Bonfire Week (In the sh1t again)

Night before our next trip out Tom and I went to see The Rams away at Barnsley, my first away match for probably 30 ish years. Enjoyed the night, shame the result went against us; losing 2-1 after taking the lead. 2,500 Derby fans still singing though.

Easy trip up to York next day, first time we’ve stopped at Rowntree Park as usually need someone to die before there’s availability. Great location by the river, 15 mins to the city centre. We were fortunate not to be cancelled as earlier in the week the site had been evacuated due to potential flooding. Arrived just after lunch and fortunately it was sunny as I was banished outside to do a lunchtime fish curry (no fish allowed to be cooked inside the house or

van).

The curry went down well, and was followed by cheeky afternoon beers at Thursday at “The Botanist” a nice city centre cocktail bar Mrs H and Katie had frequented on a girlie day out previously. We enjoyed chatting to an outgoing pair of nurses from County Durham, of a similar vintage to us. Suspect they missed their train back though.

On the Friday we took a pleasant 6 mile walk by the river back by the racecourse and historic and nicely renovated Rowntree Terry’s factory and back along the fashionable “Bishy” Road which is full of independent shops, cafes and bars. Our evening beverages were taken at Pvini, a recommendation from Mrs H’s cousin. Enjoyed it there, 3 storey craft ale house just off Little Shambles; quirky and atmospheric.

Saturday we had earmarked for Xmas shopping but neither of us could be bothered so we took a windy, flat and times relentless walk further along the river on a bigger circuit. We’d put lamb in the slow cooker for after our repeat beers at Pvini, where we got talking to a group of Leeds lads and a couple from Shardlow. Fancying a hot drink when we got back Mrs H (having been on the craft lager, and probably not putting her eyes on) lovingly made a refreshing cup, in true Uncle Albert style, of Boullion stock instead of coffee.

I was in maximum smug mode on Sunday packing up to leave York, not to go home like others but to join the smug queue all of a certain age checking in at Castleton in the afternoon after those at work have gone (to read emails, make pack up and other back to work stuff). The journey over was interesting as I’m trying out Car Play as our prime SatNav and the google based evil bitch

from hell this time sent me across a single track windy lane for 10 miles comprising 25% gradients and hairpin bends. More white knuckle moments on the sweaty steering wheel, should have listened to the voices in my head when she said turn left at the old Mortimer Cottages and I clocked the max width and length signs.

Surviving that we were joined by Katie and her partner Ellie who we were to meet for the first time for a meal at the Peak Tavern. We both enjoyed the afternoon, and it was a pleasure to meet Ellie and see Katie clearly happy.

Monday was a lovely and bright, sunny, golden and russet autumnal day and I love seeing the hills and moors up here at this time of year. We walked into Hathersage from the CAMC site at Castleton, diverting up toward Stanage Edge after a route was recommended by a local. I reckon she was the voice of my SatNav personified though as we huffed and puffed up the 35% gradient of

Bamford Clough. We spoke to 2 lads pushing a bike up, ladened with filming gear and a brush. Intrigued I asked them what they were doing and apparently they were filming a YouTube of a the lad cycling as fast as he could up steep hillside; first sweeping the leaves up for maximum traction. I filmed myself breathing out of my arse walking up, I’ll upload it to YouTube later. After a coffee and cake stop in Hathersage we hopped on the train back to Hope for a few beers at a regular of ours, The Old Hall before heading back to the van for the evening.

On the Tuesday we set out to walk over the ridge to Hope Cross, but decided to take a shorter more leisurely hike up Lose Hill. Leaving the metalled road, the well trodden narrow track follows a stream in a culvert with fence either side, this is important for what follows…half way up here we commented about the ripe countryside smells. We then heard the approaching muck spreading tractor in the field next to the path, closely followed by the said flinging

shite. We had a split second to decide which way to go as we were sitting ducks with nowhere to go or trees to give us cover, I got off lightly and muck free; Mrs H inevitably didn’t though with her new coat nicely pebbledashed in shite plus a generous dollop on her hand, which was nice. She was not impressed, but we did laugh later once the stench had worn off. Good job we’d planned a shorter walk that day, and going back to the van to change before afternoon beverages. No one seemed to want to sit by us in front of the open fire in The Peak though, strange that.

All in all a great few days away, particularly enjoyed the proximity to York for nice pubs and the beautiful autumn colours of the Hope Valley. The chapter is titled Bonfire Week, but of course with Daisy we didn’t go to a display, nor was she phased by the loud bangs and flashes of the fireworks around us.