"Fresh bread, kaleidoscope, Kinder Scout, and Mam Tor" - Split Single With Happy Lounge Labelmates, Half Man Half Biscuit
Four weekends ago, thirteen of us (plus one dog) visited the Peak District for a weekend of walking (the eighth TADS two-day walking weekend) and the fact that I am only now getting round to writing about it should not reflect on the quality of the weekend at all and more on just how lazy I can be if I put my mind to it.
It was a great weekend and though it was challenging in parts (which I'll come to) my overall feeling was one of joy, laughter, amazing views, and a wonderful group of people. The weekend began on Friday when I met with Mo and Pam at Euston station and we took the train up to Stockport. Pam providing tins of gin for those of who fancied them.
At Stockport we changed, via the mysterious platform 0, on to the train to Buxton and soon we were in very different, and really quite beautiful, terrain. Nearly every station had trails leading from them but we were heading for Buxton (not strictly in the Peaks but pretty much surrounded by them) and as soon as we arrived it, of course, started raining.
Still, it looked like a pretty little town (and it certainly proved to be). Pam checked in at the Old Hall Hotel (some initial confusion as regards the booking was eventually sorted out) and Mo and I continued up to the Westminster and checked in there. It was a pleasant and friendly place and we bumped into Neil and Bee who had just checked in to the same place.
It wasn't long before I met, again, with Neil and Bee (now joined by Catherine and Rebecca) for a quick exploration of Buxton before we retreated to the Buxton Brewery Tap House where we soon joined by Pam, Mo, Adam, Teresa, and Shep and Laura. After a couple in there (a very convivial couple too) we headed over to The Old Club House where we met with Michelle, Marianne, and Pip (who soon became the star of the weekend as you'll see in some of the photos).
It wasn't long before we were seated for dinner and multiple plates of macaroni cheese appeared (as ordered). My vegan katsu curry with chips AND rice was good if carb heavy and the atmosphere in The Old Club House was very enjoyable. I was pleased everyone had arrived okay and that everything was getting on (which I knew they would, they're a friendly bunch) but I was a little bit worried about the weather forecast over the weekend. I needn't have worried quite so much.
Predictably, Neil, Bee, and myself were the last three out (Catherine and Rebecca running us close) before I returned to the hotel for a bad night's sleep - which was on me (restless mind) rather than the hotel whose bed I found very comfy.
After breakfast we all convened at Buxton Park near a little Lakeside Kiosk where we could shelter from the rain and once Pam had made us all line up in height order for a photo shoot (a photo I love and features right at the end of this blog - though I do wish Pam was in it) I read a bit of spiel about the sights we'd see in Buxton and the sights you can see in the following photos.
Buxton is Britain's highest market town (1000ft/300m above sea level) and it is, as I said, on the edge of rather than in the Peak District National Park. The origins of its name remain uncertain but could be from Buck Stone or Rocking Stone. Its importance as a town grew in the 18th century with development from the Duke of Devonshire and then enjoyed a resurgence a century later as Victorians came to take the water (as you still can - and many do) which was believed to have healing properties. Centuries before, the Romans had developed the town as Aquae Arnemtia ("Baths of the grove goddess"), one of only two Roman bath towns in Britain. The other, of course, being Bath itself.
The spring waters are piped to St Ann's Well and the spring was named after one of the Seven Wonders of the Peak (others include Pook's Cavern, Mam Tor, Chatsworth House, and, er, The Devil's Arse!) by the philosopher Thomas Hobbes, best known for 1561's Leviathan. The town has featured in the work of Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, and WH Auden. As well as getting in mention in James Joyce's Ulysses.
The Old Hall Hotel, where Pam was staying, is one of Buxton's oldest buildings and was once owned by George Talbot, the 6th Earl of Shrewsbury who, with his wife - Bess of Hardwick, acted, on behalf of Queen Elizabeth I, as the gaolers of Mary, Queen of Scots (there's a plaque for her on the building) who, while imprisoned there, inscribed on a window pane:- "Buxton, whose warm waters have made they famous, perchance I shall visit thee no more. Farewell".
The present building dates from 1670, the Restoration period, but some parts are even older. Daniel Defoe is another famous guest though, unlike Mary, he stayed there by choice during his tour of Great Britain.
Nearby Buxton Crescent (Grade I listed and based on Bath's Royal Crescent) was built 1780-84 and designed by architect John Carr (he did lots of mansions and stately homes). In 1859, another architect, Henry Currey, converted the crescent into a hospital for the "sick poor". Currey also built the nearby Devonshire Dome, then the world's largest dome and bigger than the Pantheon in Rome, St. Paul's in London, or St Peter's in the Vatican. It was used as a stables and then a hospital and is now a part of the University of Derby, Michelle and Marianne's alma mater.
The nearby Buxton Baths also come c/o Currey - though there have been a lot of updates. The railway station (trains arrived here in 1863) is the work of one Joseph Paxton, best known for London's Crystal Palace, and the Buxton Opera House (they've got an actual opera house!) was designed by Frank Matcham who was also responsible for the London Palladium, the London Coliseum, and the Hackney Empire. Opposite it is an original Penfold postbox. A rare sight. Designed by Haslemere's John Penfold (1828-1909) who ended up having Dangermouse's sidekick named after him.
