Combing Coombs Dale

Some of the nicest, early spring weather arrived with my legs wanting to walk. Ideally somewhere new to me, somewhere a bit different. Remembering that Dave Mycroft, Gareth Jones and Andrew White had had a jaunt along Coombs Dale a while ago and watching their video clip via Andrew's Walks Around Britain site, I thought I'd head for there.

Following a hesitant start where I had to go back home to feed my Mum's chickens (whoops), I arrived at my 'departure point' i.e. Calver Sough, at just before 11 AM this bright Saturday, and firing off a manual Beacon from Viewranger to feed into my Social Hiking track for interested people to follow me, I avoided the Eyre Arms and headed off.

It was one of those days where the wind was to toss the clouds around, so I was never quite sure if I was going to be blessed with that glorious spring sunshine, or if I'd be rained on. No matter; I had everything I needed with me, although my legs were grumbling early on with lack of walking. That soon disappeared and I settled in to heading away from the main road and off up to the start of the dale.

Following a metalled track alongside a small brook, it was pretty evident that a lot of work had gone on to manage the Elder and Hawthorn on the banks, as well as the placement of a few beautiful wooden benches. These had been recently installed and the smell of the wood oil as I sat on them was wonderful! I sat on a few of these until I reminded myself I was here to walk...

Very gently the walk went higher. I passed a man whose son was carrying an Osprey pack with a full load; I wondered if he was trying out kit for a Duke of Edinburgh award or something. Out of the woodlands the dale opened up on the right, showing exposed limestone crags like scars on the hillside. It was very pleasant walking, with the sound of bubbling water one minute and a hush the next as the water pooled in man made pits, some of the remnants of the extensive local mining in the area. Occasionally the sun would break through, showing dazzling yellow pollen on catkins, trees appearing as golden halos.

Ahead, twisted oak trees formed stunted, gnarly, moss ridden shapes, contorted into fantastic parodies of old men. More evidence of managed waterways appeared with wooden sluice gates, then nature asserted herself with hart's tongue ferns poking out of sunlight crevices.

Pausing to look at the entrance to Sallet Hole Mine, then obeying the three Danger / No Entry signs and the padlock, I turned ahead and paused yet again over a spring bubbling out of the ground and onto the track. Someone had created a sort of shrine, with a printed white piece of paper 'laminated' in sellotape and declaring:

"O most favoured by God, You confer on me the healing of your grace from your inexhaustible Spring. Therefore, since you gave birth incomprehensibly to the Word, I implore you to refresh me with the dew of your grace that I might cry to you: Hail O Water of Salvation."

It reminded me a little of the shrines I found all over the Austrian mountainsides, wherever a spring bubbled up there were wooden boxes, often adorned with crucifixes and icons of Mary, occasionally candles and dead flowers. This was a more rustic affair with a simple adornment of stones and branches, and while I didn't particularly appreciate the words used, I felt a certain gladness that people had stopped to appreciate this water which had appeared from the Earth.

That feeling of gladness was also helped by the sun reappearing out from the clouds and a distinct lack of people; since the father and son I had not seen a soul, unusual for the Peak District on a Saturday. Passing 'Rough Side' and the path having almost finished it's ascent, eventually I reached the end of the dale, at the cross roads of the wonderfully named "Black Harry Lane" (I'd love to know the story behind that one) with the track I was on heading towards Blakedon Hollow and Wardlow.

After waiting for three friendly mountain bikers on a pass from their wives to finish faffing around at said Harry's gate, I headed south with a touch of ascent. The sun had rolled back the clouds, which were starting to back up against the blue sky as Skylarks joyously performed acrobatics in front of me. I adore their song and so perched myself against a long abandoned gateway to watch and listen to them. Bliss.

It was absolutely glorious and a herald of fine weather to come; my heart sang with hope and wonder that these fluttering creatures could evoke such happiness in me.

