Fresh - Passion - Photography

Re-greening the mossGood news for iconic uplands

FrimIssue 5 - September 2014

Longnor RacesA grand day out in the Manifold Valley

Curlew CroftA place to stay in the heart of Wake’s World

Fresh - Passion - Photography

FrimFrim: Adjective - fresh with new grass growth, especially in the Spring. [As defined by F. Philip Holland in “Words of the White Peak”].

Frim is a new concept: An online magazine bringing you fresh angles on The Peak District not found elsewhere. Places to explore, delights to discover through the unique and highly personal insight of the magazine’s creators, both of whom know the region inside-out.

Each month, the aim is to shine a light on hidden wonders, or to interpret familiar landmarks in novel ways, through the power of photography combined with the written word. There may also be the occa-sional atmospheric soundtrack from nature to complete the experience.

Inspired to explore for yourselves, you can turn to the “Nuts & Bolts” page which will list all the practical information you need for getting to the places featured, along with links to relevant websites.

Or, you may just wish to sit back and enjoy the virtual feast that is “Frim”.

Please…browse.

Simon Corble & Steve Wake.

Re-greening the moss

Re-greening the mossHere’s a statistic: Three billion tonnes of stored carbon. That’s more than in all the forests of Britain and Europe put togeth-er. It is stored in the U.K.’s peat bogs, also known as blanket bogs - a landscape of which the Peak District has a generous share. It is, in effect, our rainforest and every bit as vulnerable as the Amazon.

Up until very recently places like Black Hill, in the very North of the National Park, had a fearsome reputation amongst hikers attempting the Pennine Way.

“It is not the only fell with a summit of peat, but no other shows such a desolate and hopeless quagmire to the sky; this is peat naked and unashamed.”

So wrote Alfred Wainwright in the 1960’s. Black Hill was well named. It was more than just the darkness of the recently exposed peat; particles of smoke from surrounding industrial towns had made everything even blacker. When the sheep were brought off the hill for shearing, they had to be bathed first, or the wool would be downgraded.

But it wasn’t always this way. Before the Industrial Revolution, the bogs, or “mosses” as they were once known, were, as you might expect, green. Sphagnum, that incredible, sponge-like plant that can make moorland walking a springy delight at times, had been growing, dying and decaying for thousands of years. This natural cycle had steadily built up the peat of the blanket bogs to a considerable depth; a cycle that had been constant ever since the earliest farmers had cleared the original woodland around ten thousand years ago.

I have often wondered why there are so few archaeological sites in the moorlands of the Dark Peak, compared to the high places of the White Peak, further South. The truth may be that they are simply buried. As the climate changed to a wetter, cooler one, the higher areas were gradually abandoned and it was around this time that the moss took hold and peat began to build up. Here and there strange, wind-sculpted rock formations can be seen eroding out of the earth - who knows what man-made stone circles, huts or chambers are lying just beneath the rambler’s boot?

In such a relatively short span of time, the acid rain and air pollution from the industrial cities that adjoin the moors to East and West wreaked a terrible swath of degradation on the bogs, after so many millennia of formation. With the moss and grasses dying, wind and rain began to strip the exposed peat away, releasing CO2 into the atmosphere. We were in danger of losing more than a stunning landscape. In addition, these bogs also act like a huge sponge in which our water supply is stored, ensuring a steady supply. This was an almost hidden environmental disaster on so many levels. Thankfully, environmentalists and the water companies caused enough of stir in time to secure substantial backing from the EU. The erosion was not irreversible.

Recently, under the MoorLIFE project, run by the Moors for the Future partnership, the blanket bogs have been re-greened on a truly vast scale. Fifty miles of “geotextile” (a natural jute-based material) have been laid on areas of bare peat and these have been seeded with grasses scattered from a helicopter. In other places, heather brash has been flown in and spread to further stabilise the ground. Small, natural dams have been created. In a related project, going back decades, flagstones from redundant mill buildings have been brought up onto paths such as the Pennine Way, to provide a desig-nated, permanent walking surface. The ominous wording of the OS map “Pennine Way (undefined)” is a thing of the past.

The result? Get up there and take a look…The top of Black Hill looks like a water garden, with a wonderful variety of plants creating a colourful tapestry between pools reflecting the blue of the sky. Bleaklow is no longer quite so bleak as moor grasses and sphagnum moss flourish once again. All of this is having a beneficial effect on birdlife also. By rights, these high wetlands should be a breeding ground for many kinds of waders and there are encouraging signs that they are starting to return to the newly established pools and marshes.

It is an awe-inspiring and unexpected landscape. Especially if you are one of those intrepid hikers who first experienced the unforgiving wastes of bare black peat a decade or two ago.

