We have choices

I'm going to start this post with a quote from a comment by Sarina, thank you for commenting by the way, you have given me food for thought. She asks a question which I would like to answer in full, rather than add it to the post.

"The scenery is nice, but wouldn`t you have enjoyed it more on a sunny day? This dreary weather makes things look a bit depressing."

Yes, the sun probably would have made my trip more enjoyable, but with the weather being so unpredictable there is no guarantee when or if we will get a sunny day. At this time of year I could probably just turn up at a Youth Hostel after first checking that they have vacancies. If I woke up to a sunny morning I could throw a few things in a bag and set off within an hour of waking, then there would be a good chance the sun might last the day.

On the other hand there might not be a sunny day for a couple of months or more. I might be waiting a long time for the right day to arrive, in the meantime becoming more frustrated at being trapped at home.

I believe that what you find enjoyable or not enjoyable is all in the mind. Well if that's not stating the obvious then I don't know what is, ha ha. What I mean is, if you wake up in the morning and you have already made up your mind to have a good day, you probably will. If you wake up in a grump, and can't see why you should bother to do anything, the day is most likely to be crap.

This dreary weather doesn't make me depressed. There are lots of emotions on a sliding scale between being miffed, peeved, fed up, hacked off, disheartened, despondent, crest fallen, dejected, low spirited, pessimistic, and depressed. I admit I might be a bit miffed about something not being right, or a bit disheartened when things don't go how I expect them to, but I can't find it in me to be depressed about the weather. I am glad we have changing seasons, all of them have their charms, and they dont last forever.

I am a glass half full kind of person. I look forward to getting up every day, looking around me, and feeling gratefull for just being alive. My enjoyment of life is not ruled by outside influences, it comes from within my head. Wandering around the countryside on a misty day gives me just the same spiritual lift as it does when the sun is out. I feel blessed that we have four seasons to enjoy, the changing landscape has something to offer whatever time of year it is.

We have choices, do we let negative feelings influence our lives so that we crawl into a hole and come out in the spring, or do we bash them on the head, pull our socks up, get off our butt, and grab life by the balls. I know what I would rather do.

Eyam, Grindleford, Curbar, Baslow

Thursday, big decision to make this morning, spaghetti on toast or rice pudding, for breakfast. The rice pudding won. It rained while I was eating it and I was in two minds whether to give up and go home. I went back to my room after making my packup, stripped the bed, packed my bag, and by the time I got back downstairs it had stopped raining. That's it then, carry on as planned and do another days walking.

It was a bit murky, a lot of low lying cloud, I took the path at the back of the hostel and climbed up to the top of the wood and into a field. Blimey, no nice views to be had up here. I imagined the sheep muttering to each other about the mad human tramping across their patch.

I reached Sir William Hill road, a wide track where several cars were parked. A bunch of elderly blokes were tying their up boot laces and slinging their rucksack onto their backs. We exchanged a few good mornings and a quick chat on which way we were all heading. They were going off to the pub I saw yesterday at Foolow, obviously well off pensioners to be able to afford the £6.75 lunch.

Then the sun attempted to make an appearance as the clouds thinned a little.

Some more mushrooms, there seems to be a lot about at the moment.

Curly haired cows, I like the autumn colours of the trees.

I'm heading towards Grindleford, as the road bends round to the right, on a clear day you can see Nether Padley over there. It's still in the mist at the moment.

This is the war memorial at Grindleford.

And opposite is Sir William Hotel.

I took a little stroll along the main street before I went on my way, and found this rather beautifull Volvo truck, drool drool. It's the same size cab that I used to drive for B & Q. This one has all the heavy lifting equipment on the back, capable of recovering all types of trucks. I'm getting withdrawal symptoms. Most of the time I don't miss it, but when I see a truck like this I have an overwhelming urge to take it for a spin :o)

I crossed the river and took the Derwent Valley Heritage Way path. This sign is near the church as you set off across the fields. Isn't it lovely.

The path goes through Froggart Wood.

The water is gushing down the hillside and into this pond, then carries on under a small stone bridge on it's way down to the river at the bottom.

