This was the first time I’d done the walk from Fairholmes in the Derwent Valley to the rocky pinnacles of Alport Castles.
Ladybower and Derwent Water will be familiar to anyone who’s spent time in the Peak District, but I’ve typically explored north, east and south of the waters without heading west.
OS Maps have this down as a leisurely walk, while AA Walks (via ViewRanger) has its difficulty as ‘hard’. As you might expect, it ended up somewhere in the middle, although I’d imagine that it could swing to either extreme depending on the conditions you do it in. I experienced almost every type of weather over the 10 miles of this route – mist in the valley at the start, turning to sleet and then hail, then a blizzard that froze my Camelbak feed along the ridge, sun at the midway point, and flurries of snow on the route back.
For a walk that commands impressive views, it’s remarkably difficult to do them justice through a lens. I blame the ice. There were so many times I knew I’d be able to get a great shot if only I could get over there, but getting ‘over there’ would have had even Shackleton flummoxed. Sheer cliff faces and a pervasive sheen of black ice is a recipe for Type III fun.
Despite the lack of impressive photos to write home about, the walk was wonderful and one I’d highly recommend. This is what you can look forward to on this route…
The walk begins at Fairholmes Visitor Centre at the south of the crumbling foundations of Fairholmes Farm, harking back to the days when this area used to be agricultural land. This valley was farmed for many years before it echoed with the sounds of labourers cutting, shaping and dressing stone for the dams which you see there now.
Almost immediately after leaving the car park, you’ll feel the ache in your legs as you climb through the woodlands of Lockerbrook Coppice. The path through the woods isn’t immediately obvious – there are obvious and clear paths, but they’re not the ones you’re going to take. Instead, you’ll ascend a well-trodden route that meanders through the trees, established only by the many boot marks that have blazed the trail before you.
After emerging from the coppice, the route takes you across Hagg Side spruce plantation before traversing Bellhag Tor and climbing toward the peaty ridge of Rowlee Pasture, where you’ll get your first view of the landslips that have defined the landscape here.
A fairly long stroll across the ridge will reveal the largest landslip in England. It’s called Alport Castles and, as you look toward The Tower, you’ll understand where the name comes from. It’s impossible to do justice to The Tower in an image taken from the cliff edge, but it’s a huge gritstone tor that rises out of a chaotic jumble of boulders and grassy mounds that have become separated from the main ridge.
After the last Ice Age and over many, many years, shales that are sandwiched between tiers of gritstone in soft bands were eroded, leading to a half-mile long landslide that dropped 100ft below the main cliff.
I sat on the cliff edge as close as I dared due to the ice and took in the views of the snow-dusted expanses of Bleaklow. That’s another route I haven’t explored much and it’s one I need to get around to doing later this year.
From Alport Castles, you first descend to Alport Farm before following the valley to its meeting point with the River Ashop, where you’ll take the old Roman road that linked the forts at Melandra (at Glossop) and Navio (near Bradwell). You’ll cross the lower grass slopes of Kinder Scout before your final climb rewards you with an expansive view of The Great Ridge, Castleton and Hope.
You know how there’s always a little bit of a surprise uphill slog at the end of every walk? This walk has that in abundance. The last two miles* are a more-or-less constant ascent which, having already walked 8 miles, is the reason this walk can become moderate in difficulty or hard depending on the conditions. It’s definitely worth it, even if the photos that resulted from this snowy, sunny, hailing, blizzardy, foggy day don’t quite prove it.
*Author’s note: this might be a gross exaggeration, I haven’t looked at the elevation chart. It felt like gravity assaulted me for something like two miles.
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