Misty

The last few weeks have been good for walking but yesterday I was out to celebrate my friend Anne’s 60th birthday at a very good venue (Oak Tree Inn, Helperby). The food was particularly good. Not only did I not get to walk but I consumed more than I should. The guilt and food had obviously combined to ensure that I must walk today.

The alarm went off and the crack in the curtain revealed mist. Lots of it.  I pondered and decided to roll over and have a snooze. It made no difference getting up a little later. Andrea had decided that she wasn’t walking so it was to be a solo effort. I packed everything and headed up the road to see if I could get above the mist. Not a chance. I headed towards Sheffield and as I got past Hillsborough the sun was shining and there was no mist. Perfect. Derbyshire sprung to mind. I drove out along the Ecclesall Road covered in sunshine and I was feeling particularly smug. It was only as I approached the Fox House pub that the mist returned and by the time I got to the car park at Longshaw it was thick again.

Worse was to come. People were suiting up for something approaching artic travel. There I was with just walking boots, a fleece and a hat. I thought I was fine for this sort of weather but others had lurid coloured waterproofs, heavy rucksacks, gloves and multi-layered hats. What did they know? So nervous was I that I thought a check on the Meteo Weather app was in order. Of course, there is a consistent problem in Derbyshire. No communications links. I couldn’t check the weather. Anyway, I left them preparing their fourth or fifth layer and set off wondering what climate calamity was coming my way.

The sounds of your surroundings certainly differ in the mist. The road was nowhere near as noisy as it could have been and the sounds of streams were less audible. Sheep sounded more distant. It was a calmer start to the walk which was no bad thing. The stream in Padley Gorge is beautiful but with limited visibility came problems of getting close enough to photograph anything. As I entered the wooded part of the gorge I couldn’t help but be drawn by the attraction of a decent cup of tea at Grindleford Station. I fought off this temptation and headed up to the Surprise View path instead. I didn’t need a “cup of tea and while I’m here I may as well have a full English breakfast”.

What you don’t notice as you come down the gorge is just how quickly you are descending. Heading up the Surprise View pathway leaves you in no doubt how slowly you are ascending. I spend a few minutes gasping for air and then looked at the map to work out where I should go. I ended up in what I assumed was Bolehill Quarry given the steep sides and no visible exit. I want to say this was deliberate. I can’t. With my map reading and the thickness of the mist I suppose I could have been in the middle of Hathersage and not really known the difference. Fortunately, I came to another path and decided to walk along it. I could hear voices which was initially a bit of a relief but I still couldn’t see them and wondered if I was imagining it.

No. Not imagining at all. I could see lurid coloured tops so I assumed walkers. The heavily laden backpacks confirmed my assessment.

“We were having a bet about what you were carrying” said one of the walkers.

“What came out as favourite?” I asked.

“A snooker cue” came the reply.

My tripod is a pain to carry and I was initially amused. However, I became more disturbed. Who would walk in the coutryside with a snooker cue? I got close enough to see that the voice was coming from a walker sat in a child’s buggy. Not one of those with the huge countryside wheels but one with a normal set of smaller wheels. And this was the guy who thought I may be carrying a snooker cue. It made sense now. Kind of. I muttered something about a snooker cue being more use than a tripod on a day like today and scurried off with “Hills Have Eyes” images flashing through my mind.

It was steep up here. And then, it got steeper. More gasping. The paths really are very generous in width but it is scant compensation for the lack of oxygen. I was comforted by the knowledge that the sound of my wheezing wouldn’t carry very far. Upward I climed and then on the flatter bit the map showed a stone circle to the right (I think it would be kind of eastwards but can’t confirm that) . With visibility measured in inches and my lack of any relevant outdoor skills I figured that it was sensible to give the stone circle a miss for today. As I approached Surprise View I had already determined that there would be no surprises in store so didn’t bother going up there.

More walking took me over Owler Tor. I could hear loads of voices but nobody was visible. The sight of the stream came as an immense relief. I had obviously come at the time where amphibious dogs are let loose into the stream to just run into the water, bark and come back out again. I assume the cycle goes like this:

• Magic. There’s a stream there.
• Run… jump… and splash.
• Brrrrrrr. It’s freezing. Bark with surprise.
• Jump out and shake vigorously. Soak everything for fifty yards either side.
• Look at owner. Run off.
• Magic. There’s a stream there…

The sun was  doing its best to burn off what remained of the mist and I’m glad to say that by the time I got back to the car park it had just started shining properly. Great.

