The Blakelow Alternative

I had to do Blakelow Hill as an out-and-back from Winster. This involved some field hopping until I got on to a road leading to Moor Farm. Just before reaching the farm I diverted off the road on to path that would lead me near to the trig of Bleaklow Hill. The top itself is on private land and so you can only get to within about 400 metres of the trig. As soon as I got alongside an old quarry, a field full of cows suddenly stood to attention. My footpath continued on the other side of them. I started skirting around to the right of them and then found about a dozen calves hidden in the long grass. The adult cows started taking even more interest in me. I retreated and tried to attempt to continue on the left hand side of them, but my route was restricted by the quarry and the bulk of the adult cows. Damn! I knew that even if I safely got past the cows, I'd then have to return along the very same route later. It wasn't worth it. There had been other Ethels where I'd not been able to get to the exact summit, and Blakelow Hill would just have to be added to that list.

As I walked back to Winster, I felt rather despondent that bovinophobia had got the better of me. Looking at the map I could see another hill, Blake Low just outside of Winster. It was more or less on the route I intended and so I decided to atone for my cowardice and visit it. The Blake Low trig was also on private land, but I did get to be within 50 metres of it. A skull had been screwed on a gate post leading to the trig. I wasn't sure whether it was a warning not to trespass. I didn't risk it.

Harthill Moor

I followed a road down into the pretty village of Ecton and out the other side to Cliff Lane. An information board said that grindstones and pulping stones were produced from the nearby Burycliffe Quarry and then exported to Scandinavia. It seemed odd that they didn't have their own sandstone over there.

Some more field hopping through some very pretty countryside brought me to an avenue of trees along a disused farm track. The track was overgrown and had an abundance of nettles, but I followed jt for a couple of hundred metres in order to get nearer to the top of Harthill Moor (another Ethel summit that is on private land).  I got within a stone's throw of the summit, but a stone wall prevented me seeing the trig. Another Ethel ticked (well partially), I set off eastwards towards the village of Birchover. The OS Map showed some intriguing items on the way such as a Stone Circle, a Hermit's Cave and Robin Hood's Stride, whatever that was. They all sounded intriguing and I set off on the field hopping route that would take me there.

 Robin Hood's Stride, Hermit's Cave And Stone Circle

The stone circle actually turned out to be a stone square. There used to be nine stones, but only four now remain. They are also known as 'The Grey Ladies.' Legend has it that the stones dance at midday. As it happens I was there at midday and can confirm that they didn't dance. Thinking about it afterwards though, I'd not accounted for British Summer Time and so that probably explained the lack of a performance. Robin Hood's Stride was nearby and is a very impressive rock formation. It was possible to get near to the top of the outcrop without much effort, although the two pinnacles (known as Weasal and Inaccessible) are purely for the rock climbers. I was a little sad to see that the rocks have been scarred by chiselled graffiti, some of it quite old. It provided a superb spot to have my lunch.

After an exciting tomato sandwich, I headed over towards the Hermit's Cave. I wasn't really sure how discerning the hermit might have been accommodation wise, and I mistook another cave for the hermit's. This was disappointing since later Google research revealed that the hermit's cave looked quite interesting. It has a four foot high carved crucifixion on the wall and a ledge to hold a lamp or candle.  I bet that hermit had some fun evenings.  I dropped down through the woods and continued my route over towards the village of Birchover.

Stanton Moor

Birchover turned out to be a pleasant one street, two pub and no shop village. This was disappointing since the day was a scorcher and I was hoping to buy an ice-cream.  I continued along the road out of the village and up past Stanton Park Quarry to Stanton Moor. An information board near to the entrance of the moor gave some details of how the moor had been used for funerals, ceremonies, farming, quarrying and recreation since the Bronze Age. The moor got off to a dramatic start with the Cork Stone, a large lump of gritstone pointing out of the earth. Somebody had put some rungs on one of its sides in case anybody had the desire to see the moor from a 3 metre higher elevation. Stanton Moor trig was only a couple of minutes walk away from the Cork Stone and enjoys expansive views in all directions. Matlock was clearly visible to the east. At least I was able to get to at least one trig on today's walk. I could have turned around and headed back to Winster at this point, but my OS map promised me that there was the Nine Ladies Stone Circle just 20 minutes walk away to the north. Well, since I was in the area I couldn't miss that, and I headed off in its direction.

Nine Ladies Stone Circle

The Nine Ladies Stone Circle dates from the Bronze Age, about 3,000 to 4,000 years ago. This is remarkable since they have the appearance of having just been dumped there by a farmer to prevent people parking their cars. At least it is a circle, rather than a square, and there are actually 10 stones (one is flat). There has been little evidence uncovered to determine why the stone stone circle was built and how it was used.  The 'Nine Ladies' comes from folk tradition, which says that nine women were turned into stone as punishment for dancing on a Sunday. That seems a bit harsh to me.

A curiosity is some old carved graffiti on a stone about 30 metres southwest of the circle. It says, 'Bill Stumps.' Devotees of Charles Dickens will remember Bill Stumps from the Pickwick Papers. The story is that Mr Pickwick notices the obscure inscriptions on a stone half-buried outside a labouring man's cottage door. The inscription was of the form:

BILST

UM

PSHI

S.M.

ARK

Thinking it was an antiquity Mr Pickwick paid the man 10 shillings for it.  So impressed was Mr Pickwick with the stone, that he wrote a 96 page pamphlet (in small print) and twenty-seven different interpretations of the inscription. It was only when Mr Pickwick was lecturing about the stone at a General Club Meeting that Mr Blotton gave an alternative and more obvious interpretation, 'BILL STUMPS HIS MARK.' The consequences were,

'The Pickwick Club, as might have been expected from so enlightened an institution, received this statement with the contempt it deserved, expelled the presumptuous and ill-conditioned Blotton, and voted Mr Pickwick a pair of gold spectacles, in token of their confidence and approbation; in return for which, Mr Pickwick caused a portrait of himself to be painted, and hung up in the club room'.

Return

Rather than return to Birchover along the road, I chose a pleasant trail through some woodland that brought me out almost in the beer garden of the Druid Inn. I was almost tempted to pop in for a cold lemonade, but I figured I was only 30 minutes walk from an ice-cream shop at Winster. I followed Birchover Lane out of Birchover and then carried out some field hopping towards Winster. There seemed quite a lot of down and up in the last bit of the walk, although the heat had drained me of energy. Fortunately, the footpath brought me out next to a shop that had an external sign offering ice-creams. I popped into the entrance and immediately the assistant went pottering off and disappeared into the bowels of the shop. Curious response to a customer, I thought. I retrieved an ice lolly from the fridge and put it on the counter. Somebody else came in, took a sandwich off a shelf and queued behind me. Five minutes later I could see my ice lolly gradually changing shape on the hot counter. I waited another minute and still no assistant turned up. I gave up. I returned the ice lolly back into the freezer and left the shop.

Although I didn't reach the exact top of Blakelow Hill, I'm claiming it as a summitted Ethel and I'll take anybody to court who disputes it. The day had been full of surprises with square circles and curiously shaped rocks. It had been a delight.