THE DERWENT WATERSHED WALK
JUNE 6th 1981
Leader:- Ian Lauriston
Others:- Tony S, Grace Parkin, Jack Ashcroft, Dave Morison,
Mike & Mark Anderson, Frank & Jennifer Mellor.
We got up prompt at five to three
(That’s Ian, Jennifer and me)
And drove the car up to Mam Nick.
The thought of it still makes me sick.
At four-fifteen we got away
Early on that fateful day.
The weather thankfully was fine,
The hopeful party numbered nine.
Over ‘The Mam’ to Hollins Cross
Strode Ian, our elected boss.
The path led pleasantly until
It landed us atop Lose Hill.
A quick descent to Cheshire Cheese,
Across the River Noe with ease,
Then up the lane past Twitchill Farm.
On Win Hill it was far from calm.
The breeze which sprang from the South-west
Would later put us to the test,
But now we dropped down off the ridge
To cross the road at Yorkshire Bridge.
Past Bamford Edge we quickly strode,
The only stretch of tarmac road,
Which led us to the cattle grid,
Then for High Neb we made our bid.
Past Crow Chin on to Stanage End,
Then from the normal route we bend,
Because at Cutthroat Bridge we’ve said
We’ll pick up those who stayed in bed.
Apparently they slumber on.
If they come now they’ll find us gone
Up Derwent Edge, where at Wheelstones
We have a bite and rest our bones.
The next point of interest is Back Tor
(The last one for ten miles or more)
The going’s tough, the ground’s a mess,
And Ian’s gone and spoilt his dress!
It’s red and white and lent by Jill,
All this we learn on Margery Hill.
But that’s not all I have to tell –
Duke Ashcroft’s got one on as well!
And now we hear that we’ve lost Grace,
Turned homewards, couldn’t stand the pace.
The reason she’s burnt out today?
Dried food on the West Highland Way
Tony’s overcome with strife,
First his dog and now his wife.
Rather than jumping from a ledge
He comes with us to Outer Edge.
We’ve not done bad for several hours
Avoiding all those forecast showers,
But this next cloud is going to get us,
Quickly, cags on, damn, it’s wet us.
As if it’s put him on his mettle
Our leader gives the groughs some fettle
Then just as we begin to doubt,
Its time for lunch the sun comes out.
After a rest it’s time to tread
The bogs again across Swains Head,
Wearily up to Bleaklow Stones,
A chorus now of grunts and groans.
For two hours I have not enjoyed it
There was no way I could avoid it,
It doesn’t matter I’m assured
It’s only meant to be endured.
Now across to Bleaklow Head
We trudge the top like walking dead.
Tony’s clearly had enough
He’s heading off down Wildboar Clough!
Come back Tony please don’t go,
Tea at Snake Top, dont you know?
Jill has brought the tackle up it,
All we have to do is sup it.
By, a cup of tea tastes good
After squelching in that mud.
Now I feel a different man
Better this than Phyllosan!
When everyone has drunk their fill
They flog their way up to Mill Hill.
Janet’s Joined us now and so
We have to put on our best show.
Dave Morison’s arse must be on fire,
He leaves a smoke trail through the mire
So what’s the secret Superman?
Condensed milk and marzipan?
We all exchange despairing looks,
The next three steps become the crux.
On top of sore and aching feet
We face not only wind but sleet.
My face is stung, my limbs all ache
But now the Downfall’s in my wake.
I struggle on to Kinder Low,
We’re on the last lap now I know.
It’s grim determination now
Up Brown Knoll and on somehow,
Rushup? Never, take it slow,
Only a million steps to go.
The time is nearly half past eight
I find it hard to concentrate,
And though I’m almost out my head,
I’ve done the Derwent Watershed!
P.S. A lad of thirteen, small and frail,
Slogs on behind me tooth and nail.
Although the day’s been long and rough
Just like this walk he’s big and tough!
Frank Mellor