Lifestyle Envy In The Secret Garden

This weekend was "Hidden Gardens & Courtyards of Wirksworth", where for a trifling £3.50, people like me, who enjoy peeping into other folk's gardens and houses can gratify their curiosity and enjoy a good deal of home made cake, all in one fell swoop.  Wirksworth is the ideal kind of town for this, where town houses and workers cottages rub shoulders in an "up hill, down dale" topography.  It's a place with many crooked alleys and narrow ginnels weaving between limestone walls, and being invited to have a snoop into some of them is an opportunity not to be missed. 

The 20 gardens are spread out all over town, so there is the added advantage of getting some exercise to work off the calories in between tea n' cake stops.    We began by parking at the Ecclesbourne Steam Railway station, where steamy types go to eye vintage rolling stock.  Tickets for the weekend event were on sale at the Wirksworth Community Garden, just up the hill.  This is a worthy project, in which townsfolk grow fruit and vegetables on a plot cleared from the weeds and nettles of the slope overlooking the railway.  As a saxophone quartet tootled in the background, visitors admired the raised beds and claimed their lapel stickers ready for the hike up Wash Green to the next garden. This is an interesting part of town which I had never explored before, full of all kinds of domestic and workshop buildings, thrown together in a higgledy piggledy way.  Prospect House had an acre of well tended lawns intersperced with fruit trees, and a good view down over Wirksworth.  The fairy cakes were most acceptable.

Back down the hill in Coldwell Street, "Greengates" was a perfect hidden garden, squeezed between tall stone houses and on many levels.  There were some beautiful old fashioned roses, a mossy old apple tree, a charming summerhouse and a tree peony with fascinating flowers. A couple of stalls sold vintage gardening tools and another plants.  It was all very Country Living.  Next door, some chaps with guitars and a washboard were entertaining the visitors squeezed into the mediterranean style courtyard of a B&B. 

 Church Walk, 15 St John's Street, Birch House...more tiny but inspired gardens full of flowers.  The smell of roses and lavender was delightful.  The worst thing about this type of event is that occasionally, as you pass the door to someone's perfect kitchen, the type with blue enamelled range cookers and Sweet Williams in artsy jugs on the sunny windows, you feel a dark undertow of bitter envy.  When are my lottery numbers going to come up, so that I too can have a house this cute and a potager this neat and a summerhouse this ditsy?

At Orchard House, just off the main road through Wirksworth, a young guy in dungarees with a long straggly white beard welcomed us friendly tones to a large, romantically rambling green oasis, which was a cross between The Good Life, Glamping, and Away With The Fairies.  A small rose garden redolent of perfume gave way to a wildflower meadow, beyond which was an enclosure for pygmy goats and a turkey.

 Further on was a pond full of wriggling tadpoles, overlooked by the perfect Hippy summerhouse, complete with floral curtains, pot pourri, a tigerskin chaise longe and a Still surrounded by empty gin bottles.  A hammock and one of those swingy lougers looked nice places to relax on a summer evening.  I bet it's fun with candles in the lanterns but I guess you have to be careful not to fall in the pond when half cut.  

This is the life!  Note handy gin bottles



Two small black sheep where cutting the grass near the neat vegetable garden.  A plant stand near the house displayed old shoes in which sedums and other plants were growing.  So many imaginative and amusing touches in this garden, like the Hansel and Gretel wigwam, and the fence panel made out of the tangled stems of an ancient ivy, cut from some wall where it had grown into hoary, hairy wood.  Sadly, just as we came within sight of the tea urn and cake stall, the sunny sky darkened and it began to rain.  This soon turned into hail.  It being nearly five, the gardens were beginning to shut up shop anyway, so we took refuge in the Mistral for a coffee until the shower blew over. 

With several gardens yet to be viewed, we were pleased to discover that our lapel stickers entitled us to another go tomorrow.  So we wended homewards with the hope that the weather would be kind enough to allow us a further afternoon of snooping on Sunday.