Words by:Simon Corblewww.corble.co.uk

Photos by: Steve Wake & Simon CorbleFacebook/wakesworldFlikr/SimonCorble

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One of the first things to greet you on entering the large meadow, set in the beau-tiful Manifold Valley, just below the village of Longnor, is a stall selling dog beds. This being a gloriously sunny Septmeber day, they are laid out on the lush green grass in every colour you could wish for, mirroring the nearby cloud of balloons being prepared for release at the end of festivities. Space is not an issue here, around the giant oval of the racecourse; after dog-bed-man, there is man-with-clown (some kind of game), the ice cream van, the capacious beer tent, Longnor Silver Band and then the food van, doing a roaring trade in traditional, filled oat-cakes. And that, apart from some Edwardian-looking swing-boats and the ninepin bowling set up against some straw bales in a quieter corner, is it.

The side-shows, by definition, are not the main event, but then, it quickly dawns on me, neither is the racing. From the ripples of laughter, raucous banter and grin-ning faces over pints of beer, it is clear that this is primarily a social event and one of huge local importance. As if to seal that impression, enter the vicar, “James” to all who greet him, clutching his forked, hazel thumb-stick and dressed entirely in green below his clerical collar and broad-brimmed hat. This is not Royal Ascot, yet there is a dress code, of sorts, which might be termed “do your own thing…but do something”. And “bring your dogs”. Now I see the point of the dog-bed stall. Nu-merous pooches on display seem to be enjoying the sunshine, fuss and attention as much as their highly colourful owners. This is a fun event.

The only mild stir of seriousness occurs in the few minutes before a race, as wal-lets are produced and the five bookmakers’ stands enjoy a magnetic attraction. Over in the centre of the racetrack, a smart, pink-shirted, white-haired man with a large yellow microphone is on stage. Any moment I expect “And now, the end is near and so I face…” but instead he raises his binoculars, looks over to the bookies boards and reads the latest odds over the public address system. The only music is “The Skye Boat Song” being cheerfully played by the silver band.

Longnor Races

We had turned up at one, the first harness race being advertised for “1:45pm”. But this is Longnor Races, not the Cheltenham Gold Cup. It must be way after two before even the warm-up events are given the “off”. From the passage of the first, a kind of very laid-back pony race, conducted at a sedate walk, followed by a trot, I get the impression that we could all be here at midnight before the final contest of the day, (a human footrace) is completed. And this is before the debacle of the finish, when the leading ponies decide to take sharp turn into the paddock instead of crossing the line, taking the rest of the field with them. The starter-cum-commentator - “Sinatra” - orders them back out to finish the thing properly with, “Come on riders!…Well, you see it all at Longnor Races!”

“And now,” he informs us, once the ponies have all competed, “I switch from saying “riders” to “drivers””. He’s a very patient and considerate man, our “Frank”. With more blatant disregard to the timetable, he allows the harness drivers out for five minutes’ warm-up around the track, which he extends to ten; which seems to go on for twenty. At least it gives the punters a chance to survey the runners. Never having been to a harness race before, I am struck at once by the speeds, even in these practice laps; remarkable given that the animals are, technically, trotting. The other thing is the drivers’ stance; leaning so far back, reins in hand, feet widely planted before them, it brings to mind a scene of competitive yachtsmen, suspended over a churning sea.

Maybe I am too distracted by the entertaining characters all around me, but I manage to miss the actual start of the first harness race. Given that all races are started by Frank saying, “one-two-three-go” in no more than a mum-ble, perhaps I am not alone. There is no doubt about the seriousness of the competition now, though, as wheels spin and colours fly past, doing several circuits before tak-ing the bell. At one point, a horse in second position is biting the hat of the leading driver…to his obvious annoy-ance. Frank lets this go, but in the next race, which he announces as, “The Andy Capp” he calls them all back for a restart. He’s on first name terms with the drivers: “Steve, Steve, you’re supposed to be giving them twenty [yards] not ten!” At which point I understand that the name of race has nothing to do with the appearance of a fair proportion of race-goers. Ho-ho.

