Wild Moor and Burbage Edge

Although the hills to the west of Buxton, with their sheep, stables and copses, have an air of rural respectability their heights conceal a landscape of much wilder-looking topography. Indeed, one part of this hidden world is actually named Wild Moor, a stark vista that unfolds before you from the top of the hills. Patches of marsh jostle below slopes of coarse moorland grass and heather; and streams, some of them barely a trickle, strive to find a mazy route through it all to the Goyt Valley on the moor's far side.

Most, if not all, of the moorland in Northern England is the product of human deforestation thousands of years ago, of course, and much of it is now managed to take advantage of the money-making opportunities driven grouse shooting provides. Wild Moor has been subject to human intervention more than many such landscapes over the years. Even so, when I surveyed the expansive rolling grass ahead of me from the almost-comically neat and understated gate on its edge, I did get a little thrill of anticipation - as though I was about to step into an untouched wilderness.

Gateway to a different world...

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Bee Low and Sparrowpit

Since we moved to Dove Holes last month we've had typically changeable April weather, albeit a few degrees colder perhaps than we were used to living down in Manchester. As I write, the snowflakes that were swirling past the window fifteen minutes ago have given way to the same bright sunshine that arrived unheralded yesterday afternoon and prompted me to head out for an impromptu wander along the footpaths by the village.

I headed to the northern end of Dove Holes and joined a bridleway that leads steadily but gently up towards what's left of Bee Low. Once a substantial hill with its own trig point, Bee Low has been gutted by extensive quarrying over the years and I'm guessing it must have been taller than it's current elevation of 1355 feet, even if only slightly. Certainly the trig column that stood at the top has gone the same way as the ancient limestone bedrock that once supported it.

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Combs Moss

Combs Moss is a relatively small and distinct upland area to the west of the Peak District National Park. On its north western fringes, gritstone escarpments tower above the village from which it derives its name and mark it out as a junior relation of the region's most notable and much larger moorland plateaux, Kinder and Bleaklow. In fact, its parent peak is listed as Shining Tor and Shining Tor's parent peak as Kinder, which I suppose makes it the grandchild of Derbyshire's celebrated highest summit. Junior it might be but I definitely felt the familial resemblance on a surprisingly tough walk around its perimeter a few weeks ago.

Combs Moss across the Blackbrook Valley, from a previous walk.

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Dolgellau Precipice Walk

Whether we were going to do another hike the day after Moel Eilio was the subject of some earnest debate on our overnight trip to Wales. Eventually, over dinner, we compromised on the Precipice Walk just outside Dolgellau. It was a short walk and on a managed trail but it was high up enough, it seemed, for us to get some good views of the surrounding hills, weather permitting.

We were staying in Caernarfon and tucked into a breakfast at the hotel that wasn't much less hearty than the one we'd eaten in Llanberis the morning before. Fortunately, we had an hour's drive to get to the Precipice Walk and by the time we got to our starting point the it didn't feel like we were walking in lead, diving boots as it had done the previous day.

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Moel Eilio

Sitting in the mist that swirled around Snowdon's summit last July, I nursed my steaming coffee with gloved hands and resigned myself to a cold, view-free experience during my first time at the top of the iconic mountain. I was cursing the stiff breeze that'd forced me to don an extra layer and various other bits of winter paraphernalia when the wind did something uncharacteristically useful and blew some of the clag away. There below me lay the Moel Eilio ridge, its green slopes made all the more vibrant by contrast with the murky cloud I'd been sitting in. I resolved there and then that I'd return to walk those inviting and - from this vantage point at least - modest and gently rolling hills as soon as possible.

Moel Eilio from Snowdon summit, July 2016.

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