Corkscrewing for 46 miles between Rocester in eastern Staffordshire and Castleton in the heart of the Derbyshire Peak District, the Limestone Way is an idiosyncratic, but very popular and enjoyable way to see the highlights of the White Peak plateau.
This limestone upland forms part of the White Peak which is the Peak District’s limestone gentler, more pastoral southern half, versus the wilder, gritstone and peat high moors which characterise the region’s northern portion. If the Pennines which officially start at the Weaver Hills in Staffordshire just south of the National Park are England’s spine then the White Peak is the nation’s bony coccyx.
As is the nature of walking through a rural area, accommodation is unevenly spaced along the Limestone Way, nor does the walk have formal stages, rather allowing walkers to decide where they want to start and stop each day. However, for a reasonably fit person used to walking, it is eminently doable in three days, and probably achievable in two at a real clip if someone really wanted to push themselves.
The Limestone Way’s route origins lie in the desire of Rotary Club of Matlock in the 1980s to create a walk that showed off the best aspects of the limestone country between their town and Castleton, a picturesque village, dramatically situated right on the divide between the White and Dark Peaks. This initial version of the walk opened in 1986. Later the route was extended further south to take in the villages of Parwich, Tissington and Thorpe, as well as the jaws of Dovedale. Then in 1992 the route was extended to its current southern end at Rocester. Rocester, which is JCB’s hometown, lies outside anybody’s definition of the Peak District, but is on the Staffordshire Way, and has reasonably good public transport connections for a village of its size. Still some people, including me, choose to skip the first few miles from Rocester and commence walking the Limestone Way from higher up.
Day One Middle Mayfield – Youlgreave
I set out for the Limestone Way on what proved to be a warm dry day in mid-September. My plan was for Day One at a little over 20 miles to be the longest, and likely hardest, day of my walk.
From Derby I caught an early bus towards Uttoxeter, via Ashbourne and alighted at the little Staffordshire village of Middle Mayfield. On alighting the driver remarked he “did not usually stop here”, and despite the stop’s proximity to Mayfield, a large village on the opposite bank of the Dove to Ashbourne, I could see why, Middle Mayfield is very much a cluster of houses on the edge of fields and woodland.
Starting from Middle Mayfield allowed me to avoid the worst of the ill-waymarked, muddy field section from Ashbourne. The countryside itself is very pleasant, as are the little village like Ellastone in the shadow of the Weaver Hills which the lower part of the Limestone Way pass through. However, unlike the northern Derbyshire parts of the walk, the initial Staffordshire section is not formally waymarked, and some of the paths are not in the best condition.
On the edge of Middle Mayfield I pick-up a green lane which leads up a sandstone cleft through woodland to pasture land atop a ridge.
It is here that I pick up the Limestone Way running to the right and begin heading north.
As I walk on top of the ridge heading north past Ashbourne in the valley below, I get my first glimpses on the Peak District’s upland limestone country to my left.
After an hours’ walking, having only taken a couple of brief wrong turns, I cross the A52 which a little further north forms the Peak District National Park boundary.
Here I pick up a lane which is really just a farm track and head over the brow of a hill, soon getting my first glimpse of Dovedale and the adjacent Thorpe Cloud, shaped like a proper mountain, despite only standing a relatively diminutive 296 metres above sea level, in the middle distance.
Near the end of the lane the footpath veers off across meadows sloping down towards the Dove, the river that marks Staffordshire’s eastern boundary with Derbyshire. The administrative boundary between the west and the east Midlands.
The bridge over the Dove just below the village of Thorpe is a study old stone bridge. An old milepost proclaiming the bridge stands 11 miles from Cheadle suggests that whereas now it carries, farm, equestrian and pedestrian traffic only, once the bridge formed part of the national road network.
Past Thorpe the route skirts its first true limestone dales at Thorpe Pastures, before picking up na quiet country lines that on the far side of the busy A515 becomes the expansive tree lined avenue leading to aristocratic Tissington.
Beyond Tissington the Limestone Way crosses the Tissington Trail, once the railway between Ashbourne and Buxton, before heading off road, down the wide, yet steep sided, dale of the Bletch Brook.
At the top of the dale Parwich, a relatively large village in the shadow of limestone cliffs, possessing multiple village greens, a commanding Anglican church, and a Robinson’s pub, comes into view at the foot of the valley. I stopped in Parwich on one of the greens beside the pub to eat a Greggs meal deal bought in early in the morning in Derby.
After lunch the climb out of the village onto higher ground once more is long and at times steep, before a further descent to pasture land, and the quarrying village of Ballidon.
From Ballidon the path ascends, past an isolated and enigmatic chapel, seemingly disused yet still maintained, out of the national park once more.
The Limestone Way cuts a middle course through countryside pockmarked by centuries of quarrying, skirting the villages of Longshaw and Brassington. Ascending to the top of the Peak District’s limestone plateau for the first time there are spectacular views to the south, at least as far as Charnwood Forest in Leicestershire, and perhaps towards Cannock Chase. The chimneys and cooling towers of Ratcliffe-on-Soar power station near Nottingham, yet to be demolished when I walked the route, were visible marking the lowest point in the landscape where the River Trent flows.