From Steamy Architecture to Rude Ladies: Alderwasley Walk



We popped in to High Peak Junction first of all, to take a peek inside Leawood Pumping Station, which was in steam today. 

Some steam enthusiasts with bushy beards had one of the two large boilers well stoked up and the massive beam engine inside was busy lifting water from the River Derwent to feed the Cromford Canal.  In the days when the canal was working, barges moving through the locks between here and Langley Mill, plus leakage from the canal (at a higher level than the river) meant that water had to be pumped in to keep boats from grounding.


Two steam boilers, once stoked up and one empty


It is the first time I have been inside this sturdy Victorian building, and I was impressed how well the volunteers keep it.  It was interesting to see the water surging into the canal, under the surface, and the ducks no doubt enjoyed the jacuzzi effect.

From thence we drive on to Ambergate, and parked at the station, where the day's walk proper began.  The first stretch, into Shining Wood, leads through a strange expanse of derelict factories, the "Wire Works", where ruinous old houses, massive abandoned concrete and steel warehouses, and a clutter of brick outbuildings, are slowly being invaded by nature. It would make a great setting for one of those films about most of the earth's inhabitants being killed by an alien bug, a murder story, or a trendy urban backdrop for some futuristic fashion shoot.

Abandoned house near Wire Works

Happily, the ugly factories eventually give way to the green slopes of Shining Wood.  Apparently this woodland is very ancient - being part of Duffield Frith, a Norman hunting forest once owned by the de Ferrers family.  There are some very old and beautiful sweet chestnut trees along the path, with their characteristic gnarled and furrowed trunks and long sawtoothed leaves. The path was quite steep and wet where a little stream was trying to adopt the path as its bed, but I made it to the top without getting my sandal clad feet wet.  Here the path emerged into meadow land, which looked to be part of the Alderwasley Hall estate. A wide expanse of wildflowers brightened the slope down to our right.  Ahead, the Hall now a private school) provided a landmark to steer by.



In Shining Cliff Woods


Emerging onto a lane we decided to make a detour to visit St Margaret's Chapel, the oldest building in the village.  This early 16th century "chapel of ease" was apparently abandoned for many years but rescued in 1980 and converted into the parish hall.  The main gate to the chapel grounds is locked but an entrance to the graveyard is hidden further up the lane. I was interested to examine the reputedly haunted building, because it is said to have a medieval  "Sheela Na Gig" carving - one of those rude semi pagan carvings of a hag displaying her naughty bits.  We found the worn exhibitionist ancient set into the wall of the South front, at a convenient height to photograph.  One has the feeling that she was not originally built into this part of the chapel.  The stone looks too large for the wall, even though the roofline was once lower.  On a Victorian photo of the chapel which I found on an archaeology web page, she does not feature at all.  Perhaps she was moved here in one of the 19th or 20th century alterations to the structure.

Photographing Sheela

Back on the path we wended our way back down into the river valley and crossed the river and the busy A6 road at Derwent Hotel.  The ivy clad pub was closed up, and we concluded that like so many other hostelries in the area, like the late lamented Holmesford Cottage, it had fallen a victim to the current recession. 

Musing on the dismal state of the national economy, we walked down a long stretch of canal towpath along the Cromford Canal.  This part was even more leafy and weedy than the Cromford to Whatstandwell section and there was not the evidence of tree clearance that we had seen on previous walks along the canal.  With the trees now in full leaf it was quite shady and the sky threatened rain, but it came to nothing in the end.  Feeling in need of refreshments we took another detour at this point - to the "greasy spoon" trailer in the bikers' layby that plies its wares on the noisy road between Ambergate and Matlock.  The bill of fare centred exclusively around butties - bacon, sausage, egg etc and a strong reek of frying fat filled the air.  Scared of a cholestrol induced heart attack simply from inhaling, we bought a tea and a hot chocolate and sat on the nearby wall to drink it while we eyed the bikes.

From there it was but a short stretch to a hump backed stone bridge where the canal starts to peter out, and descending to the road near the Hurt Arms we soon found ourselves back at the station car park. 

