"Seatbelt!" commanded Clint as I lowered my buttocks into his cockpit.
We weren't travelling far. Just fifteen minutes away inside The Peak District National Park. I tucked Clint's wing mirror in when I parked him on Clodhall Lane.
"See you later alligator!" I muttered as I set off towards Wellington's Monument above Jack Flat and not very far from The Eagle Stone shown in the top picture. The Duke of Wellington commanded Britain's forces at The Battle of Waterloo in 1815.
I didn't need a map because I knew the circle I was going to walk - just a little over two miles. Above I was on Baslow Edge looking towards the village of Curbar. Below - a Highland cow with magnificent horns has taken a break from her endless grazing
Near the end of the walk I noticed this small herd of a deer on raised ground in a large area of moorland that is called simply Big Moor. No fancy names. The deer haven't always grazed Big Moor. They are a fairly recent addition and I noticed that a lot of money must have been spent on high fencing to keep them inside the moorland area. Deer and motor vehicles are quite incompatible.
The lone hawthorn tree below appealed to me and I took a few pictures of it but I think that this was the best one. The tenacious tree is to the left of the image simply because I wanted to include all of its three o'clock shadow:-
Out in The Peak District you sometimes come across contemporary carved stones that may be part of some art project. Near Curbar Gap car park I noticed a "companion stone" with these lines carved upon it:-
Before the stone
before the land
the running hare
the pointing hand
the rattled wheel
the bright idea
something else
would lead us here
Rather than trying to photograph the whole thing, I just focused on this one word - "wheel" where after thirteen years moss is establishing itself in the carved letters:-
Onward I walked - perhaps like one of those Christian soldiers in the old hymn and before too long I was approaching sleeping Clint with my magical key. Press the button and "Abracadabra!" all locks are unlocked. Lord knows how it works.
Lovely, lovely photos. We have deer here but not high fences. Last Sunday, driving back home from Miss Katie's, I came across a dead deer beside the road, two crows starting work on it. It always make me sad to come across a dead animal.
ReplyDeleteThe eagle stone is interesting, if only it could talk.
Yes Nurse Pixie, that stone has witnessed so much. It would have surely been a focus point for ancient Britons living in the area long before Christianity arrived from foreign shores to screw everything up.
DeleteI love those hairy coos although I wouldn't want to tangle with one. Those horns! We have many deer and elk vehicle encounters in my state; they are mostly tragic--for the animal, the car and sometimes the driver.
ReplyDeleteHitting a deer can be like hitting a brick wall. I guess it's more of a nocturnal event in Washington state.
DeleteHow can the Eagle Stones still be stood there, when I ordered my lads to uplift them, one pissing night last November ?
ReplyDeleteMy lads said it took nine forklift diggers, sixteen cranes and fifty jack-hammers to wrest them stones from Yorkshire's filthy mucklands.
Them stones are waiting Haggerty's inspection in a secure warehouse in Crossmyloof, a snooty neighbourhood south of the river, quartered by Pollokshields, Shawlands & Strathbungo.
(They got some queer bliddy names in Glasgow.)
If my lads have sold me a pup, I'll swing for them.
I want them stones in my garden, next to the statue of Aphrodite at her ablutions.
They whisper to the moon, them stones.
Aye. Yon Eagle Stone has witnessed so very much as generations of Lilliputian humans have come and gone and been forgotten, ye ken?
Delete*Ye ken* : Strange, those words are never heard in Pollokshields.
DeleteIn Stirling you hear lovely broad Scots such as *bairns* for children.
In Stirling they ask *Whit ye sayin tae it ?* for *How's it going ?*
Stirling lady: Mind Big Neil, big Yorkshire lad, studied at the Yooni ?*
Stirling man: Great man fur the ladies, ay ? Some patter oan him.
Stirling lady: He tried the how's-yer-faither oan me, ken.*
Stirling man: Tell him tae sling his hook, did ye ?*
Stirling lady: Naw. Ah was pishin ma knickers. Dude IS funny.
Stirling man: Sweet talk ye intae the sack, Sandra ?*
Stirling lady: That's fur me tae ken an you tae wonder aboot, Shug.*
Now, it's all gone a wee bit Gay Couthy.
The lassies want to be laddies and the laddies want to wear party frocks.
Wee Nicola has resigned, fancies herself in the United Nations, New York.
Wee Nicola might make a guest appearance in "The Broons" Christmas annual. Grandpaw, who has clearly discovered the secret of everlasting life, will unwrap her on Christmas morning and pluck her like a turkey. That reminds me, how the hell did you know about Sandra MacQuoid?
DeleteAnother magical walk and photos that are works of art. Thank you for sharing a bit of this with us.
ReplyDeleteThanks for joining me once again Jennifer.
DeleteScience are amazing.
ReplyDeleteTut tut laddie! Science is singular.
DeleteThe stone walls intrigue me. What a tremendous amount of labor was taken to set them up.
ReplyDeleteLabour was cheap back then and the stones were often free. You just had to dig them out of quarries.
DeleteI like those words very much. Maybe I could get them carved on a stone and lay it in my garden. I'm a big fan of dry wall fences too.
ReplyDeleteYou are like an American River! Some Americans think our drystone walls are fences too! Maybe you are Mrs Ippy!
DeleteWriting down drystone walls to commit to memory.
DeleteThat began very dubiously.
ReplyDeleteThe cattle look warm.
The drystone wall looks to be in perfect condition. What a delight.
An interesting stroll indeed.
It's good to begin dubiously I find. Thanks for calling by again Andrew.
DeleteGreat weather for a great walk in great surroundings. Can it get much greater than that? And great photos, of course - all of them!
ReplyDeleteWhat about Alfred the Great? Thanks Meike for your constant support. Much appreciated.
DeleteOver here we use Osage Orange as our corner posts. Their longevity is just a bit shorter than stone but not by much.
ReplyDeleteSome of our drystone walls are reckoned to be five thousand years old but not the main one in the gatepost picture. I guess that that is only nineteenth century..
DeleteThe Hawthorn tree three o'clock shadow is very well observed.
ReplyDeleteI often try to make sure that I include the whole shadow of the subject.
DeleteExcellent photos, and a nice sunny day for your walk. The cows don't seem in the least bit bothered by your proximity.
ReplyDeletePerhaps that's because I was feeling quite bullish Carol.
DeleteA peaceful walk, thank you for taking us along.
ReplyDeleteI hope you enjoyed the picnic Travel.
DeleteThose cows are splendid!
ReplyDeleteThe picture of the hawthorn tree looks like it could have been taken in a desert.
Grasses on the moors tend to lose their greenness in wintertime. By May the green will be dazzling.
DeleteIsn't that something - the moss growing in the cracks of those letters? I am always amazed by stuff like that.
ReplyDeleteNo other word in the poem was quite as affected by moss as "wheel" was.
Delete