Our recent past outings have been veering on the wild side, with snow and ice at a feels like temperature of about minus 12⁰C, on Kinder edge and semi remoteness at the three sheeper sheep fold near Barrow Stones. Our latest outing was more civilised, it was on the border of the White Peak, never far from habitation, in relatively warm and sunny weather and, for a significant time, in daylight. What is happening to the Serious Warts?
And, we set off downhill from the Grouse to allow the aged Warts to have an easy warm up rather than a brutal immediate steep start. We did manage to find our way across a field successfully and into the wood. We were faced with about five path choices for our planned route to Froggatt bridge. Moz took command and led us on to a rocky descent to near Grindleford church and near to the bridge. It’s probably habitation that confused us as we turned left and were faced with a by-now a non-existent path, a stream and barbed wire. Such was our dilemma we went off in various directions and groups which coalesced into a foursome and a threesome, each on its own group.
We four, Andy, Chris, Roger and I, explored the woods (the remains of a temperate rain forest, according to Chris} and their paths, usually deciding at any junction to go uphill in the belief that we would eventually reach the edge. However, instead, we reached a road with roaring traffic which possibly affected our decision making, to go up or down to The Chequers. We went down (on the road!) and resisted the temptation to enter the pub for mid-run refreshment, the Serious Warts showing such serious self-discipline.
Our paths so far had been littered with streams and swamps which provide comfort for any bog waders in our group. However, they would have been disappointed by the several metallic pathways constructed to avoid their enjoyment of both cooling muddy water and rocks. Such are the perils of straying into foreign territory.
More was to come, the normal delights of fell running include being in wild open and lonely quiet spaces. As we left the Chequers pub, expecting a bit of peace away from the road, instead there was shouting, sometimes demented, interrupted by cries of “Tight rope!”. Climbers were bravely challenging themselves on apparently smooth faces of rock. However, relief from his chatter came after one final push brought us to Froggatt Edge and open, though tussock ridden, ground.
In the glorious sunset we crossed over the moor towards the trig point, but our speedy three colleagues came bouncing over, led by young Louis (welcome back), Michael and Moz who’d occupied the moral high ground by completing the planned route. We’d stopped at a possible other obscure feature which was similar to the three sheeper but even smaller; the one sheeper, perhaps?
The return was a long way back and needed some tricky foot work in the dark, to negotiate the rocks but the lure of the pub looking enticingly close from a long way back, drove us on. In the pub, we enjoyed reminiscing on times in our youth, concluding we’d had it easy despite no central heating, frost on the inside of windows, etc. Is this the reason we seek out and possibly even enjoy the challenges we select for our Wednesday evenings?
We all agreed it had been a different and enjoyable night out. Thanks to all.
Graham