My fleece had a layer of moisture droplets covering my shoulders. I was absolutely boiling. I could see steam coming off me as I got my boots changed.

I packed the boots, my camera and the snooker cue into the boot of the car and felt particularly satisfied with life. 4.5 miles, a decent sweat and more than just the odd aching muscle. A decent morning all told.

Route of the walk on Endomondo.

Photographs of the walk in the Padley Gorge set on Flickr.

Baby it’s cold outside

I’ve had a number of walks around the Loxley Valley in the last few weeks and my exploration in the west continued over the last couple of days. Walking boots were essential and proved their worth once more.

Saturday: Rowel Bridge – Low Bradfield – Rowel Bridge

I arrived at Rowel Bridge at 8.15am and could not believe that the car thermometer was showing 3C. The forecast was for sunshine so I assumed it would get warmer through the morning but the bite of that cold air was felt right at the back of my throat. The first part of the walk took me on a concrete path and I became aware of the Loxley flowing earlier than I had done on my previous walks here. I had assumed that the recent rains had swollen it somewhat and that the still of the morning had made it a little easier to hear. A short walk to the west led to Old Wheel Dam with all its water birds wide awake. More puzzling, for me at least, was the mist rising from the water. So cold and yet evapouration? Perhaps more hardened walkers will tell me that it isn’t uncommon. The sun was doing its best to shine through so this coupled with the mist made for quite a spectatular start to the day.

A glorious start to the day

The path at the side of Old Wheel Dam is muddy. Now I’m a little nervous with mud and I hate walking into it deliberately. So, this morning’s walk had started with me tip toe-ing along the path to avoid the muddy bits. Normally, this would be enough but the trousers I had were a little long so had to hold them up a little. Picture it if you will: camera in one hand, tripod in the other, hitching trousers up with the camera hand and stepping gingerly to avoid the muddy blobs on the path. I must have looked ridiculous.

The side of this path is full of broken down buildings that must have belonged to the various engineering companies that had grown at the side of the river. Sadly, all are gone and what remains are shells of these structures with wire fencing everywhere. Should planning permission ever be forthcoming they will be tranformed into homes but for now the developer (Bovis), the local parish council (Bradfield) and Sheffield Council debate the matter some more. I’m not local so it will not have any impact on me but it does seem to me that something to replace these empty and soulless reminders of yesteryear would not be a bad thing.

A few hundred yards away was a slice of tranquility that could not be further away from these scenes of dereliction and decay. Loxley Fisheries is, as its name suggests, a fishing pond. Around the outside were many fishermen who looked to have been there for some time already. Long fibreglass poles everywhere made progress across the path seem more trouble than it should have been but I was fascinated by just how comfortable some of the more expensive fishing seats looked. I crossed over the river using a metal bridge and got to a wooden bridge to have a look at a waterfall. I came back via the fishing lake and caught the first glimpse of the sun shining across it. Spectatular. I have no interest at all in fishing but even I could sense a certain tranquility around that lake that was amplified by the early morning warmth of that sunshine.

A great place to see the full effect of the sun - Loxley Fisheries

Once past the fisheries I walked along the River Loxley which was, in reality, but a few steps away and can be hidden by dense bushes. When there were gaps I went down to the water to see what photos I could get. The force of this river is noticeable even here. The gurgling noise fills the waterway between the trees that top the banks either side and you become aware that the warmth of the sun seldom has an impact this far beneath the tree cover. I clamber back up the banking and, not for the first time on this walk, I am a live physics experiment. At the top of the riverbank my final stride is not quite strong enough and I nearly topple over. The weakened legs and the heavier frame served to offer a tantalising glimpse of just how easy it could be to end up on my backside. Fortunately, my mud aversion allows me to summon up a little more effort to counteract the toppling but it was close.