I get chatting to a hatless, yet shaggy-haired man clutching a bottle of Marston’s Pale Ale. I notice he is wearing one of the little green-and-gold badges that marks him out as a “Longnor Races Member”. “What do you have to do to get one of those?” “Ah, well, there’s a story in that.” I knew it. This one involves him going lamping – i.e. night shooting – with an older man, a Longnor resident who, to cut quite a long story short, bequeathed him his membership badge on his deathbed. So I am not really any the wiser. I am happy to enjoy these little mysteries and the sheer friendliness of every soul there. There is something of the atmosphere, if this is not pushing it too far, of a Greek village festival – of what the Greeks call “keffi”; this usually translates as “high spirits”, but is one of those things that has to be experienced to be properly understood. The only difference seems to be that the fuel is beer and some kind of blackcurrant cocktail, rather than wine… and I have not seen any dancing yet…Give it time, perhaps? A huge, longhaired man in a very loud floral shirt with matching bandanna is proclaiming in an even louder voice, “She’s a Longnor Races virgin – and there’s not many here can say that!” The vicar chuckles.

Somewhat reluctantly, I have to leave at the end of the last harness race, just as the grass-track motorbikes are arriving, transported over the meadow on clattering four-by-four pick-ups and trailers. A slightly more laddish contingent is swelling the crowd, along with what looks like one “real” police constable and a couple of Community Support Officers. Somehow, I don’t think anyone is expecting trouble; there are far too many happy faces.

Words by:Simon Corblewww.corble.co.uk

Photos by: Steve Wake & Simon CorbleFacebook/wakesworldFlikr/SimonCorble

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Curlew Croft

As holiday accommodation goes, there can be very few more dramatic settings in the Peak District than Curlew Croft at An-roach, just a few miles South West of Buxton. There is a clue in the name: The “roach” part indicates that the converted farm buildings and historic house shelter under one of the last extensions of The Roaches escarpment, a spectacular gritstone ridge, with outlying features, very popular with climbers, hikers, wildlife enthusiasts and lovers of great landscape. “Roach” derives from the Old French for “rock”, while the “An” part was at one time “Han” or “Ham” – Old English for “farmstead”. So the name could mean “Rock Farm” or “Farm Rock”. Either way, it is quite something to think, as you close the front door behind you, that there has probably been a farmhouse on this spot for the best part of a thousand years.

Numerous footpaths wind in every direction from Anroach onto the open moorlands and rough pastures, making Curlew Croft an ideal base for exploring the area on foot; there is even a vibrant pub, serving great home-made food, within easy walking distance: The Winking Man. This is named after an intriguing feature in nearby Ramshaw Rocks, where the stone face of a man’s head seems to wink at drivers passing below on the A53. There are countless other traditions, superstitions and folk tales woven around the neighbourhood, including that of a water-witch said to inhabit Mermaid Pool, over on the next ridge.

City-dwellers may have to be prepared for being awoken by some unfamiliar sounds of a morning; the roar of a Red Deer stag in the rutting season, the distinctive “go-back, go-back” of Red Grouse or, in Springtime, the plaintive song of the Cur-lew, from which the cottage takes its name. All of these are regularly seen and heard, just outside the windows. Less than half a mile away, the nature reserve of Goldsitch Moss has rare bogland plant species and visiting waders such as Snipe, while Peregrines, Short-eared Owls and Britain’s smallest falcon, the Merlin, are all as likely to be spotted, hunting over the wild terrain, almost anywhere you turn.

There is a fantastic feeling of remoteness at Anroach. Flash, “The highest village in England” actually lies down below and yet the beautiful spa town of Buxton is only ten minutes’ drive away, with a vast array of shops and visitor attractions, including Poole’s Cavern and the famous Opera House. At Festival time, the vibrant atmosphere on its streets is a rival to Edinburgh’s. And breakfast need never be a worry, either, if you have not come for a self-catering experience; Curlew Croft comes with an optional yet luxurious continental breakfast, prepared by Sally Wake in the farmhouse next door and delivered to you in a hamper.

As you may have guessed by now, Sally is married to Steve Wake, photographer for Frim and many other Peak District pub-lications, so you can rely on their detailed knowledge of the region and all it has to offer during your stay. And, of course, be reassured by their recent choice of Anroach as a cosy home set in some of the most magnificent countryside that England can boast.

As a further add-on, I myself am on-hand to lead you on a guided walk anywhere in the district, sharing with you some of my insights into its landscape, history and especially its fascinating wildlife.

Nuts and BoltsRe-greening the Moss

Details of the Moors for the Future partnership can be found at:- www.moorsforthefuture.org.uk where there is a shed load of advice, information, and guided walks. You also find free audio trails to download and take with you, two of which are written by Frim’s Simon Corble.

We visited three areas for this article, at various times of the year. Black Hill, Bleaklow and the Kinder Plateau Late Spring and early Summer is the best time if you want to see the most wildlife; go in late summer for breathtaking vistas of heather. The summit of Black Hill has the more interesting pools.

All three areas are remote and difficult terrain at high altitude, so careful planning should be undertaken before venturing up there.

