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
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