Well Dressing Weekend - Part Two

Our well dressing weekend continued with a trip to the charming higgledy piggledy town of Wirksworth, where the annual Bank holiday carnival featured nine well dressings by various community groups.

St Mary's Church was prettily decorated with flowers and a band of volunteers served tea and cakes to visitors eager to get out of the wind for a bit.

On the marketplace some brave souls manned stalls, and we bought some beautifully decorated cupcakes from a couple who were looking a bit lonely.

The microbrewery seemed the busiest place in town.  The town always has a good community spirit and it is a shame the sun did not shine on their efforts, but everyone seemed to be having a good time regardless.

Well Dressing Weekend - Part One

It's that time of year when Derbyshire villages start well dressing.  Despite a cool and windy Bank Holiday weekend, with the threat of a shower ever present, L, S and I set off to explore the rural delights of our village celebrations.

Although there are a couple of real wells in Brackenfield, they are a bit too far off the beaten track for easy access, so instead we have kind of 'notional' wells.  Basically, you put a jar of water out to symbolise the well (and for people to drop coins into) and carry on regardless. 






The theme this year was "The Seasons" and the school "well" boasted a charming autumn scene of a country cottage, the panel topped with a realistic rendition of a sheaf of corn complete with poppies.  It was widely pronounced the best Brackenfield dressing to date. 


Outside, on the expansive village green, the dull weather did nothing to deter patrons of the bouncy castle, coconut shy and skittles alley. Mr Whippy did not seem to be doing much business, but there was a brisk trade in homemade cake, sausage rolls and egg sandwiches in the old schoolroom. 

Down at Holy Trinty Church, the local flower arrangers had a different theme "countries of the world", and I made sure to take a photo of the floral tribute to Kiwi Country for my uncle Brian in New Zealand.  There was also a nice green arrangement with a Guiness bottle for Ireland, and "Scotland" was celebrated with the help of a tartan picnic rug and a pair of bagpipes.

 "The Ideal Holiday" - a colourful display featuring a hula skirt and a pineapple.  S wanted to take a photo but found her view blocked by a straggling family.  She successfully persuaded them to move by slumping into a pew and adopting an attitude of deeply reverential prayer.  They disappeared immediately.  I must remember that one for future occasions.  

The Methodist church was also serving tea.  Now obviously we couldn't show favouritism, so we had to stop for a cuppa there too.

S admires the detail on the Methodist Church well (awww! look at the teeny wishing well!)

We rounded off our trip with a stroll around the village and admired the brilliant red poppies amongst the green corn in one of the fields.

Lavender Cake at The Village Hall

 May Day Bank Holiday and still the incredible sunshine continues.  We decided to combine a walk with some rustic festivities and dropped in to Elton, a pretty village in the limestone area beyond Stanton Moor.  The village hall was serving refreshments and it was hard to decide which of the yummy homebaked cakes to plump for (a few of those and plump could be the operative word!) In the end it was a toss up between carrot and banana muffins and lavender fairy cakes, but the lavender won the day.  Out the front an elderly lady in a pink Easter bonnet was doing a brisk trade on the plant stall.



Stop waving that cake!

 Down the village street, with its attractive old stone cottages another villager ("Sue") had left a plant sales display out on the verge, with handwritten instructions to help yourself and post the money through the letterbox of the house opposite.  We made a note to return for a yellow margerite later.

Our walk started down a deep sided lane which descended the valley to a gate by the road where the path led up to Robin Hood's  or "Mock Beggars' Hall", so called because the striking grit stone outcrop has two pinnacles which at a distance slightly resemble the chimneys of some fantastical manor house.  Some say that they were used as alignment points by the ancient people who erected Nine Stones Close, a short distance away down the hillside.  The whole Stanton Moor area is certainly a fascinating one for anyone interested in stone circles and ancient remains.

