Wyming Brook is a magical place in which to wander, with waterfalls cascading through a wooded glade, crashing over rocks and sweeping under a succession of pretty wooden footbridges. Once a private medieval hunting forest for the region’s nobility, it is now a nature reserve, protected as a safe haven for a wide variety of wildlife. Keep your eyes and ears open here, and look out for crossbills, dippers, redstarts, pied flycatchers and wood warblers, as well as lutestring and northern spinach moths.
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In the quiet fields on the edge of the pretty village of Hathersage, I chanced upon this beautiful young roe deer. He stood completely still for a few moments, his eyes shining and his ears quivering, watching me, listening, waiting for the click and the whispered 'Thank You'.
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Honestly, between heather seasons it's easy to forget just how incredibly, eye-poppingly purple the Peak District landscape becomes in late summer. This is one of my very favourite spots for heather views, looking out from the huge boulders of the Iron Age hill fort of Carl Wark, towards the rocks of Over Owler Tor. It's particularly beautiful at sunset, when the last light floods over the moors and makes every flower glow. You feel as if you're standing in the most stunning sea of colour.
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The bright purple heather on the Peak District moors takes on a whole new level of POW! as the sun sets and adds in late summer gold to the mix. This is the view of the distinctive hill of Higger Tor as seen from the Iron Age hill fort of Carl Wark, its slopes covered in heather and bracken and sunlight.
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"Once upon a time, forests were repositories of magic for the human race." - John BurnsideNo matter how many times I walk in the wild ancient woodland of Padley Gorge, it still takes my breath away. It's beautiful when the Spring sunshine is dappling through the leaves of the twisted oaks, when Autumn's brightness shines from every bough, or when the Winter snow is softly falling, but it's perhaps at its very best on misty Summer mornings, when it has such a quiet magic that even the birds fall silent in awe.
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Deep in the woods as autumn closes in, amid the tangle of branches and bracken and briar, you walk into a world where fairytale and reality blur. Padley Gorge is a Thin Place. I always fall under the spell of the ancient trees and stay out far too long in the quiet and shadows.
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On Sycamore Hill grows this absolute giant of a tree, perfectly formed, the sort of tree a child would draw if asked to draw a tree. Of course it helps that he stands on his own podium and is approached via a rustic gate in a meadow of wildflowers. He deserves nothing less.
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This was an unforgettably beautiful morning in Beresford Dale, when the sun poured down through the golden leaves of this wonderful old chestnut tree and met the mist that was rising from the sparkling waters of the River Dove. The colours and sunshine were all reflected in the puddle for the finishing touch and I honestly could have stayed there all day.
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Autumn is a season that really makes you use all your senses. Walking along this beautiful path through Wyming Brook, your eyes catch first the flashes of gold amongst the green where the sun has lingered longest in the trees, then you hear and feel the crunch and swoosh as you tread through the leaves, before you inhale the scent of musty sweetness that hangs in the air.
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There's no denying that I love the long, warm days of summer, and the bright blaze of autumn in its full glory, but these teetering days in between have a beauty and perfection all of their own, the slow slide from one season to the next. The light is soft, the air weighted with mists, and the greens in the trees are scattered with flecks of gold where the sun has lingered longest. On the peaceful River Lathkill, all was calm and quiet, save for the low bubble of the water and the occasional splash of the swan's wings.
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Don't adjust your set, it's the gate that's (very) wonky! Of all the wonky gates in all the world, this one is my favourite. It can be a little hard to push open, and blimey you've got to run through it quickly unless you want to lose half a leg when it crashes shut behind you, but I love that you reach it through the towering trees on this path beneath Stanage Edge, and that it leads out into the bright autumn fields above the Hope Valley.
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This is the beautiful Peak District village of Alstonefield, looking about as perfect as possible in the early morning autumn light. It has a village green, a country pub, a 12th Century church, more pretty houses than you can shake a stick at, and perhaps best of all, Bert's Bench under the spreading golden sycamore. Who wouldn't want to sit here for a while and watch the sunlight catching in the fallen gold?
