Megan Carmichael walks a White Peak circuit
MY FIRST TIME in the
Peak District and I couldn’t see a thing! The sopping overgrown hedgerow bled out into the path, making my waterproof trousers no better than a paper bag. Through the low-hanging rainclouds, I could make out shadows of the valleys between the dales, carved out over millions of years for this moment of revelation.
I followed the river past old Iron Tors until the footbridge.The ground soon changed to grass peppered with rocks. I passed a cave and reluctantly resisted the temptation to hop the fence and check it out; the farmer was in the field, and although I spotted a stile,
I could see no path.
At the end of Biggin Dale, I passed through a nature reserve and kept right towards Dalehead. The pub in Biggin provided a welcome rest, and, while I munched on a basket of fries, the wonderful landlady produced an electric heater for me to dry my socks and shoes.
The rain paused as I joined the Tissington Trail – an old railway formerly connecting Ashbourne to Buxton, trusting my life to the cyclists I shared it with. The soundtrack of the next 5km was bicycle bells and shouts of “Thanks!” against an intermittently rainy background.
Descending from the footpath, I found myself in Tissington – an odd but beautiful place with six wells dotted around the model-like village. I continued along quiet roads, amassing a following of cows in the final open fields.
After a night at the campsite, the sun was up bright and early with me on day two. I greeted the curious cows who accompanied me on the march back up the field, where I re-joined the footpath to Thorpe.
The Limestone Way is aptly named on this section; a crumbly white rock path led me down to the river. I veered right before the bridge, where the ground turned to thick mud clumping on the edges of my shoes and weighing down my feet.
When I reached Dovedale car park, the flurry of activity was stark compared to the solitude encountered so far.
Hordes of people were making the most of the glorious weather, but it was nice to pass children on the stepping stones and families out for a walk in the dales. The scenery in Dovedale was like a fairy tale, with caves, natural arches, and the infamous Lovers’ Leap, where I rested at the top and enjoyed a large glug of water.
Further on at Ilam Rock, I crossed over the bridge and ascended the scree-lined trudge of Hall-Dale. Stanshope greeted me at the top with only 1.5km left to go, so I pushed on down the track without stopping. The undulation was starting to get to my legs, but I had one hill until Alstonefield. I looked at the looming incline ahead, adjusted my straps, and strode up and into the village.