Reluctantly I turned back to the path where, after negotiating a couple of stiles, I came across a couple of headstrong heifers, determined to outwit their farmer who was calling them by name. Good old fashioned names like Daisy; what a name for a cow! After enticement with a bucket of something or other, they gave in and joined the herd, and I walked through them to head for my next path along Longstone Edge. Even writing this now, more than a week (or is it two?) later, I still am transported away into those joyous feelings, seeing the escarpment lay out before me for miles. Handily it was time for lunch so once I'd negotiated some gorse with it's beautiful yellow, pea like flowers, I found a spot on the other side of a stone wall where I could brew up and absorb the view.

It's such a luxurious feeling, to sit on the edge of a field with a panorama around you and to not be disturbed by other people. I saw a couple of walkers who had entered into the field by the way I was to follow next, but they decided on a different route so I was again left in peace. A quick bit of banter ensued with some of my friends on Twitter who were following my route, one of them also out and about but walking near his home in Germany (@Beuteltiere), plus a bit of product placement for KitKat, LightMyFire and MSR.

It was a perfect spring day and I sprung back into action, setting off across the field to Rowland where there were some enormous apple trees and very pretty and well kept buildings. Following the road for a very short time I found a squeezer stile, which was a LOT of a squeeze and gave a passing rotund cyclist a laugh too! The reality of the ground I walked on here compared to the markings on my OS map had since been obliterated and a wall across the field was 'missing'. Never mind, I navigated diagonally across the newly ploughed field to where the wall would have been, and then headed straight for the road, and was pleased to see a sunken kissing gate only 2m off from where I was. I didn't relish the next part of the walk as it was going to be along the road to Hassop, but actually it was one of the (many) highlights, finding wild gooseberry plants and masses of wild garlic emerging from the bankside woodland floor. It was like walking in a cave at one point as the road descended and the banks and huge beech trees shot into the sky around me. I chewed on a couple of leaves of garlic, thinking how glorious this would look in May when the starry white flowers would shine up from the ground.

Out of that darkness I emerged blinking into the light and the stunning edifice of All Saints Catholic Church which is a curiosity to me, very Greco-Roman in an archetypal English country landscape.

A quick explore before heading onto the main road, the B6001 from Calver to Bakewell and I was arrested again, first of all by the sight of a proper red phone box and then by another Eyre Arms. Two in one walk? Well it was a perfect day for some liquid refreshment so I wandered in and had a lovely chat with Nick, one of the owners, before retiring with a shandy (I was driving later) to sit outside to watch the world go by. Which in this case was a Nuthatch on a tree on the other side of the wall, scurrying up and down before flying off with grubs. More bliss, I was surely spoilt this day!

And once again I was off, on the last leg home now, which meant a little hill along Dog-Kennel Wood, past the old school, up a little incline and then heading north into Bank Wood. I'd walked past this section of Bank Wood about a year ago and remembering at the time that I had wanted to go in. It was a mix of broadleaved and coniferous wood with sections of plantation areas, a thin, stretched out wood along the top of the crest of a long hill. It didn't look as if many people walked here, though I did arrive into a clearing where a memorial bench was positioned towards Hassop, across from the huge quarry on the other side of the valley. I briefly stopped here and enjoyed the bands of amber and ochre threaded with steely blue. Quarries aren't my favourite landscapes but taking time to observe did help appreciate other aspects of this industry. Looking east there were incredible views towards the edges above Beeley and I could see the domes of Chatsworth Hunting Tower, glinting in the distance.

On the last of the woodland now and I had that rueful feeling of a good walk coming towards the end and not wanting it to finish. Through Bramley Wood and doing the limbo with some rhododendron, Baslow and  Curbar edges were clearly in view. Regular limestone walls abutted the wall my path followed, interspersed with drinking troughs, situated so every other field shared one. Something to note for a sneaky overnighter in the future... A short zig zag and I was headed downhill on a steep, very muddy bank. I could see multitudes of skid marks as people had slithered all the way down. I was not alone then as I grabbed on to saplings in an effort to remain relatively mud free!

Across a field, over another spring and up another field, I managed to bypass the Calver branch of Outside and made it back to my car, happy and contented, some may say, full of the joys of spring!

For anyone wishing to see the route I followed, please see the link to Social Hiking here. Note that my phone battery expired just after the pub...honest!