Noctilucent Clouds over Kinder Scout

A few photographs of a Noctilucent Clouds glowing over Kinder Scout in the early hours of Friday June 29th.

2:40am, Grindslow Knoll. I'd set up after work on a 27 mile walk around Kinder Scout. I then cycled the 25 miles back home from Edale via the Mam Nick Pass and School Lane out of Hathersage and a nice swim along the way. I was going pretty quickly on the walk and was set to do it in 9 hours.

However, as the eastern sky started to brighten around 2:15, a high glowing blue light appeared. Sunrise was still a long way off. Gradually, it grew into the shape of a large ethereal manta ray floating in the sky. I made my way to Grindslow Knoll under it's wings, alone and utterly enthralled.

As the midsummer dawn light up the cloud, it grew more defined wings and a tail too.

For half an hour I sat there in awe. There was something so otherworldly and peaceful about the cloud. Through-night walks are always moving and highly rewarding experiences (it's why I've done them regularly for the last nine years), it this was something else. 

3:40am, dawn over Ringing Rodger. The cloud faded as the sky brightened. Sunrise was still over an hour away yet it was bright enough to walk without a torch. Having the roads to myself on the way home at 4am was a joy. 

A special encounter and another reason to go wandering around the hills at night. 

The Lowest Hill in the Peak District.

Who, in the pub on a Friday night, proudly tells their mates they are going to climb the lowest hill in the local area or national park? 

Not many I reckon. 

For the thousands who go up Kinder Scout every weekend (and the dozens who actually visit the highest point of it- there is a path to the top thesedays), I bet only a handful of mostly hardcore peak-baggers each year find themselves on the summit of Hare Knoll. And even then, they probably aren't aware that at a mere 185m, it is the lowest hill in the Peak District National Park. 

Hare Knoll in all it's diminutive glory. 

For all of an easy 50m ascent you can be rewarded with fine views along the Derwent Valley, very cold swimming nearby and it doesn't take a genius to include it in a nice short walk from Froggatt or Calver. You won't find bouldery slopes or gritstone tors, nor wild bogs or remote cloughs. But the Peak District's lowest hill has many joys, especially when the weather is crap higher up or on a hot summer's evening. 

Yet. Small hills don't stroke the ego. Small hills covered in open fields full of cows and associated cow poo are even less appealing. Mr Billy Big Bollocks will not find daring adventures impress his friends on this tiny grassy lump either. 

Unless... 

You link it up with the highest in the Peak District: Kinder Scout at 636m- in a circular walk. Aka, 'The Lowest to The Highest' : 34 miles of varied and pretty walking from either Hathersage (good pubs) or Grindleford (that godly cafe by the train station). A delightfully simple idea that is long enough to tire the legs yet not so long to ensure you'll be back in time for a well earned pint. You'll find at least two swim spots along the way and enough shops to travel light. On the loooong slog up Win Hill Pike 29 miles in, the tiny ego may grow a bit too...

I did this route in September 2022. It took me 11 hours 13 minutes to walk the 34 miles over some of the nicest scenery in the Hope, Edale and Derwent Valleys. For a good chunk of it I went as fast a possible. There were a lot of people at Hollins Cross and on Kinder. Far too many for comfort. I soon realised that if I appeared wild eyed and dripping in sweat, they would hastily move to either side of the path granting me a unhindered passage through. Want to have space in predictably busy places? Smell badly... Anyway, the route weaved it's way through Calver, Eyam, Sir William Hill, Castleton, and Win Hill Pike, included Lucozade stops in Bradwell and Bamford, a quick swim to feel refreshed and late summer sunshine all the way. Just constantly changing pretty scenery and easy plodding. It is honestly one of the best longish walks I've ever done. And I've done a lot. 

It is good to enjoy the smaller things in life alongside the big, boggy and pointy things, particularly if they are grassy, surrounded by cold rivers and covered in cow shit. 

Cycling up the Winnats Pass- Having been awake for 26 hours and walked 30 miles through the night.

On Friday 3rd March 2023, I set off after work and walked 30 miles over the moors. Afterwards I cycled up the Winnats Pass and back home to Sheffield- this was all done alone, with no sleep or caffeine, and I told nobody of my exact plans.

Since 2021's 'Project X' I'd dremt of doing more big walk/ cycle days. Yet 2022 had been my annus horriblis to put it lightly and quite frankly it is more pleasurable to sit on a cactus (without underwear) than walk alone all night in a messed up head. Probably...  In 2023 however the tide had turned. Rapidly. Ideas laid dormant began to resurface. Sometimes things just fall into the right place at the right time and you have to drop everything and just go. Within two weeks, re-awakening had led to resurrection, and an idea I'd kept secret for a long while was soon going to be made reality. 

