Returned yesterday from Buxton in Derbyshire, where we spent a long weekend, mainly with David and Julia, but partly on our own.
As we were making our way there on Friday we received a message to say that Julia had a sickness bug and wouldn’t be able to make it that day. We arrived at around 4pm after being diverted by the satnav via Ashbourne, and went out for a walk almost immediately. It was cold, but there was hardly any snow. Walked into the town and almost bought a jacket, then returned to the hotel for a cup of tea. Had dinner at 7pm and a relaxing evening.
The next day we heard that Julia had recovered, and they would be arrive at around 1pm. We seized the opportunity for a drive through the Goyt Valley, which was quite exhilarating, as some snow had fallen overnight and there was quite a lot on the road. Dot took a video as we drove through and out on to the Cat and Fiddle road. We then drove up to Grin Low, where we parked and walked up on to the area near Solomon’s Temple, which had quite deep snow. The weather was dry, and we had a nice walk. Dropped my phone in the snow and thought I had damaged it because it went off, but in fact it had used up all its data – something I was able to correct later at the hotel.
While we had a break in the hotel, we noticed what we thought was Dave’s car in the car park, though we had said we would meet in the town. Didn’t think they would have been able to book in that early, but in fact they had. So when we walked down to the Pavilion, they were not far in front of us. Had a snack there, and then walked through the gardens and into the town, where I actually did buy a jacket, though not the one I’d seen before. This one was a rather nice weird fish jacket in sort of Barbour style. Lots of pockets; fitted very well; very warm. Afterwards we split up and Dot and I went to the Arches, a kind of artisan market which was pretty impressive. Dot bought a cheap poncho and earrings, and we spoke to a sculptress and an Australian. Julia and Dave couldn’t find it. Rather drizzly and cold as we returned to the hotel.
Sunday, however, was dry and clear. We drove to Baslow, where we spent some more time on our own, though unintentionally. After a cup of tea in a cafe we walked up a steep road/path to Baslow Bar, where Dave was convinced we should take the narrow path by a wall. I preferred a more obvious path going along the top. Technically he was right. Dot and I took the upper path intending to cross over and return to the other path if it turned out to be the right one. But by the time we reached the Wellington Memorial that I thought they were aiming at (they weren’t), there wasn’t any real way down to them.
Dot phoned Julia and discovered that their path was horrendously muddy. We agreed to continue to the road we could see in the distance, and would meet them there. This was an unsound plan that turned out accidentally rather well. We enjoyed the walk along the top, saw some Highland cattle and some deer, but also encountered plenty of mud. I became a little worried because I could see that the point where we would meet the road was unlikely to be anywhere near the point where they would meet it, if in fact it was the same road.
As a result we cut across and down, where we encountered a river and two pieces of good fortune. The first was a bridge, and the second we didn’t recognise until we reached the wall by the road. I looked over the top and found – yes! – a pavement. So after surmounting the wall we headed downwards, all the time searching the wooded hillside to see if we could catch sight of the others. No sign for about a mile or more, and then we saw two weary figures making their way down a path approaching the road. We reached the joining point at about the same time – something of a miracle. They had much worse conditions, but we must have walked at least a mile and a half further.
It was still necessary to restrain Dave slightly. As we approached a roundabout just outside Baslow, Dave said we should turn left, and we crossed the road. I didn’t like to argue but couldn’t see how this could possibly be right. (No, it was left – Ed) However as we started heading off up a hill with no habitation ini sight, I felt I had to speak. Baslow was indeed to the right, and only a couple of hundred yards away.
After de-booting we drove to the Chatsworth farm shop nearby and had a scone, then walked round the shop for a bit before driving back to the hotel.
Monday morning was again cold but quite pleasant, and we left about 10.40pm. Dot and I followed the satnav to Coventry, which proved a good move, because it took us through Ashbourne (again) to the A38, a good road which eventually delivered us on to the M6 toll and eventually Corley Services. From there by a peculiar route into Coventry, where we spent about 90 minutes with a quite cheerful Andrew, managing to get a DVD to work on his machine after dejamming it.
From there we drove home, stopping at Cambridge Services for some kind of baguette heated up, then got back to Norwich just after 6pm. Watched the first programme in the new series of Endeavour. Unpacked. Went to bed.