An evening escape from everyday life can be every bit as rejuvenating as a full weekend away, if you know where to find it. For me, that meant a post-work dash to catch the train to Edale, then scrambling up Crowden Clough on Kinder Scout beneath a sky that would soon fill with stars.
I hopped off at Edale Station, my rucksack feeling reassuringly light. My goal was to clear the crux of Crowden Clough before dark. With the clocks only just changed to summertime, daylight was tight. Into the pack went only the essentials: bivvy bag, sleeping bag, sleeping mat, a flask of tea, a toothbrush, a warm hat, and a few sandwiches. I knew it would be a cold, clear night, perfect for stargazing but potentially biting when exposed to the wind.
From the station, I set a lively pace, weaving through Edale village and passing the Old Nag’s Head, that famed start of the Pennine Way. I headed toward Barber Booth, farmland underfoot, eager to reach my chosen scramble before dusk fell in earnest. Soon, I branched off to follow the river path into Crowden Clough. With all the dry weather we had been having, there was not much water in the stream. Some rocky step sections demanded a bit of hands-on focus but never felt too intimidating. Then I reached the final short, steep wall that offered multiple route options: a chimney, an arête, or the water gully on the right. I chose the latter, carefully picking my way up damp rocks and considering each foot placement.
By the time I topped out near Crowden Tower, the sun’s final golden rays stretched across Kinder’s high plateau. I paused, breathing in the crisp air and that satisfying sense of achievement. No sign of midges yet, a welcome perk of the cool and windy conditions. Scanning the edges, I found a shallow hollow offering some protection from the breeze. Two small tents nestled nearby, reminding me that I was not the only one seeking solitude. I unrolled my mat, slipped my sleeping bag into the bivvy, and zipped up tight, my hat pulled low. My flask of tea was a comforting lifeline as the temperature continued to drop.
Early in the night, the wind rattled my little cocoon, although it soon died down, leaving me under a dazzling canopy of stars. Wrapped in my sleeping bag, jacket serving as a makeshift pillow, I drifted off with that wonderful sense of remoteness, knowing full well I was just a short train ride from civilisation.
Morning arrived sharp and cold, heavy dew coating my bivvy bag. My numb fingers made packing up slow work, although soon I had bundled away the mat, sleeping bag, and bivvy, stowing them in the top of my rucksack. I set off at a brisk walk to warm up. The Kinder plateau’s edge unfolded in the morning light, the Dark Peak stretching away to the Great Ridge in the distance. Time was tight and my train would not wait, so I kept moving, enjoying the open vistas while staying focused on the descent down Grindsbrook Clough.
Scrambling down Grindsbrook demanded caution. Slick rocks can be as tricky descending as they are ascending. Part of me wanted to linger for photos of the gritstone formations or the tumbling stream, but with an eye on the clock, I pressed on. Soon, the path flattened and the fields around Edale came into view. I jogged back to the station with mud clinging to my fell shoes, feeling more alive than ever.
Not even 24 hours had passed since I left my desk, yet it felt like I had packed in days of adventure. After a quick shower and a change into fresh clothes, I was back at work, riding that “post-microadventure” buzz. This was my classic 5-to-9 trip: proof that sometimes all you need is an evening, a bivvy, and the willingness to step out under the night sky. Adventure really is closer than you think, especially when you can catch a train straight to it.