On a bright February afternoon, with the sun shining and a crisp breeze in the air, I set off from Trentabank car park in Macclesfield Forest, heading towards Shutlingsloe, Cheshire’s distinctive, pointed hill. The car park sits beside the reservoir, surrounded by tall pine trees, quite the tallest I have ever seen, and the forest is full of life even in winter. Sunlight filters through the branches, casting shifting patterns on the path, and now and then, a rustle in the undergrowth suggests deer moving between the trees. Their presence was evidenced by the strips of bark from trees on the steeper slopes. The whole reserve is home to a variety of birds, and although I did not spot one of the peregrine falcons known to nest nearby, I did see a heron at close quarters on the reservoir, and a meadow pipit on the moor, as well as hearing the solitary cry of (I think) a lapwing.
The trail begins with a steady climb through the forest, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Despite recent rain, the path is firm underfoot, with only a few patches of mud where the shade has kept the ground soft. Gradually, the trees start to thin, and the landscape changes. Leaving the shelter of the woodland, I step onto open moorland, and ahead, the unmistakable peak of Shutlingsloe rises starkly against the blue sky. Often called the ‘Cheshire Matterhorn’ for its sharp, pyramidal shape, it isn’t the tallest hill in the area, but its dramatic outline makes it stand out against the surrounding countryside like a wizard's hat.
Crossing the moor, the views begin to widen. Looking back, I can see the dark green canopy of Macclesfield Forest stretching down towards the reservoirs, their bare branches catching the sunlight and resonating in vivid algal green. The ground here is dry, at 4 degrees, the last frost of winter perhaps lingering in shaded hollows, and the undying wind hints at an earthy scent of heather. The final approach to the summit is the steepest part of the walk, a series of stone steps winding up towards the trig point. With each step, the view expands, until finally, reaching the top, I’m greeted with a stunning 360-degree panorama.
The air is crisp and clear, perfect for admiring the vast expanse of countryside below. To the north, the rugged ridges of the Peak District roll towards Kinder Scout, while to the south, the Cheshire Plain stretches endlessly towards the horizon. On exceptionally clear days, it’s even possible to make out the distant peaks of Eryri. The wind is brisk at the summit and quickly freezes my fingers, but it’s worth lingering for a while, taking in the sweeping views and the quiet sense of being on top of the world. A cup of green tea in a sheep hollow offers comfort, and an opportunity to linger over the views.
Heading back down, the steepest sections require a little care, but the descent is easier on the legs. The late afternoon sun casts ever longer shadows across the moorland, adding a golden hue to the heather, and as I re-enter Macclesfield Forest, there’s a sudden stillness in the air. The scent of pine feels stronger now, the ground softer beneath my boots. The reservoirs below gleam in the shifting light, and the whole place has taken on a deeper quiet.
Returning to Trentabank car park, the forest feels even more peaceful than when I set out. The birds are settling, the sun is lower in the sky, and the whole landscape seems to exhale in the evening light. It has been only a few hours, but the walk has felt like an escape; big skies, fresh air, and the satisfaction of a proper climb. On a sunny weekday in February, with barely another soul on the moors, Shutlingsloe feels like a little wilderness of its own, right on the edge of the Peak District.
No comments:
Post a Comment