After a quick photostop at Nine Stones Close, where sadly only four tall standing stones still remain from a vanished ring, we headed down the road and turned left on a sandy path through some woodlands of mixed conifers and broadleaf trees, where bluebells were still flowering.  This led into an open field with a steep hill on the left which on the map was labelled "Castle Ring". 

Castle Ring is situated on Harthill Moor in the eastern gritstone moorlands of Derbyshire. The monument is a sub-circular enclosure comprising a bank, external ditch and counterscarp bank surrounding an area of about a hectare. The internal bank or rampart appears to be of simple dump construction and varies between one metre and two metres high, while the counterscarp bank is between metre and one metre high. The ditch is c. metre wide and is less distinct on the south side where there is no rampart visible. This is an indication that the original entrance lay in this region. The monument has not been excavated but it forms part of a rich Bronze Age landscape on Harthill Moor which also includes burial mounds, a second enclosure and Nine Stones Close stone circle (Derbyshire HER ref. scheduling report 1994)

 

Circling round behind Robin Hood's Stride we skirted some woodland and whilst crossing a stile saw a photocopied notice for "Serenity Cafe" at nearby Cliffe Farm.  Evidently some enterprising farmer's wife is "diversifying", as the farm also ran a self catering cottage, and several other walkers were taking advantage of the sunshine on the couple of tables outside.  We availed ourselves of a coffee (one has to patronise local businesses) and then carried on our way.  The walk up the hillside back to Elton village was a pretty one, with lush spring grass and the hawthorn coming into blossom.  Its an odd geological mix for the white stone walls tell you that you are in limestone country, whilst  and there the softly rounded landscape is peppered with small gritstone crags. 

 

Back in Elton we simply had to pop into the village hall again for more tea (well, the loos were very handy) and nip down the road to pick up the yellow margerite (£1.40 - a bargain! Thanks Sue).  Later, when I got home, a cheerful lady rang me to say that I had won a toolbox in the village hall raffle.  Unfortunately I am back at work tomorrow and can't collect my booty, but hopefully it will help to raise funds at the next raffle.



Oh the joy of sun on one's face!



The World & His Dog at Padley Gorge



Me & My Compass

 

Two more days of freedom before the Easter / Royal Wedding / May Bank Holiday Fest comes to an end and I have to go back to work.  Being the Sunday before a Bank Hol it was probably a bad time to choose to visit the National Trust's popular Longshaw Estate for a walk, because with the weather continuing fine, sunny and warm, the world and his dog were tramping the moors.  We couldn't squeeze into the main car park so ended up at the overflow a mile or so away, but by some serendipity this turned out to be very close to the Grouse Inn, which was on our walk route. 

Anyway, we set off up the hill into a strong wind. Luckily we had our comedy sunhats with us which prevented drafty ears, but there was some anxiety about them blowing off and wrapping themselves round the face of an unsuspecting hiker.  We weren't sure if we were following quite the right track.  Later it transpired that we weren't, but we still ended up at the right place - descending from woods to Grindleford Station.  See - even with a compass I have no sense of direction.  Good job L is better at this kind of stuff. 



The view was good, but listen to the video and you'll see what I mean about the wind.

The cafe at Grindleford Station was heaving, and the picnic tables swarmed with people nibbling ice creams and plates of chips, as a single teenager strived manfully with a long queues and a lack of change.  L and I were very amused by the multiplicity of admonatory signs covering every available space.  Those visiting the loo (For Customer Use Only) were exhorted to remember that "taps don't turn themselves off". Outside tables were "Not for you to have a rest at but for paying diners only".  Visitors were asked "Not to be rowdy" and a counter inside was labelled "This is a serving hatch, NOT a viewing area".  Lest we start to think that customers were a nusisance, there were also notes to the staff.  I particularly liked "WIPE YOUR SPOUT" over the expresso milk frother. Put me off having a coffee anyway.



Totley Tunnel



We passed the charming Padley Mill and started ascending the gorge.  The path is a stoney one, involving much stepping over blocks of grit stone and stubbing your feet on tree roots, through a grove of gnarled trees twisted into strange forms by age and weather. 

