day like today). Most said "Hello" and a couple even said "Happy New Year", which I returned before looking at the ice on a tumbling brook.

But a cup of tea was calling me back to the shelter of the car, and soon I moved off on a beautiful walk through the twisted Beechwood with the fairy tale stones and silent pools.