Descending slightly, the Limestone Way crosses the High Peak Trail another former railway line, this one an eccentric former goods railway, slightly pre-dating the advent of steam locomotives in the Midlands, and built according principles more appropriate for a canal principles, yet which managed to cling on as a working proposition into the late 1960s.
Having crossed the High Peak Trail the route runs steadily downhill still skirting the edge of the National Park past working limestone quarries.
Reaching the Via Gellia (aka the A5012), I opt to cut the corner by taking a steep path up through the western end of Grange Woods, to reach the little village of Ible.
In a nod to its origins in Matlock the Limestone Way, having already veered far to the east, takes a long loop down to Matlock via Bonsall.
Not wanting to visit Matlock on this trip, which partially involves a steep descent, and then ascent to the Derwent Valley, I decided to cut the corner at Ible. Walking instead along a series of farm tracks and old quarry roads, high up on the plateau to rejoin the Limestone Way a couple of miles east of Winster. One advantage to going to Matlock is that it has a range of accommodation, food shopping and eating options, meaning that despite the long climb back up to the plateau the next morning, there are advantages to ending a day’s walking there.
Instead, now back inside the National Park and heading east, I walked along the section of the path above the once important lead mining settlement of Winster. Which is home to one of the National Trust’s longest standing Midlands properties, the old market house. Thanks to the good visibility there were spectacular views across the Derwent Valley and up into the heart of the National Park.
At the western end of Winster, next to the old stone chamber where the lead miners used to store extracted ore overnight, I picked up the bridleway running down past Elton.
Just below Elton a quiet lane carries the Limestone Way down to the side of the main road beside the craggy cliffs next to Robin Hood’s Stride.
A farm track leads up to the woodland containing the cliffs and Robin Hood’s Stride. The rocks here appear to be a kind of gritstone, more akin to that found further north, than the limestone which predominates in the southern Peak District.
Robin Hood’s Stride itself, perhaps appropriately, feels like a location drawn from myth. A great mound of craggy boulders, like a scene ripe for heroic exertion, dark rite, or a denouncement, capped with a riot of tall grasses, moss and trees.
From Robin Hood’s Stride Youlgreave, my final destination for the day, is visible, high above the River Bradford’s dale.
I descended from the stride towards it, crossing a relatively gentle pastoral vale, grazed by herds of cows and flocks of sheep. Easy walking compared to the numerous ascents and descents earlier in the day.
Reaching Bradford, a smaller village, nestled in Youlgreave’s shade beside the River Bradford, I pick up the riverside path at the foot of the dale. It had been an exceptionally dry summer, and despite some recent autumnal rains, the river was low.
Reaching a lane running up to the village I ascend, soon arriving at the top of the dale and Youlgreave’s main road.
From here I soon arrive at the front door of Youlgreave YHA. Still part of the national hostel network but now privately owned, it is a very plush youth hostel. Home to a bakery, cafe, secondhand bookshop and an Italian bistro as well as a place to stay, and very much a hub of village life for visitors and residents alike.
It was here that I stopped for the night. Day One and roughly half the total distance I was to walk on the Limestone Way completed.
Day Two Youlgreave – Ravenstor (via Tideswell)
At the start of Day Two I left the hostel, walked back along Youlgreave’s main road, back down the lane and returned to the Limestone Way along the River Bradford.
Here I followed the path along the bottom of the gorge before once past the village ascending a path to the top of the dale.
On the far side of the road the path winds up across sheep pasture. Here I passed little shoals of Duke of Edinburgh pupils carrying bulging backpacks with neon coloured raincovers over them out practising for their qualification.
From the top of the hill I made quick progress across pasture and through scattered woodland over the plateau.
Soon, I began the steady descent to Cales Dale, a craggy little offshoot of impressive Lathkill Dale.
Day Two was a Saturday, and I was now firmly in the heart of the Peak District, so the paths were a lot busier than the day before. I had to wait for three men to climb the steep limestone steps out of Cales Dale before beginning to descend. It had rained overnight and was quite slippery underfoot. Climbing up the bare stone on the far side of the dale to reach One Ash Grange Farm, two men going the other way let me ascend before they began coming down. Wisely concerned about the underfoot conditions they asked me how it looked, pausing a little while to discuss the hazard of well worn limestone and scree.
Making my way through Ash Grange Farm I spotted a nativity scene inside a limestone grotto before continuing across open fields towards Monyash.
Monyash’s cafe was busy with Saturday traffic, especially bikers. There was also a major charity endurance walk underway raising money for research into dementia, the charity’s orange fluorescent jacketted stewards stood on every corner.
Past Monyash a well maintained bridleway took me to Flagg, a smaller adjacent village.
The next few miles after Flagg were along roads steadily winding up towards a high ridge with commanding views back across the Peak District, and to the west towards the limestone quarries near Buxton, and the gritstone moors beyond that which mark Derbyshire’s boundary with Cheshire, the place where the East Midlands meets the North West.
