Where's Bertie? He's at Carsington Water Caravan Club Site, where it's costing £47.24 (total) for two nights.
Weather: Good sunny intervals this morning, then clouding in this afternoon and starting to rain just before 3pm.
At 1445 yesterday afternoon, I accosted Mick in the hall, as he was on his way between the kitchen and the living room and asked him if he fancied doing something impulsive.
"What?" he asked me with caution, to which I proposed that we should pack Bertie as fast as we possibly could and nip away for a couple of nights.
"Why?" he asked, to which I responded that running around Carsington Water (where I don't think we've been for the best part of 20 years) would be more interesting than plodding the pavements or slip-sliding through the increasing muddiness around home.
"But I'm about to put a chicken in the oven" he said. I'd forgotten about the chicken, which did put a spanner in the works.
"Well, let's go in the morning then!" I said. So we did.
As we couldn't check in at the campsite until 1300 we needed a plan for the morning, so thought we'd park in Ashbourne and run out-and-back along the Tissington Trail (ex-railway line) on the way. We duly parked in our intended car park, which is plenty big enough for a Bertie-sized vehicle, only then to spot the weight limit that prohibited him. So, the council didn't get our parking fee and instead we parked for free at Alsop-en-le-Dale.
After no small amount of faffing, off we headed on foot, gently uphill towards Parsley Hay. On the way a straggling group of 6 cyclists passed us, with the lady at the front commenting that they were the slowest moving caravan of cyclists ever seen. We greeted them all, then again a few minutes later when we overtook them whilst they paused. The next time they passed us the lady at the front commented that she'd be inviting us around for tea now she knew us so well. Little did she know that we were going to carry on playing leapfrog not just on the outward leg, but on the return too. They were even at the snack waggon in the layby when Mick returned.
Mick was by himself by then as I'd veered off at the previous road bridge to add a bit of descent and reascent (not to mention some more distance) into my outing, but dropping down into Wolfscote Dale, which was lovely (and surprisingly quiet after the busyness of the Tissington Trail) on this unexpectedly fine morning.
Weather: Good sunny intervals this morning, then clouding in this afternoon and starting to rain just before 3pm.
At 1445 yesterday afternoon, I accosted Mick in the hall, as he was on his way between the kitchen and the living room and asked him if he fancied doing something impulsive.
"What?" he asked me with caution, to which I proposed that we should pack Bertie as fast as we possibly could and nip away for a couple of nights.
"Why?" he asked, to which I responded that running around Carsington Water (where I don't think we've been for the best part of 20 years) would be more interesting than plodding the pavements or slip-sliding through the increasing muddiness around home.
"But I'm about to put a chicken in the oven" he said. I'd forgotten about the chicken, which did put a spanner in the works.
"Well, let's go in the morning then!" I said. So we did.
As we couldn't check in at the campsite until 1300 we needed a plan for the morning, so thought we'd park in Ashbourne and run out-and-back along the Tissington Trail (ex-railway line) on the way. We duly parked in our intended car park, which is plenty big enough for a Bertie-sized vehicle, only then to spot the weight limit that prohibited him. So, the council didn't get our parking fee and instead we parked for free at Alsop-en-le-Dale.
After no small amount of faffing, off we headed on foot, gently uphill towards Parsley Hay. On the way a straggling group of 6 cyclists passed us, with the lady at the front commenting that they were the slowest moving caravan of cyclists ever seen. We greeted them all, then again a few minutes later when we overtook them whilst they paused. The next time they passed us the lady at the front commented that she'd be inviting us around for tea now she knew us so well. Little did she know that we were going to carry on playing leapfrog not just on the outward leg, but on the return too. They were even at the snack waggon in the layby when Mick returned.
Views from the Tissington Trail
Mick was by himself by then as I'd veered off at the previous road bridge to add a bit of descent and reascent (not to mention some more distance) into my outing, but dropping down into Wolfscote Dale, which was lovely (and surprisingly quiet after the busyness of the Tissington Trail) on this unexpectedly fine morning.
Where I emerged in Wolfscote Dale
My ascent was to be up the tree line on the left. It's quite a pull!
Once both back at Bertie we could have come straight to the campsite, but by the time we'd driven the distance, checked in, filled up Bertie's water tank, found a pitch, plugged Bertie in and been back to reception to tell them which pitch we were on, it would have been a late lunch, thus we opted to eat before moving (door-wedges of toasties; took the good bread knife out of Bertie last week and thus had to hack away at the bread with the emergency in-case-we-forget-the-good-breadknife breadknife).Arriving at the campsite, Mick went to check us in and asked if they were busy. "Not very" came the reply, with the further comment that more were expected and by late afternoon they would probably be three-quarters full. It's a 104-pitch site, and we managed to find half a dozen empty pitches, all in the same area. We took the least sloping of the bunch. We would have a view of the water, if we were facing the other way.
Apart from climbing on the gritstone edges years ago that is an area I have neglected, regretfully. There is so much to do.
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