Admittedly, it was a day late but, arguably, it was a treat worth waiting for. Water was very much the theme of his treat, even at the car park where spaces were limited by the duckponds at Birchen Clough. There was a preponderance of waterproofs, for upper and lower body, and, of course, the Barber pantaloons which are becoming the must-have apparel. So far though, amongst the eight of us however, Chris is the only one wearing his handsome homemade masterpieces. Just give it time to take off.
Andy’s ambitious route was planned for us as an antidote to Tim T’s birthday orienteering event (where Tom W was), from the Sportsman (there seem to be far too many birthdays at this time of year). Our climb out of Birchen Clough required some intricate foot work, so like sword dancers we danced our way up the wood dodging the fallen branches towards the moor above Oyster Clough and Cabin. First, however we had to negotiate the results of the moor reclamation and wetting which involves gully blocking, replanting heather and introducing more sphagnum moss. Fortunately, we didn’t lose any of us in the bogs or in the inviting and very soft green patches though there were some not-so mild comments even amongst our mostly stoic members. It was a relief to leave this flat terrain to replace it with a steep and slippery descent to the Oyster Cabin. The Slow Warts pride themselves on avoiding any contact with other humankind but to our surprise there was one in the cabin, I suspect he was surprised to see eight be-waterproofed and possibly incontinent beings, all peeing outside his cabin for the night.
Leaving the cabin man in peace we sought more moor wetlands on the way to our next checkpoint, a sheepfold, in the Alport Valley. There was also a bonus of tussocks and a healthy number of groughs which were being nicely topped up by the windblown heavy rain, so, by now, there wasn’t a dry foot (or much else) in our group. We were now getting into a pattern of going up, across a few swamps and then down again, a pattern which was to be repeated during the evening, but I guess that’s fell running.
The Alport valley, I think, is spectacular, a Dark Peak miniature Grand Canyon although it’s probably a bit warmer there and it takes a day or two to cross it. We were to cross from one side of the Alport valley to the other, twice, in a one evening. The firebreak down to the river provided another treat for Moz and the rest of us; there was a choice, through the dead and spiky bracken or down the green slippery path (?) to the river. There was some doubt as we set off whether the river would be crossable but without any reluctance or comment we crossed the impressive flow and reached the sheepfold.
The original plan was to head out from Alport over to the sheepfold in Westend at the junction with Raven Clough but there were a few second thoughts being uttered so the plan was changed to the Alport trig and then to the Scout Memorial Stone. The sprightly ones amongst us, probably the willing Westend souls, Bob, Tim and Andy, made quite a dash for it up the climb to the trig from the Alport though, whether the use of discarded supports from the recently planted saplings, as walking poles by Tim, is open to question. The trig was the point where torches were lit and where the previous wind assistance changed to wind resistance, it was hard work just running (?) to the edge for our second crossing of the Alport. The steep bilberry surface and the sapling protective plastic tubes gave us a sort of slalom experience but without skis, yet another treat for Moz, perhaps?
Whilst it was expected that the higher up the valley river crossing may have been easier, the river was narrower, stronger and deeper but again, there were no comments or complaints so we just crossed. As we scrambled out, I was reminded of a Billy Connolly show where he strode around in his incontinence pants. My waterproof over-trousers filled up with water which was then slowly released climbing up to the Scout Stone, at least, this could be adopted as a possible future training aid. The navigation to the Stone was perfect despite the rocks, heather, bilberry thistles, bogs and streams, and repeated from the Stone to the edge where we were met with strong wind blusters. More wet and windy weather was faced as we headed back from there to the car park but whether it was an illusion or not, flashing red and blue lights were seen to the east moving across the moor. We weren’t phased and continued, only to be faced with our biggest challenge so far, the descent from the head of Birchen Clough down the path to the car park. The oozing and slimy steep descent challenged us all to stay upright, which most of us did not. The use of my almost bald and smooth soled Hokas shoes were not the best but at least the small stream near the car did clear most of the mud but not the gloves which left some grubby patches on the door handles. The Mountain Rescue were also present at the car park so the flashing lights we saw were from a helicopter looking for casualties. Note, it was a training exercise.
At the Yorkshire Bridge Inn, the outing was declared an epic experience and a truly unforgettable birthday with the complete set of all possible Dark Peak birthday treats for Moz, all topped off with Moz’s delicious cake. What could be better!
Track and profile thanks to Chris