White Peak Walks Vol 2 Southern Dales

• Description
• Contents
• Introduction
• Sample Route
• Maps
• Reviews

It is perhaps inevitable to find ‘travel writers’, once they have been drawn to explore the southern uplands of the White Peak, sitting in judgement over the qualities of the various dales: equally inevitable is the tendency to bestow the laurel wreath of ‘Dale of Dales’ on that valley which so distils the essence of the area, Dove Dale. And yet, having spent the best part of four years regularly visiting the area I cannot help but feel that the bias of promotional comment is tilted too heavily upon that one valley. There is no denying its particular claims for adulation, but, having ranged to the wider bounds of these southernmost Pennine hills, I would like to think that I would be failing in my mission if, through the medium of these thirty walks, I could not persuade walkers to a broader appreciation.

Nevertheless, the whole of the Dove valley within the National Park fully merits respect, and not just the short passage between Milldale and Thorpe. That hard-pressed section, which receives the brunt of visitor attention throughout the year, underwent major path restoration in 1984, a process which is to be sensitively extended. Clearly, there are stretches of path ill-suited (by the nature of the underlying soil) to the legions of pedestrian visitors who lay siege. Beresford Dale is a case in point, where the laying of a graded limestone rubble path is relieving the unsightly mudbath. However, such ‘improvements’ can, and certainly in the short term do, impinge on the aesthetic integrity of the place, but critics should never doubt the amazing healing capacity of Nature, for all man’s unremitting assaults.

Even though increased mobility has extended the diversity (in terms of sights and sites) of beautiful countryside within range of the millions who inhabit middle England, the White Peak remains tremendously popular among casual walking visitors. The area offers an amiable landscape despite the vagaries of its climate, dissected by countless walls, abundant in pastures and woodland, its limestone outcrops completing the interplay of green and white. It also offers a well-maintained footpath network. The ‘net’ effect ensures that walkers feel at ease and relaxed in their wanderings as in few other places in England, and it is here that the efforts of the Park Authority deserve a special mention.

Since its establishment in 1951 as the first National Park in Britain, the Peak Park has gained an honourable reputation in defence of the intrinsic character of these uplands, frequently having to strike a delicate balance between serving the vital recreational needs of a vast ‘on the doorstep’ urban populace and compliance with purely local aspirations. No planning authority can ever claim a blemish-free existence, and whilst it is seen by a tiny proportion of the 40,000 people who live within the Park’s bounds in a negative light, it is clear to me that the long-term well-being of the resident population is the prime concern of the Board. True, it imposes a tighter scrutiny than is considered necessary outside the Park’s bounds, but it will only be through the continued fostering of a closer harmony of interest that the future well-being of the area can be secured. The Park Board has a strong local composition, thus ensuring a genuine care for the land and its economic viability.

A journey across the girth of the White Peak from east to west reveals a dichotomy. Communities surrounding the Derwent valley have flourished because they lie within dormitory range of Sheffield and Chesterfield. Commuters can afford to lay extra stress on preservation of the National Park characteristics since they do not rely on the productivity of the land to determine their lifestyles. The short journey west across the high limestone plateau brings a progressively different state of affairs to light. Rural decline, accelerated in recent years by milk quotas and the general levelling-off in livestock prices, coupled with the loss of local employment opportunities through increased mechanisation of quarrying and similar industries, has brought about despondency among these hardy folk. This has often directed unwarranted calumny at the National Park Authority in its perceived insistence on the preservation of the natural landscape.

All is not black, as the ‘Integrated Rural Development Scheme’ pioneered at Longnor and Monyash can testify. At Longmor, for instance, the parish has witnessed a quite remarkable turnaround through the establishment (aided by cash injection) of a special Project Officer, and 35 jobs have been created among a population of just 400. Visitors arriving in the cobbled Square will be immediately attracted to the old Market Hall. The sign over the door advertising ‘SCVLPTVRE’ should encourage entry to admire the imaginative ceramic works created on-site. The enterprise’s name ‘Woodstringthislefoss’ derives from old Staffordshire dialect and means ‘make do and mend’. However, much more than that has already been achieved, but the message is sound enough, and the potential for the extension of such schemes within many other upland village communities is equally valid.