Post by doug789 on Mar 19, 2011 22:02:09 GMT -1
Friday looking at the weather and saturday is going to be good. Just the weather to explore some of the lesser known areas. I text Brian and ask if he wants to go out on saturday and he contacts Paul.
There is a walk on Walking in Britain around Combs Moss near Buxton and as it's an area weve seen from a distance but never ventured on I decided that should be the destination. The website graded the walk 7.5 miles easy to moderate. We added a bit on by starting from Combs.
Arriving in the village of Combs after only one wrong turn (as it happens this was a good move) we parked outside the Beehive Inn and set off up the road to Combs edge. This was the road I intended to come down but finding it to be single track and a gradient of 1 in 5 I think the brakes would have been smoking before we reached the bottom.
After a lung bursting trek up this road with sweat oozing from every pore we reached the footpath to Castle Naze. This is an old iron age fort but to my untutored eye looks like the side of a hill. The defenders I think must have had one leg longer than the other to defend it but I can't imagine many attackers being capable of lifting a spear after the walk up from Combs never mind using it. The access to the moor is newly opened access land but the land owner still had their bit of power and bans dogs.
Walking up to the top of the edge was another pulse raiser, especially the top bit but we eventually struggled to the summit. Here despite the temp at the bottom being in double figures a cold wind rapidly cooled our perspiring torsos so an extra layer was required.
We set off Southwards stopping to admire the view over Combs resevoir and to the North, Famine Hill and Kinder. That was the last pleasantness for sometime as the path skirted the edge a bit too close for comfort. A 6 inch wide path in places running to the edge of 200ft drops. Coming to a wall which was the next crossing point, this was obvious as it was slightly lower than the rest of the wall we crossed and moved to the moor side of the wall. This was safer but the path was virtually non existent, just tussocky grass and bog so progress was something akin Paul approaching a temperance meeting. We therefore moved back out to the edge on the basis that it would be better to die quickly from a fall than slowly from starvation.
After weaving in and out of the gulleys created by streams we came across a gamekeeprs shelter where we could have lunch out of the wind. The sun was glorious and we could admire the views across the Cheshire plane and Manchester and even see the Clwyd hills of North Wales. The path improved from here and we started to make good progress around the edge.
Moving South we had views over Errwood resevoir, Axe edge and could even make out land marks in the south of the Peak District such as High Weeldon and Minning Low.
We turned North and progress was halted by a bloody great gorge. Is this the one that Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid jumped off inquired Paul. The path led up to a style as rickety as a cabinet ministers excuse. Not only this the other side of the style just had a small grit stone slab to land on. If you overshot you went 200ft to your death down the gorge. We crossed the style and then picked our way carefully down a preciptous path which weaved its way to the bottom. The land owners had kindly left bits of fencing in places to prevent you falling down the gorge. On testing these though they would have collapsed under the weight of an anorexic super model filled with helium.
At the bottom we could cross the stream via a bridge. Here is where I made the compulsory wrong choice and we set off struggling up the other side of the gorge only to reach a barb wire fence. Strange for us we decided to reverse our route and found the correct path. Sensible decsions are not usually our forte. The correct path was on the lee side of the hill and it was now mid afternoon and the sun was remarkably strong for the time of year. We therefore had the opposite problem of the windward side and struggled up a steep hill in the hot sun and not a breath of wind. There wasnt even the guy from the Sure ad' to put a tick on us as our skins decided to re-enact their impression of the Japanese tsunami. Brian was saying next time he received a text on a friday he would make a point of ignoring it.
On reaching the top shakespearian quotes such as "oh death where is thy sting" came to mind. The path at the top was airless as well as we trudged "like beggars under sacks" to quote Wilfred Owen. However after some trudging we caught site of the trig point on Hobs Tor and a pleasant breeze sprung up. We could then appreciate the views across to the Mam Tor ridge and the cone of Win Hill to the east along with great views all round. Hobs Tor also meant that we had almost competed the circumnavigation and thoughts were turning inexorably to the sight of a glass of frothing ferment. Another mile and we could descend Castle Naze.
The descent was made somewhat difficult by the steepness and also that someone appeared to putting daggers in both my knees. Why do I do this to myself? We then wandered happily down the hill to the Beehive where we enjoyed the golden pippin real ale even though we had to contact a financial adviser before ordering a round. It tasted great but a £3.10 a pint we should have been offered the bar maid to sleep with as well. I don't think any of us would have refused.
All in all I can say that I'm glad we did it and the guy who rated this easy to moderate must be either cloned with a goat or is a liar.
