Against planning ahead

Spur of the moment decisions are sometimes the right ones. On Thursday afternoon I found that a schedule misunderstanding with a friend of mine left me to look forward to a weekend on my own in Edinburgh. I swirled around in my chair to examine the map of Scotland which hangs behind my desk – so many places to go to, all of them so difficult to reach... For reasons known best to the rail companies, the distance which can be covered in three hours when going South of Edinburgh takes two and a half times as long when going North. And, the weather forecast was unpromising. I could spend a gloomy weekend in Edinburgh, watching comedies and eating ice cream. Or, I could bite the financial bullet and head home, to Sheffield, for the weekend. Which I did.

Walking in the Peak District was fantastic. We took the car and drove to Monsal Head, where a river winds and snakes through a long, steep-sided valley. The river was as full as I have ever seen it, and the weirs were real raging waterfalls.

The snow was melting on the southern slopes, while the northern ones were white; from the hills themselves to little mounds of earth the pattern repeated itself, so that a field of molehills looked like a miniature copy of the landscape which surrounded it. The melting snow created networks of tiny streams, clear as crystal and glittering in the sun. Our walk was full of tiny vignettes of spring.

From Monsal Head we followed the river until we came to the A6 road, at which point we turned away from the river and started to climb. In a few minutes we were at the top of the slope, and negotiating our way through a very muddy path which lead through a farm. Hairy cattle observed our attempts at staying vertical and relatively mud-free with interest.

Easily amused cattle.

We soon rejoined the river further upstream on the other side of the hill, and walked up towards the Crossbrook Mill. There were people climbing the white walls of the canyon there, and the usual medley of water fowl. The Mill has a new hole-in-the-wall cafe which warranted investigation. We sat for a good long while sipping strong tea from real (not plastic) cups and basking in the early spring sun, giving it the chance to bring out our freckles. This was the first time this year I've felt the sun give off any heat, and it was a welcome change.

Winter has not given up yet though, it would seem – today we woke up to a world covered in ten centimetres of fresh snowfall. Hushed and white in the morning, by the time I had to walk to the station the city was receding back into grey, streets and pavements full of cold, wet slush. The time for snow is past!