Six of us were promised an excursion on one of the 23 (no I don’t why 23 either) best epics in the Dark Peak. And we managed to complete it.
The wettish weather was enough to encourage Chris to wear his faithful stylish Bloomers and the rest of us to wear sensible rainwear. Leaving our fashion discussions behind at Broomhead and, to the call of an owl, we left to tackle the rhododendrons on the path leading to the Ewden. Can we blame climate change for the luxuriant yet knarly growth which restricts any free running here? Even within about 5 yards, it was possible to lose sight of any other Serious Warts (formerly known as Slow Warts). This aggressive foliage demands total attention, underfoot and at head height where branches are intent on removing eyes. This way is marked on the map as a public path, but which then ends abruptly and apparently goes nowhere except to the “girders”. These have gained both a legendary and notorious status.
It is uncertain why they were installed across the river apart from being a foot bridge but, to or from where? Are there any people actually using it, apart from the occasional Serious Wart. It was now time to concentrate on crossing the river. After a couple of false starts, a gap in the Rhodos was found leading to the girders. There are at least two ways of using the three parallel girders (possibly old railway tracks) with no footway. One is crawling, using feet on the base of the girder and hands clutching the top. This position provides a direct vertigo-inducing view of the roaring river Ewden. Alternatively, it is possible to simply and bravely walk across the girders, to the sound of rushing water. A further option is to wade the waters. Whichever way, there is a sense of satisfaction in getting to the other side provided there is no serious dunking.
Having apparently arrived at nowhere, we needed to get somewhere, this time via some more challenges, a steep valley side, oceans of dead bracken and eventually an ever-increasing gauntlet run of unfriendly bramble, claimed by some to be a useful exfoliation method, somewhat tempered by the wearing of leggings.
After all this pleasure, we were now on track, heading eventually towards Pike Lowe. Like the rhododendrons, climate change had encouraged growth of heather which partially obscured the boundary path we were following. At least, we were on a path which we then promptly left to stumble over the rocks, neatly hidden (but shown on the map)-by the said heather.
Pike Lowe was hard won but we had yet to return. A neat bit of navigation by Andy avoided most of the hidden rocks surrounding Pike Lowe and the gradual downhill mowed soft wet ground provided an opportunity to run rather than stumble. We were now flying, or so we thought, but inevitably, we had to leave this comfortable ground for a trip to Park Cote. Our site inspection team was keen to slap a “Dangerous building” notice on it because of cracked door lintel.
We left it untouched and descended to the river. which hadn’t subsided so, with no girders, we had to wade into the refreshing waters. The jeopardy was increased by the slimy underwater rocks, fortunately there were no full immersions. Once across, we were faced with a cliff; going left was no better so we went right, up more moss-covered tree roots and rocks followed by a bracken jungle before reaching the shooting cabin track. Now we could run, albeit exhaustedly, all after over two and a half hours of nocturnal fun.
The Plough provided more fun particularly considerations for possible routes for the newly announced Club Championships. Oh, how we enjoy ourselves.
Thanks to Andy for the suggested route and the navigation, and to all. Thanks also to Tim, for the jelly babies which were a good pick-me-up.
Graham