Overlooking Buxton is the Palace Hotel. Another one of Currey's, it was built in 1868 and famous guests have included George Bernard Shaw, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, and Margaret Thatcher. Many of the pubs and inns in Buxton are also listed but on the subject of famous people lets' list some famous Buxtonians:- Tim Brooke-Taylor, Lloyd Cole, Dave Lee Travis (the Hairy Cornflake), and Frank Soo who played for Stoke and was England's first mixed race footballer making his debut in 1942 during World War II.
With Adam on GPS duties (thankfully!), we left Buxton Park, around or over the Slopes (another green space), down Spring Gardens (seemingly the High Street), under an old stone railway bridge, and into Ashwood Park along the banks of the Wye (not to be mistaken with the one we followed from Chepstow to Monmouth back in 2020).
Then through the uneventful Fairfield Estate before climbing a small hill, Pip rolling in cow pats with total glee, and descending a long and then wonderfully verdant green path down towards, but not onto, the A6 road.
Then we reached the first properly tough hill of the day. My planning for this walk had said it would be relatively flat. My planning had lied which meant I had lied to some of the walkers. Nevertheless, we all made it to the top and after a brief rest we continued through a few more fields before having to go briefly, but steeply, up again.
After that there was a long, slippery in places, descent along a very overgrown path which was also quite testing for some of us. This emptied out by the banks of the Wye, a handsome bubbling shallow river, and some pretty stone cottages. The Wye is only fifteen miles long and it flows into the Derwent which flows into the Trent and eventually the Humber.
Near there was a little a bike rental hut where you could also get snacks and soft drinks (as many of us did, I had a Twix) as well as a sit down. It was a brief, if pleasant respite, before, we headed back up hill on to the Monsal Trail which we'd remain on for most of the rest of the walk.
Unlike the rest of the walk, the Monsal Trail is almost dead flat and that's because it's constructed from the former route of the Manchester, Buxton, Matlock, and Midland Junction Railway (built 1863). This means it also involves going through some long, darkish, tunnels. We saw people abseiling off the bridge sections but I wouldn't ever be up for that.
What I was up for however, and what I'd hoped we'd be able to see, were the Chee Dale Stepping Stones. A series of stepping stones that you can walk along the Wye on. I'd checked with one of the guys at the bike place and he'd said that because of the recent rainy weather they may well be slippery so we decided not to do that but at least go down and have a look at them.
About eight of us did just that though the first few paths we saw heading down were treacherous looking. We eventually found a more manageable one and we eventually found the Chee Dale Stepping Stones. I was glad I did. Those who missed them didn't seem too bothered.
There was no sign of the chiffchaffs, willow warblers, and blackcaps in the Chee Dale and not many anglers which suggests maybe the supposedly large numbers of grayling and brown trout were on holiday or something. There was, though, a very impressive, brutal, old ruined lime kiln and there were more tunnels.
Which was all good but people were itching for the pub that I had told them (nearly three hours earlier) was about an hour away. There was a place called The Refreshment Room near a disused railway station and lots of people made use of the toilets before we descended from the Monsal Trail into Millerdale which had a picturesque church and a very nice pub in the Angler's Rest. A two pint mistake was obviously made - and a very pleasant one too.
But we still had walking to do and from the pub that meant heading uphill, across a neat little bridge, again and back along the Monsal Trail. After another couple of miles the end was in sight and I knew there was a pub, and a nice view - of Headstone Viaduct and the surrounding valleys, waiting for us. What I didn't know was that he had to go down, and then back up, a massive fuck off hill to get to the final destination.
Me, Shep, and Adam had gone ahead and when I spotted the pub at the top of the hill I realised this was not going to go down well. A very steep climb saw some seriously out of breath walkers reach the Stables Bar of the Monsal Head Hotel and a quick drink, or two - in some cases, was enjoyed before four taxis arrived and took us all back to Buxton.
Because it was a long way - maybe too far. Back in Buxton, a few of us tried to get another drink in The Railway but nobody was serving so we had a quick one in Milton's Tap and headed to La Gaby Pizzeria where all 13 of us (and Pip, by now knackered surely) met up. I had a margarita pizza (standard) and we had a few drinks.
The general consensus was that the pizzas, and the service, was great and we even managed to outnumber, and make more noise than, the hen party on the other table. Once again, it was Neil, Bee, and myself who turned in last.
Though I slept better. After breakfast, a dwindling number of us met back at the Lakeside Kiosk. Bee, Catherine, Rebecca, and Mo decided to go and explore Bakewell as the second day was the day I'd, perhaps wrongly, advertised as the toughest. Michelle and Marianna (and Pip) also said their goodbyes and headed off to visit some old haunts in Derby.
So now there were seven of us - and it was raining again as we left Buxton Park and headed out of Buxton. Eventually reaching fields of very wet grass. The wet grass was the least of our problems when we reached a field, on a public right of the way, full of bullocks. Now the 'fun' had started.
