by Frank Mellor

The main body of walkers assembled at The Flouch Inn at half past eight on a dry but overcast Sunday morning. An advance party consisting of the youngsters and parents had left earlier to allow shorter legs a little more time to negotiate the initial boggy sections.

The main party was soon heading up Cut Gate, though Jack had to be restrained from ploughing over the eroded portion of the path which was fenced off for restoration purposes. Once the little notice had been read to him and the possibility of wardens lurking in the conifers had been pointed out, he agreed to the recommended variation, though not without mutterings about his preference for going straight up.

The path was followed without further incident until Margery Hill was attained. Jack now made amends for his previous indiscretion by imparting a most valuable piece of information namely that we were now standing on the highest ground in Sheffield. Fortified by this gem and spiritually uplifted by the generous manner in which it was given, we felt able to continue to Featherbed Moss. In a state of euphoria, we wandered southwards until Abbey Brook lay below us. It was unfortunate that, as we dithered on the brink, we were witnessed by the advance party who had taken the more conventional contouring path around the head of the clough. Now was an opportunity for individual variation and a dozen people took nearly the same number of different routes for Back Tor. Everyone arrived within minutes of each other and a welcome break was taken by all nineteen walkers, together now for the first time. It was generally agreed that the most tiring part of the walk was over and, barring nuclear attack, success was assured. In fact all that remained was to sit back and we would soon be at The Robin Hood near Baslow.

As time went by it became evident that a little stroll was still necessary in order to achieve our objective and so we set off down Derwent Edge. The view became increasingly more interesting as we passed Wheel Stones and continued across Highshaw Clough down to Moscar House.

A short walk up the road, then we were striding away from the exhaust fumes toward Stanage. We took another break near High Neb since this was reckoned to be the half way point. Whilst lunching we greeted a passing couple. The young lady returned our salutations, but her companion was heard to say “It’s The Castle!” whereupon she was shepherded away along the Edge with only an occasional backward glance. Shortly after this we met Dave and Jenny, who had walked up from The Robin Hood where they had kindly deposited a car for our return.

From Stanage we chose to walk down the Green Drive below Burbage, rather than over Higger Tor, and thence into Longshaw where we took a welcome tea break at the cafe. This proved very refreshing and gave us a lift for the last leg. We were soon over Froggatt in the gathering gloom, but there was a little stumbling and grumbling as it got darker on Curbar Edge. Most people had torches at the ready for the traverse of Baslow Edge and we found the Wellington Monument without much trouble. Jack attempted to rid himself of some Grappa at this stage but with little success judging by the response of those who were tempted, he will be offering his bottle round for several years to come!

It was drizzling now so we went at a fair pace down the track to the crossroads and then made a rather rough crossing up to Birchen Edge. The path there was a welcome sight and it was followed easily down to The Robin Hood which was shut! We had taken ten hours for the walk, arriving a good half hour before opening time. A vote of thanks was offered to Jack as we waited, shivering in the freezing cold evening with only one hip flask of Grouse between nineteen.