11:10am Monday 28th April 2008
By Mike Priestley
It was a bitterly cold mid-February morning as we drove along the A6 past the pretty Peak District village of Ashford in the Water looking for the nearby, roadside White Lodge car park a mile or so further along, set among trees that were dusted in white by the frost. The morning sun glinted on the River Wye alongside the road, and just a hint of mist hovered above the water.
There were half a dozen early-bird cars already there, and a hardy couple breakfasting at one of the picnic tables up the hillside, their breath turning to steam. We walked below them on the footpath, heading away from the road and towards a wooded, steep hillside. Here, after an initial rocky scramble beside a stream, we found ourselves following a climbing path which eventually levelled off halfway up the tree line and wound along nicely with the sunlight picking its way through the winter-bare branches.
The ground was frozen hard as the path eventually descended to meet the bank of the Wye and follow it downstream, past a derelict mill with a rusting water wheel at either side and continuing to pass through fields until it met a narrow road.
We followed this to the pavement beside the busy A6 and walked along to Sheepwash Bridge at Ashford (the stone sheep pen beside the bridge, with a gap in the wall providing access to the river, gives it its name).
A lovely little place, Ashford in the Water, with its riverside weeping willows and pretty stone cottages. We walked up through the village from the bridge and headed up Vicarage Lane to the very top of the place, with wide-open rolling countryside ahead of us.
We had walked through some of that countryside on another occasion, after following the Monsal Trail along the disused railway line from Bakewell. We were to encounter that trail again later on this walk. But meanwhile there was a long, climbing, lovely track through fields to follow.
The views grew better and better the higher we plodded. The woes of the world seemed far, far away. Unfortunately, though, the ground grew wetter and wetter as the strengthening sun did its work. As the path levelled out, walking became slightly heavier going.
Our route had turned north now, and we could see the buildings of Monsal Head not far distant. Several walkers passed us, heading in the opposite direction. We sat for a while on a seat above Monsal Dale, peering through the trees at the path we would eventually be following.
When we arrived at Monsal Head after nearly an hour of relative solitude we were surprised to find a large, packed car park, scores of people, and an ice-cream van! What a popular weekend beauty spot this is. And it's hardly surprising.
The hamlet stands above a hairpin bend on the course of the River Wye. Upstream is the broad-ish green valley of Upperdale, with the Monsal Trail heading along it from the viaduct immediately below. And downstream is the steep-sided, wooded Monsal Dale where we were to head.
The path, with a handrail beside it, led down into the trees and eventually fetched up on the riverbank, where our route soon crossed a footbridge to the far side.
This was a well-used, wide and on this day muddy path, made even wider as people tried to avoid the build-up of mud under their boots that can make them so treacherous. In summer it will be a joy to stroll down there admiring the scenery. On this winter's day, though, it was hard work. If we wanted to admire, we had to stop walking and stand still.
At the end of the path a stile led to stepping stones across a convenient stream, ideal for a bootwash before walking the last few yards to the road and the car park beyond.
Mud or no mud, we agreed that it had been a five-star walk filled with variety.
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