Wanderings in the Strangest Summer- Some local-ish walks.

 August 1st 2020.

I went to Matlock Bath by mistake.  Not long after the great and, as it transpired, temporary lifting of restrictions. I was not ready to encounter humans in such densities,  and I swiftly realised my mistake, and took a wander homeward.

I walked down by the river,  through the parks beside the rushing Derwent in the sunshine, where a dipper bobbed about. I climbed back up onto the road, and wandered along it, past the old Mill building.  I picked up the Cromford Canal Towpath, eerily quiet in comparison to the bustle of Matlock Bath Promenade, following it to the High Peak Junction, where I wandered through the sheep field, encountering a beautiful fledgeling Redstart, beginning to moult into the winter plumage of an adult male. Its sibling was not far away. In moult they bore a curious resemblance to Common Rock Thrushes, but smaller, perching on the dry stone walls, perhaps to scale with Alpine boulders. These tiny birds, just a couple of months old, were preparing for a long and perilous journey to subsaharan Africa. Also preparing to leave were the massed House Martins and Sand Martins which zipped about around the oak tree beside the camp site, where a few brave campers took advantage of the recent reopening.

Selected sightings (no list made) Kestrel, Woodpigeon, Mallard, Dipper, Black Headed Gull, Redstart, Pied Wagtail, House Martin, Swallow, House Martin. 

Cutthroat Bridge, Derwentside, 6th August 2020

I parked up in the layby beside Cutthroat Bridge, a bridge over a small beck, named for a grizzly robbery which took place there in 1635, where a man was left dead, or deprived of speech, depending on which version you read, by mysterious assailants. A second murder, the dumped body of a Mancunian gangster in the 1990s, adds to its grim mystique.  Counterintuitively, the place had quite a calm, wild energy about it, a gentle summer breeze, the heather in flower, and a Kestrel hovering.

Calluna blooming on the Derwent Moors. 

 I strolled uphill, among the flowering Ling Heather, Calluna vulgaris, and the Cross-Leaved Heath, Erica tetralix, the latter now beginning to go to seed. This was Grouse country, and sadly would all to soon be rumbling with the sound of guns as the toffs and London city boys hit the moors to shoot fledgelings out of the sky for shits and giggles. I passed a number of Grouse shooting butts, well maintained, almost luxurious with gravel floors and embossed door numbers. Nice of them, I thought, to provide so many public toilets so close to the Inglorious 12th.  Even in this magnificent, rugged landscape The moors bore the angular scars of controlled burns, in which floristic diversity is sacrificed for maximum densities of grouse for shooting.

Red Grouse on the Derwent Moors. 

Fox Moth larva on the Derwent Moors

As I ascended the moor, I could not help but acknowledge that, despite my distain for grouse shooting, this place was extraordinarily beautiful. Expansive views opened up, of the Derwent reservoirs, a Hobby pursued some hirundines around the granite outcrops. Meadow Pipits were busy, shuttling back and forth with food parcels. The views were enthralling, almost defying description, a vast landscape of hills and shining water. 

I reached the National Trust's land at the Derwent Estate, where I encountered my only actual Red Grouse of the walk, a female, who raised a head above the heather and looked at me quizzically. I walked on to a trig point, scrambling up the rocks for a selfie with it, and enjoyed a commanding view, now taking in part of the city of Sheffield, and viewed the Dark Peaks from their heart. On my return the sun was beginning to dip, and the reservoirs shone, bright glare of their mirror surface.

Yes, a place of remarkable beauty. And in sharp contrast to my ill advised trip to Matlock Bath, I saw barely a soul today. Just space and lakes and heather.

View of the Derwent Reservoirs from Derwent Edge. Or something. Who cares what a place is really called anyway. 

Birds Seen: Buzzard, Kestrel, Hobby, Raven, Great Tit, Swallow, Long-tailed Tit, Chiffchaff, Wren, Meadow Pipit. 

Lathkill Dale 7th August 2021

On a very hot, sunny day Natty and I strolled down from Over Haddon into Lathkill Dale. We found the River Lathkill dry, it had retreated underground, into its cave system, the disused mines beneath its course. The marginal vegetation like Hemp Agrimony had begun to wilt in the heat and dry. Only the deep, bathing pools, historic fishponds downriver held water, and here Swans and Mallards ignored swimmers and dogs. The site was busy but not the nightmare of antisocial behaviour reported on in recent weeks. Perhaps more people were staying away. Birds were few and far between, but a Buzzard gave us close views as it flew among the trees.

River Lathkill on one of its few excursions onto the surface. 

Curiously a number of big Nyphalid butterflies were gathered on the trunk of a beech tree, apparently
feeding on sap. Several trees held Commas and Red Admirals engaging in this behaviour.

Comma and two Red Admirals feeding on tree sap. 

Butterflies Seen: Ringlet, Gatekeeper, Red Admiral, Comma, Large White, Small Copper, Meadow Brown, Speckled Wood, Green Veined White.