I got the bus from Sheffield to my first ever Peak District trail run - here's what I found
I tried my first-ever trail run just a short bus ride from Sheffield - and before I knew it, I was soaking in the Peaks’ rolling hills and the sparkling waters of Ladybower Reservoir.
I love running. Which makes it slightly embarrassing to admit I’d never tried a proper trail run before.
Maybe it’s because my ankles have a habit of snapping or spraining at the worst possible times. Or maybe it’s because I’m perfectly content looping Endcliffe Park and up through Forge Dam - simple, beautiful, and right on my doorstep.
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But after a year injury-free and a rare day off, I decided it was time to swap tarmac for trails.
We’re lucky in Sheffield. In less than an hour you can be in the Peak District without touching a car.
The bus route
The journey began on the High Peak 272 bus from Sheffield Interchange - a route that doesn’t just get you to Hope and Castleton — but also stops at Hathersage and Bamford, meaning there are loads of Peak District running and hiking options just one ride away.
It’s honestly a gem of a service for Sheffielders who don’t drive. For a couple of quid, you get a mini sightseeing tour as the city gives way to valleys, hillsides, and autumn-coloured fields.
I hopped off at Church stop — still my favourite bus stop name for how bluntly obvious it is — and walked past the post office and along Edale Road.
From there, Aston Lane took me steadily upwards, and then… well, upwards some more.
The route
I’d chosen the Hope Village to Win Hill Summit Loop on Komoot, thinking it would be a nice introduction to trails.
Only after committing did I realise it was 13.6 miles, not kilometres.
“Oh well,” I told myself, “I’ve done 20k on the road before. And a half marathon. How bad can it be?” Besides — I had a big packet of Squashies at the ready for essential “fuel.”
The route quickly switched from road to trail. Paths were mostly well-trodden and manageable, which was a relief to my weak ankles.
The scenery, though, was anything but manageable — it demanded attention. Fields rolled out in every direction, with grass shimmering purple in places and the blue of the reservoir glinting below.
The climb up Win Hill was relentless. Stone steps forced me to admit defeat and walk the final stretch. But reaching the summit made it all worthwhile.
I saw Ladybower glimmering in the distance, and knew I had to keep pushing on to get to see it up close.
The hill descended into luscious woodland and clear paths - and thankfully, the hills seemed to cease for a while.
Running level to the reservoir, I could see the water levels were clearly low — a reminder of Yorkshire Water’s hosepipe ban — but even with its shrunken shoreline, it was still beautiful.
I tried to ration my Squashies, but realistically, I’d already eaten half the bag on the bus. Still, when I hit Ladybower I dug into the rest and, honestly, the sugar hit worked wonders. A sudden boost of energy and a reminder that running fuel can actually be fun.
When I finally reached the bridge I’d been looking out at all those km’s ago, I had to stop and take in the reservoir’s overflow system (yes, I had to Google what it was actually called: a “coolant expansion tank”). The engineering feels almost otherworldly — a giant plughole in the middle of this natural landscape.
From there, another descent led me into shaded woodland before flattening out along the Thornhill Trail, a smoother path skirting the reservoir. This would make a great shorter run or walk on its own.
Here, I passed wooden animal sculptures tucked into the path — small details that pushed me on as my body finally started to catch up with my mind. It was also the stretch where I bumped into the most people, all of them friendly and encouraging. Two men even said they couldn’t believe I’d made it from the top of Win Hill - exactly the boost I needed to push on.
Eventually, I re-joined Thornhill Lane and hit the tarmac back into Hope. My legs were exhausted, but my spirits were ridiculously high.
Back in the village, I grabbed a much-needed coffee (bliss) before checking the post office bus stop hadn’t magically disappeared. It hadn’t, and soon enough I was back on the 272, heading for Sheffield (apologies again to whoever had to sit next to my sweaty self).
The verdict
I loved every second, even the ones that felt pretty painful. Trail running is harder, slower, and hillier than pounding pavements in Sheffield, but it was also more rewarding than I imagined. Time flew by, not because I was chasing it, but because I was actually enjoying where I was.
Sheffielders can be guilty of taking the Peak District for granted, but it’s incredible how accessible it is. Forty-five minutes on a bus and you’re on world-class trails, with hills, reservoirs, and views that could easily pass for a running holiday abroad.
I will absolutely be back, but next time I might even bring more Squashies.