Towards the bridge at the bottom of Stacey Lane

A short walk to the bottom of Stacey Lane took me to a bridge. Sheep grazed just a short distance away and behind me was awash with sunshine. It was a beautiful mix of warm colours. Turning round and looking east showed the river flowing in the middle of a mix of green and brown darkness. It was an interesting contrast. I should explain a little about Stacey Lane.  This is a short lane leading to Stacey Bank which I’m told is a hamlet. A dozen or so houses, a pub, a telephone box and a post box built into somebody’s garage wall is all you will find there. I think they could bring more revenue into the local economy by installing ski lifts up that bloody lane. Steep does it no justice at all. I climbed up the hill through the thickly falling leaves and by halfway I was gasping for breath. Unfortunately it is a bit of a double whammy. The cold air I was breathing in proved to be a bit of a shock to my body so I gasped a little more. I toyed with the idea of asking the man in the post van for a lift to the top but decorum was restored by my feigning to take in the view and standing there for a few moments longer. My throat and lungs got used to the cold air and somehow I managed to walk to the top. This was not before my glutes are whining about the pain again.

Damflask was the next landmark on my route and it didn’t disappoint. Rowing boats were on the dam and I could hear the Cox in a couple of the boats bellowing instructions to their crew. Now normally I don’t pay attention to the noises around me so I was pleasantly surprised to have heard these instructions and the squeaking of some of the oars. I paused to watch for a few minutes and found the rhythm of the strokes of the oars to be quite soothing. I walked along the road that passes over the dam wall and a little further found my way onto the walking path within the boundary of the reservoir. This is really well put together and makes walking very easy. Joggers were everywhere ranging from the fittest athletes to those like me who must have got into a sweat just thinking about the jogging. Everyone says “good morning” and I did find myself being amazed at just how many people were using this reservoir to entertain themselves on a Saturday morning. The sun had risen a little higher so it did get quite warm. I had a terrific time stopping for photographs and was delighted to have taken the tripod. Eventually I walked into Low Bradfield which was the furthest part of my walk. There are lots of things about Low Bradfield I could mention. There is a splendid cricket ground, a lovely bowling green, a marvellous picnic area in the middle of the ducks and there is a smashing park donated by the Ibbotson family for the use of the locals.

However, the most important attribute of Low Bradfield is the new cafe there: The Schoolrooms. Yes, I know it is a deli and a butchers but the coffee was my prize for the four miles I had walked to get there. Of course, there was not a scrap of phone signal to let me sign in on any of the location apps on the phone. Once my latte was over I did flirt with the idea of catching a bus back to the car. The day was still young and I still felt pretty good so I headed back. I went back the way I had come which was uneventful other than noticing that the rowing club boats had been replaced by their sailing club counterparts. It was also hard to ignore just how lush the western edge of the reservoir looked. It was a mass of bright green broken only by the river flowing in the middle.

We are sailing

Of course, going back the same way meant Stacey Lane. I think it is fair to say that my descent was slower than my ascent and I say this with more than a hint of embarassment. Disturbing the leaves on the floor caused a mass of insects to take to the air and land almost immediately. My glutes were mercifully silent on the descent but my knees were happy to take up the slack in the pain department. The only other issue going back was having to high jump over the fibreglass fishing poles which had increased in number and seemed much higher than when I had come this way earlier. Aching legs played tricks with the mind.

I arrived at the car with the delight of knowing I had broken the 8 mile threshold. Having stopped at the car with a grin on my face I also became acutely aware that i could no longer feel the soles of my feet.

Sunday: Rowel Bridge – Low Bradfield

It was a mistale to explain how good Saturday’s walk had been. Sunday’s walk would be the one way journey but would be “a deux”. I resolved not to take as many photos to speed us up a little but I shouldn’t have worried. We were still very slow. If it wasn’t me stopping for the odd photograph if was Andrea stopping to read the many dedications on the seats that surround Damflask. Damflask had even more rowers and their boats on show this morning but there were fewer joggers. A few people had brought their dogs for a walk although I’m convinced one of those “dogs” would have been more at home on a bridle path. It was huge.

I did get emasculated on the ascent of Stacey Lane. Andrea told me how easy she had found it. I found an excuse to stop part way up as I had seen a colourful flying thing which I got to photograph. I assume that this is a moth but it could be a bird if you are relying on my knowledge of nature. It managed to spread out on an October’s day and soak up what sunshine it could. It was an activity repeated by millions of Britons I suspect.

