Time to head back

It has been over two and half years since I have been back to the UK.  My last trip was cut short and I only stayed for three days, leaving on 27 Feb 2000 due to COVID wreaking havoc.  The papers were giving daily reports of seemingly exponentially escalating cases in Italy, and the world hysteria was commencing with threats of boarder closures.  As it was I could have stayed for the full week, as Australia didn’t close its boarders to non-residents until the 20 March, with a two week quarantine restriction for returning residents.  But at the time and even now we all agreed it was a wise move:

So my trip back to the homeland last week was long overdue, and I was happy to be able to once again see my mam and dad.  I had forgotten just what the trip to the UK was like, a 26 hour plus door to door endeavour.  With way too much time being stuck in a seat for extended periods.  Seeta along with my folks greeted me at the airport, and before we made it back to the house we stopped in at Pear Mill in Stockport.  This was an Edwardian cotton spinning mill and one of the last ones to be built, in 1912/3.  Now it houses a vast range of businesses:

We however only went to the café and what I would call a bric-à-brac shop, full of all manner of antiquity and quirky items.  It is easy to loose many hours in this place browsing the numerous nooks and carnies filled from floor to ceiling.  But first it was time for a bite to eat, cuppa and game.  Just about every table in the cafe has a game on it, and it has a wonderful relaxed, friendly and stay-as-long-as-you-like atmosphere.  During our brief rummage through the many items on display I came across a bunch of toys from the 70s that we used to have called Weebles, which were promoted with the catchy phrase of “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down”:

I wasn’t tempted to buy any Weebles, but did come across a 1956 Ordnance Survey map of the Peak District and had to get that.  My sister and folks live in Romiley, which sits just outside the Peak District, a place that holds many fond memories for me and my early climbing days in the 90s.  I was however here to spend time with the folks and Seeta assisted with that by managing her flexible working hours to fit in a trip out together each day.  That said I quickly slipped into my 5am wake up time, and this left me with two to three hours in the morning before the folks were up and about:

The first day was taken up with going with them to their Monday morning tea and lunch club.  I attended this on my last trip and several of the volunteers and other elderly attendees recognised me from back then.  Prior to going to there I walked about Romiley with my dad, and he showed me the small library box by the station.  This is where I found the Friends of Romiley Station book, called walks from Romiley Station.  So from Tuesday onwards I was up and out of the house at 5am heading on a walk, all carefully detailed in this little booklet, with the above and below images being from the first walk I did:

Seeta would generally come by late morning for a trip out.  So even with fitting in a walk, which ranged from 8 to 12 km, I had time to catch up with the folks, get a few jobs done round the place, and of course help my mam with a few puzzles.  Despite only coming over for a week we managed to cram a lot in, with daily trips out, completing 5 puzzles and completing a bunch of jobs mostly round the garden.  Some might say it seems a bit crazy to come for only one week, but with both folks at 90’ish one busy week is enough before they need time to recuperate:

Our first trip out of town, was to Buxton.  Located on the every edge of the Peak District and famous as a spa town.  Also touted as being England’s highest market town, but it is the geothermal springs that draws the crowds.  And in Victorian times the reputed healing qualities of this water, which come out of the ground at 28 degrees, was what attracted people.  Like lots of towns in England there are many old buildings and lots of history for buffs to find out about.  We were however here just to get out and about, and wandered through the streets:

My dad was also keen to pick up some of the water, which you could strangely get for five pounds a bottle in a shop or literally a few yards away get for free at this water fountain.  It is a semi-regular place for Seeta to take the folks too, and like today they have every other time forgotten to bring a few empty bottles.  So my dad used a couple of disposable coffee cups to take some Buxton spring water home.  The coffee cups being worth a mention, as during just about every trip out there is a pit-stop at a Costa coffee shop, not that I partook in that tradition:

I left Perth on a wintery day, rain was bucketing down as I drove to the airport and while I arrived in Manchester on a summers day that to greeted me with rain.  The week before the temperatures were in the high thirties, way too hot for the buildings over here that are built to withstand the cold.  This week for the northern part of England the forecast was mostly overcast with a chance of rain every day, all bar Wednesday.  And that was the only day that we had some sun.  Despite the forecast I was very jammy and managed my morning walks without getting drenched:

