I got off the bus at Blackwell and walked through the village, one of the few reachable villages I hadn't yet visited. It's nothing special, but within a couple of minutes I was enjoying the best accompaniment of birdsong I'd heard all year; I could distinguish, but not identify, at least four different species.
I continued along the lane and then crossed over the main Buxton road, using a short section of the Pennine Bridleway before taking a footpath leading across a boggy field. I then reached some sort of recycling plant that was constantly buzzing and continued in a southerly direction until I arrived at a country lane just to the east of Chelmorton. I should think that this section was the highest point of the walk, and a field full of cows seemed to be triumphantly proclaiming the fact; I've never heard such noisy cows; several of them seemed to be lowing in a syncopated rhythm somewhat reminiscent of a mill or factory...I'm glad I wasn't in the field with them.
When I reached the road I turned left and soon spotted the footpath I was looking for; running almost parallel to the road that runs through Flagg. I briefly entered the village and turned down the road leading to Monyash. The path I took to reach Monyash went across open fields and was flat and easy going.
I had only visited the eastern end of the village previously, and so most of Monyash was new to me. I knew there is a quite well respected café here, and so went in for a mug of tea and a scone.
After finishing my refreshments I walked along the lane that leads past the village pond. The pond is by far the most picturesque I have photographed in the Peak District so far.
I continued along the Limestone Way and then took the footpath which leads down Fern Dale into the upper reaches of Lathkill Dale.
The walk along Lathkill Dale, although a little rocky in places, isn't too difficult, and seems to be a safe challenge for young children....there were several families out in the fine weather enjoying themselves today.
I walked up the steep road to Over Haddon without once having to stop to catch my breath; a big improvement on the last time. I didn't linger; I had contemplated visiting the pub, but decided to head on towards Bakewell instead, arriving there with enough time to enjoy some fish and chips down by the river.
The bus journey back to Sheffield took a bit longer than scheduled. There had been a traffic accident just beyond Fox House and the police had set up a roadblock and were re-directing traffic. When the bus got to the head of the queue the police officer must have decided that the double-decker was too large to turn round, and too large to stay where we were, blocking the road: and so he let us through. A few hundred yards further on we saw a motorcyclist receiving medical attention at the roadside from an ambulance crew.