Low Bradfield was a picture and I was thrilled at the prospect of another coffee. I was positively encouraged to have some toast and tarry a while. Silly me. I should have known that this encouragement would come at a price. The price was having to wait while the deli and butchers section was explored. And when I say explored I do mean explored in detail. Sheffield honey, meats, natural cereals, spices, condiments, stuffings, fruit, vegetables and drinks were all examined to see if they could be of service. It really is very nice shop but, unless they web enable sausages, it will be hard for me to show any interest in anythign other than the cafe. It was really good to see the cafe so busy as cyclists, walkers and families all took up their place to have some sustinence on their Sunday morning out. A microcosm of Brits entertaining themselves on a Sunday morning.

The Schoolrooms deli-cafe-butchers in Low Bradfield

Links

• Photographs of the walk
• The Schoolrooms website

Walk on by

Journey

• Started at Middlewood tram terminus and caught tram up to Norfolk Park area
• Walked all the way back to Middlewood: route here (Endomondo)
• Photographs here (flickr)

Looking down Norfolk Park Avenue, Sheffield

Places visited

• Norfolk Park. Gifted to the people of Sheffield by the Duke of Norfolk, this green space covers some area and has a very pleasant avenue.
• Cholera Monument. Erected to commemorate the victims of Sheffield’s major outbreak of cholera, this monument stands proud overlooking the city.
• Park Hill flats. Still “work in progress” although not convinced how the renovation work covers only part of the complex of flats.
• South Park outdoor theatre space. Looks fabulous but I do have a question. Was it wise to have a theatre space so close to the railway station? I can imagine it now: “Hath not a Jew Eyes. Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimen… this is a platform alteration, the 11.03 to Barnsley will now be leaving from platform 1″
• Sheffield Cathedral. It isn’t classically gorgeous but with the Archer Centre it represents a refuge for many of those in need within the city centre.
• St. George’s Church. A large church now part of the University as a lecture theatre.
• St. George’s Hospital. Looks to be the law faculty now. I went to many parties here when it was a hospital. Good Times.
• Ponderosa. I still can’t get over the name.

Cholera Monument, Clay Wood, Sheffield

Remarkable for

• Police incidents. When I got to Norfolk Park there were two Policemen and a Park Ranger gazing into the bushes. I didn’t like to ask why. Later, when I walked past Bamforth Street tram stop, it was taped off with Police tape and a Policeman was guarding the scene.
• American football. Walking through the Ponderosa, there was an American Football training session taking place. The sound of helmets clashing is a little jarring.
• Distance. Very pleased with how far I covered.
• Habits ignored. I didn’t walk into the Maplin shop. I walked right on by.

Sheffield from South Park

60 second suggestion: suddenly I see

For those of you who like to have something in the background, here is a technique to give you something that doesn’t overpower your content.

The video can be viewed in 720p if you select that option from within the player.

British summertime (video)

With summer almost over I thought I’d offer a summary of my wanderings in video form rather than words.

Video is available in 720p if you want to select that mode from the player.

England – looking lovely as ever.

Downstream: a wander in Padley Gorge

Today’s main walk was to the Longshaw Estate in the Peak District to have a wander down into Padley Gorge by following the path of Burbage Brook rights down into the bowels of the earth. After lunch it was into the Chatsworth estate for a brief walk around the village of Edensor.

Burbage Brook meanders through Padley Gorge

Details

• Parking: Woodcroft Car Park at the Longshaw Estate
• Distance: Covered a shade over four miles (you can view the walk on Endomondo).
• Photographs: many. (Padley Gorge on Flickr and Derbyshire on Flickr)

Dislikes

• Midges: kept eating me from tip to buzzer. Everywhere.
• Tea room at Edensor: so disappointed to see it shut. Such a lovely place normally. It is having a refit right now.
• Steep paths: plays havoc with your ankles.
• Really really steep paths: tried going up one of them but would have needed ropes if I had gone up much higher. Of course, having got half way up the hill, I had to get down. Good job my ample backside provided the friction to stop me sliding down too quickly.
• Long dog leads: the point of having a dog on a lead when the dog is 50 feet away with another 50 feet of slack is what exactly?

