As mentioned yesterday, me and Master P took ourselves off to try out our sleuthing skills in the Sunday Times Treasure Hunt, or at least one of them, the one in the Peak District, and we reckon that underhandedness was afoot. The sort that Dick Dastardly would have been proud of.
We arrived at our first destination about lunchtime after a headlit drive through the misty Derbyshire hills. Ashbourne was below the clouds, so we wandered about in the drizzle instead.
Anyway, having demisted my glasses after returning to the car we checked the map and set off again. “Drive north for a mile on the A515, then turn left — and left again when you see signs of a hound and a hen.” Check.
“Now you’re aiming west, through a hamlet that shares its name with a Liberal Jeremy and a cricketing Graham.” Check. “Cross the boundary into Staffordshire…” Er, no. There’s a road closed sign.
We pulled into a car park and opened up the map, but there was no other way to get where we wanted to be than by doubling back, heading north, west, then south to the “funny, faux-alpine village full of chalet-style cottages,” that should have been our third stop.
Now all we had to do was the drive the couple of miles to where we should have been. Wrong. There was another road closed sign. We looked at each. “Walk it?” I said, then thought, “Sod it!” and drove round the sign.
I drove slowly wondering how I was going to manage a three-point turn in the narrow lane should I come across road works or a fallen tree, but there was nothing and we arrived safely at Dove Dale where we should have been an hour before.
And being conspiracy theorists, the only explanation we could think of was that another treasurer hunter (we saw at least three others) was trying to scupper the trail for everyone else. But all ended well as by then the mists had gone to be replaced by sun as we strolled through the stunning scenery en route to answering question three.
I took photos of the day, some better than others, and I’ll post them later. Once entries close!