Driving back we were stuck behind a sloth being taught to drive just to wind me up a bit further.
There is a walk on Walking in Britain around Combs Moss near Buxton and as it's an area weve seen from a distance but never ventured on I decided that should be the destination. The website graded the walk 7.5 miles easy to moderate. We added a bit on by starting from Combs.
Arriving in the village of Combs after only one wrong turn (as it happens this was a good move) we parked outside the Beehive Inn and set off up the road to Combs edge. This was the road I intended to come down but finding it to be single track and a gradient of 1 in 5 I think the brakes would have been smoking before we reached the bottom.
After a lung bursting trek up this road with sweat oozing from every pore we reached the footpath to Castle Naze. This is an old iron age fort but to my untutored eye looks like the side of a hill. The defenders I think must have had one leg longer than the other to defend it but I can't imagine many attackers being capable of lifting a spear after the walk up from Combs never mind using it. The access to the moor is newly opened access land but the land owner still had their bit of power and bans dogs.
Walking up to the top of the edge was another pulse raiser, especially the top bit but we eventually struggled to the summit. Here despite the temp at the bottom being in double figures a cold wind rapidly cooled our perspiring torsos so an extra layer was required.
We set off Southwards stopping to admire the view over Combs resevoir and to the North, Famine Hill and Kinder. That was the last pleasantness for sometime as the path skirted the edge a bit too close for comfort. A 6 inch wide path in places running to the edge of 200ft drops. Coming to a wall which was the next crossing point, this was obvious as it was slightly lower than the rest of the wall we crossed and moved to the moor side of the wall. This was safer but the path was virtually non existent, just tussocky grass and bog so progress was something akin Paul approaching a temperance meeting. We therefore moved back out to the edge on the basis that it would be better to die quickly from a fall than slowly from starvation.
After weaving in and out of the gulleys created by streams we came across a gamekeeprs shelter where we could have lunch out of the wind. The sun was glorious and we could admire the views across the Cheshire plane and Manchester and even see the Clwyd hills of North Wales. The path improved from here and we started to make good progress around the edge.
Moving South we had views over Errwood resevoir, Axe edge and could even make out land marks in the south of the Peak District such as High Weeldon and Minning Low.
We turned North and progress was halted by a bloody great gorge. Is this the one that Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid jumped off inquired Paul. The path led up to a style as rickety as a cabinet ministers excuse. Not only this the other side of the style just had a small grit stone slab to land on. If you overshot you went 200ft to your death down the gorge. We crossed the style and then picked our way carefully down a preciptous path which weaved its way to the bottom. The land owners had kindly left bits of fencing in places to prevent you falling down the gorge. On testing these though they would have collapsed under the weight of an anorexic super model filled with helium.
At the bottom we could cross the stream via a bridge. Here is where I made the compulsory wrong choice and we set off struggling up the other side of the gorge only to reach a barb wire fence. Strange for us we decided to reverse our route and found the correct path. Sensible decsions are not usually our forte. The correct path was on the lee side of the hill and it was now mid afternoon and the sun was remarkably strong for the time of year. We therefore had the opposite problem of the windward side and struggled up a steep hill in the hot sun and not a breath of wind. There wasnt even the guy from the Sure ad' to put a tick on us as our skins decided to re-enact their impression of the Japanese tsunami. Brian was saying next time he received a text on a friday he would make a point of ignoring it.
On reaching the top shakespearian quotes such as "oh death where is thy sting" came to mind. The path at the top was airless as well as we trudged "like beggars under sacks" to quote Wilfred Owen. However after some trudging we caught site of the trig point on Hobs Tor and a pleasant breeze sprung up. We could then appreciate the views across to the Mam Tor ridge and the cone of Win Hill to the east along with great views all round. Hobs Tor also meant that we had almost competed the circumnavigation and thoughts were turning inexorably to the sight of a glass of frothing ferment. Another mile and we could descend Castle Naze.
The descent was made somewhat difficult by the steepness and also that someone appeared to putting daggers in both my knees. Why do I do this to myself? We then wandered happily down the hill to the Beehive where we enjoyed the golden pippin real ale even though we had to contact a financial adviser before ordering a round. It tasted great but a £3.10 a pint we should have been offered the bar maid to sleep with as well. I don't think any of us would have refused.
All in all I can say that I'm glad we did it and the guy who rated this easy to moderate must be either cloned with a goat or is a liar.
Driving back we were stuck behind a sloth being taught to drive just to wind me up a bit further.