We were never more than about a mile from the car park on our latest moderately epic outing from Odin’s Mine. So, it was short, a total of three miles, which took about an hour and a half (at 2 mph) though we ten, including welcome returnees Penny and Sarah, did climb (and descend) about 1300 feet.
Yes, isn’t it a mess, the eastern side of Mam Tor? The road which I remember (in the 1960’s) was usable, is now a jumble of cracked and stepped tarmac which is possibly a reminder of how our current roads, ravaged for weeks by rain, snow and frost, may look in future, judging by the number of potholes. Fortunately, we were on foot to clamber over the various mounds and dips leading to the edge of the landslip which characterises Mam Tor. By this time, we were able to enjoy the rare sight of the sun, albeit setting, which slightly distracted from, and compensated for the very steep climb testing our limited athleticism.
We reached he Roman defensive ditch which proved to be effective in making our decision not to go to the summit of Mam Tor and instead head for the Cold Side pond (or is it Greenlands?) as a substitute for a crossing of a slippery Winnats Pass. This involved a long slope crossing with boggy hidden streams. This was a toe-curling experience in new shoes which were slightly too big, crushing toes into the front and side of one shoe (the bottom one). That was my excuse for slowing down and holding up the others! At the pool, there was a lively debate about whether there were any fish in it and, if so, how did they get there as there appeared to be no inlet or outlet streams. Chris came up with what he claimed was the solution. Ducks paddling in rivers and streams can pick up fish eggs on their legs whilst scrabbling around in river and stream bottoms before flying off to a private pond like the Coldside one where the fish eggs are redeposited. Well, er….. yes?
With thoughts of the possible dangers of egg depositors flying above, we crossed the lower sections of the boggy and reedy streams we’d already crossed higher up, to join the bridleway to Mam Nick. However, the joint jeopardy of wet limestone, the slime (slimestone?) and the rivulets did make for slow progress. Pity the poor horses having to struggle on this bridleway. However, possible relief for us was nearby. We paused for a photo, (why else?) on our climb, just where the road and bridleway meet to be excited by a bus stop, even with a timetable.
We could have caught a bus but the only snag was it was due to go to Buxton (I think). Having discounted that as an option, we descended more first-class slime and followed the signs for ice cream and teas and cakes…….but to no avail, unsurprisingly, the café was closed. Instead, we tottered though a chaotic landscape of paths (easily missed) precipitous ridges, deep ominous chasms, more slime and trees whose roots appeared to be holding the whole lot together, as well as attempting to trip up anyone foolish enough to come this way.
We did make it to the car and then, of course, to the pub passing the community of terraced ranks of camper vans and mobile homes, (be assured, there is a difference between them}. Unlike last year the pub was not very crowded and also unlike last year the pub we had retreated to had not run out of beer. Post-run discussions were varied, travel, customs, confiscated Swiss knives, skiing across Sweden (!), starting today in Innsbruck to come to the Serious Warts and, of course, the Mam Tor Slime.
What could be better, we all enjoyed it so thanks to all.
Graham
