Lees Moor

The pheasant was sat on the field gate. Normally they take flight at the first sight of me, but this one seemed to be frozen. At first, I wondered if it was asleep, but on closer inspection its eye was open. I got to within five metres of it and then accidently dropped my map. The noise woke it up and it was soon away.

Further along the track I inspected an oak tree. It seemed to be hollow; there was even a large hole from one side of the tree to the other. Despite these deficiencies its canopy was full, and it seemed to be thriving.

The day had started with a cloud inversion, and as I got higher, I climbed above it. It was bright and sunny in the world above. A tree plantation had been plonked on the flat summit of Lees Moor. Looking at the map, the summit wasn't near any footpaths, although a forestry road was a couple of hundred metres away. I struck out on a vague path, in the general direction of the summit. Thankfully the forest wasn't the tightly packed conifer type of plantation. The going wasn't that bad underfoot, although I did have to do a bit of fern wading at one point. After a quarter of an hour, I hit a forestry road that I'd seen on the map. I followed this to bring me nearer to the summit. Eventually I had to bite the bullet and go back into the trees again. I punched Lees Moor's summit co-ordinates into my gps and followed the breadcrumb tracker to the summit. As I'm stumbling along through the forest, getting wet from the ferns, climbing over falling trees, and being scratched from thorns and stung by nettles, I questioned what on earth I was doing. This whole area looked completely flat. One bit looked very much like another. I'm plodding along following an electronic device to some rather arbitrary co-ordinates. Is this what completing the Ethels is really all about? My gps pinged to say I'd reached my co-ordinates. There was no evidence that anybody else had been to this point before. For what it was worth, Lees Moor Ethel had been ticked.

Curiously, about a 100 metres from the summit, I found a load of rubbish that had been fly tipped. It was quite a way from the forestry road and so I presumed it had been dumped before the forest had been planted. There was even a couple of filing cabinets, although nothing was inside. How bizarre.

Return To Calton

I made my way back to the forestry road. According to my map, if I followed the road, it would take me back to Calton Lees in about 20 minutes. The alternative was to retrace my steps back through the wood and then back along my outward route. This would mean getting wet with the fern wading and would take at least 45 minutes. My problem was that due to my exuberance at not having to pay for car parking, I'd forgotten to check whether there was access to the woods at Calton Lees. I'd hate to walk down the forestry road only to find my way blocked by a locked, barbed gate. I sighed, there was nothing for it...back through the woods. On my return to Calton Lees, I did check the end of the forestry road. It was locked and had a 'private' sign on it.

As I passed the car park attendant in his shed, I gave him the thumbs up sign. I'm not sure he recognised me since he looked rather bemused. I took the road bridge over the River Derwent and headed off uphill to my second Ethel of the day, Harland Edge. From afar I could see that it had no trees on top, and so I figured it couldn't be worse than Harland Edge. Little did I know.

Harland Edge

Although I could see Harland Edge, it never seemed to get any closer. Just when it was in touching distance the path made me meander to one end of the edge to a place called Hob Hurst's House. As I read the information board, I kept a third eye on a couple inside the fenced enclosure and wondered if they knew they were having their lunch on the top of a Bronze Age burial mound. I wondered how much time would have to pass before dropping bits of your lunch on somebody's grave wouldn't be frowned upon with disapproval. The site was one of the first to be taken under state care under the Ancient Monuments Protection Act of 1882. The name, Hob Hurst's House refers to a mythical hobgoblin who haunted nearby woods. I intended going back through those woods on my way to Chatsworth, and so now thought it wise to consider a reroute.

The summit of Harland Edge didn't look far away, maybe a kilometre. 15 minutes after heading for it, I was again questioning my motivation for doing the Ethels. The problem was that I was having to wade through knee high heather to get to the top. Frequently, the heather was waist high. The heather was woody, and despite having trousers on, my shins were being scratched sore. Not only that, unseen stones and holes under the heather contrived to twist ankles. Twice I stumbled full length into the heather. Harland Edge is so flat on top that I had to use my gps again to find the agreed summit. There was an old shooting bunker nearby and I waded over to sit down for my lunch. Some orange peel had been deposited near the stones and so some other poor sod had also made the journey. I prolonged my lunch since I really didn't really want to retrace my steps to Hob Hursts House. What on earth had driven me to make such a miserable journey to what looked like an arbitrary point in this vast sea of heather? I seriously considered stopping the Ethels at this point. I rubbed my shins and set off back to Hob Hursts House.

Chatsworth Ahoy!

I was a gibbering wreck when I got back to the burial ground. I was going to have to do Harland Edge and Lees Moor again at some stage for Calse and Mo's Ethel campaign. I've figured that if I take them up two other easier hills, they'd be none the wiser. That sounded a good idea to me.

The path to the Chatsworth Estate was sheer luxury after the recent heathery hell. My mood shifted as I walked in cool woods and on signed, obvious trails. Eventually the trail led me to a brook. I followed the brook for a short distance and was met with the most amazing view. I'd stumbled on Chatsworth's Water Cascade. Through a gap in the trees, I could see Chatsworth way down in the valley below. I followed the Water Cascade down through the trees. There is even a large viaduct that forms part of the Cascade. Nearing the valley bottom the trail directed me around to the side of the massive house.

Chatsworth

I'd been to Chatsworth House when I was a youngster. My memory had completely lost the sheer scale of the place. It is very impressive. It is popular too; I'd arrived on a weekday when kids were at school, and it was still buzzing with lots of people. There are a number of large modern sculptures that are positioned around the grounds, and these provide a surreal perspective to the visit. I crossed over the bridge and walked along the River Derwent, where I got wonderful views of the main house. This was definitely a place where I'd have to return and spend more time exploring. I walked along the bank of the River Derwent towards Calton Lees. I spotted some Fallow Deer in the deer sanctuary on the other side of the river.

I ruminated on my question I'd had on Lees Moor and Harland Edge as to why I was doing the Ethels. The answer was clear now. If I'd not done them, I'd probably have never visited Chatsworth House and had such a memorable experience.

It was a different fellow in the car park attendant's booth. I still give him a hearty 'hello' as I walked by.