Howden Moors - Cut Gate, Margery Hill and Howden Edge

When I did my second walk on Howden Moors a couple of months ago, I was so taken with the area I plotted a third walk there soon after I got home. This took in another clough on the eastern side of the Upper Derwent Valley, followed by Margery Hill and Howden Edge. I'd walked these two summits last year as part of a longer trip but Rich hadn't, and I thought the terrain and views would appeal to him. Taking a punt on the forecast - 20% chance of rain - proved to be a mistake, though, and we spent most of the walk in drizzle and mist. Even during the dry intervals there was little to see or photograph and it became clear that we'd need to return on a better day to do the route justice.

At the summit of Margery Hill in September.

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Howden Moors - Crow Stones, Outer Edge and Margery Hill

The long trail that winds around the Derwent and Howden reservoirs from the visitor centre at Fairholmes is a popular one. Even on a weekday you're likely to pass friends out for a stroll, hikers with poles and backpacks, families on foot and families on bikes, their giddy children and still giddier dogs in tow; and then there are the fitness enthusiasts - friendly joggers that nod and smile, and focused runners, to whom you're just a blur on the periphery of vision. Write them all down on a postcard and most days perhaps you'd be able to tick them off and call "House!" in a game of Reservoir Bingo. You'd scarcely believe that just a few hundred feet above this busy spot lies some of the least-visited moorland in the Dark Peak.

Derwent Reservoir Dam.

That swathe of undulating heather and peat, its high edges crumpled by deep cloughs, is Howden Moor. I decided to head here a few days after my last visit to Bleaklow, which had ended on a dispiriting note with the crossing of Harrop Moss. I felt certain that it would restore my faith in the moorland landscapes of the Peak District and I wasn't to be disappointed.

Fairholmes was my starting point and I passed the impressive Derwent Reservoir Dam to join the trail on the eastern side of the reservoir. I'd managed to connive a lift here, as I don't drive, and was setting off around lunch time. It was a warm autumn day and though the incline of the path is barely perceptible it didn't take long for my outer shell to come off in the heat.  The sunshine had drawn people out - I exchanged greetings with them as we passed each other and had to disappoint one runner who called back over her shoulder with an air of sudden, delighted recognition, "Oh, are you Roy?"

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