Time to spend a Friday night in a cold peat bog. Just setting off from Hope, 7pm.

Leaving Hope at 7pm on a dark, cold March night, northwards over Hope Cross and the A57. People having tea and going to the pub were passed, the last warming lights of a cosy front room left behind as I soon slipped alone into a familiar existence. Get settled in the mind, warm the legs up, embrace the long night ahead.

The overview effect is phenomena astronauts experience when watching the Earth from a distance, having removed themselves and now seeing it from a third person perspective. To a lesser extent, you get this effect on long walks too. You must be fully committed- alone with no tent or sleeping gear, and be on the move all night and day. You are detached and see the world go by whilst contributing nothing. It is really cool and one of the aspects that brings me back time and time again.

Nearly two years had passed since I'd experienced this, yet walking alone through the night over Snake Pass and Kinder Scout felt so comforting and enjoyable. The lights of Manchester were seen glowing in the distance and thoughts drifted to the people down there getting on with their lives, at the pub, asleep, having cuddles. The occasional airplane flew overhead. Where where those people going? At 1am it was time for a brief pause for a lunch of flapjacks and pepperoni at Ashop Head. Silent contemplation. Nobody knew where I was, my headtorch was turned off (thanks to the moonlight) and another 15 miles of walking through the early hours over my favorite hills lay ahead. Freedom.   

Talking about experiences, feel sorry for the poor folks who were camping on Mill Hill that night. My torch shone in their tent, rocks were stumbled into and they most definitely heard me having a wee close by. Whoopsie. 

The night time tunnel was exited at daybreak, 5:30am on Mam Tor, as a few walkers waiting to see sunrise were passed by in a silent haze. It had been tough to stay awake on the long plod from Kinder during those long late hours of the night. The knowledge of the sunrise waking you up from a dazed stupor provides energy for the mind, and you just keep on going. 

It is heavy, it has small wheels and it's nearly always mucky. But my bike sure does me well. 

7am, Hope. Back at the bike to much relief. 30 miles in 12 hours- not too bad. Breakfast, out of the boots and into comfy shoes, half an hour to rest and feast on some pasta I'd handily left overnight.

Big days on the hill to me have to have a few essential ingredients: They must be simple, they must sound daft, and they must be hard*. Cycling up the Winnats Pass having been awake for 26 hours and walked 30 miles (and on a heavy hybrid bike with all my walking gear) had all of those ingredients. It just had such a ring to it. I honestly didn't know if I could do it. That was the point. To go and find out. This whole idea was like light to the flies to me. As I slowly cycled towards Castleton, the Winnats Pass lured me in.

The mind focused as the road finally began to rise out of Castleton. I wanted this. Badly. Really, really badly. 10 minutes it took. 10 minutes in that prized, elusive flow state- the pace, breathing and road position were perfect. The Legs wanted to stop. The Legs really wanted to stop. My Mind craved the top of the pass even more badly. It refused to give in. The Mind won.

Elation? Judging from a few reactions, I appeared slightly crazy rounding the Mam Nick Pass that morning and lets leave it at that. A one man party having a great time. Well, its hard not to when riding down through the Edale Valley even when sober, let alone in my state. Do you like bikes and fun? Go ride down the Mam Nick Pass. The one man continued his party the way to Hathersage. 

The Mam Nick Pass. So. Much. Fun. 

9:30am, Hathersage. Awake for 27 hours. Feeling a wee bit spaced out by now.

Cycling and sleep deprivation. You can have adventures in the mind as well as on land, and I wanted more adventure time. So up past Higger Tor, over to Redmires and down to home it was. The party became more about curious experimentation as the day went on. To feel in total control regardless of mild auditory and visual hallucinations, to giggle with delirious euphoria and to race and to weave through traffic on Abbeydale Road with ease, and to feel so awake and alive despite the creeping tiredness as the clock gradually ticked onward. Fascinating and amazing. I probed this state as long as it felt safe- until after 29 hours awake and on the go for 17 of those, that innate survival instinct told me my luck was running out. I homed in on my favorite perch- my sofa with a view over Sheffield and the Peak District- and rested with contented numbness.

