Wrecks
I was wondering just how high the heather, bracken, reeds, grass and tussocks could get in combination, as we staggered and wobbled about in the upper reaches of Cranberry Clough. Maybe it was just the dark and the torch light that exaggerated their heights but the gasping lungs, tired and aching legs (a sign perhaps of the wrecks running this night) told a different story and the latter were probably the true measure of the terrain. There didn’t seem to be much actual running as we were crossing Sandy Lee and Cranberry with the aim of reaching the pair of rock outcrops near Long Edge. Because we were towards the end of our “run”, the eleven of us had spread out, in our usual anxiety to get to the pub, so the torchlights were dotted rather prettily over the hillsides. Our descent into the valley and across the full flowing River Derwent was the last hurrah of our two and a half hour Warts’ outing from King’s Tree.
In the belief that, if no one was at the Tree by the declared start time of 5pm, they wouldn’t be coming, we had started about 9 minutes before, much to Pete’s surprise (he was there at 5pm). So, he was forced into doing some serious training to catch up, which he did successfully by Bull Stones. It was mentioned that Bull Stones Spring was nearby and although we didn’t visit it, the map confirmed its presence along with a couple of other aristocratic ones, Lord Edward Howard’s and Lord Surrey’s Springs; one is close to a line of grouse butts and the other is possibly near a couple of stone structures of unknown function and not marked on the map.
As the light was fading, we set off in good spirit for Rocking Stones in search, there, of one of the dwindling number of whisky stashes. However, on the way and on a more sombre note, Tom suggested we visit the Icelandic Airlines wreck in which three people were killed; not much remains of the wreck now and, as with other wrecks, the actual flight path was not far below the summit of the hillside. Similarly, another wreck, this time of an Airspeed Oxford plane, crashed near Outer Edge. A young RNZAF pilot on his first night solo flight had become disoriented in the mist. I can only imagine the horror of his situation as he tried to reorient himself. Many thanks to Tom for all the detailed information on these wrecks.
We did reach Rocking Stones but we didn’t find the whisky bottle so there was much discussion about who holds the positions of DPFR whisky monitors and their possible dereliction of duty. A couple of weeks ago, another empty whisky stash was found and, apparently, there is also at least one other dry one. Is the club going to ruin or has the Famous Grouse acquired a taste for whisky??
At Rocking Stones (photo thanks to Michael)
We did survive the quicksand-like bogs of Outer Edge under a rather spectacular moon rise to reach the more solid crossing of Cut Gate for the start of our descent via the Mickleden Straddle race route under Wilfrey Edge. Poignantly and, as if to pay tribute to those killed in air crashes, an aircraft flying very low and below us, tipped its wings as it turned to fly down the Derwent valley. Practising for a Dam Busters fly past or night manoeuvres?
At Outer Edge trig (photo thanks to Michael)
We did leave the comfort of the race route path to cut the corner to Long Edge. However, our subsequent experience, recounted above, did make us think afterwards in the pub that there might be an alternative which could be potentially less tortuous; hindsight is a wonderful thing! Continuing on the race path or on the main edge path until about High Stones and then across Upper Hey is a shorter crossing with possibly less rough stuff. It does need to be checked out perhaps on another outing. The descent from the two rocky outcrops was a bit of a relief after the heavy and high undergrowth and crossing the River Derwent was therapeutic, in the cold-water treatment sense. Then we were in strange territory, on an even track so it was useful to have had our feet numbed in readiness.
We survived, it was epic, challenging and, as always, wonderful!
Graham