The village of Edale is the epitome of the English countryside with houses unique and neatly arranged. Parallel to them runs a delicate stream. Lying across the stream we found a tree which had lost its footing and fallen. Here, instead of dying, its branches had become roots and buried themselves into the ground, where it has stayed defiantly, forever reaching towards the sky. The biggest feature of Edale is the railway station, which (and I can testify to this as we slept overnight in the car park) is as sleepy as the rest of the town. It seemed as if the place were untouched, a haven nestling in the hills. This was the impression the entire area exuded.
Perhaps as a result of the Englishness in Edale, once up in the hills, navigating the lumpy stone forest, it felt as if it were an entirely alien land. Bouncing around my head in accompaniment to this was the sound of a malevolent banjolele tinkling; stuck in my head as result of a CD we’d picked up at car boot sale in rural Wales. It featured the breathy elf-like tones of a woman singing lyrics like "the wind blows, blows my beard away". An aptly bewitching soundtrack.
Atop the hillside on Kinder Scout, natural tor-like stone structures perched defiantly, often precariously. They were asking to be climbed. We strayed from the map, running to and fro in a childlike frenzy, searching for the biggest and bestest climbing stones. Kinder Scout is full of adventure potential.
Far and away from our immediate surroundings, the hills continued to rise and plunge around us, sometimes opening up to reveal immense valleys. The final descent led us to a breathtaking panorama overlooking the vale of Edale. We marked our progress throughout the land and observed just how isolated the area really is.