Start an ascent of Black Hill from Crowden, on the A628. You will need the OS Explorer map “Dark Peak”, where you will see Crowden at 073993. There is a public car park with facilities just off the main road. Take the Pennine Way to the top. To make a circular walk, you can descend via Tooleyshaw Moss and White Low, but only attempt this in good weather and be mindful that the path picks its way through some treacherous bogs.

For the ascent of Bleaklow, park on the opposite side of the Torside reservoir, at 068985. Various paths then take you up Torside Clough. You can return using the Pennine Way and the Longdendale Trail. Bleaklow is also accessible from the other direction, using the A57 to get there, but parking is limited. Buses run along both A roads (A628 and A57). Trains run as far as Glossop and it is quite possible to walk up Bleaklow starting from the town centre, or by taking a short bus ride along the A57.

For the Kinder Plateau there are numerous starting points, but one of the best might be from Edale (details as in the last edition of Frim).

Longnor Races

Longnor is on the B6053, off the A515, South of Buxton. It is just over the border into Staffordshire. OS Explorer map, White Peak, grid ref: 0764.

The races seem to take place on a Thursday during the first half of September. Typically, there is no website. The racetrack is a short walk from the village, in the Manifold Valley; there are some signs from the Market Square. Parking is free at the race track. In 2014, the entrance fee was £7.50 for adults. The village of Longnor is well worth a visit at any time of year. It has two pubs, one of which, The Cheshire Cheese, serves a full menu of food.

There is decent bus service from Buxton and Ashbourne to Longnor. Bus number 442. It is a highly scenic ride. Details can be found at:- http://www.highpeakbuses.com/Pages/Timetables.aspxScroll down to find number 442.

Curlew Croft

If you would like more information about Curlew Croft email steve@wakesworld.co.uk

The Accommodation sleeps two and can offer conitinental breakfast and is available all year for short breaks.

Who are We?Simon Corble www.corble.co.uk

I am a playwright and a theatre director – or, as I like to put it, a Creator of Dramatic Works. My most celebrated creation, in collaboration with North Country Theatre’s Nobby Dimon, is the stage version of The 39 Steps, still running in London’s West End, winning an Olivier Award for Best New Comedy 2007. Perhaps I am most proud of my adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles which been produced many times and is now published by MX Publishing. www. mxpublishing.co.uk .

It is also available on Amazon: amazon/Hound-Baskervilles-Sherlock-Holmes-Play

Having a deep interest in all things natural and rural, I have received a number of commissions to write drama on environmental themes, including SWARD! – the story of a meadow, for Blaize as well as a number of imaginative audio trails for the Peak District National Park and The Na-tional Trust. Sample Win Hill Voices at:- moorsforthefuture.org.uk

Throughout the 1990’s with my company, Midsommer, I pioneered open-air promenade theatre in atmospheric settings, right across the North of England, including Hilbre Island, in the Dee estuary and Brimham Rocks, North Yorkshire. I won a Manchester Evening News Theatre

Award in 1997 for my work in this field. You can view a photographic archive of these plays at: www.flickr.com/photos/midsommer

I have had an interest in photography ever since my teenage years when I joined the photography club at Lymm Grammar School, Cheshire. I have been exploring the Peak District, mostly on foot, since those days also, and took the life-enhancing decision to move into a Peak village with my wife and family in 2007. My photos of the Peak District and beyond can be viewed at www.flickr.com/photos/corble , where I go under the name Tragopodaros – Greek for “goat-footed-one”. I have a good working knowledge of Greek and I undertake translation work into English.

Originally from Sheffield, we moved to the Peak DIstrict to get away from the busy city life and this is when my passion for photography grew and grew. Photography and the Peak DIstrict are an ideal mix; I am addicted to exploring new places, looking for that next great shot.

We recently moved from Monyash to Quarnford and although I loved Monyash and met some wonderful people there, (Simon being one) moving to an even more rural setting has given me renewed energy to take my photography even further and explore more.

I have, with my business partner, for the last several years run a busy website for the Peak Dis-trict; www.peakdistrictonline.co.uk . This is still a big part of my business life, but it also means that I could use my photography to help promote the Peak District National Park.

Photography has grown from my passion to my work. I have been lucky that with my business-es; I have been able to involve and evlove my photography.

My Facebook Page is a place where I share my daily photos and I am pleased that it has had a great response; I have a great set of people who like to see my photos and comment, so why not come and take a look www.facebook.com/wakesworld

We are looking to convert an empty barn into a studio where I can take on more photography work and we are converting part of the farmhouse into holiday accommodation, so you can come and see where I get my inspiration from.

Steve Wake www.facebook.com/wakesworld