As we headed up for annual trip to the East coast of Scotland we decided to conquer Staffordshire and Derbyshire, Cheeks Point at 520m and Kinder Scout 636m respectively. As we struggled along the level path from the truck to the highest point in Staffordshire we really felt that perhaps this is the hill we should have done back in January when we did Black Hill (Cheshire) where you will remember that we nearly died lol. The two peaks are not far apart at all, and to be fair calling them peaks is pushing it a bit, slightly higher than the land around them. However it was a glorious day with sunshine and blue skies and that lovely feeling of being on holiday. It was exciting to see curlews and grouse on the moors, ticking lots of our boxes. Happy days.
We pitched our tent a field behind a pub which we were looking forward to visiting later and we trundled off for a short tour of the Peak District and to look at Buxton in a torrential downpour.
I would like to tell you all about the warm welcome we received in the pub and the delicious home cooked meal but I can't, my review is available on Trip Advisor. As I sit here today I can hear in my head "there's nothing so lonesome morbid or drear as to stand at the bar of the pub with no beer." I will say no more.
The next day also dawned brightly and after a hearty campers breakfast (according to the campsite book you could get a very good breakfast at the pub, this was not true, old misery guts told me she didn't do breakfasts anymore because no one came for them, the clues were there and I ignored them)we set off for Kinder Scout, George has got a new pair of boots as the Old Faithfuls have finally given up the ghost (dramatic funeral music).
The walk started well enough and we encountered a young lady climbing Kinder Scout in dolly shoes and with a handbag and a friendly but vicious little cat. This was going to be a lovely walk but as we approached the hard steep part of the walk it was apparent that the new boots were defective and I was probably going to have to piggyback George and his blistered foot back to the truck so we turned back, went to Buxton and ate some pastry products to cheer ourselves up.
Feeling deflated but not beaten we got the road atlas out and decided to scale the mighty high point of Nottinghamshire, this being Newtonwood Lane at 205 m. At some point in the past someone was proud of this high point and increased it's height. Not anymore I'm afraid, it is now a flytippers paradise. I shall spare Nottinghamshire's blushes and leave it at that.
Feeling like champions again we hit the road and found an Indian takeaway in Macclesfield and sat eating chicken tikka and Bombay potatoes in the tent and drinking gin. The pub wasn't open you see.
The campsite guidebook said there was occasional road noise, this is not true, it's on the A50, if you can't hear motorbikes then you can hear lorries, it also failed to mention that it's on the flight path for Manchester Airport, much fun was had that evening using Flightradar 24 guessing where the planes were coming from or going to.
And that concluded the mountain climbing element of the holiday, off we set to Embo to swim in the sea, look at wildlife and eat our own bodyweight in Scotch pies. Aye.
We pitched our tent a field behind a pub which we were looking forward to visiting later and we trundled off for a short tour of the Peak District and to look at Buxton in a torrential downpour.
I would like to tell you all about the warm welcome we received in the pub and the delicious home cooked meal but I can't, my review is available on Trip Advisor. As I sit here today I can hear in my head "there's nothing so lonesome morbid or drear as to stand at the bar of the pub with no beer." I will say no more.
The next day also dawned brightly and after a hearty campers breakfast (according to the campsite book you could get a very good breakfast at the pub, this was not true, old misery guts told me she didn't do breakfasts anymore because no one came for them, the clues were there and I ignored them)we set off for Kinder Scout, George has got a new pair of boots as the Old Faithfuls have finally given up the ghost (dramatic funeral music).
The walk started well enough and we encountered a young lady climbing Kinder Scout in dolly shoes and with a handbag and a friendly but vicious little cat. This was going to be a lovely walk but as we approached the hard steep part of the walk it was apparent that the new boots were defective and I was probably going to have to piggyback George and his blistered foot back to the truck so we turned back, went to Buxton and ate some pastry products to cheer ourselves up.
Feeling deflated but not beaten we got the road atlas out and decided to scale the mighty high point of Nottinghamshire, this being Newtonwood Lane at 205 m. At some point in the past someone was proud of this high point and increased it's height. Not anymore I'm afraid, it is now a flytippers paradise. I shall spare Nottinghamshire's blushes and leave it at that.Feeling like champions again we hit the road and found an Indian takeaway in Macclesfield and sat eating chicken tikka and Bombay potatoes in the tent and drinking gin. The pub wasn't open you see.
The campsite guidebook said there was occasional road noise, this is not true, it's on the A50, if you can't hear motorbikes then you can hear lorries, it also failed to mention that it's on the flight path for Manchester Airport, much fun was had that evening using Flightradar 24 guessing where the planes were coming from or going to.
And that concluded the mountain climbing element of the holiday, off we set to Embo to swim in the sea, look at wildlife and eat our own bodyweight in Scotch pies. Aye.
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