A much needed day out - an understatement of a title

 After weeks of home renovations at the weekend, this week I decided I needed some time in nature to re-seat my mental health.  It's a lot of effort to keep myself sane and I've been feeling the need for a holiday for a while.  The fact that I have two coming in December, is not enough to sustain me so I decided that rather than house-working Sunday, I was going to have a normal day (in which me and the dog disappear into the wilderness for some time and return home exhausted several hours later).  There's nothing like intense fatigue for making me feel rested!

I set off to scoot along the Trans Pennine Trail from Outibridge towards Dunford Bridge, the intention being to return home the way I'd come.  It's a rail line so none of its steeps are more than 3% (except the bits through Wharncliffe woods which weave up and down for a bit before settling.  Our local parks were pleasantly empty when we set off at 8:30 and we managed to scoot through Hillsborough park before the enthusiastic Park Runners got started.

The fun really starts when you reach Beeley woods.  Lena has been there before but usually in the evening, dodging the boy racers.  It was nice to enjoy the racing river without many people around... until we got to the end of the path where five vans were parked up and people rushed around drying off and loading kayaks onto roofs.  I had to ask: does this happen often.  And only, apparently, when the river is high enough, is it possible to kayak from Deepcar to Oughtibridge.  Lena had a sniff to see if anyone had snacks and then we walked up the steep hill to reach the TPT.

When we got there, we did a lot of sitting about. Trousers on/off/back on again.  We had a bit of a run before the deluge started.  When it appeared to be settling in, I took a break under the underpass and added a wool layer under my coat.  The graphitists were talking to me.

All of the mountain bikers continued on their loops of Wharncliffe while me and Lena headed onto the TPT.  We ignored the turn off for Wortley and continued into the Burger shak at the stables to get lunch.  I've never managed to get to this place when it's open so I was really excited to find they were serving - and also that there was a covered shed complete with picnic tables, wood burning stove and christmas decorations.  We made ourselves at home and answered questions about the scooter.

The burger was to die for.  I wish I'd ordered chips too.  The coffee was acceptable, though not impressive - you can't have everything (at least, not out of the side of a caravan, you can't).  The dog enjoyed her lunch - and trying to steal everyone else's. In fact, she looks like she's trying to tow the table over to someone else's!

When we got back onto the trail, we had it all to ourselves, as far as the eye can see.      The rain had stopped and we were moving well, if a little tired.  We had a little play with the camera and started to think about what to do next.  I admit to being a little alarmed when my 20km notification went off.  Time to start heading home!

I didn't fancy the idea of going back the way we'd come.  If anything, I felt like I'd only just "made it" to the countryside - despite having been in Wharncliffe for quite some time.  Instead, I mentally plotted a route over to Midhopestones and then around to Mortimer road and Bradfield in order to get home.  It was ambitious but we had enough daylight to do it.  The little lanes were pleasant enough to scoot along and most motorists were patient enough to wait behind us while we moved over to the side of the road an let them past the narrow bits.

We were enchanted by this field of geese - probably blown out of the skies last night.  Only when I stopped to watch them did I notice the hawk in the tree, biding its sweet time.

It was... oh, so much... further than I remember from Midhopestones, over to the Bradfield valley and there were so many more river valleys than I remember between each of the reservoir valleys. 

I kicked myself literally and figuratively as I grew tired of trudging uphill and freewheeling downhill with the brakes on so that I was slow enough to avoid pulling the dog off her feet.  If only I'd just turned around on the TPT and had a nice, smooth roll home the way I'd come out.

 As the light started to fade, however, I soon realised the why to our foolery of heading back a different way - we acquired the elevation required to watch the sun set over the Peak moorland and turn the land silver then gold.

We had to sit and take a moment and wait while the beginnings of the Christmas tractor rallye sailed on by (I am sitting in my living room typing this and listening to them driving up the lane on the other side of our valley in Stannington).

the dog can see the pub from 'ere

From this aspect we could see Win Hill in the far distance as the sun set.

Crags above Bradfield I never knew existed because I've never been down this descent at a sensible speed for looking around me.

The final tinges of sunset over Bradfield moors - I couldn't hang around to watch it any longer as we were getting cold.  The constant rush to stay ahead of the light meant my feet were wet with sweat in my boots and my underwear was damp from sweating up the hills.  Lena started to limp on the steep downhill to Bradfield so before we fell into a lack of signal, I called TSK and asked him to come and pick us up in the van and save us.

I rode the brakes all the way down and we took a short cut down some steps to reach the cricket ground and tea shop.  Much to my relief the shop was open and we rushed out to hide from the breeze and scoff biscuits and tea while we waited.  

It was, absolutely what the psychiatrist (me) ordered.