Adam, perhaps bravely - perhaps foolishly, headed in to the field and up to the bullocks who all came to stare him down. I told him later that if he had been mauled to death by the bullocks I would have eaten, for the first time in forty years, a beefburger to avenge his death. Luckily it didn't come to that but Adam eventually retreated as Pam and I assessed the chances of passing through another nearby field.
No dice - and then Pam fell over and hurt, not too badly, her arm. While all this was happening, Laura and Shep had headed back to Buxton (Laura not being a fan of bulls). So with now just five of us remaining we took a rather long diversion along a few roads (through Peak Dale, Monkey Brew Close, and Smalldale - not Big Neil's favourite place!).
There seemed to be so many ways you can die in the countryside but we weren't planning on in swimming cold water or breaking into the quarry so we felt we'd now be okay - as long as we didn't meet any more large beasts.
We climbed a long, slow, winding hill with fields of sheep, dry stone walls, and amazing views all around. The rain had calmed down and the pub seemed nearby but of course a country miles is a country mile and soon we had to contend with not bullocks - but cows. Quite frisky ones too.
They gave us a good stare but nothing worse - luckily - and soon we were descending into the village of Peak Forest whose church is dedicated to Charles I - executed in 1649. Peak Forest was known as the Gretna Green of England as the minister was able to perform marriages without reading the bands.
We were more interested in the pub - The Devonshire Arms - where we'd meet with Shep and Laura who had walked back to Buxton, rang us, and arranged to meet us, by car, in Peak Forest. Once Laura had handed some Buddhist leaflets over to the barman we ordered drinks and chips and then painstakingly, painfully even, hatched a plan for the rest of the day.
We'd never be able to finish the walk with time our diversion had added on but if Shep or Laura could do two runs to the base of Mam Tor we could at least do the bit I thought would be the highlight of the day. They agreed and soon me, Shep, Neil, Adam, Teresa, and Pam were climbing Mam Tor (Laura waited in the car after handing out some Buddhist leaflets at a nearby burger van).
Mam Tor isn't a tough climb - but it was a windy one. Though Mam Tor's height is 517m (1,696ft) we were starting from a relatively high point anyway. Mam Tor means mother hill but it's also known as the shivering mountain (giving this walk its title) and its crowned by a late Bronze Age and early Iron Age fort and two Bronze Age bowl barrows. It is, as mentioned earlier, one of the Seven Wonders of the Peak and when you look at the views you see why. Though they do suffer the odd landslide up there!
Teresa and Pam went back down the way we'd came up and Laura would give them a lift back to Buxton and Shep, Neil, Adam, and myself carried along a wonderfully scenic ridge before descending slowly, but easily, into the pretty, and busy, town of Castleton.
All the pubs in Drenge's hometown were doing a roaring trade but the four of us took a table, and a couple of pints, in the garden of The Bull's Head and I reflected on how we started the walk with nine women and four men and ended up with four men and no women. I joked that even I couldn't normally alienate nine women in one weekend.
Silliness aside, it was nice to finish (sort of the walk) and soon we were in a cab back to Buxton where we'd meet the others (minus Michelle and Marianne) in The Cheshire Cheese pub, have a quick drink, and grab a curry in Taj Mahal. They were taking our drinks order before we sat down but the curry was good and came very very quickly.
Most movingly of all, my friends sang happy birthday to me (it was the day before my birthday) and insisted they collectively pay for me. I was really touched but there was one or two surprises to come.
After the curry, Neil, Bee, Pam, and myself went to have one last drink in The Old Sun Inn. It was pretty quiet and they were closing early so we asked if anywhere else was open. The Queen's Head across the road was and we managed to twist Pam's arm who said she's come in for one last sambuca.
But when we got there we found the Manchester Ska Orchestra playing and spent the rest of the night, going into my birthday, jumping about, waving our arms in the air, and singing along to Lip Up Fatty, Baggy Trousers, Gangsters, and, best of all, Too Much Too Young. They were fucking ace and between the sets (we'd missed the first one) the DJ even played Geno. What more could a birthday boy hope for!? Pam even suggested I'd planned the whole thing as a birthday treat to myself. I wish I had that much executive function!
It was a late one so I was a bit 'lethargic' during my birthday breakfast the next morning but very touched by the cards I received (and, most of all, Bee's gift of a HAPPY BIRTHDAY inscribed Bakewell tart). A few of us went to a cafe for a bit and then, just as it all began, it was Mo, Pam, and myself on the train to Stockport and then the train to Euston. I was tired and emotional but I'd had such a great time I wasn't even sure how to go about writing this up. I hope it brings back some happy memories for those of you who came along. It certainly does for me.
Thanks to Pam, Mo, Shep, Laura, Adam (extra thanks for so much GPS work and being my co-pilot all weekend), Teresa, Neil, Bee, Catherine, Rebecca, Michelle, Mariane, and, of course, Pip for the company, the photos (many included here), and for such a great, and memorable weekend. Let's do it again next year but until then here's some smiling faces from TADS#57.
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