We were, inevitably, way too early. But that was okay; it meant we had chance to drink in the morning light … and a morning coffee… at the Barrel Inn, perched high above the little village of Great Hucklow where, in a magical shift of imagination and by the power of a ‘willing suspension of disbelief’, we would soon find ourselves in the temples of ancient Egypt.
For the moment, however, we stood with the wind in our hair, blowing away the cobwebs of the night. Below us a bank of yellow gorse echoed the sunlight, tumbling like a golden stream down the hillside… a river of the sun indeed.
The road that runs along the ridge from the ancient hillfort of Burr Tor is little more than a narrow track. On one side are tamed fields, bounded by age-old walls of Derbyshire stone; on the other the wild moors…
View original post 212 more words