After what seemed like forever, we managed to get out on a ‘proper’ walk. Although the forecast wasn’t that good, we set off anyway.
As we’d had lots of rain, we thought Padley gorge would be nice, for pictures, and for a wintery walk.
This is the famous Grindleford station, home of the even more famous steaming pint mugs of tea and HUGE bacon
‘bread cakes’ (as they call cobs, or rolls).
The old mill, lovingly (and expensively) done up as a home.
The gorge begins.
Trees bereft of leaves at this time of the year, rocks mossed to the max!
The damp conditions give perfect scope for fungi to thrive.
All up the gorge, little signs of man. These stone steps appeared from nowhere.
Now and then, maybe a wooden bridge.
Up close and personal with the river (or Burbage brook, to give it it’s real name).
I could spend all day here, the photo opportunities were many and varied (but mostly included water).
WHY can't the morons take it home with them? They took the trouble to bring it.
We came across this rope swing.
(No – to the surprise of most of you, I DIDN’T ‘have a go!’).
A tumble of water, making it’s way down the gorge.
Gnarled, old tree roots make a good subject.
I managed to snap this squirrel JUST before he ran around to the other side of the tree.
The stark, bare view of the woodland in winter.
More racy lace.
This little acorn decides the time has come to start the ‘mighty oak’ thing, and was sprouting a tender, exploratory root into the outside world.
Happy Susie smiles for her photographer.
A short video of the gorge.
Looking up the torrent of beauty.
HI SUE :-)
Faster shutter speed equals ‘frozen’ water.
Another video of Burbage brook.
Eventually, we left the gorge and crossed into the National trust Longshaw estate.
Sue has been watching ‘Jane Eyre’, and we were on the hunt for a house nearby that was used as a location.
We passed the innominate lake on the estate, with stormy-looking clouds gathering in the North.
So far we had been lucky with the weather, but would it hold?
Views across to Higger tor and Carl Wark iron age fort (right).
In the Longshaw grounds, someone had been doing a neat bit of stump carving.
We climbed out of the estate and onto the top moors, where we felt the bite of the cold wind.
We crossed onto the White Edge moor and saw the lodge we sought, standing lonely and stalwart against the weather and exposure of it’s position.
Look – in Jane Eyre, they ‘added’ a wing!!!
The house is owned by the National trust, and is now let as a holiday home.
We sat on the doorstep (no-one in residence), ate our picnic and drank hot coffee as the storm clouds massed.
As we sat, the clatter of raindrops was heard, but we were sheltered in the lee of the house.
When it was time to go, we suited up against vicious, sideways rain coming in from the south.
We were pelted for about half an hour, then it stopped.
We continued down and back into Grindleford, passing poor old ‘Dolly’, the unloved and rotting Citroen, as we went.
With clearing skies and fading light, we dropped back to where the car was parked, with super views North to our left.