A Frosty Night Under the Salt Cellar

A Frosty February Night Under the Salt Cellar

February 18th. A crisp, clear day, but a biting cold that promised a chilly night. With the temperature hovering around zero degrees Celsius, I was dropped off by Jo at Cutthroat Bridge, ready to embark on a solo wild camping adventure in the heart of the Peak District.

The hike began with a steady incline towards Whinstone Lee Tor viewpoint. The views were nothing short of breathtaking. To the left, the iconic silhouettes of Win Hill and Mam Tor dominated the landscape, while to the right, the vast expanse of the Derwent Moors and the edges of South Yorkshire stretched out before me. It was a panorama that made the climb worthwhile.

A short, steeper section led me to Derwent Edge, where I continued my journey, passing the impressive Wheel Stones. I paused at White Tor, soaking in the magnificent vistas. Finally, I reached my chosen campsite: a sheltered spot beneath the imposing Salt Cellar, a rock formation dating back 320 million years.

As the sun began to set, painting the valley in hues of orange and purple, I pitched my reliable Hilleberg Unna tent. The sight of the sun dipping below the horizon was truly magical. Then, the real treat: steak and asparagus cooked on my stove under a canopy of stars. There’s something incredibly satisfying about a gourmet meal in the wilderness.

Retreating to my tent, I settled in for the night, accompanied by the soothing voice of Ray Mears in my audiobook. Despite the freezing temperatures and the wind picking up outside, I was snug and warm in my shelter.

The next morning dawned gloriously. A layer of frost coated my tent, a reminder of the night's chill. I fired up the stove, brewed a steaming cup of coffee, and sat on the rocks, enjoying the serene beauty of the landscape. After packing up, I decided to check on some campers I had spotted the previous day.

The first group, camped near the Wheel Stones, had already departed. It's worth noting the Wheel Stones and Salt Cellar are made of Chatsworth Grit. This is a coarse-grained sandstone, formed in river systems during the Carboniferous period. It's this hard, durable rock that creates the dramatic edges and tors we see in the Peak District.

Continuing along the edge, I came across another tent, its door flapping in the wind, just as it had the day before. As I approached, it became clear that the tent had been abandoned. A sense of unease settled over me, a feeling I always experience when encountering deserted campsites. Inside, the tent was empty, save for a packet of tortilla wraps. It was damaged, but not beyond repair. I couldn’t help but wonder why someone would leave behind a perfectly usable tent.

With a heavy heart, I decided I couldn’t leave it there. It was an eyesore, and the risk of it being further damaged and spreading debris across the moorland was too great. Despite my backpack being full, I packed up the tent, using its guy lines to secure it.

The return journey to Cutthroat Bridge, where Jo was waiting, was only about 30 minutes. I finished my hike with the abandoned tent under my arm, a somewhat disappointing end to an otherwise fantastic trip.

This experience served as a stark reminder of the importance of responsible wild camping. The golden rule is simple: leave no trace. Take your rubbish home, and if possible, clean up after those who don’t. We owe it to the land to preserve its beauty and integrity.

Despite the unfortunate discovery, I can’t wait for my next adventure. I encourage you to experience the magic of wild camping for yourself. Just remember to respect the environment and leave it as you found it.

Until next time, happy trails!