I need to tell you about an epic walk of a few months ago. Epic both in scale, and in wonder, starting from a wee village near Sheffield to the awe-inspiring area of natural beauty that is Stanage Edge.
A short car journey from the ‘burbs of Sheffield takes you to the quintessentially English village of Hathersage, complete with a very old church and its charming lych gate...
(and half a motorcycle, because all lych gates need half a motorcycle) and a graveyard that houses the last earthly remains of Little John. Yup. You read that correctly.
“Here lies buried Little John, the friend & lieutenant of Robin Hood. He died in a cottage (now destroyed) to the east of the churchyard. The grave is marked by this old headstone & footstone and is underneath this old yew tree."
You leave the church and head north-ish through some delicious-looking countryside. Countryside of rolling hills and buttercup meadows...
... rolling hills and tiny farmsteads...
... rolling hills and drystone walls...
... all in the vibrant colours of late Spring!
Oh! Such surroundings, dear reader, are enough to set your heart beating rapturously. Or something along those Brontëan lines... Charlotte Brontë is said to have stayed in the vicarage of Hathersage visiting a friend, and the surroundings made such an impact upon her that she is supposed to have based her book ‘Jane Eyre' in an area that has much in common with Hathersage, including North Lees Hall as the basis of Thornfield Hall.
We passed North Lees Hall on our walk - it is slightly hidden to the left of the photo above, behind the trees and wall, and through the trees to the right is one of the first teaser view of Stanage Edge.
After walking a way further past the Hall, you approach Stanage Plantation, a small, but very pretty woods that fringe the bottom of the incline...
...which disguises how close you are the the Edge until you're almost free of foliage.
Looking at Stanage Edge from the Plantation on Google Maps you just see a pile of boulders that get steadily closer together, but the innocuousness of the the image belies the utter quantity of sweat that will pour from your brow (and other places) as you steadily (or unsteadily in my case) climb up the large and larger masses of gritstone that create the steep ascent to the top of the cliff.
But oh my. The first view from the top is worth every muscle-aching step.
And every view from the top after that keeps giving you extraordinary views at which to gaze in wonder.
Although some sights I gazed at more in slight fear, as there were many climbers with their mountaineering accoutrements working the more tricky faces, and there were plenty boulderers, too, easy to recognise not quite for their lack of ropes or harnesses but more for their use of brightly-coloured crash mats at the bottom of their smaller climbs.
I have absolutely no qualms in sharing an inordinate amount of photos of the views from the top. Every fifty yards or so there was a new and striking rock formation in the foreground, against a background of austere but incredible beauty.
And eventually you reach High Neb - the steep cliff edge you see in the distance in most of the photos above - with it's stone marker on the top that indicates you're at the highest point of the escarpment...
...with it's own beautiful view over to Higger Tor (another absolute Peak District favourite of mine) which you can see below to the middle right of the photo with the pale-coloured track winding up the front.
From there we walked a little further on, then started to work our way down again. I, foolish Hope Valley noob that I was, thought that was probably it for the sights of wonder, but suddenly as if from nowhere, a millstone graveyard appeared.
It is the weirdest thing indeed to see these abandoned mill- and grindstones, most of which are perfectly carved and finished and ready for use, in the midst of the wild and natural boulders of the cliffs.
Millstone production was a huge industry here from medieval times to the mid-eighteenth century, when the demand for white bread brought about the relatively rapid end of gritstone millstone use as these produced grey flour, whereas millstones carved in France were capable of producing the much more fashionable white flour.
There are dozens of finished, or near enough, millstones littering the landscape, lying where they were left by their carvers who were unable to see their finished articles sold.
It's rather poignant, in fact, to see these in situ. Hours and hours of back-breaking work by men who were losing their livelihoods even whilst they hammered and chiselled the very stones left here that we admire today.
But admire them we do. Even the smiley stone, whose face is re-chalked by walkers as they pass by.
The journey from Hathersage to Stanage Edge and back again is a beautiful one, and I heartily recommend it to anyone who is in the area. I was lucky enough to walk this for the first time on a bright and beautifully warm May day (perhaps a bit too warm...!) but I'm also looking forward to seeing this astonishing landscape in different kinds of weather and light. I think there are many stories here still waiting to be told...
A short car journey from the ‘burbs of Sheffield takes you to the quintessentially English village of Hathersage, complete with a very old church and its charming lych gate...
(and half a motorcycle, because all lych gates need half a motorcycle) and a graveyard that houses the last earthly remains of Little John. Yup. You read that correctly.
“Here lies buried Little John, the friend & lieutenant of Robin Hood. He died in a cottage (now destroyed) to the east of the churchyard. The grave is marked by this old headstone & footstone and is underneath this old yew tree."
You leave the church and head north-ish through some delicious-looking countryside. Countryside of rolling hills and buttercup meadows...
... rolling hills and drystone walls...
Oh! Such surroundings, dear reader, are enough to set your heart beating rapturously. Or something along those Brontëan lines... Charlotte Brontë is said to have stayed in the vicarage of Hathersage visiting a friend, and the surroundings made such an impact upon her that she is supposed to have based her book ‘Jane Eyre' in an area that has much in common with Hathersage, including North Lees Hall as the basis of Thornfield Hall.
After walking a way further past the Hall, you approach Stanage Plantation, a small, but very pretty woods that fringe the bottom of the incline...
...which disguises how close you are the the Edge until you're almost free of foliage.
Looking at Stanage Edge from the Plantation on Google Maps you just see a pile of boulders that get steadily closer together, but the innocuousness of the the image belies the utter quantity of sweat that will pour from your brow (and other places) as you steadily (or unsteadily in my case) climb up the large and larger masses of gritstone that create the steep ascent to the top of the cliff.
But oh my. The first view from the top is worth every muscle-aching step.
And every view from the top after that keeps giving you extraordinary views at which to gaze in wonder.
Although some sights I gazed at more in slight fear, as there were many climbers with their mountaineering accoutrements working the more tricky faces, and there were plenty boulderers, too, easy to recognise not quite for their lack of ropes or harnesses but more for their use of brightly-coloured crash mats at the bottom of their smaller climbs.
I have absolutely no qualms in sharing an inordinate amount of photos of the views from the top. Every fifty yards or so there was a new and striking rock formation in the foreground, against a background of austere but incredible beauty.
And eventually you reach High Neb - the steep cliff edge you see in the distance in most of the photos above - with it's stone marker on the top that indicates you're at the highest point of the escarpment...
...with it's own beautiful view over to Higger Tor (another absolute Peak District favourite of mine) which you can see below to the middle right of the photo with the pale-coloured track winding up the front.
From there we walked a little further on, then started to work our way down again. I, foolish Hope Valley noob that I was, thought that was probably it for the sights of wonder, but suddenly as if from nowhere, a millstone graveyard appeared.
It is the weirdest thing indeed to see these abandoned mill- and grindstones, most of which are perfectly carved and finished and ready for use, in the midst of the wild and natural boulders of the cliffs.
There are dozens of finished, or near enough, millstones littering the landscape, lying where they were left by their carvers who were unable to see their finished articles sold.
It's rather poignant, in fact, to see these in situ. Hours and hours of back-breaking work by men who were losing their livelihoods even whilst they hammered and chiselled the very stones left here that we admire today.
But admire them we do. Even the smiley stone, whose face is re-chalked by walkers as they pass by.