Ancient woodland at Padley Gorge

Likes

• Burbage Brook: lovely to follow and very tranquil.
• Saying hello to complete strangers.
• Views: fantastic views from practically anywhere. Some of the best countryside I have visited.
• Rocks: size, texture, placement, variety. Mother nature got this are very right.
• Paths: varied of course and the quirky nature of some of the paths was very endearing
• Woods: old, gnarled and permanent.
• Grindleford Station Tea Rooms: didn’t go in but looked a great place to have a brew
• Yarncliffe Quarry: immense structures of rock.
• Edensor: like a tasteful Portmeirion. Picture postcard village. Can’t bring myself to take pictures of the houses it is so quiet.

View of Higger Tor

Beyond the sea

I’m going to try and give you the highlights without the usual waffle.

Looking towards Filey from Scarborough

Scarborough was first on the places to visit today.

• Reason for visit: fabric shop.
• Where: Sewing Centre, Aberdeen Walk.
• Implications: Andrea euphoric, me bored.
• Resulting in: Andrea goes to shop, I go for coffee.
• I find: Scarborough is bereft of 3G signal apart from the far half of the end bench near the council offices.
• Amazing fact: world shortage of fabric means we are stocking up.

Filey from the beach

Filey is haunt for rest of day. Sequence of events.

• In a car park of couple of hundred empty spaces and have to wait behind a car deciding which space to use.
• Walk to sea front.
• Andrea wants to go and walk on beach. I’m firm with my “no way, not ever.”
• Beach is squidgy underfoot
• Filey Brigg is longer than you think.
• Filey Brigg is harder work than you think. Legs ache, ankles sore.
• Filey Brigg prone to breath taking cross winds.
• Climbing any hill around here is bound to be steep. One near sailing club paricularly so. Buttocks and thighs sore.
• Eat lunch on top of cliffs in a force ten gale. Crumbs not a problem though.
• Descent from St. Oswald’s Church is steep: knees sore.
• Stop for coffee and and Earl Grey tea at Downcliffe House Hotel. Outstanding.
• That tide thing is impressive.
• Walk back up car park. Very, very steep. Everything hurts.
• Stunning day. Weather kind. Wind bracing.

Rock on Filey Brigg. They looked heavy.

 

Dust to dust

Today’s walk was an attempt to kill two birds with one stone. Bird 1: walk along the far bank of the river Don and see what is there and Bird2: visit Wardsend Cemetery.

The cemetery thing may seem a little odd particularly as I ‘d been to another one over the weekend. I don’t think it is a another mid-life crisis but I can’t rule it out. Wardsend doesn’t look like a cemtery. From the ovehead shots on Google you get no hint of what lies beneath the densely packed trees. In essence, this is another cemetery where nature has been allowed to take hold. The place itself doesn’t have the grandeur of the Sheffield General Cemetery but it does have attractive aspects and of course, its history is of this side of Sheffield.

Entrance to the cemetery can be made through an unassuming set of steps with no signs or even a hint that the cemetery exists. Once in there you are shaded from practically eveything above. The gravestones are plentiful and easily viewed. The monument to the fallen stands proud in its backdrop of trees in a little clearing but a trimming of its immediate surrounds would add to its dignity. Needless to say I knew nothing of Wardsend Cemtery’s existence until recently. There is a website about it: Friends of Wardsend Cemetery.

Wardsend Cemetery

Dignity is a fitting word. In spite of everything, the cemetery endures. Nature does its best to take over and has got a strong hold of a couple of parts of Wardsend. For the most part though, it looks just like an old graveyard with an almost surreal canopy of trees there to diffuse the light and to dull the sound. It is hard to believe that the large Cadbury’s/Bassetts factory is a couple of  hundred yards away. You could be forgiven for thinking that someone had hit the mute button on the global remote control.

