Saturday August 30
Some places are moody in an unchanging way. Others are odd in unpredictable ways. In that 'something' always happens when I'm there. Kinder Scout is one of those. A hill with more than its share of oddnesses.
As always, the view of Kinder's southern flank from Edale inspires a calm internal rumble of excitement and anticipation. Cliched as it may sound, it's like a homecoming.
Today's route is up Grindsbrook. Familiarity never feels to be a problem here. The heather has returned, transforming the clough even since I was last here just 4 weeks ago.
The breeze is stiff and from the north west, boding well for the curiosity that is Kinder Downfall and the way its flow sometimes blows back up and over the rocks, just how those of us who know this place love. A waterfall in reverse.
We divert due north and off the beaten track - which is thronged with day-tripping types in townie pastel shades - toward the top for an attempt to negotiate the main watercourse. It's flowing harder than the usual summer norm. The scrambling is fun but impractical when the pools prove too deep to wade and the rocky sides too sheer to avoid them. Looking back I know this place is mine and always will be. As long as my knees and my heart can get me up here. I love it more than I can articulate.
And then the oddness. Which is kind of expected by now. Experience has taught me that. Crossing the plateau is a proper 'bog trot' today and it's a relief to reach the solidity of the riverbed track through Kinder Gates to meet the Downfall. Dark Peak sheep are never the shrinking violets you find in lowland areas. Running in blind panic at the first sign of people isn't their style. But there's a strange one picking its way around the rocks over the other side of the waterfall, baa'ing in a way that sounds semi-human and fearful. My companion, who knows something of farming, says it's definitely distressed.
We hunker down for refreshments, perched among the rocks as far down the side as we dare, and enjoy the atmosphere as the spray whirls and eddies in a windblown vortex below.
And suddenly the baa'ing is somewhere above us. Still sounding sad and fearful. Disconcertingly more like a person in pain than a sheep. And then it appears, emerging from around the side of our rocky shelter to stand in front and stare at us before nuzzling my companion and nibbling at her apple. No more distressed baa'ing. Just an exceptionally friendly sheep that's negotiated a tricky scramble to find us. There are other folk around and quite why we've been chosen for this unusual and amusing encounter isn't clear. Although it does scoff the apple, core and all, before quietly wandering off again.
I've come to expect funny stuff on Kinder. That's one of the many reasons I love it.
It's an easy stroll south down the Pennine Way to pick up the route down via Jacob's Ladder, finishing off with the gentle wander east via Upper Booth and back to Edale. The Rambler's Inn is too rammed to the gills with walkers and daytripping families to offer any real hope of getting fed without a long wait. But the Woodroffe Arms in Hope turns out to serve a great steak and stilton pie with fresh veg in a real, no-frills pub environment. It's one of those pubs where the landlord takes the piss when you order a soft drink and the clientele is made up of taciturn locals who appear to have taken root in the bar, along with their dogs. It's another 'discovery' and an essential post-walk feeding station for the future. There's always something new to love around these parts.