For my second walk I headed along the River Goyt, and was a little dismayed to find the riverside path was closed.  So instead of following the diversion I scooted round the fencing and carried on along the river walk.  The erosion was right up to and had taken parts of the path, but it was still passable with care.  The sound of running water was so much nicer than walking through the open fields.  As forecast I got to see the sunrise, after which I even started to get a bit too warm, which was the only time that happened:

I kept an eye out for animals and plants, but other than a couple of nice fungi and several squirrels I didn’t see too much else.  Although being morning time there was always the dawn chorus and I did spy quite a few birds from tiny wrens to larger birds of prey including one owl.  The light was mostly dimpsy, which is an actual word if you care to look it up, and as such photography was often a little blurry or grainy.  This didn’t stop me snapping away, as I relished all the lush greens.  Romiley is also right next to the Peak Forest Canal, originally opened in 1800, and the now refurbished system is reputed to be one of the best canal routes in England:

Our trip out today was to go and pop over to Leeds to see my niece’s, Asha, digs.  It is her final year of university, and being a student she was of course more than happy for us to drop in as a visit like this nearly always entails a meal out for lunch.  Before I came over I was asked if there was anything I wanted to do, and I only had wo requests.  The first was to have a few pub meals.  You can’t beat a British pub meal and even more so if it is at one of the older country pubs.  We did OK and managed to squeeze in four pub meals if my memory serves right.  With the one in Leeds being the second one, and after a lovely few hours visit we left Asha to rest up after eating too much:

We had also overindulged but that didn’t stop the customary stop to pick up a Costa coffee on the way home.  Thursday morning arrived and my walking destination would entail a fair amount of hill climbing, to ascend Werneth Low that is part of the Pennine Way.  This series of hills is often referred to as the “backbone of England”, and this section is just shy of an elevation of 300m.  High enough to give a great vista of the surrounding countryside, with the image below is looking westwards across to Manchester.  The booklet was pretty spot on at giving directions and descriptions of the routes, which was good as there were many twists and turns on the way:

One of the things I really like about England is the 1930’s code of conduct developed by the Ramblers Association has been enshrined in various legislation and policy, including the current Country Code.  This code does a few things, but its core objective is to protect the simple pleasure of walking in nature, and this includes maintaining public right of way.  This maintains public access across freehold land, and at times it feels a little strange walking at times right next to and at times through private areas.  But it does means these walks took me through very varied landscapes:

This allows you to get up close to many historic buildings, such as the above Grade II listed Old Barn of Springwood Farm.  And as you can imagine right of way results in needing to cross many property boundaries, facilitated by a wide variety of permanent features.  These include many types of gates and styles, some very old such as this stone one with stone handles protruding from the wall.  These features were also a key descriptor for many of the junctions such as pass through the kissing gate, and yes this is a real name for a type of gate:

This was the day I probably did the most walking and I feel safe in saying Lisa would have been very proud of the number of steps her Fitbit would have recorded if she had been here.  In addition to a reasonable walk in the morning we went to the Bridgewater Royal Horticulture Society Gardens.  Steeped in history, as every place we went to seemed to be, the original house was built in the 1840’s and survived two world wars and a fire, only to be demolished in 1940 by a scrap merchant who bought the place or a meagre sum:

The remaining structures and grounds have since become protected and are now the biggest gardening project of the two hundred year old Royal Horticulture Society.  The extensive gardens on display, were made more impressive by the fact the place had only been opened to the public for some fifteen months.  Although they started work to rebuild the gardens five years back.  Based on what they have achieved it is hard to imagine what it will eventually look like, as they have a thirty year plan to fully realise their masterplan of this sixty two hectare property:

You may notice my mam in a wheelchair, old age is catching up with her and her active life hasn’t helped.  She simply couldn’t manage the distances we covered at this place.  I was impressed that my dad did manage all the walking, although he looked pretty shattered by the end of the day.  He was in part motivated to keep going due to all the great sights to see, not just ornate gardens but food, tropical, and oriental gardens, as well as open woodlands and lakes.  Definitely a place for them to go back to, to see how it changes with the seasons:

On the way back we made a pit stop, not for a Costa Coffee, but at Pear Mill. This image should show you where it gets its name from, with the roof behind us being the original structure. Here we had a very deserved feed, washed down with more tea, all the while playing a few games. Each time I have been here I have been provided my tea in a different and quirky tea pot, this time in the shape of the dog with a raised paw that forms the spout. I’d have included an image but I feel this post is getting long enough with the images I have already chosen:

While Thursday had been filled with lots of walking, I was still determined to get out the next day for my morning walk.  So Friday came and off I went again, with the distance increasing each day.  I wasn’t sure how long these walks would take me, so started with the shortest and made my way toward the longer ones.  This also meant that some sections of the walks overlapped and this speeded me up, as I didn’t need to keep referring to the book for landmarks at which I needed to change direction:

Such as the above style, stood all alone with no connected boundary fences.  You might also note a very old gate post, carved out of the local rock called Millstone Gritstone.  All the old buildings are built with blocks or bricks made from this locally available material.  There are also a few mounting stones made from this rock to be found in Romiley, still in their original positions that could be considered trip hazards.  These were a common eighteen century sight, when horses where the main mode of transport.  And just in case it is not obvious mounting stones were there to assist people to get on their horse:

Millstone Gritstone is the reason I spent so much time in the Peak District, and Friday was the day that we planned to head to Hathersage, which was the second place I had suggested I would like to go to.  While disputed, it is generally accepted that the name derives from an old English word of ecg, which means edge.  This being apt, as Hathersage is surrounded by edges, or more specifically Millstone Gritstone edges.  The longest being Stanage Edge at three and half miles, with rock faces up to 15m high along this entire length.  It is a climber heaven, while not offering long routes it does offer an abnormally large amount of routes for such an area, at approx. twelve thousand:

Millstone Gritstone is affectionately known to climbers as grit, and offers a bold form of trad climbing due to at times spaced protection and a no bolting ethic.  It had been over twenty years since I had been here, and there were two places that I wanted to visit.  The first was the shop in town, called Outside.  I wanted to try on some different climbing shoes, as my trusty brand that I have been using for ten plus years have changed the shoe style making them uncomfortable for me.  Western Australian shops are pretty rubbish for providing a range of climbing shoes, so I wanted to take advantage of my chance to have a wide choice:

The second reason was to have a pub meal at The Plough.  In my early years I climbed here a lot and the only decent camp site was out the back of this pub.  On weekends this place was insanely busy, with an amazing atmosphere.  But for the owners, Bob and Cynthia, this became too much and the camping stopped.  This didn’t stop me from coming to the pub to have a drink and feed, and of course say hello.  The place and owners even get a special mention in one of my previous posts (https://sandbagged.blog/2017/07/30/part-4-the-peak-district-learning-the-ropes/).  I was amazed to find Bob still behind the bar and even better he remembered me, so we had a good ole chat to catch up:

After a brilliant visit to Hathersage, we hit the road but didn’t head straight back.  Seeta decided to drive round the country roads to see a few of the edges.  At one I went for a short walk with my dad to try and find a millstone, check put the previous linked post if you want to understand what I mean.  He was still worn out from the previous day, so we didn’t go too far and failed to find any.  Our next stop was Burbage Edge, which I was very happy about as it has the quickest and easiest access to the faces.  This allowed me to scoot down the path for a little while, as Seeta and the folks soaked up the views:

Here I soloed a couple of lines on the short walls, and have include a video below.  We all had such a lovely time at Hathersage and seeing the countryside, so much so that time ran away with us.  We drove back as planned via Hope to get a brew, but all the cafes had already shut. We found this out as we wandered round the various streets, but were not too upset as the short walk in itself was worthwhile.  Being a very beautiful place with great views of the surrounding hills.  Jumping in the car, we drove over Winnats Pass that makes its way up the steep hills, which can become impassable in winter, with towering limestone cliffs on either side:

Being a Friday, that evening we headed to a local bar called Jakes Ale House on the main street of Romiley.  For such a small place there seemed to be a huge amount of pubs all within a stone’s throw of each other.  I don’t drink a huge amount anymore, but couldn’t resist a pint of a proper ale when I went to the pubs here.  For me the true hand drawn ales in England are way better than any bottled, canned, or chilled beer.  So much so that I’d hazard a guess that I would drink way more if I lived in the homelands, so it is probably a good job I don’t:

