So life has taken another sharp twist and I am amidst new people in a new country taking baby steps to understand its different culture. Change is good and when you are in a different place its even better (not all hunky dory but yeah good). So far I am loving it. The better half and me are slowly settling in Sheffield and just getting over the end of a long, much looked for Bank holiday weekend. So as the weekend approached we decided to give "settling in" a break and just go out footloose and fancy as true vagabonds.
As the sun rose on a lazy Saturday we were bustling to get out of the door and see what the countryside of England, a country rich in culture has to offer us. No plans, no maps, no nothing..just an idea, a curious mind and a strong spirit (not the liquid kind :P) to guide us. From Sheffield we reached Hope Valley in Derby shire aboard the Sheffield-Manchester Piccadilly train. As the the train slowly left Sheffield, the skyline changed rapidly to huge trees, beautiful foliage, undulating valleys and green in every hue, tantalizing and teasing our eyes. I keep repeating this and once again I plead guilty--nature is truly humbling.
As we got down the Hope valley station; it felt like time travel to a bygone era. It was a scene befitting a painting...eye-catching meadows, old cottage houses rearing sheep, cascading mountains, watch dogs et all. The weather at this time of the year is perfect. It is warm enough to give your legs a good exercise and cool enough to do all that in a light jacket.
The quaint little valley is dotted with ancient churches, castles, small delis and not-so-big pubs and is a haven for adrenalin junkies like bikers, pony trekkers and rock climbers and even artists, photographers, painters, bird-watchers. Considered as one of the best walking countryside in the UK, it lies between the grit-stone moors of the dark peak and limestone outcrops of the White peak. The whole belt is an amalgamation of different valleys, moors and other ruins.
As we were taking in the lovely sights; we decided to make out first stop. Churches have always been a major interest to me, I don't know what it is about them--the serenity and divinity which wafts out from the place, the architecture or just some energy which attracts me towards them. We stopped at the church of saint Peter, a beautiful church standing majestically just on the outskirts of the Hope hamlet. Its an old roman fort structure said to be built in 1858. Built of wood and sandstone; its regal and breathtaking. Towards the right of the Parish church is a graveyard giving the whole place a very melancholy feel.
At this point we realized that with half of the day gone it is time to have at least an inkling of a plan, we decided to give cycling (mind you the leisure kind) a hand. But each shop we went told us we need to go to Bamford easily two miles from Hope to get one; and that's when we hopped into a bus. Now, there is something truly different between people from city and those from countryside; they are in many ways more hospitable and thus pleasant. We got into a bus and asked the driver that we need to get down at Bamford and if knows any cycle rentals in that area. He was quick to answer in negative, but before we knew it we were going through the narrow lane and by lanes of Bamford because our man was searching for a cycle rental shop for us. He got us down right in front of our biggest need of the day. Needless to say, it left us pleasantly overwhelmed. Once we got our bikes, we mounted and took a second tour covering Bamford, Hope before fixing our mind on Castleton.
As we biked the lovely breeze slowly kissed our faces making sure we are never too tired to give it up thus pushing us to trudge along the billowing roads of the valley. A quick lunch comprising chips and cheese omelet in a countryside British pub we reached Castleton; a haven for travelers of all kind; as the name suggests Castleton is dominated by castles like the Norman castle, the Peak cavern, Peveril castle, the Castleton village etc.
We headed towards the famous Peak cavern; a collection of caves where an entire village sustained some 180 years back. Popularly known as the Devil's arse it is one of the biggest attraction here. It was owned by the Duchy of Lancaster. The entrance to the caves is jaw dropping beautiful; it looks like an immense cleft on a humungous rock sitting in sharp contrast to a quaint stream flowing nearby. As you go under the cleft you enter a wide, impressive entrance of the caves. Families engaged in rope making used to live here. And even today you can see a house or two; not bigger than your own double bed there. As a testimony to the thriving rope making industry of the yore, the cave managers still give you lessons and tours on how they did it.
Beyond the entrance a narrow passage leads to a chamber known the Bell-House. Continuing on along the path you reach a chamber called the Great Cave which is about 60m high and contains a passage in its roof which emerges near Peveril Castle. Interestingly, outsiders used to believe that devil stays inside this cave and since the gurgling stream would make some noise; it was said that the devil was passing gas. See what all the simple act of flatulence can do.
But for the sake of royalty the name was changed to Peak's Cavern sometime in the 1900s as the queen was supposed to visit the place. Now the queen cannot say arse so a much polite (albeit a little too straight for my twisted mind) so the cave was rechristened as Peak's Cavern.
We came out of Devil's arse totally thrilled and not just because no one exercised this natural right inside the dingy caves :) and I could not stop wondering how many such mysteries and beauties our Mother earth is abundant with. Unfortunately, we were told it was too late (4:30PM) to go to the other castles and caverns. And my only grouse was at the ticking clock.
But then it only gives me a reason to go back. And I can't wait to hop in that train once more to get ready to be teased once again by the lovely countryside of Hope district.