Heavy delirium kicked in during the afternoon as I fed, washed and relaxed while forcing myself to stay awake. Shaky hands, blurred vision, aching legs. But the experiment wasn't over. Oh no. Not yet. These headspaces are so rarely achieved you may as well make the most of them when they do. There was still gas in the tank, or at least fumes, and I intended to go on until they ran out. Having been awake for 37 hours, I cycled to the pub. And drunk then at least 5 pints of beer. And then cycled back home having stayed awake for 42 hours without any stimulants at all. And then finally fell asleep (snoring loudly in my housemate's chair). It was just curiosity plain and simple, and I was high on life. Yes, I could cycle and just about act rationally in this state. That was cool to find out. It was also a lot of fun too.

The following few days were spent resting and sleeping lots, while the buoyant afterglow lasted a couple of weeks. A means to an end, yet so much was learnt. Truth be told, combining long walks and bike rides is a lot easier than walking 50+ miles in a day. It is also way less painful and more enjoyable. Now the parameters caused by the lack of sleep have been figured out, there is lots more scope for taking these ideas much further. At some point in the near future, I will to go on a journey to truly test my mind and body and push them as far as possible. On foot then on bike. It is time to dream again...

Note: I did actually put in some training for this one. Hungover cycles up the hills in Sheffield made for perfect conditioning. Morning runs up Meersbrook Park for the shins. And a diet of eggy fried crumpets to get that protein in with a smile.

*Big days must also adhere to the following ethics: They must be entirely self supported with nobody meeting you for resupplying foods ect. Shops and pubs en route are allowed. They must be done for yourself and not for charity. All details of the route are to be kept as quiet as possible from people until it is done. In a scene of sanitised charity walks, I do these things for myself, and I want an adventure. 

Night Swimming isn't as romantic as R.E.M made it out to be.

 It is not.

Unless you are somewhere secluded in summer with a loved one- although in the UK you'll probably have to contend with the inevitable slugs and midges. And slugs and midges are about as romantic as well... not very much.

Fun!

Cold water swimming is- like yoga and driving SUV's to 'wellness classes' the 'in thing' to do over the last few years. Go to any well known swim spot in the Peak District (I'm not giving them away!) and you'll likely find an assortment of pasty looking people of varying girths happily throwing themselves into stone grey icy water, inevitably whilst talking about 'practicing their Wim Hof'.

Why?

It is oddly good fun. I've been doing it for years and and there really is a perverse pleasure in getting naked and jumping into water on a cold, drizzly afternoon in mid November. It feels like the wrong thing to do. It is the wrong thing to do. Your body is quite literally dying. There are no thoughts. For thirty seconds or so every neuron in your brain is firing telling you to get out. It would like to be warm and alive- and you are not. Your brain goes numb, very soon followed by every inch of skin you have and never knew you had. Hands and fingers instantly turn to rubbery lumps of flesh. 

A grey January day is a 
perfect time for a dip.

You get out and the rush- well, it is quite something. 15 minutes of intense smiling, laughing euphoria. There is a bizarre feeling of warmth despite it being 3c (or less) whilst stood around in your birthday suit halfway up a hill. You have a huge glow and smile across your face and vow to come back and do it again.

If you happen to go cold water swimming with friends, it is even more funny. Like hapless lemmings, one by one you strip off and plunge into the abyss, only to quickly to remerge bright red like boiled lobsters in reverse. This is shared suffering and silliness in a highly accessible manner, perfect for the hectic modern lifestyle. Watching your mates stuff their claw-like feet into shoes while light headed from the shock is certainly a giggle. But is is in no way romantic.  

Short lived intense euphoria? Highly addictive? Sounds like something familiar??? Yes, cold water swimming is effectively wholesome middle-class crack.

 So, if you happen to stumble across middle aged hippie types gleefully jumping into some bleak bit of freezing cold water, just remember- everyone has to get their high somehow.

Nightswimming in winter is another level of self-flagellation in the name of 'welbeing'. I've done it a few times. Imagine a big void that wants to kill you, then willingly jumping into it. You can't see it, but it hurts. Slugs in summer, death in winter. Sorry Michael Stipe, you were wrong about this one.  

I Wanna know! ('Project X', 2021)

 Back in June 2021 I realised a dream of mine to walk the Derwent Watershed Walk after work through the night and then cycle back to Sheffield from Hope having been awake for 27 hours. It became known as 'Project X'.

'I wanna know why the grass is green, I wanna know why the sky is blue' sang The Queers, a pop-punk band I used to listen too in my early teens. What they didn't want to know was what it would feel like to walk the most famous 42 mile walk in the Peak District after work through the night, then jump on a bike and cycle 20 miles home in a state of sleep-deprived and exhausted euphoria. 

I did.