Well, you've got to take a photo of a horse, haven't you, speccially when it's posing. Sorry, the sign says don't feed the horses.

This is Froggart Bridge. The Heritage Way crosses over the river at this point but I decided to stay on the same side, I don't want to cross just yet.

I took this photo looking down into the water, most of what you see is reflection. The water was as still as glass.

More reflections, upside down trees.

And an upside down house at New Bridge.

Next is the weir, but I was on the wrong side of the river to get a good picture. This is the best I could do after stepping very carefully on slimy rocks as far into the river as I dare.

This is Calver Mill now converted to luxury apartments. I tried to get closer for a better picture but it has security gates into enclosed grounds. It's great that they have chosen to preserve some of these historic buildings instead of knocking them down.

I took the road to Curbar, then the path to Baslow. Here are a couple of big houses which caught my eye,

This is the Church of St Anne at Baslow. It has an unusual clockface with the word Victoria, and the date 1897, on it. I have taken this picture of the side facing the road, but the entrance is on the other side, so I'm not sure which is the back and which is the front.

This is Baslow Bridge.

Time to start making my way back. It's still a bit misty.

A lot of the walk back was along old quarry tracks, there were a lot of mines in this area, with rock extraction taking place, and all the tracks that the lorries used to take are still there. Some of them are out of bounds though because the disused quaries could be quite dangerous if you were to wander over the edge.

Time was getting on and I needed to get back. Once again I was cutting it a bit fine. Here I am crossing Darlton Quarry on the outskirts of Eyam. There are signs for walkers to follow so you don't go into the quarry itself, as it's still a working quarry.

I made it back for just before 5pm. These short days are a nuisance, it's annoying when I have to keep checking the time. Never mind, soon be the shortest day then I can think about longer walks. When I read up about the places I have visited, I realise that I have only seen a small part of it. There is a lot more in this area to see, so much to do and so little time. I have walked a total of 28 miles and had three smashing days out. Not a great distance but there was a heck of a lot of ups and downs, good for the old calf muscles, ha ha. Must start planning the next walk.

Eyam, Foolow, Cressbrook Dale, Monsal Trail

Wednesday morning, a glimpse of the stairs and the inside of the front window. Doesn't it look grand. Not what you would expect the interior of a hostel to look like. Feels like a five star hotel, and it's nice and warm with the heating on :o)



I didn't walk very far yesterday, as I only had the afternoon to bimble around, and I wasn't sure of the exact time it would begin to get too dark to find my way back. I think I will be alright till 5pm, but I have my head torch in my bag just in case, knowing me I am bound to stretch the walk a bit too far.

Around Eyam there are home made posters on the telegraph poles advertising local community events. I think this is a good idea as it shows they are trying very hard to get everyone involved in making their own entertainment. They also seem to take the old posters down, I didn't see any that were out of date.

Today I am going to do an anti clockwise walk, so I left the village along Tideswell Lane. The weather is a bit misty, but it might brighten up. There are quite a few of these signs about, I think they are meant to deter people from using the tracks as normal roads.

I can't see much in the distance, but nevertheless it is still pleasant to be out here in the countryside.

Just me and the cows and sheep, not another soul about. It's very tranquil, the mist and low cloud give it an eerie silence that is quite enchanting.

I briefly joined the main A623 but then immediately went off to the right on a minor road to Foolow. Coming into the village is this very picturesque pub, it looks so inviting. I'm a bit early for lunch, but at a price of £6.75 for a pensioners special, I'm glad I have my sandwiches.

Foolow is a tiny village. The medieval cross in the centre which was moved to this position in 1868.

The village green with duck pond.

This is the Anglican Church of St Hugh, originally built as a private dwelling in the early nineteenth century. The first service was held in December 1888. On the door is a notice saying Refreshments Inside.

How lovely for weary travellers to be offered a drink, just help yourself, donation welcome.

All neat and tidy inside.

This is the footpath I am looking for, through this narrow gap between two walls. But before you leave take a look at this two minute video of Foolow.

