It's a funny thing but beauty is not always recognised as such. Well, not at first. Every time I crest Mam Nick, from the Castleton side, and the Vale of Edale opens out before me (provided it is not in the oft seen mist) I grin from ear to ear. Over the other side of the valley the huge plateau of Kinder Scout is spread before you, dark and oppresive. Yet drop into the valley. Call at the Nags Head if you must, and then head off up the old route of the Pennine Way and ascend Grindsbrook to reach the edge of that forboding plateau you saw from the other side of the valley.

It is made of black peat and tough grass. Riven with deep trenches waiting to lure you into a sticky morass. But it is quiet. You can hear nothing but the wind and the skylark. As you struggle out of one trench, known localy as 'groughs', you can see you are in the centre of a saucer with weird and wonderful rock formations all around the edges. After about a mile of negotiating with the one of the toughest customers you are liely to meet, you reach the oddly sandy banks of the river Kinder before it leaps of the edge. Looking back I know that I have had a beautiful experience in one of the most wonderful places on the planet and it will remain a joy forever.

Yet to some it is still a peat bog. No accounting for taste. Mine that is...

Cheers

DeG