After 2020's 52 mile Hebden Bridge to Sheffield walk (coming soon) I enjoyed an out-of-it but very much in control joyride around my local neighborhood. It was super fun! Why not shorten the walking even further and extend the sleepy cycling fun? I wouldn't have to suffer with painful feet for as long too. The Derwent Watershed walk was perfect to achieve this as I had already done it three times before, including a 62 mile version- it was well within my comfort levels. I'd be knackered for sure, but have plenty in the tank to cycle back. A plan was hatched...

A little bit of background here. A four year relationship was coming to an end. She knew what I was going to do. I knew what she wanted to do. She was the only person who did know and thought I was stupid. So I called it 'Project X' so she wouldn't know. She isn't stupid, she never was. So we postponed our 'little chat' so I could go and achieve my silly dream. The weather was perfect and here was my chance.  

 Wanna know what it is like to walk 42 miles alone in the night while going through a breakup?

It sucks.

Anticipating the fun ahead on Win Hill Pike.

For most of the way I could barely eat, my legs felt heavy and my mind was a total disintegrating mess. Everything was just so much harder, even the good bits over Brown Knoll and Bleaklow. Just shut up and keep going. The good things? Being alone on the hills at night is always fun. It was also waaay easier to suck up the tiredness and inevitable pain in my feet. Staggering up Parkin Clough on Win Hill Pike, 39 miles in and awake for 24 hours was a lot of fun. Totally out of it, tired of thinking, tired of walking, tired of the pain, an overwhelming desire to get to the bike. Humanity had melted down, reformed into a wide-eyed cadaver crawling its way to the top in a manic state of delirium.   

9:00am, Hope Car Park. I arrive. 42 miles in 15 hours. Awake for 27 hours. Grinning from ear to ear, as smelly as a mouldy rat, staggering like a freshly animated corpse. Fresh faced morning walkers look disturbed and quickly move away. They had no idea. Probably for the best. Breakfast of lucozade (orange) and granola. Get the bike ready. 

Before I set off there were a few basic checks to do. I needed to figure out the differences of me sober on a bike and me definitely not, and how I could overcome them. A few laps around the car park confirmed a couple of things: My reaction times were slowed, so breaking times and spaces were to be increased. I was beginning to experience mild auditory hallucinations. Instead of using hearing to judge approaching cars, I'd have to look around. But my balance was off, which therefore had to be counteracted by using my legs. Pretty simple- and provided you remember to do it- pretty effective too.

Wanna know what it is like to ride a bike having walked a long way through the night after a day at work, having been awake for 27 hours???

It was a lot of fun!

The pains in my feet and shins immediately dissipated. The tiredness in my legs just washed away by rushing waves of euphoria. The Derwent Watershed may never have happened. It was a new day. I was a new man. Reborn. Cycling felt as natural as breathing. It wasn't even hard. It was easy. It was amazing.

All the way through the Hope Valley and up the Surprise View, face hurting from smiling so much. This was what I'd dreamed about for the last year. Tears fell down my cheeks. I giggled as the road shimmered, swirled and breathed while sounds appeared from nowhere. A few cyclists ahead. Get them. A tiny feather for the tiny ego. Total focus on staying in a straight line, keeping moving and not getting hit. It was the biggest and most surreal daydream of my life and I was living it.

Hathersage Road. Reality bites. Heavier traffic. It was 12:30. Reactions and focus deteriorating. Survival mode. Get the game head on and finish it. Hospitals scare me. The one thing I fear as much as The Slug is The Needle. Don't go there. Total concentration. Stay away from The Needle. 

The Needle successfully avoided, Meersbrook (aka 'The Lentil Belt') finally materialised. Sober normal people. Try to act like them. I'm not an actor so that soon failed. I did however, mange the last bit of cycling up to my house with degree of normalcy. It was over.

Ted. My buddy comes to greet me at the end.

Wanna know what it feel like to have achieved another silly dream?

Sad yet happy. This had been a huge part of my life for over a year. Winter days spent slogging up Meersbrook Park, hungover cycles, many evenings thinking about it. Sad that it was now time to finally let go. I cried a little as I walked up the steps to my front door. Yet it had given me some unforgettable memories. My experiment had worked. New plans were already forming in my head for what could follow on from this. Ecstasy flooded my brain as I took off my boots and gave Ted the cat a cuddle. 

Another dream realised. I was happy as a pig in shit.

A brief note on Ethics: Aside from my ex I told nobody about my plans until after it was done. I carried everything needed and had my phone turned off for the duration of the trip. This wasn't about bragging to my mates. It was about total immersion doing something I love. 

Oh, and I wore a helmet for the cycle.