Across the fields again towards Wardlow Mires. I passed a sheep which was lying on it's side at the edge of a field. At first I thought it might be dead, but as it became aware of my presence it struggled to get onto it's feet. The poor thing was holding it's front leg off the ground as it hobbled along. The twisted leg looked like it was broken. I spied a farm just ahead, and with the aim of reporting this to the farmer, he just happened to be outside with his dog as I passed. He said he knew about the sheep, but he didn't seem too concerned. I have heard it said that farmers really care for the welfare of their animals, but somehow I doubt it. He said the leg wasn't broken, but I thought it would be a good idea to put a plaster cast on it and isolate the sheep during it's recovery. Either that or put it's out of it's misery.

I love walking through the countryside, but seeing the conditions that some animals are kept in really distresses me. Maybe I am too sensitive because I could never eat meat. We all like to see fluffy lambs frolicking in the fields, and cows munching green succulent grass, but the reality is somewhat different. Look at these cows, they are definately in the mire.

On the A623 is this pub, with a rather gruesome plaque on the front with three stag skulls mounted on it. It wasn't open but it didn't look very appealing to me.

I crossed the road to take a track on the other side, and noticed this rather faded, 'Beware of the Guinea Pig' sign, in front of a derelict building which was being eaten up by creeping ivy.

I had a look round the back, and found lots of guinea pigs foraging freely in the undergrowth. I was amazed, this is next to a busy trunk road with heavy lorries thundering through every few minutes.

They shared the land, which had been a garden at some point, with free ranging hens, and doves that were coming and going through a hole high up in the wall of the house. Amazing. As I was looking for the path, a farmer came out to speak to me because he had seen me looking at the map. I asked him about the guinea pigs. He said they belong to the owners of the pub, and walkers are often knocking at his door to tell him a guinea pig is on the road.

Anyway, off I went towards Cressbrook Dale. That lump on the left is Peter's Stone.

I like walking along the bottom of a dale, it's very picturesque. Further along the path goes through a wood, not much sun gets down here so it's looking a bit dead and damp.

Then there is a bit of daylight and these beautiful golden trees.

These are Ravensdale Cottages. There is a narrow vehicle access to them, but they are buried deep in the wood, so it's a very isolated place to live.

Here I have arrived at Cressbrook, you can turn right to go along Millers Dale, but I am going to turn left over the river to go down the Monsal Trail. This building is part of Cressbrook Mill, which has been tastefully turned into residential accommodation.

I think this is part of the old mill, but I can't find anything about it. There is a sold sign on it so I imagine it is soon to be renovated.

The weir at Cressbrook.

Looking down at the mill from the Monsal Trail.

This is the Cressbrook Tunnel to the right, but I am turning left towards Monsal Head.

The Monsal Trail is just under nine miles long, and it runs along the course of the old Midland Railway line. Built originally in 1863, it was bought by the Peak Park authority and opened as the Monsal Trail in 1980. The tunnels were all closed off, but recently they have been opened up. The whole trail is now open to walkers, cyclists and horse riders, though a lot of web sites have not been updated to include this information.

This is the Headstone Tunnel. A quick way to head back would be to take the path on the left up to Monsal Head, but I am going through the tunnel and turning left a little further down the trail, to Little Longstone.

Time is getting on now, I have my eye on my watch, so I'm striding along to get back before dark. I stopped monentarily for a call of nature, behind a brick wall, a long way from any houses. Out of the corner of my I thought I was being spied upon, and quickly adjusted my dress. I looked sideways again to see a black cat walking across the top of the wall towards me. I can't resist stroking a pussycat, and this one seemed extremely friendly. I took the half eaten tuna fish sandwich, which I was saving for later, out of my bag, and broke a small piece off and offered it to the cat. It pounced and nearly bit my finger off. Guess what, there wasn't much left for me after pussy had his fill, ha ha.

By now my priority was to get back, so I stopped taking photo's as the light started to fade. The last bit of path from Eyam to the hostel is a killer it's so steep, it was a slow trudge those last few hundred yards. I saw the welcome hostel lights at ten to five.

Another portion of microwaved veggie stew, a can of cider, and a night in front of the tele. Very nice.