Doctors Gate looking west and east, and the approach to Devil's Dyke

Devil's Dyke is a long, straight watercourse running roughly northeastwards for about a kilometre. The Pennine Way runs alongside the streambed, partly on flagstones but mostly on a more natural surface of silt and stone.

The name is a little fanciful. A glance at the map, and in particular at the drainage system either side, shows that the Dyke is artificial. A watercourse this straight, and in this position, doesn't add up. It's pretty much following the line of the watershed for one thing, and a glance either side shows a maze channels of glutinous black peat, all of them tending slightly downhill away from the dyke. None of the guidebook writers have mentioned this, let alone followed it up, so no clues are offered as to who constructed the dyke or why. The Pennine Way used to follow the left bank but it seems that walkers preferred the solid, silty bed in the same way that the river Kinder became the preferred route on Kinder Scout. Even Devil's Dyke has been tamed, for what you see nowadays is a new path laid along the left-hand side of the channel, the watercouse itself having been confined to a ditch on the right. Devil's Dyke is about six to eight feet deep on average, which means that you don't get much of a view to either side except at the openings of side channels. Way over to your left is Higher Shelf Stones, a "top" of Bleaklow on the edge of the higher level of the moor.

The route of the Way along the Dyke gains height, almost imperceptibly. The Dyke becomes shallower in its upper reaches as it approaches the minor swell of Alport Low.

The Dyke peters out and now you see Bleaklow in all its glory, a wasteland of peat bog, of soil so sour and acidic that it will support little apart from heather and the roughest of grasses. It's too poor even to function as rough pasture and no sheep graze here, but the one species that seems to love this terrain is grouse. Grouse is a relative of the pheasant, a ground-nesting bird found in temperate to cold regions of the Northern hemisphere, and in Britain it's hunted as game. Having been deliberately maintained as a habitat for game for sereval hundred years, these moors are now an ecological disaster area, the soil too wet and too acidic even to grow trees any more. You'll see this effect at its worst tomorrow on the summit of Black Hill, on which a large area is completely devoid of vegetation and now exists as a desert of naked peat.

The Pennine Way reaches the rise of Alport Low. The watershed now turns northwest, and the parish boundary between Hope Woodlands and Charlesworth follows it. The boundary used to be marked by a line of wooden posts and early Pennine Wayfarers were known to mistake these for route markers. However, the posts no longer seem to be in situ, perhaps having been lifted, or more likely having rotted or sunk. The Pennine Way wanders a little uncertainly between the peaty hummocks of Alport, the worst stretches having been provided with flagstones. The terrain to either side looks positively alien and does not invite exploration except after prolonged drought. The flagstones detract from the true "wilderness" feeling of Bleaklow but you only need to glance to either side to realise what it would be like up here without them.

The Pennine Way now curves gradually to the left and begins to descend to the watercourse of Hern Clough.

The Pennine Way now descends slightly to approach the watercourse of Hern Clough, one of the more substantial of the many streams that drain Bleaklow to the southeast. You first catch sight of it as it falls to the east, where it has carved itself a small but impressive little ravine in the steepest part of the slope (first picture above). The path curves to the left and approaches the streambed on the diagonal as it descends from Alport Low. After a very short distance the path reaches the streambed, more or less at a significant bend at which the water channel turns more to the north. Depending on the recent weather conditions this can be a most agreeable spot, and I remember halting here for my morning refreshment break when I first walked over Bleaklow in 1989.

Hern Clough runs out to the east and south, eventually finding its way into the river Ashop somewhere near Hope Woodlands, bound eventually for the North Sea. Just a hundred metres to the west, however, the similar declivity of Crooked Clough turns southwest to run alongside Doctors Gate, eventually finding its way into the suburbs of Glossop and heading ultimately for the west coast.

Our route now follows the course of the stream uphill. The path is patchy and rough, switching from side to side according to where hikers can find the best walking surface. More often than not the bed of the stream itself provides the best going, though parts of it are unpleasantly rough. A glance at Wainwright's guidebook tells you that the original course of the Way crossed Hern Clough at the bend to track over the moor a hundred metres or so to the west, more or less on the watershed. That particular route option had already fallen into disuse when I first came here in '89, walkers obviously preferring to stick to the course of the stream.

