WALKS WITH NELLIE ~ GOYT VALLEY ~ BY SALLY MOSLEY

When wondering where to go for a walk, the Goyt Valley sprang to mind, and so Nellie and I headed off to park the car beside Errwood Reservoir where I was pleased to see the water level was recovering from its drought inflicted low back in July this year, said to have been the lowest in decades. Opened in 1968, when full, Errwood Reservoir has a maximum depth of 114 feet and a surface area of 78 acres. It cost some £1.5 million to construct.

We headed up a glorious path on the approach to Errwood Hall where a mixture of leaves in a palette of browns lay scrunched beneath my feet, and a delicate shower of autumn coloured confetti was sprinkling down around us to add to the already dense carpet. Recent heavy rain had turned the stream running down Shooters Clough into a tumbling torrent of peat-enriched chocolate-coloured water like something out of the Willy Wonka film.

I took a few minutes to explore the ruins of Errwood Hall, a former grand country house built 1841-1851 by Samuel Grimshawe, a staunch Catholic Lancashire industrialist. All that remain are a row of impressive window frames looking onto an overgrown jungle of shrubs and the floor plan of rooms which somehow manage to retain a sense of charm and romance as they now lie snuggled into these hills beneath an overshadow of moorland. Tended by a small army of servants, the impressive Hall was surrounded by extensive grounds, gardens, orchards, tennis courts and woodland planted with oak, beech, sweet chestnut and banks of rhododendron. This one-time thriving estate that extended to 2,000 acres also included a private coal mine! However, everything has now been taken over by Mother Nature who has returned it to a wilderness, apart from an occasional set of stone steps, the remnants of a wall or an overgrown pathway.

Nellie and I then headed up to the teeny graveyard on a rise at the rear to find the small graveyard. Here lie some of the family members as well as the captain of ‘Marquita’, the Grimshawe’s ocean going yacht.

We headed downhill to a footbridge that would give us access to a path leading up toward Pym Chair, following a relatively gentle ascent to high ground but leaving behind the shelter of the valley.

Soon we came to a wonderful little stone built pepper pot structure, topped with a cross. This miniature church is a shrine to Dolores de Bergrin, a Spanish aristocrat and governess to the Grimshawe children. She died whilst only in her 40’s and the shrine was built to her memory. Although it is some years since my last visit, I was thrilled to find that the inside still appears to be a respected holy place of pilgrimage and sanctuary adorned with religious icons, ephemera and eclectic keepsakes.

We re-joined the path and continued uphill until just before it reached The Street road which is thought to follow an old Roman route. Here we turned right at a fingerpost sign, wonderfully decorated with deep clumps of lichen like green pastel coral.

Following the way to Foxlow Edge our timing was perfect as grey cloud at the start of the walk had decided to clear and provide a window of blue sky overhead that allowed us distant views over a panorama of High Peak hills and countryside.

After any up, there has to be a down, and this one was to be a reasonably slow and steady descent on a slightly slippery path which dropped down through woodland where we were flanked by moss encrusted trunks and boughs of trees stripped bare by strong winds that had whipped across the tops of these hills.

We eventually arrived onto the road beside the reservoir where after turning right it was only a short walk over the bridge to return to the car park.

FOOTNOTE BY NELLIE: Me and my mum amuse ourselves sometimes by giving names to dogs we encounter on our walks such as Viscount Vizsla the handsome Hungarian who was expertly trained. We regularly come across Forest Gump and his chocolate box trio of Labradors in the woods and Little Princess Pomeranian who likes to be carried over the mud, whereas Will-o’-the-wisp the whippet loves to roll in it or chase squirrels whenever he gets the chance. Herr Schnauzer grumbles at any other canines he sees whilst Enthusiastic Emma slimes everyone she can in slurpy kisses. And then there’s ‘the boys’, my two working sheepdog friends at the farm along by the pub. I wonder what names they would all give to me? Answers on a postcard please (they were the days!). Sniggers and smiles, love Nellie xx