Having left the calm of the cemetery I returned to the path which is actually Club Mill Road. The road is no longer used and it is closed off to traffic at both ends. This perplexed me as I could clearly see parallel tyre tracks in the still damp path/road. There were not many of them but tyre tracks they were. This is far from the most attractive part of Sheffield. Crumbled buildings and dust paths form a depressing foreground to the much more encouraging background of Hillsborough College and its playing fields. There is a stark contrast between the dust on my path and the gleaming glass of the Hillsborough College complex. The dampness of the path introduced its own pitfalls. Puddles. I have to step round them which I’m sure to the casual onlooker would make me look a little like a water shy ballerina, stepping daintily between the various puddles in my way. Quite a skills for man of my size.

Eventually you have the choice to go either side of the Don and I chose the south side walking a little awkwardly in the wind as I did not want to lose the hat. I took a walk up to town through Little Italy as it used to be called. The community spirit must have moved out ages ago and this was a mix of small business in run down premises probably next door to something that has been derelict for an age. I hadn’t thought Italy was as hilly. A combination of weak legs, a steep hill and breath removing wind made me struggle for a few moments on my climb.

Sheffield Cathedral

The sanctuary of the town centre was particularly welcome. I got the chance to rest and catch my breath. I also got to see buildings that were still erect on walkways that were very solid. This would not be a recommend walk by any of Sheffield’s tourism bodies. I will visit Wardsend again with a tripod next time and I will try to explore a little more.

Today’s walk (Endomondo)

Today’s photos (Flickr)

Five Weirs 2.0 and the story of 26 Milford Street

Some time ago I did Sheffield’s Five Weirs Walk. I wasn’t particularly complimentary about the walk but on Saturday, bored as I was, I decided to give it another go.

I started at the Park and Ride at Meadowhall and followed the riverside for a while. Much of the overgrown foliage that had been an irritation on the previous walk had been removed and it made for a much more pleasant experience. Sheffield’s industrial past is visible throughout the walk and I am always curious to see what is happening in this area.

I found it hard to start the walk. The forecast was for some rain so I grabbed my waterproof jacket. Inexplicably, I decided to leave the hat in the car. Well, actually, I can explain it. It is one thing walking in the country in a hat but another thing walking in town in the same hat. Twenty minutes in and the heavens emptied a little. Rivulets of rain water running down the inside and outside of my glasses did leave me wondering if the effect was similar to psychotropic drug misuse. The range of shapes and colours hitting my eyes was formidable.

Fortunately, the rain stopped. Then the sun came out. Then it warmed up. Then it warmed up some more. The jacket was was now way too warm so I had to tie the coat around my waist which did little for my figure. I think it made me look a bit hippy. This Saturday walk was very peaceful although it is hard not to be struck by the number of radios playing in factories. I must confess to finding this a) entertaining and b) comforting. I had just gone by the lovely but now sadly empty Freemans Catalogue Call Centre so the sounds of people working at all on a Saturday left me feeling a little more optimistic. The radios also gave me the opportunity to play my own version “name that tune” which I won (Track of the Walk: Cherelle & Alexander ONeal, Saturday Love). Another plus for this walk was the discovery that all of the route was open. The last time there were two sections closed off. It was worth seeing the extra bits. The Cobweb Bridge was particularly impressive.

Royal Victoria Hotel, Sheffield

So too was the Royal Victoria Hotel. It looks imposing so high above the river and the years have been kind to it. I can only imagine what it must have felt like going up to it when it had first opened. It sits with some dignity in the middle of the more modern hotels, offering its own unique link between past and and present.

I was surprised to see fishermen in the Don. A few years ago it would have been pretty certain that the waders would have been dissolved in a few hours of use. Seeing the pair of fishermen showing some patience in the water did lead me to believe that it was like a normal river again. In the couple of minutes I watched they had caught nothing which probably explains why I never liked fishing. Too little happening. Oh, I never like touching fish either although based on my dad’s experiences of fishing, that was never necessary: he didn’t catch any.

Fish in the Don. Whatever next?

The other thing of note was really the number of squirrels I saw today. Many of them in the trees on the river bank. This proliferation of of the cute climbing creature should have been expected. I passed three people on the whole of my walk so disturbance due to humans was not a major threat.

And so to 26 Milford Street. Here you will find the Wentworth House Hotel, a small unassuming pub next to a Firth Rixon entrance. Years ago that entrance would have belonged to the English Steel Corporation before it became British Steel.

