Writing 10.29hrs Tuesday 25th May 2021
Rarely do I take notice of the “Prophets of Doom”, not if I can help it! However, the forbodings of two completely different people, at very different times, of whom I took very little notice did come to fruition exactly as predicted. The first person to pour cold water on an otherwise enjoyable day was a very concerned little old lady I met briefly almost at the start of my South America voyage in January 2020. I was, at that time, vaguely aware of a virus that had been discovered somewhere in China. I was mingling with, and beginning to become acquainted with numerous travelling companions on board Cunard’s Queen Victoria, as we sailed west across a still cold and tempestuous north Atlantic towards Bermuda, which on late arrival would prove as cold as Buxton in the middle of January (which it still was!) I digress!
This little old lady, from somewhere in the United States of America engaged me in conversation, “have you seen this article?” She pointed to a small piece far from the front page, concerning the outbreak of an unheard of virus. “This is going to affect the whole world”, she bleated unconvincingly. The rest, as they say, is history!
The second prophecy was much more recent, and again, for ever the optimist, I shrugged in disbelief and lack of interest. “May is going to be dreadful month, weather-wise”…perhaps not the actual words of another pessimist I encountered, but nonetheless irritatingly accurate. Sure, April was dry and bright, but, bitterly cold, most of the time. May brought nothing but April showers a month late and no apparent rise in temperature.
Nevertheless, I do remain ahead of schedule in my Christian Aid sponsored challenge to walk 300,000 steps by the end of the month. Many people have been generous in their support and encouragement, and I may well do something similar next year, if not before.
Two days ago, Sunday 23rd, I walked to St. John’s where for a second time, I took care of the sound system. There were no complaints! Roger prepared lunch prior to that afternoon’s walk, which would see us return to the Monsal Trail, where once the Midland Railway offered a scenic alternative route from Manchester to London, over which such prestige trains as the Midland Pullman and Palatine would run. There was an hourly service to St. Pancras from the once grand (I try not to use the word iconic) Manchester Central, now repurposed as an exhibition/events centre as well as (during this pandemic) an hospital. Manchester Central Station closed to passengers an alarming 52 years ago, the city being a railway “bottleneck” ever since.
Heavy rain was assured during Sunday afternoon, but I was determined to remain ahead of schedule. We walked from the car park at Topley Pike to the once largest station on the Midland Railway, Millers Dale. (That’s what it says on the information board…forgetting St. Pancras!)
To access the former Midland Railway from the carpark, one walks along the river for perhaps a quarter of a mile, before coming to a cycle hire centre and small cafe. The climb from there to the railway is not too arduous and soon, one is walking on the very well prepared former railway track towards Bakewell, 8.5 miles distant. Serious walkers take this in their stride!
Whereas the Tissington and High Peak Trails are blessed with the green and pleasant rolling hills of the Derbyshire Dales, the landscape from the Monsal Trail is far more dramatic, with steep craggy valley sides; we have our very own Yosemite around 15 minutes’ drive from home!
The rain did hold off for the afternoon, but has fallen increasingly since.
Yesterday, having covered around 8 miles on Sunday, I felt drained, even in the evening when the skies cleared momentarily. I did attempt a short walk however. This morning, precipitation persists like a bank account with never ending interest. The day lies ahead, and, perhaps a drenching.
Many thanks for reading, David, 11.40hrs.
David's Cruise 