Back Tor
Today was Back Tor Day and we woke up to a perfect day for walking – sunny but cool. Back Tor is my happy place, my ‘Top of the World’ place and one which fills me with joy and hope.
When all feels insurmountable around me, all I need to do is think of the amazing views from this magnificent Tor set within the Peak District. Before I met Mel, I had visited with my ex-husband’s aunt and uncle and since then, I have returned many times. Mel and I have climbed it 4 times (today is the 5th) and it never gets boring.
I am so lucky to have Mel as she loves the Peaks too which is good as it is an insane climb to get to the top. Unfortunately, I can’t remember the specific times we have visited together but as my first visits were prior to my seizures, I know which one on the ridge is the one I love.
We have a brief breakfast and as we are driving to Castleton, we pack up Ethel to avoid things flying around as I swing round a corner. To ensure no one pinches our pitch, we leave a load of stuff behind, including the thermal windscreen covers, the power cable and the waste hog. I suspiciously assume they will have vanished whilst we are out, but Mel assures me they will be safe. I quickly make a note of the make and model of all nearby vehicles just in case.
Before I start panicking about where to park, Mel sensibly announces that we are allowed to park Ethel at the tourist information car park. I ask her how she knows, and she says she remembers from our last visit 4 years ago. I am amazed at her memory and feel a bit sad that I can’t. I still nip on the car park website to double check!
We find a lovely parking space with plenty of depth to fit all of Ethel within the lines, put on our walking boots and rucksacks and off we go. We don’t need a map as Mel knows the way and very soon, I can see Back Tor in the distance.
It is all uphill. And I mean ‘all’. There isn’t any respite from the upward climb, and it seems that we stop to look at the view every few minutes. This is actually code for ‘I can’t breathe anymore and must stop to rest’. It doesn’t really matter though as the views are stunning. We can see for miles and the little fields in the distance look so neat and uniform. For those of you who are fans of Jeremy Clarkson’s series of The Farm, you will know when I say that Gerard has been busy. The dry-stone walls are immaculate with little repair needed.
On we gasp and make slow but steady progress and with every step, Back Tor gets a little closer and I can see people on top of her. This does not impress me, and I ask Mel why she hasn’t made sure the Tor is closed to strangers today. She gives me a withering look and doesn’t seem to understand that this is my special space.
Of course, we haven’t taken the common, easiest route. Instead, we have taken a path straight upwards to the ridge before the Tor. This is much quieter than the normal routes, but is much, much steeper. As we climb, Mam Tor is to our left and Back Tor to the right. Most visitors aim to climb Mam Tor, as it is to many, much more impressive, despite Back Tor being higher at 538 metres. Mam Tor is broader and dramatic with one side continually falling away and is the first big peak along this ridge. By contrast, Back Tor is much narrower at the peak and the last few metres are incredibly steep and poles are a must (not that Mel was listening).
We finally arrive on the ridge and our first true look at the wonder that is Back Tor. A lot of conservation work has been completed since our last visit and in places, flagstones have been laid, creating steps and a safer surface. Whilst I realise this work is essential to reduce erosion, it seems to take something away from the wildness of the walk and my knee does not approve. Mel says that the paths are a lot wider than our last visit and we wonder if covid led to thousands of people taking to the hills for their exercise. In the past, we haven’t met many other walkers, but today we meet lots.
Regardless of my inability to breathe, I get to the peak and want to cry. I am serious about this. The emotion this place elicits in me is insane. It means so much to me and to be able to repeatedly share my most favourite place with my most favourite person cannot be understated. The 360-degree views are astounding. The fields with their tiny sheep are in the valleys and peaks are all around us. We can see Castleton and know Ethel is there somewhere and Mel spots a rundown barn which she suggests we could live in. I wish!
I head to the place I normally sit; a huge flat rock where I can dangle my legs over the sheer edge and soon halt in my tracks. Someone is already sitting there. Do they not realise this is my place? I quickly assess the situation. I can either push them off or wait. As I don’t really want to go to prison, I opt for the latter, but I am further disappointed when the women gets out her lunch. And it isn’t just a roll which she can consume quickly. It is a bloody pasta salad complete with a fork!!! Who eats a pasta salad on top of a mountain? I give up.
With my stroppy child pout, I move to a different rock and sit down. I won’t let it ruin my day and I pull out our sensible lunch of a cheese and ham roll, a mini mars bar and a packet of crisps. Yes, I know this is the same as on our walk the other day – but I can assure you that it is a fresh roll.
As I eat, I look. Nothing more. I just look at the beauty in front of me and I breathe. Most people have lots of places they love and would like to visit again but do many have just one special place? Mel and the boys know that when I die, my ashes are to be thrown off the top of Back Tor and as we climbed up, Mel had said when the time comes she would need a Sedan chair to get to the top.
I know we can’t stay long, or my knee will seize up completely and we have a steep journey back down. As we start our descent, a hill runner comes towards us, and Mel says that he is like Rory – we both decide he is an idiot. Why would anyone run up a mountain? It is hard enough walking up.
We walk along the ridge towards Mam Tor and have to make way for a herd of small children with a couple of teachers. I start panicking about the risk assessment they must have completed. Some of the kids have trainers on (not walking boots), most don’t have hats and I worry whether they have sun cream on. Where has this caring person come from, I ponder. It doesn’t sound like me.
We get to Hollins Cross and rather than continuing along to Mam Tor, we take a left down a narrow footpath back towards Castleton. I am very hot and state to Mel that I should have put my shorts on. She sensibly reminds me that we are in sheep country, and therefore tic country and as Rory so beautifully demonstrated when he walked the Highland Way, we don’t want to get Limes Disease. I quietly applaud myself for wearing long trousers.
Despite, my knee screaming with every downhill step, we make it back to Ethel safely and after a quick change of clothes (as ours were dripping with sweat), we head out for a cream tea.
After a couple of false starts, including a pub where, despite having a big board proclaiming they served cream teas, announced they don’t after Mel had queued for 10 minutes, we found a lovely tearoom and proceeded to devout the most amazing scones ever. We even had little tea strainers and it felt as if we were back in Victorian times! I do accept that I ate all of the calories I had burned up on the walk.
This area of Derbyshire is famous for Blue John stone, which is mined locally, and it is very pretty. We already have a polished chunk of it on the mantlepiece at home and our necklaces have Blue John pendants. Mel insisted on buying me a lovely Blue John ring and hopefully, along with this blog, it will help me to remember our outing.
We headed back to the site, very tired from our exertions but very happy about our achievements. It may be a couple of years before we can come back to visit but I can assure you that if our bodies allow it, we will return.
PS nothing had been stolen
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