An Anniversary trip - Chrome Hill, the Peak District
After deciding - or rather, being persuaded thanks to good ol' unpredictable British weather - to change our (back in March) Anniversary trip plans from the (still as of yet to visit) Lakes to the Peaks (destination chosen thanks to some insta-sleuthing!), we many-layered into the car, Google-mapping our way once familiar territory become un-familiar, and taking what felt like a most not-taken road into Hollinsclough Village to park up before our walk.
Pausing first to soak up the very spring-like sights of the village - and appreciating the feel of the warm sunshine on our not-felt-it-for-a-while skin - we then headed down past the (most unexpectedly come across!) school, with the river and its soothing babble-across tones for company, before cutting up a public footpath and heading across to the mighty Chrome Hill (and its equally mighty buddies-in-crime!), appreciating our first day out in nature for quite some bloody time, and toting some already-mud-trod wellies!
Treading the small footbridge, we passed through the farm gates, narrowly escaping the clutches of cattle grids (anyone else ever feel like they're most definitely going to slip, toes first, between the gaps?!), before squelching across remnants-of-wet-weather-days grass, and across a field to begin the - against the mighty wrath of the ridiculously powerful, made-one's-eyes-stream wind - route upwards (one which I slid down not too long after, much to M's most hearty laughter), placing feet into pathways well worn by previous visitors, and doing best to not (...well, I failed that one!) lose balance and make it to the top.
Once reunited - after M decided to pretty much jog his way down the sheer face, much to my looking-on horror - we took ourselves off round the 'front' of the mountainside, yet again squidging foot print into soft earth, before climbing to (admittedly a not quite as impressive) top of t'hill, in aid of admiring M's went-up-there, from-when-we-came peak, breathing in fresh, blown-right-in-our-face air, before making our way back through the gates - and alongside very 'you know you're in the Peaks when you see 'em' stone walls - (narrowly missing being sprayed head-to-toe with manure a tractor was shooting heavens-ward) back to the car, ready for the next leg of our journey.
Check back here (she says, with much hope in her voice that she'll get it written soon!) for said second leg - our trip to the Spa town of Buxton!
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