Chrome Hill sits above the Dove Valley with the sort of shape that makes even a casual walker stop and take proper notice. It is not large, but it has a sharp-backed presence that alters the feel of the whole valley, particularly on a clear, cold morning when the light catches along its ridge and the lower ground holds mist in the folds.

From Hollinsclough, the land opens steadily rather than dramatically, with fields and walls giving way to the rising limestone forms of Chrome Hill and its neighbour, Parkhouse Hill. What stands here is not simply a hill but part of an ancient reef knoll system, formed over 300 million years ago when this country lay beneath a warm tropical sea. The ridge you walk today is the remnant of that seabed, lifted, tilted and worn back into something lean and deliberate.

The name itself is older than it first appears. “Chrome” is widely thought to come from early Celtic roots, where crum or crom means bent or curved, which fits the shape well enough without argument. It has nothing to do with metal or industry. The hill takes its name from its form, not from anything buried within it. Locally, it is often called part of the “Dragon’s Back,” a description that is not official but lands accurately once you have walked the ridge.

The atmosphere here has a certain edge to it. In late spring, with the grass returned but the air still carrying a chill, the place can feel both fresh and severe. Mist settles low in the Dove Valley while the ridge stands clear above it, and the light runs cleanly along the spine of the hill. It is one of those places that photographs well without much persuasion, largely because it throws shadow properly and keeps its lines simple. There is a faint, hard-edged mood to it that some will recognise from its use in the final series of Peaky Blinders, where the production made use of the surrounding landscape for its exposed, unsentimental character. It appears briefly, without announcement, and then returns to itself.

There is no comfort built into the hill. No café, no shelter worth mentioning, and no reason for either. Food and drink belong to the start or the finish of the walk, carried in a flask or taken later in one of the nearby villages. Chrome Hill is not arranged for visitors. It is arranged for weather, sheep and those prepared to walk it properly.

Parking at Hollinsclough remains the practical starting point, though it pays to be considerate. This is working countryside, and the lanes are narrow and used. From there, routes across Chrome Hill, Parkhouse Hill and the Dove Valley provide a compact but satisfying walk, with steep sections, uneven ground and enough exposure to keep things honest.

On the day in question, it was cold in the air but clear on the ridge, which suited the Captain well enough. Chrome Hill gave height, shadow and a clean run of country, and asked for nothing in return beyond a steady set of legs. It does not make a display of itself. It stands, curved-backed and deliberate, and lets the land speak in its own time.