Odin’s mine was still just in faint daylight as the nine Slow Warts, unaccustomed to the limestone terrain, braved the silty and slimy path alongside a deep and steep narrow gorge. In full daylight, this may have given the vertigo nerves a bit of a twitch but in the semi-light we were protected from the deep chasm view. Despite this, we arrived at the first of many further fences to test our balance and climbing skills of particularly the elder Slow Warts.
There was a short respite from the slime, with a stint on the road before joining the path to Lord’s Seat. To help us on our way, the breathless conversation turned to the delight (?) of masculine semi-internal medical examinations (sorry, Anna) which seemed to pass the time away in the duly appropriate and numbing cold wind (a feels like temperature of -2⁰ C had been forecast).
Andy’s plan was now to head directly for the Cold Side Pond on a 60⁰ bearing which conveniently coincided with a distant valley light. However, that plan was quickly dropped, when the light appeared to be moving rapidly down the valley (a train!). So, we plunged over the edge to descend further into the darkness of the deep, steep sided valley; see the tightly packed contours on Chris’s track. The risk of serious injury was mitigated by the extraordinary soft and thick grassy undergrowth (Michael described it as featherbed), though it was hard sometimes to extricate feet out of the blanket. Of course, this soft ground could not continue and was partially replaced by intermittent gorse prickling us into serious avoidance action. We didn’t win, of course, the gorse did. Ah well, it may have done us some good? Thrown into this mix was a series of bogs with ever present rushes to obscure the streams running through them. Our swearing quota was rapidly being used up. Thankfully, nobody went off screaming “Give me some road”, so we did maintain our composure. We also faced a number of barbed wire fences requiring some delicate footwork and occasional assistance (thanks Moz). This was not a demonstration of elegant steeple chasing but our inelegance did bring us to the Mam Tor Road, and despite wishing for it, instead we crossed into yet more slimy mud.
It was with great relief we reached Cold Side Pond which looked much like Monet’s Garden with the lilies (or were they just leaves?) floating gracefully on the surface. We relaxed whilst Chris (fresh from sunny Portugal) went to the opposite side to continue practicing his photography.
A bit of paddling around the rushes of the pond edge was nearly the last of our contouring before we could enjoy the almost mown-grass like surface of a (very) steep climb to the Great Ridge. Regrouping, there was a slimy dash to the collapsed Mam Tor Road to the cars, and many mobile homes. Curiously and politely, a car with headlamps blazing waited for me to pass before going on further to a farmhouse (?). The road was the last of the assortment of surfaces we were to enjoy before the pub.
At the first pub, we were advised that there was standing room only but there was likely more room in the neighbouring pub. This was true so we settled there and discussed Anna’s successful completion of the recent OMM. Fortunately, our table was big enough to accommodate both maps, so best lines were mulled over. The conversations then degenerated into old memories of previous OMMs and KIMMs. However fascinating this talk was, there was a more serious situation developing, the pub had run out of draught beer. We did the best we could, given this dire situation and resorted to drinking the fizzy stuff.
What a night we’d had, a sparkling sunset, a brisk and cool wind, a variety of sometimes challenging terrain and most of all good, sparkling company. With many thanks to all.
Graham
