Yesterday the weather prospects look good, so I set out to experience a national park that I am not very familiar with: the Peak District.
Located close to the centre of England, the Peak District is within easy reach of a number of conurbations - for me, a short drive down the motorway from Leeds. It has a varied landscape caused by variation in the type of the underlying rock. The Dark Peak has a gritstone geology that features bleak moorland plateaux and lengthy
edges of exposed gritstone. In the more southerly White Peak the dominant rock type is limestone, a permeable rock, which has produced a contrasting landscape with dry river valleys, caves and a 'Dales' feel.
I planned to walk a
circular route that would take me up onto Kinder Scout, a moorland plateau in the Dark Peak, and the highest point in the Peak District.
 |
| Snake Path sign, Hayfield |
I parked in Hayfield, and left the village along the Snake path, which leads up onto the Kinder plateau. The path eventually leads to the Snake Inn, which is located in the Woodlands valley, north of Kinder.
 |
| Looking down on Hayfield from the moors |
As I looked back down the path Hayfield lay beneath me in a wooded valley, surrounded by heather-covered uplands.
 |
| Sign on the Snake Path |
I left enclosed farmland behind as the Snake Path took me up onto open moorland, where I came across this sign, dating from 1905, that warned against trespass. Kinder Scout has long been symbolic in the fight for the right for people to access open land. In 1932 it was the site of a mass trespass, with walkers confronting game keepers about the right to be there. This action was a key part of the fight that led to a Government Act that enshrined in law free access to open land in England and Wales.
 |
| Kinder Resevoir |
I followed the Snake Path up William Clough to the Kinder Plateau, passing Kinder Resevoir on the way.
 |
| Sculpted gritstone boulders, Kinder plateau |
At the top of William Clough, the Snake Path crossed the
Pennine Way, which I joined to go Southwards across the Kinder Plateau. I passed some large, sculpted, gritstone boulders. What had given them such flowing shapes - were they to high and exposed to be shaped by water flow? Could it have been the action of the wind?
 |
| Trig point, Kinder plateau |
I left the pennine way to visit a trig point on an unnamed high spot. Getting there involved crossing open moorland and peat hags. The trig point stood on a rough concrete pedestal. Presumably when the trig point was built the concrete pedestal was actually a foundation laid within the peat. It appears that since construction the peat has been eroded away, leaving the foundation standing proud from the remaining sandy subsoil. Was this erosion caused by the action of thousands of feet, or by the elements?
 |
| A dry Kinder Downfall |
I rejoined the Pennine Way and continued southwards to
Kinder Downfall. Lying in the centre of a bowl of dark gritsone cliffs, this is where the Kinder river descends from the plateau over a series of gritstone ledges. It was only a mid-summer trickle, but would be more dramatic when the river is in spate, or perhaps
frozen.
 |
| Pennine way heading looking to Kinder Downfall |
I continued southwards along the Pennine way, which follows the western edge of the Kinder plateau for several kilometres. This was a well trodden path with a solid rock base; quite a different experience to negotiating numerous peat hags on the open moorland.
 |
| Eroded landscape of Kinder Low |
I reached another trig point, on the (named) summit Kinder Low. This time I was sure that the peat had been stripped back to the underlying sand by thousands of feet. Although this was a summit, it didn't feel like it because the ground curved away from the high point so gently, giving the allusion that I was standing on a plain. Where was the feeling of exposure and height, of excitement and achievement? At this point naming the area the Peak District (and, indeed, calling Kinder Scout area the 'high peak'), seemed like false advertising.
 |
| Kinderlow End |
I descended via the spur of Kinderlow End towards Hayfield (shown above), feeling slightly underwhelmed by the Dark Peak experience. Would I be back? I'm not sure. Perhaps the area is more exciting under less favourable conditions; a bit of fog, perhaps a bit of snow. Or maybe gritstone, which makes the Dark Peak such a good location for
rock climbing, produces a landscape that is to bleak for exciting, varied, walks?
