After showing me to my room (adequate, if a little chinzy for my taste) my host in Edale announced that she had front of house duties to attend to at the ballet. It seemed an unlikely obligation in a High Peak village and I thought no more of it until I went to the local pub for dinner. Settled with my Kindle, I was disturbed by the start of some kind of country dance performance entailing much stamping and yelping. So animated was the audience's reception that I began to wonder whether the whole community was in the grip of an obscure terpsichorean obsession.
That night I dreamed of snow and declared I wouldn't undertake the Pennine Way in that weather and went home. In the event, the day dawned clear and bright with a stillness that presaged either a scorcher or thunder. Travelling northwards the PW has a ruse to eliminate the unworthy on Day 1. It's called Jacob's Ladder and comprises a near vertical ascent to the ridge. Hauling myself up this obstacle was always going to be a challenge and was made more difficult by the gargantuan breakfast I had been inveigled into eating by the good folk of Stonehouse. Finally cresting the summit an unexpected sight lies ahead. Instead of tussocky moorland the plateau has apparently been hijacked by a film director remaking a 1960s sci-.fi movie. An endless expanse of white dust is interrupted by cushions of brown peat and decorated with gritstone boulders, scoured by wind and weather into fantastic forms. The scene is framed by pale mist, which no doubt conceals the actors' winnebagos. Never one to be intimidated by theatrical effects, I strode purposefully though the carefully crafted illusion, only to find myself utterly lost in the meserising wasteland. My GPS reluctantly stuttered into life and eventually I rejoined the path which was reproachfully clear.
Long stretches of the PW here are slabbed with stones recycled from defunct cotton mills. They're twice the size of urban paving stones and many display shallow rectangular slots, where girders or spars perhaps once fitted. The day grew warmer and slabs were replaced by a rocky path. A steep downhill trudge led to my second night's accommodation and relief at completing the first day, reputedly one of the most arduous of the entire route.
© David Thompson 2012
That night I dreamed of snow and declared I wouldn't undertake the Pennine Way in that weather and went home. In the event, the day dawned clear and bright with a stillness that presaged either a scorcher or thunder. Travelling northwards the PW has a ruse to eliminate the unworthy on Day 1. It's called Jacob's Ladder and comprises a near vertical ascent to the ridge. Hauling myself up this obstacle was always going to be a challenge and was made more difficult by the gargantuan breakfast I had been inveigled into eating by the good folk of Stonehouse. Finally cresting the summit an unexpected sight lies ahead. Instead of tussocky moorland the plateau has apparently been hijacked by a film director remaking a 1960s sci-.fi movie. An endless expanse of white dust is interrupted by cushions of brown peat and decorated with gritstone boulders, scoured by wind and weather into fantastic forms. The scene is framed by pale mist, which no doubt conceals the actors' winnebagos. Never one to be intimidated by theatrical effects, I strode purposefully though the carefully crafted illusion, only to find myself utterly lost in the meserising wasteland. My GPS reluctantly stuttered into life and eventually I rejoined the path which was reproachfully clear.
Long stretches of the PW here are slabbed with stones recycled from defunct cotton mills. They're twice the size of urban paving stones and many display shallow rectangular slots, where girders or spars perhaps once fitted. The day grew warmer and slabs were replaced by a rocky path. A steep downhill trudge led to my second night's accommodation and relief at completing the first day, reputedly one of the most arduous of the entire route.
© David Thompson 2012
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