This morning, however, after losing the hour that propels us into ‘summertime’, we had foolishly planned a walk to start at 10 am. And a phone message indicated we would have company, so we left in plenty of time to get to the Pym Chair rendezvous for a walk in the Goyt Valley.
But Wilmslow was closed for its annual half-marathon event, necessitating time consuming extrication from its traffic jam and a lengthy diversionary route.
Sue and Phil were puzzled but relaxed about our lateness. It’s usually the other way round, but Phil had been up early ringing today.
From a balmy morning in Timperley we had been transported to rather different conditions up at Pym Chair. The car doors were at risk of serious damage from the strong icy wind.
We soon warmed up on the good path to Windgather Rocks, a mecca for climbers but deserted this morning, as Pym Chair had been.
On down Taxal Edge, we watched lapwings fluttering wildly in the wind, before dropping down into the calm of the valley where this lone tree stood proud against the deep blue sky.
Down here, out of the wind, it was a lovely day for a stroll.
Entering the smart hamlet of Taxal, we walked down the sturdy ancient cobbles that led past the church that was positioned serenely in a bed of daffodils.
The River Goyt can be forded down here, but we chose the footbridge and then enjoyed a most scenic stroll through woods and fields beside the Goyt to Fernilee Reservoir.
Pausing to transfer tea from flasks to stomachs we watched a dipper breakfasting along the fast flowing stretch of water. Then the unmistakable blue flash of a kingfisher further brightened our day.
Some of the trees hereabouts reminded us of the moss laden ‘bush’ we had so much enjoyed in New Zealand.
After helping to reunite a youthful jogger with her mother, we walked up the bank to Errwood Reservoir. There are a number of benches along here, one of which proved an excellent lunch spot.
The path up Stake Side brought back memories of the ‘Four Inns’ walk that I did a few years ago - at 45 miles, it’s a full day out, and this path is memorable for being the last major ascent on that walk.
But today it was easy going, and after assisting some misplaced pensioners with their route back to Pym Chair (they had a map but couldn’t use it) we soon found ourselves up at Shining Tor, the highest point in Cheshire, with great views in all directions.
[Note that the Cat and Fiddle Inn just to the south of our path would be an easy (2.5 km return) diversion for anyone following this route and wanting a pub lunch.]The path between Shining Tor and Pym Chair used to be a difficult boggy route, but a few years ago stone slabs were laid and the surrounding land has now virtually recovered from its previous devastation. We noticed that some netting had been laid, presumably to aid the recovery process.
Back at Pym Chair at 3 o clock, the car park was now full, a bright yellow radio controlled glider was being skilfully manoeuvred in the wind, a kite was flapping threateningly above our heads, and kestrels were soaring gracefully.Apparently Pym Chair takes its name from a formation of rocks that once stood on the ridge near here. There is a choice of local legends about the man known as ‘Pym’.
Perhaps he was a non-conformist preacher whose pulpit here was away from the eyes and ears of the authorities who prohibited such events.
Or perhaps he was the highwayman who used to watch from Pym Chair and then ambush the packhorse trains passing below the rocks with their cargoes of salt from Cheshire or coal, lime or lead from Derbyshire on this route which has linked Cheshire and Derbyshire since Roman times and was used well into the 19th century.
Our route is outlined below – it was about 16 km, with 550 metres of ascent, and took us about 4 hours plus stops.
A puddle strewn track took us past a cemetery and over 
A right turn signed ‘Bridleway’ took us in the direction of the old underpass, but that had gone. After walking further than intended down this path, the railway and canal came into view, so we doubled back along a good track to complete our circuit. On reaching Dane Road, our objective, we found ourselves on the wrong side of a huge pair of locked steel gates. So we turned around, in search of an alternative.
His ‘leader’s score rating’ had now been reduced to nil, so he tried to bribe the throng into recognising that he had some skills by producing a large packet of liquorice allsorts and sundry other goodies. Very nice, but, he was told, only a pot of tea for 17 on his tab at the end of the walk would remedy the position. He responded by threatening to use his ‘delete’ button on any troublemakers, in his role of Membership Secretary of the LDWA.
And where was the Dunham Ripper?
And so we adjourned to the same excellent tea shop that Sue and I enjoyed following our return from New Zealand nearly 2 weeks ago, for more of the same, before admiring the National Trust property and returning homewards.
The route is shown below. It’s 23 km with only 177 metres of ascent, and took us a brisk 5 hours, including stops.
An excellent day out. Thank you John for letting me know about it.
It was Bank Holiday Monday, a day when not everyone you see ‘on the hill’ is familiar with the terrain.
Soon after turning right at a minor road, our route carried straight on where the road bore left. We headed on up to Oakenclough, then left over the top to emerge with long views west over the conurbation of Greater Manchester, with Winter Hill’s tall mast prominent in the distance.
Put the leg into a big casserole dish with the other ingredients and cook for 5 hours to arrive at this…
I saw no canal boats; maybe the locks are closed – there was certainly a problem at number 2 lock, where a large tree (sadly sprouting a fine set of buds) had been blown into the water near the entrance to the lock.
Across the viaduct the towpath heads towards 
Passing under both bridges and up a grassy, sometimes boggy, path through three fields I emerged at a lane. Yesterday here, I met three finely attired gents who could have been auditioning for ‘Last of the Summer Wine’. Today I saw nobody on these paths. There’s a fine view of the railway viaduct.
Leaving some Carrion Crows to rummage in the horse manure, I turned right down a lane with fine views of the hillsides around Marple (yesterday they were fine – today it was a case of 
So I returned, past a field of newly born lambs, 
Here there was a gathering of vaguely familiar faces, most of whom we had never met before. They were all ‘UK Outdoors Bloggers’, and this was an informal annual gathering. Great to meet you, folks.
[Some poetic licence here, as I now see that John is one of the recumbent forms!]
But the litter by the canal was quite distressing. We are back in a highly populated area where not everyone cares.
However, it was a nice day and the 
Just as the day had been long, the night was long too. Almost the whole of the next leg (about 13 1/2 hours) was in darkness. Back in Manchester, it was just 3 degrees and unpacking awaited....
The sand was very soft, so we sank in over an inch with every step as we progressed along the beach as close as possible to the incoming tide with competing currents. The sun emerged strongly as we left the beach by some caves where it became impassable due to a rocky headland, up which a rocky path led us to the airy summit.
It was good to rejoin the beach, firmer now the tide was receding, below Lion Rock, a 100 metre high 'island' that used to be climbable but is no longer so, due to unstable rocks.
Swimming for those who chose to, more Marlborough 