Saturday morning was to be my last walk, and I picked a route that took in several sections I had previously walked.  It was however the first walk to take me under the aquaduct and viaduct, the former over which the canal passes and the latter which took the train line over the Goyt River.  This area has a number of amazing structures, including one of the largest brick structures in the United Kingdom.  I however preferred these viaducts made from the local Millstone Gritstone, as opposed to clay bricks, way back in the 1800s:

Not all of the structures I came across were in such a good state of repair.  Many of the styles I had to climb over were wobbly, missing parts, and in some cases close to falling over.  Then there was this bridge, and a few other walkways, on which each board flexed considerably under my weight.  And as below the occasional board had given up the ghost and broken.  In Western Australia, these structure would be subject to more than one liability claim, rendered unacceptable, and then closed due to the cost of repairs.  It is great that here the sense of adventure and need to enjoy nature seems to override such contemporary risk adverse attitudes:

Today was my last full day of the visit, and as such the last chance to head out for an adventure.  Seeta suggested a trip to The Roches and of course the Teahouse, a place I had introduced and addicted my whole family to.  While I thought it was out be good, it was my mam that piped up and said yes that would be lovely.  It is another place that I hold dear, being the first place I ever lead a climb and as such I have another post specifically dedicated to The Roaches (https://sandbagged.blog/2017/07/01/part-2-first-lead-the-roaches/).  The reason this one was not on my wish list of getting too, being that the Teahouse owners have changed and it is a bit of a sad tale:

Putting that aside being given the opportunity to wander along The Roaches themselves was very welcome indeed.  The rock is more coarse grained than the Millstone Gritstone, and is called Roaches Gritstone.  And unlike the gritstone found on the edges that surround Hathersage, this rock wouldn’t be any good for making millstones due to being less durable and more prone to wear.  It does however offer great climbing and I found quite a few parties at it, despite the on and off rain that fell.  Being trad climbing on long and, at times, slightly meandering lines twins ropes were being used everywhere.  This allows the climbers to keep the line straighter and minimise the risk of rope drag:

While I was wandering round the rocks, Seeta took the folks on a car trip to find the mushroom man, and a café to have a brew.  We had arranged to meet up within two hours giving me plenty of time to wander about and get a couple of climbs in, including Mauds Garden which was my first ever lead.  And of course I had to take and include a video of that.  When I used to come here it was popular with climbers, but you didn’t see too many other people.  Today however there were so many walkers about and it seems this place has become very popular for walkers and climbers alike, some say it is due to COVID making people explore and realise the beauty of their own “backyard”:

In the image above Hen Cloud sits proudly in the landscape, a steeper and generally harder face to climb.  So not as frequented as much by climbers but attracting plenty of walkers, seeking the great 360 degree vistas on offer.  Today I joined the path and walkers to make my walk up this peak.  Along the way I spotted a creature dart across the path, small and dark coloured but too quick for me to identify.  To my delight, as I went up the back of Hen Cloud, another one appeared and allowed me to sit and observe it for quite a while:

I got really close and it seemed oblivious to me, until I got within six inches of it when it scampered away.  I didn’t get a good look at the feet but I am guessing it was a Mole (Talpa europaea), which might explain why I could get so close as they have poor eyesight.  It seemed strange if I am right, as they normally live underground and rarely come to the surface.  I continued my trudged on upwards, and from atop Hen Cloud I had a great view of the Teahouse, or at least the pine trees that obscured it from view:

That wasn’t where we had agreed to meet.  Not that I wasn’t keen to see it again, but because it was closed for a private event.  This also explained the multitude of tents set up in the adjoining field.  We had therefore agreed to meet at the Rock Inn.  Another pub, like The Plough, that I frequented during my many climbing weekends away.  But not as much and I don’t have the same level of connection with this pub.  It was still wonderful to be back, recalling many a happy evenings in this bar, and we had a great feed before finally saying good bye to The Roaches and heading back:

For our last meal that evening everyone gathered at my sister’s house for a Chinese feast.  And the last morning was a quiet affair at my folks, no morning walk, and no jobs.  So for a change I knocked up a scrummy breakfast and we played a few games, and watched the rain fall outside.  It seemed I would leave in the manner I arrived, in the rain.  And I would also arrive in Western Australia to similar conditions to what I had left behind, as a severe weather warning was in place.  The last car journey we made together took us to the airport, after which I am sure the folks were happy to go home and rest up after a full-on but very good week: