Huddled with friends in a pub garden in May, I’m sipping on my pint and listening to an impromptu folk performance from a table of local musicians. The afternoon hikers are returning for refreshment, piling up their bags on the remaining picnic tables and finding a precarious perch for their drink. As the spring sun battles to break through the low hung clouds, hikers sway on tired legs to the music.
Walking routes to and from the Old Nags Head Pub are well trodden and popular with hikers arriving to the Peak District by both car and train. The pub itself marks the start of the 238 mile Pennine way from Edale, in the northern Derbyshire Peak District, to just inside the Scottish border. Its location nestled between the conurbations of Sheffield, Manchester, Huddersfield and Nottingham make it incredibly accessible; and for us, it was the start and end point for a walk up to Grindslow Knoll and Kinder Scout – the highest point in the Peak District.
The next morning, rising from our soggy tents, we fill our stomachs and meander towards the start of the climb. Emerging from an overgrown public footpath, the uphill starts almost immediately, rising sharply out of a field full of sheep and their only just born lambs. Looking up at the Peaks, I note it is more undulating hills and plateaus, than the sharp edges its name would suggest.
As we make our ascent at first I struggle, my gait awkward and lumbering as I try to find my methodical pace, somewhere between just about moving forward and an outright sprint. I find this acclimatisation the hardest part of any hike, a bizarre interlude before my my breath becomes constant and my feet start to move in a kind of syncopated rhythm, accenting the little steps I’m making onto small ledges, into aptly carved out crevices, and up the side of the peak.
The view from Grindslow Knoll is humbling. The steeply sloping hills descend into the valley of Edale, exaggerating its height. Rocks jut out of the grassy hill at 90 degrees, seemingly floating above the valley below and I’m reminded sharply of my fear of heights. As we navigate around the contour of the hill towards Kinder Scout, the path becomes narrow, sliced unevenly and inconsistently into the side of the slope. I find myself moving slowly, leaning my body towards the bank on my left, whilst trying not to look at the steep drop to my right. In places I feel as if there’s barely enough room for my feet and I cling onto the flimsy undergrowth for some misguided stability.
When we finally reach the high col connecting Grindslow Knoll and Kinder Scout, the landscape softens, a wide plateau with undulating topography. The rocky pale pink path is surrounded by low lying heather and depressions filled with black peat, making the surroundings feel like a moonscape, isolated and vast. As we weave along the path towards the summit of Kinder Scout, I consider that this stillness on the ridge is the reason why millions of people visit the Peak District each year. Somehow, amidst the busy conurbations and large urban areas that surround it, the Peaks can offer us a contemplative space to breathe.
un-hurried 