Upon reaching the top of the ridge the roads I am walking along become ever quieter and patchier, until eventually the road peters out in favour of a bridleway.
Cresting the ridge and making my way down into the valley which carries the A6 from Bakewell to Buxton and on towards Great Manchester. Out east in the distance I can see the radio mast on Eyam Moor, pointing the way towards the Derwent Valley and Sheffield the other side of the gritstone edge.
As I start my walk down the valley floor the dark clouds, visible for a time on the horizon, start to press in. The distant hills, taller than the ones I have walked so far, look wreathed in a mist which is clearly a rain shower. I stop, put my raincover of my bag, and raise the hood on my jacket just in time as the first drops begin to fall.
The rain rapidly becomes heavy as I work my way down the track towards the A6. In no time I am soaked and soon it begins to hail. The forecast had predicted rain in the early afternoon but not as early or as hard as this.
I trudge on wet and freezing, crossing the A6 and steadily heading downhill towards the bottom of Miller’s Dale where the River Wye flows towards Bakewell and its confluence with the Derwent at Rowsley.
It gradually stops raining. Soaked but suddenly in bright sunlight I emerge beside the road down to Miller’s Dale village and keep on walking, dodging the spray being thrown up by cars, where the drains have been overwhelmed by the recent downpour.
At Miller’s Dale I make a brief detour to the old station, now a visitor station for the Monsal Trail, this former railway line once the Midland Railway’s Mainline from London to Manchester, a small single track stub remains serving Matlock, Matlock Bath and villages like Cromford further south in the Derwent Valley.
It is at Miller’s Dale that I finish my walk along the Limestone Way for the day. I am to stay overnight a little further down the River Wye at Ravenstor where there is a YHA, one still directly managed by the charity.
Still being early afternoon I cannot check-in to the YHA so I head up Tideswell Dale to the large village of Tideswell, which has some of the characteristics of a town, including St. John the Baptist a large medieval church nicknamed the “Cathedral of the Peak”.
After visiting Tideswell I head back down the dale to YHA Ravenstor aiming to arrive for 17:00 when check-in opens. I reach the hostel by clambering up a flight of steps and then walking along a narrow limestone ridge dividing Miller’s Dale from Tideswell Dale, entering the YHA’s grounds via a side entrance.
I reach the building, which has the welcoming, homely, but quite ramshackle ambience of the YHA as I remember it from my childhood, just as it starts to rain again. Perfect timing.
Day Three Ravenstor – Castleton
Breakfast service at YHA Ravenstor begins earlier than at Youlgreave, so I started my third and final day walking the Limestone Way around an hour earlier than the second.
A track down through woodland led me to the cul-de-sac’d road which runs at the bottom of Miller’s Dale, along which I walked back up the River Wye to where I had the long distance footpath the day before at the village.
From here I ascended up a side road and then a bridleway track to near the top of the dale and began heading north once more.
The bridleway runs high up along the plateau sidestepping Tideswell to the east in a hollow.
Where the Limestone Way intersects with the Pennine Bridleway National Trail which runs from Middleton Top above Wirksworth to southern Cumbria, the path descends to the shallow limestone cliff lined Peter Dale. A location not unakin to Creswell Crags on the far side of the county practically on the boundary with Nottinghamshire.
Returning to the dale top, and walking along a lane, I soon reach the side of the A623 just above the village of Peak Forest.
A moment or two’s walking along the busy A-road brings me to a further bridleway which runs steadily upwards, first gently then steeply, towards the walk’s summit, around 450 metres above sea level, just beneath Stavehouse Trig Point at the southern end of Bradwell Moor.
From this vantage point the gritstone high moors come into full view. Mam Tor, just above the Limestone’s Way northern end in Castleton, rises in the middle distance to the west, with Kinder Scout, one of the Peak District’s few mountains hulking on the horizon behind it. Brown moorland running off to the right towards Yorkshire as far as the eye can see.
Having summited the walk the Limestone Way runs across pasture land towards the top of Cave Dale which winds down towards Castleton.
Still not yet 11:00 in the morning, the paths become steadily busier nearer Castleton, a popular starting point for day walkers.
Cave Dale starts shallow, but as the descent gathers pace it becomes steeper, its limestone cliffs rising on each side very dramatic.
This has been a means of traversing this northernmost limb of limestone country for centuries, if not millenia, and for this reason the descent is tricky, at times treacherous, the limestone having been worn smooth to something akin to polished marble in places, while in others falling stone has become a treacherous carpet of scree.
Peveril Castle, from whom Castleton derives its name, and purportedly one of the first stone medieval fortresses constructed in the British Isles, comes into view, perched high atop the dales’ cliff around halfway down.
Past the castle ruins, occasional knots of climbers ascending the dale’s exposed limestone faces, and numerous shoals of walkers beginning their ascents, I suddenly emerge from the rocky cleft into the top of Castleton.
Turning left I descend, continuing gently downhill, into the heart of the village. A couple of hours to spend mooching around before my train from Hope to Sheffield, and then south westerly from there to home.