Hartshill 30 September 2012

Our first joint walk with the Warwickshire gang (AKA the Bear Walking Group), started in a car park, in a wood, where the sudden rustle of brown and gold leaves drifting through the haze declared that summer was packing up all that nonsense and jolly well handing over to autumn, thank you very much.  The sky stayed grey all the way through, and this canalside snap of the entourage enjoying elevenses was taken during the brightest part of the day, but the rain held off, we had a good banter comparing notes about the joys of organising a hectic walks programme, enjoyed a pub with three real ales and perry (perry!!!) half-way, and even squeezed in a cream tea on the way home... oh, and the route was a nice little wander, too!

Alstonefield, 9 September 2012

The alarm sounded, and it was a good morning to obey.  Outside, the sky was a reassuringly peachy hue, and breakfast slid down quickly before the cruise over to Derbyshire, during which the sun came out brimming with enthusiasm.

With some of the group camping it up in Cream Tea Land (Devon), it was a select expedition force who turned up in Alstonefield, where we encountered the pleasant bewilderment of a profusion of free car parks.  Off we set on Rich's Peak District circuit – during which the sun shone, and shone, and shone; it was still summer, no doubt about it. 

Down Gipsy Bank to one of those gorges that the Peaks do so well, the stream sparkling as if a proficient watercolourist was expected, easel in hand, any minute.  But we don’t carry that kind of kit and you’ll have to make do with some snaps.

Through the Dales to Hartington, for a picnic with the ducks and the amazing taste experience of rhubarb ice cream, then a hot march over the hills, admiring the sort of landscape which would make the Teletubbies feel at home – if they had longer legs, that is.  Through a herd of radiantly red cows, past a cantankerous horse, and home sweaty but otherwise refreshed.

Arthingworth, 2 September

Good heavens, Kelmarsh used to have a railway station, did it?  I'm so used to it being full of Romans, Saracens, Normans, etc. that I'd never noticed.  All that's left now is the car park, where we duly deposited our vehicles, and the track, which we stormed along until we got to the Long Dark Tunnel, which provided scope for difficult photography... and for losing the photographer, which was easier.  But, that loss was only temporary, and after a splendid pint in the village, we did another loop, with our new canine member providing additional entertainment every time there was a paddling opportunity.  By golly but they march at a quite a pace down in Northamptonshire!