The White to Dark Way was designed 10 years ago by Country Walking to celebrate 25 years of the magazine. It had been on my to-do list since then and finally this year I got round to organising it. The route card specifies three days, but for me that makes the days a bit short, so I decided to take two days, though it made one of the days a little long.
Day One
To start in Bakewell, I took the train from Stockport to Buxton with the intention of jumping on a connecting bus. About 10 minutes before it was supposed to arrive, the High Peak Twitter feed informed me that it wasn't going to run. More helpfully they let me know that the next bus, in an hour's time, was running, so I wandered into town and wasted time in a coffee shop.
The route goes up to the Monsal Trail, just by Hassop Station, then follows the trail all the way to Cressbrook Mill. Not the most fun 4km so I broke with habit and listened to a podcast. With the bridge at the Mill still being out of action, I dropped down early and followed the road to Ravendale onto the path through Cressbrook Dale, which was full of wild garlic. Tansley Dale still had a few rather addled-looking Early Purple Orchids. It was spitting with rain so I took shelter in the Red Lion at Litton (otherwise it would have been more obvious to simply continue up Cressbrook Dale). The rain eased off briefly before setting in much more heavily after Wardlow Mires. Unfortunately I had trusted the morning's forecast and had discarded my waterproof overtrousers to save weight. The result was water running down my soaked legs and filling my boots. Yuck.
Dripping wet I took shelter in the Bull's Head at Foolow, Some more drenched walkers followed me in. The landlady said I ought to stay in the pub for the rest of the day, which seemed an eminently sensible suggestion. However, I was just heading for Eyam so as the rain eased off again I made a dash for it. I was staying at the YHA, a steep yomp up behind the village, where I dropped my stuff, had a welcome shower and put on a dry set of clothes, leaving my boots steaming in the drying room. Dinner was back down the hill in the, somewhat quiet, Miner's Arms.
Day Two
A school party were staying in the hostel (in a different building to me, thank goodness) and I was warned they would be breakfasting at 8 o'clock, so I was down early to fill up on a very good full English. That done, I lugged my tombstone bag onto my back and trudged up the hill behind the hostel (it looks like there's a gate at the back of the grounds that would have saved some descent and re-ascent). The day was brighter but there were a few hints of rain. Thankfully these didn't amount to anything in the end. However, the wind was very strong and hit me with full force crossing Eyam Moor. Other goals for the day stretched out ahead of me - Stanage Edge, Win Hill. Bretton Clough looked gorgeous as ever with hawthorn blossom and buttercups adding colour to the greenery. The bridge across Highlow Brook towards High Low was leaning over and didn't look passable, so I was glad the water level was low and I could easily step across the beck. More stepping stones took me over the Derwent and into Hathersage. I planned to get lunch at the bakery but that was closed until the 10th, and looked like it was for sale, so I ended up at Coleman's Deli - a little fancier and more expensive, but very tasty (falafel wrap).
It was a slow but steady stomp up Stanage Edge and actually I felt pretty good. It went less well up on the Edge itself. The wind battered across me the whole way, making me stumble, sway sideways and trip on my swinging poles. Altogether generally maddening. It was better into the headwind following the path down to Ladybower. I had planned a rest stop at the Ladybower Inn but it bore a sign reading, 'Closed until further notice.' Drat. Instead I ate my Mars Bar Slice by the side of the reservoir and contemplated the forthcoming climb up Win Hill.
The path took a gentle approach at first before hooking up with the Parkin Clough path and rearing steeply up the hillside. I was puffing at bit by this point and my 'Hello' to a descending walker came out in a rather strangulated way. He clearly took pity on me reassured me I was nearly at the top (which I already knew, as I've climbed the hill a number of times).
There just followed a steep descent back down into Hope for a celebratory pint at the Old Hall.
It had been an enjoyable couple of days, despite the less than perfect weather and the challenges of the route. In retrospect, I think it might have been better to do it the other way round and get the hard day out of the way first. That also has the benefit of finishing at the Thornbridge Brewery Taproom. Hurrah!