Continue to make your way along the course of Hern Clough. Its course is never in doubt and in one or two places it gets a bit steeper, but the going is rough and just about every footstep requires care. As you progress further upstream more stretches of flagstones appear.

About six hundred metres along the course of the stream, at grid reference 094952, you reach the point at which the original route of the PW has been abandoned in favour of a new course, sticking to the streambed right up to its source. The occasional stone pillar marked with an arrow and the acorn symbol of the PW keeps you going in the right direction, as Hern Clough is now tending to break up into tributaries. The original path may still be followed in dry weather - it runs via two natural rock sculptures, Hern Stones (two boulders apparently shaped into a pair of heads kissing each other) and Wain Stones, which could almost be a partially collapsed stone circle. If you stick to the new route via the stream bed then Wain Stones is still visible from the path, only a couple of hundred metres up to the left.

The top of Hern Clough on the approach to Bleaklow Head

And so you come to Bleaklow Head. The terrain is mixed here at the summit, the peaty hummocks and channels interspersed with quite large areas of rock, gravel and silt. Walking is easy here. The nominal summit of Bleaklow is marked by a tall stake around which a large cairn has been built, though curiously it's not actually at the highest point, a peaty hummock some ten feet higher about fifty metres to the east. Bleaklow's top is broad and largely flat and there is no view to speak of, just the far off lines of similar moorland heights to the north and south. Behind you is the vast sprawl of Kinder, seen for the last time, and ahead of you to the north is the equally featureless skyline of Black Hill. On clear days you may catch a glimpse of the Holme Moss radio mast to the northeast. In the days of 405-line television this same mast broadcast BBC TV to the whole of the north of England, serving roughly half of Britain's population.

The trick now is to find your way off. When I first came here in 1989 the path was obvious, but conditions change and now you have to hunt a little. If the day is cloudy you might well want to dig out your compass for a bearing, for the top of Bleaklow looks pretty much the same in every direction. You need to head north (or very slightly west of north) off the summit, choosing whichever depression among the peaty hummocks most takes your fancy. You can't really go wrong as just about all these channels find their way into the developing runnell of Wildboar Grain, and this watercourse makes a wide loop around the north of the summit area to head off eventually to the northwest. It will look pretty nondescript and tentative as a path at first but it soon becomes obvious, and it will begin to curve around to the left. You're on your way down to Longendale.

Leaving the summit area for the source of Wildboar Grain

The route alongside Wildboar Grain runs for about a kilometre. Roughly halfway along this stretch you should begin to see the crest of Torside Edge rising ahead (first image below), and just a couple of minutes later any lingering doubts about whether you're on the right path will be put to rest by the reappearance of flagstones.

Eventually, a kilometre out from Bleaklow Head, you reach the confluence of Wildboar Grain with Torside Clough. The path descends to the streambed. It's both muddy and rough so care is needed.

You need fewer directions and less narrative now, for the route is straightforward from here on and the scenery speaks for itself. The ravine first heads northwest but, like Wildboar Grain before it, it also curves gradually around to the left and ultimately heads due west. As the ravine deepens the edge of the clough actually begins to rise and the path runs gently uphill once more.

Some pretty impressive rock scenery begins to appear, and one kilometre out from the watersmeet you get your first view of Torside Reservoir down in Longendale. Don't forget to stoip every now and then to cast a glance behind you, for the views into the upper reaches of the Clough are rather good. Ahead of you the ravine curves gracefully to the right to open out into Longendale, while Torside Edge rises substantially above it. That's out route, and it looks like quite a climb from here.

Your gaze will naturally be attracted towards the continually unfolding view of Torside Reservoir, but take care and watch where you're putting your feet. This is rough terrain and Torside Clough is not a place to sprain an ankle.

