More Hills on Wheels (continuation)
Riding the Peak District: The Sequel

It wasn’t until I got to Blue John Caves five miles on that I realized I had been riding on the A625 instead of the B6061. Both roads (plus a couple of other minor ones) had radiated from a rather busy network of on and off-ramps at the edge of Chapel, and I carelessly got misdirected. Anyway, the A625 wasn’t too busy, and, in a pleasant contrast to yesterday’s experience, I noticed that the motorists were giving me a reasonably wide berth, a courtesy that I appreciated immensely. In fact, all things considered, this stretch wasn’t bad at all. It started out under a canopy of trees before curving gradually to hug the slope of a series of mild hills and to provide wide views of the High Peak to its left, and distant moorlands to its right.

(Below: Continuing on the A625)

One regret was that I missed the intriguingly named town of Sparrowpit, which was along the B6061 road. Whether Sparrowpit was an ornithological graveyard or a barbecue center, I would never know…

As I hadn’t realized that I was already on the road I was looking for, it took a couple of tentative tries before I finally managed to find the road off the A625 that would take me over Mam Tor and down into the Vale of Edale. This memorable road climbed mightily up the Mam Tor as far as the engineers could take it, only to drop very, very steeply down the Edale valley (i.e., north) side. All the elevation I’d gained from the gently graded A625, plus the half mile 10% push near the summit of 517-meter Mam Tor were given back in one, very quick and rather technical 1 ½ mile descent. Had I been fitter, I would have probably turned around and tried to ride up this road just out of curiosity; it felt very steep…

(Above: From the Vale of Edale looking southwest; Mam Tor in the background)

The Vale of Edale had a benign, "isn’t-this-just-lovely, Harold? Please-pour-me-some-more-chardonnay" look to it that even the most casual of outdoor lovers would adore. The place was surrounded by high peaks in the north and in the south. Though the place was quite busy and much-explored because of the holiday weekend, the valley didn’t feel overrun at all. The road I followed (indeed, the only paved road through the vale) kept close to a stream throughout, making roadside vegetation quite lush. The road was lined with dandelions, their flowers all a-bloom in the full glory of spring and sunshine, like a brigade of perky cheerleaders shaking their blazing-yellow pom-poms, spurring me on. Yonder in the shade a demure colony of bluebells watched me furtively like dainty maidens, their heads bent low and blushing a vivid violet. Up the hills, a rectangular patchwork of grass and sundry vegetation in umpteenth hues of green created the impression of a velvety carpet being aired out. American visitors especially marvel at the vivid greenness of grass in England; an observation that I can personally relate to from own experience. In Northern California, for example, the hills put on a mantle of verdant lushness from the early-spring rains. But come late May, the hillside turns a parched brown, heralding the arrival of a typically dry summer and the start of fire season.

(Above: On the Vale of Edale)

(Above: The village of Hope)

I stopped for munchies in the town of Hope and then continued eastward towards Bamford, crossing the A6013 into New Road and, inevitably, another long, steep climb around the Bamford Moor. The lower section of the climb was shaded with trees, becoming exposed after 300 meters or so. The panorama improved as I gained altitude. To my right was an unobstructed view of Hope Valley far below. Farther out, the hills of the mid-Peak District appeared grey in the early-afternoon sunshine. At this point I was nearer the southern reaches of South Yorkshire and Sheffield than I was to Macclesfield and Staffordshire.

(Below: On the way to Aston and Bamford)

(Above: The start of the beautiful, but steep, climb to Bamford Moor)
(Below: At the top of the climb)

Last Updated: May 23, 1999