Kiveton Park to Kiveton Bridge via the Cuckoo Way

The Cuckoo Way

This morning, Sybil and I boarded a train to Kiveton Park station. We immediately turned right onto a small section of the Chesterfield Canal towpath, known as the Cuckoo Way. I always enjoy a nice bit of canal-walking, so I do.

The towpath and canal

We bumped into (not literally) two men walking a Labrador Retriever. Both dogs had a quick dash about after realising that neither one was going to rip the other's throat out. When the three of them had disappeared, Sybil decided she was thirsty and walked down the bank to the canal. Before I could call her away, there was a sudden SPLASH: my dear dog had fallen in the canal.

I quickly dumped backpack and camera on the towpath and ran down to help her out. I hoped to escape a dip myself; luckily she was frantically paddling away at the edge. I grabbed her collar and lifted her up onto the bank, where she gave me several good soakings shaking all the water from her fur.

No words, no words at all

Now she was safely on the towpath again, the next ten minutes passed with me laughing, and then laughing some more. I giggled on the train home when the incident popped into my mind again, much to the bemusement of the other passengers, and I'm giggling again now typing it up. Sorry Sybil.

Anyway, moving on. We were soon at the end of the towpath where my still-damp Sybil posed for a quick picture. We then crossed the road into a long field; soon reaching her usual 100 mph, fur-face quickly dried off. Unfortunately then it was back on the lead as we met the residents of the field:

Whatchu lookin' at?

Finally we reached Kiveton Community Woodland which, like my beloved Silverwood, is a former colliery site.

The site has a large number of footpaths running through and around it with plenty of long grass, which obviously Sybil enjoyed! We passed the waters, where several fishermen were enjoying, um, fishing, and paused to read this touching memorial noting the names of the men and boys whose lives were lost working in the colliery:

Memorial

We then came to the foot of the interesting zig-zag path. I suppose it does make the ascent somewhat easier. There is another, not so steep, path to the left but of course Sybil headed straight for the most energy-draining. Well, I suppose we have climbed Pen-y-ghent...

Summit, here we come!

 Some artwork at the top of the hill paid tribute to the days of the working colliery:

We wandered around, rather aimlessly, for the next hour and a half. Sybil occasionally looked up to see which way I was going, but other than that had her nose constantly snuffling through the long grass, picking up fox, small mammal and other dog scents, I should imagine. A few more doggy friends were made, but most of the time she was content to go it alone, doing her own thing.


Three and a half hours off-lead made for one happy dog, so we caught the half-past-two train home; that is, after I wiped down my mud-splattered trousers. No need to worry about Sybil: Teflon-dog looked as though she had come straight from the groomers, as usual. Even after her earlier mishap. Sorry, still giggling.