This pub was my dad’s local when he was at work and is probably the pub I spent most time in. I became teetotal in 1979 and it was a source of constant frustration to my dad that he had to buy cokes for me to drink. It was in this pub that I played cards (badly) and was allowed to join in the banter with a thriving bunch of steel workers. It was a year or so before I could hold my own. I enjoyed Saturday afternoons there. They were a tight nit and lively bunch and within a couple of year of those Saturdays the collective knoweldge of this group of riggers had been lost to the industry. A few years before, my dad had brought me into the BSC complex next door to help with numerous school projects. The memory of the noise of hot electrodes hitting cold steel is still vivid as is the terror I felt. To say it was loud would be doing it a huge injustice.

Wentworth House Hotel

So why talk about it now? With so many pub’s closing or already closed I am pleased to see it continue. My dad loved it there. It had the best pint of beer in the area. I think it was Wards. I couldn’t abide the stuff but he, as an avid consumer of the Yorkshire nectar, would commend the pint at the Wentworth House Hotel to anyone.

Curiously, it continues in an area transformed from the heady days of the steel industry. This pub, and the radios that blared out on today’s walk, suggest that there is still something going on in Sheffield’s industrial heartland.

No bad thing at all.

Five Weirs Walk (Endomondo)

Photographs from Five Weirs (Flickr)

Working with fire and steel

Razor wire

Everyone should know that Sheffield has a proud tradition in the steel industry. So many sites around the city commemorate the heritage of steel that it is hard to forget right? Almost right. The problem is that you really do need to look a little harder to find places that are actively involved in the industry now.

I’ve had a couple of walks in the last few weeks that have taken me through two areas of the city associated with engineering. The first, known locally as the “Black Path” takes you down from Ecclesfield to Meadowhall on a nicely concreted path. For a part time walker like myself it is very easy going. It is hard to see either side of the path as the flora has taken hold but when there is a break you can see glimpses of Sheffield’s industrial heritage. Huge complexes raised to the ground and all this vast emptiness protected by razor wire. It is a little depressing.

Years ago I’m sure there would be a large mix of noises on offer at the same location. Steam hammers, saws, grinders and the like would all be competing to stimulate your overburdened eardrums. Right now, the only only competition for the noise of birds singing is the passing train on the Barnsley line and the road noise of the M1 being brought over on the odd gust of wind.

The other walk, part of the Upper Don Walk, is similarly affected by decline. Don’t get me wrong, some of the new offices and flats look very nice and I’m sure it is a hive of activity in the week. On a saturday or a bank holiday, there just is not the noise of that would have been present in years gone by. Fences erected around a concrete floor are the only evidence of previous industrial activity.

I’ve never thought of the Don as a particularly attractive river. Perhaps the years of polution followed by the period of decline meant I never really paid much attention. It looked quite pretty in places on the bank holiday Monday. A large numbers of ducks paddling throught the water proved particularly entertaining. I doubt that would not have happened in the industrial heyday.

Park Hill Flats

I was delighted to see Granelli’s shop is still going just off the Park Square roundabout. Ice Cream and proper sweets in jars are how I remember it when I lived just round the corner. It was nice to reminisce but of course I’m walking to get a little fitter so I wasn’t having ice cream at all. Not far from Granelli’s are the rejuvenated Park Hill flats. What started out as one of the most innovative social living areas of the country in the 60′s started to decline in the 70′s and by the 80′s had an awful reputation. The newly decorated and completely kitted out dwellings will be offering accomodation to a new generation of occupants soon. Will this be the time when the Park Hill estate come into its own once more?

I go through the edge of Sheffield Centre to get round to Kelham Island. The museum there is one of those places trying to show just what Sheffield stood for. Surrounding it there is a familiar formula of urban living flats, some working businesses and even more empty space. The nearby Fat Cat pub is busy and the number of cars parking on the streets hint at the numbers of people close by.

As I get back to my car I am struck by an engineering company standing out from many of the local building. Alfred Beckett & Sons have splendid looking premises that suggest that some people are still doing what Sheffielders always did: make things.

Walk along black path (Endomondo)

Walk around Upper Don (Endomondo)

Photos (Flickr)