Expanding views of Longendale

Torside Edge

The walk is perfectly straightforward from here on but this is arguably the day's hight point. As Torside Clough itself carves an ever deeper channel through the edge of the moor, the edge of the ravine actually gains height, reaching its greatest elevation immediately before the clough curves around to the north to enter Longendale itself. From the crest, then, one gets a glorious view down into the lower reaches of the ravine, of Torside Reservoir in Longendale, and of the rising swell of Black Hill beyond.

The terrain is a good deal firmer and dryer than most of the Bleaklow massif, but it's still rough and stony and requires care. Apart from the views into Longendale there's a fair number rock formations along the edge to provide visual interest. Immediately after the crest the path starts to curve around to the right, or north, as it follows the ravine edge.  The views back along Tordide Clough from here are beautiful.

The path starts to drop now, quite steeply, towards Reaps Farm and Torside Reservoir. As you descend the views of Longendale expand rapidly, and the extent of Black Hill beyond starts to reveal itself. That's for tomorrow.

And so the path comes down into Longendale. This is the Pennine Way's first major descent and it's where a good many inexperienced walkers discover an unpleasant truth - that going downhill can be just as much an effort as going up. Muscles and tendons not normally expected to carry loads are suddenly called upon to put in a lot of effort, and they complain. The ankles and the backs of the knees are normally the worst hit, and the root cause is that, as you descend, your feet invariably have to point forwards and down. This is where blisters start to make themselves felt, this is where you really discover if your boots fit properly (continual jarring of your toenails against the internal surfaces of your boots are a bad sign), and this is where the majority of falls and slips occur. Take your time. If you really stiffen up badly, try the trick of turning around and descending backwards. It might look silly but it works, as it transfers the load back again to the muscles and tendons that are used to it.

The terrain changes a couple of times as you descend towards Reaps farm. The natural surface of rock and compacted soil is succeeded, about a third of the way down, by cobbles. These have been laid in order to prevent erosion but they are particularly hard on the knees and will jar alarmingly. Wherever possible try to place your feet heel downmost as you descend. And do keep watching where you tread, at all times. If you want to look at the scenery, stop. 

Below the cobbles the steepest section of the descent is mitigated by a wide zigzag across the grass, at the apex of which a stile has to be crossed. Below this you're on grass for a bit, until you reach the environs of Reaps Farm. The farm would appear to have been spruced up, or even rebuilt, as it looks a good deal more handsome than I remember from my earlier journeys here a few years back. The path now enters a sizeable little gully with a firm stony bed, though doubtless it also doubles as a watercourse during and after rain. The gully converges with the driveway of Reaps Farm, from where it's a simple downhill walk over gravel to the gate and the road.

Wainwright is pretty scathing about Longendale. Here, he says, are the first trappings of civilisation since leaving Edale, and he reckons that they are not a pretty sight - roads, railway, reservoirs and power lines all crowded into one narrow ribbon of hectic activity. Heretical as it may seem, I largely disagree with him. Times have changed, of course. The railway has gone - it closed in 1980, the only electrified line in the UK ever to be abandoned, and the old trackbed is now a path and cycleway that provides a convenient and level route into Hadfield two and a half miles to the west. The road on the south side of Longendale is the quieter of the two, the vast bulk of the traffic confined to the main road on the north side. But for the power lines, which are admittedly a visual intrusion, Longendale is actually quite charming and the string of reservoirs that occupy it are probably its best visual feature.

Day trippers will be bound for Hadfield along the old railway track, which is preferable to the direct road walk into Glossop - not only will the traffic be unpleasant but the road also climbs a fair bit. Hostellers bound for Crowden still have a bitl to do. Walk along the road to the right (east ) for a hundred yards or so then cross it, and cross the old railway track in turn, to gain the side road going down to the dam across Torside reservoir. Cross the dam to gain the main road. Crowden Youth Hostel is not quite two miles to the east, and the main road can be avoided by a path a little way down the bank and along the shore. The official route of the Pennine Way follows this for about six hundred meters then crosses the main road to take a track a little way up the hill and behind a wood. It's up to you which option you take.

Service 61A (Sundays and Bank Holidays only), Buxton - New Mills - Glossop - Longendale - Holmfirth