Solo Outings

[Colin Ardron]

Most of us have runs that stay in our memories many years after they took place.
Today I had one of those runs.
Having missed getting an entry for the Kipling Kaper on Sat. I was looking for a long run on the Sunday. No long events in the vicinity, so I headed off approximately due North and ended up at Ladybower Res. This messing about with the clocks may be confusing to some but it has a magical effect on traffic reduction. Ladybower? Well it just has to be the Derwent watershed (the true watershed not the event). Taking a clockwise route the early sun lit up the low meadows around Crookhill Farm. It looked promising. And the promise was delivered in full. Broadside strong SW wind made the going exhilarating, brilliant sunshine, skylarks singing, and mountain hares in abundance made it joyous. Getting back to the van nearly seven hours and 30 miles later (some detours added), my back was screaming, I was knackered but I was glad.

[Justin Gutmann]

Glad to hear that, wish I;d been with you instead of the Wilmslow half. But I thought the Watershed was more like 40 miles, do you mean some of your detours lopped a bit off?


Justin

[mudskimmer]

Blooming Heck Colin - 7hrs(ish) for the watershed route - that's some going.

I had a similar outing tho' - and thought I'd go for a walk - after 5 hours of glorious sunshine, and following local footpaths I didn't know existed, I staggered back in through the front door.
I have to say walking is great, but running is a whole lot easier.

[Colin Ardron]

Nah nah - the "true watershed" as I call it, runs up one side of the Derwent valley, round the top and back down the other side ie the topographical watershed. It doesn't take in the other side of the Snake road at all. The High Peak Marathon (sometimes mistakenly referred to as the Derwent Watershed) is, as you ritghtly say 40+ miles. On reflection the route I took (with detours) would be nearer 28 rather than 30, but one can be excused a slight exaggeration whilst still basking in the glow of completion.
Of the two people I came across on the route, one was plodding very slowly up the incline to Marjory Hill. I caught him up and we exchanged pleasantries - he turned out to be a Sheffield man. He enquired after my well being and then launched into an unprovoked discourse on the many and wondrous sights to be seen on what to many is a bleak wasteland. We mused on the seeming scarcity of plant life other than heather and coarse grasses. Only because he seemed interested, I remarked that on closer examination, several species could be identified citing the Rubus chamaemorus as an example. This proud example of Yorkshire's best looked me up and down and replied with an undisguised look of disdain " Y'mean Cloutberry, don't you"?