At one point I thought I had found "Little John's Well" as marked on a map, but it turned out to be an old explosives store from when this area was quarried for the stone used to build Howden Dam.  As we ascended the gorge it got busier and busier, with dogs, toddlers, teens and scouts all milling around.  The rushing stream in the rocky valley bottom below was a magnet, particularly for the dogs and children, who were enjoying that timeless game of jumping in and out, slipping off boulders and getting very wet.





A tree hug

At the very top of the gorge the scene began to ressemble Skegness, with much pink flesh on display - none of it very attractive.  We steered in the direction of Longshaw Lodge, a grey grit stone Victorian mansion, which I presume was built by Lord Manners purely as a "Shooting Box", for the outlook over the moors cannot have been attractive in anything other that high summer, and even then it is a windy exposed spot.  The breeze was still trying to pull our hats off and the dust from the well trampled paths threatened contact lens problems at any moment. However, we made it to the National Trust Tearoom with no mishap, where L tried a Fentiman's Rose Lemonade (smashing!) and I had a Mandarin and Seville Orange Jigger (very refreshing).



Longshaw Lodge



From thence we walked to White Edge Moor, heading down a path by a dreer looking stone lodge.  I can't imagine who lived there in such a windswept and treeless place - perhaps a grumpy gamekeeper. It was pleasant to get away from the pushchairs and grannies for a while however, and there was a fine view across to the more hospitable wooded valley opposite.  Back at the car it was a relief to get out of the breeze and a cup of tea from the thermos went down nicely.

Tea at "Robin Hood"

This is one of my favourite short walks - along the Cromford Canal to the oddly named hamlet of Robin Hood near Whatstandwell.

We left the car at High Peak Junction car park and quickly crossed the footbridge to the canal (it pays not to hang about as there is a sewage farm here!)   From the junction and the information centre you take the path on the opposite side heading away from Cromford and passing Leawood Pumping Station.  The canal is shallow and silted up these days, overhung with trees and home to reeds and weeds, making it useless for boats but ideal for waterbirds and wetland creatures.  And it being late April there is the added attraction of watching families of tiny fluffy duckings bobbing around their mothers. The Derbyshire Wildlife Trust have been doing quite a lot of felling along the path, which is opening up the tree canopy to more light and will doubtless encourage more wild flowers.   

 The path runs along with the river Derwent down to your right and the canal on your left, and at one point Crich Stand is briefly visible ahead, on its cliff of quarried limestone. It seems odd that the canal is at a higher level than the river, but as canal, road, river and railway all share the same ribbon of flat land at the bottom of this wooded valley, I guess they all have to fit in somehow!

At one point the path passes under a narrow brick tunnel and in another under this charming little bridge.  Eventually the canal curves and the tiny hamlet of Robin Hood comes unexpectedly into sight.  The Old Sawmill was apparently once the place where gritstone from Dukes Quarries above was sawn up and loaded onto barges for transport. Today it is a very pretty looking B&B with a lovely situation overlooking the water and backed by a steep slope up to Oxhays Woods, where the quarries used to be located.  A brook must have provided the power for the mill, and can still be seen rushing through a series of archways.  Beyong the Sawmill is a footbridge and crossing it you come into an area of woodland crisscrossed by footpaths. The wild garlic plant (Ransoms) flourishes in this shady spot and the smell at this time of year is so strong it's hard not to think about garlic bread!

A short stroll through the woods and up a tarmac lane leads to the entrance to Oxhays Woods (full of bluebells still) on the left and the Oakford Cottage Tearooms on the left.  I love this place - not for the quality of its scones, but for the wonderful view from its terrace. On a bright day it's a real suntrap and I could sit for hours just enjoying the vista across the valley to Shining Cliff Woods.  It's open from Wednesday to Sunday each week, but there are only a few tables and at peak times John the owner closes the gate.  Last time we came we had to wait quite a while for a table.  You have been warned. But if you can squeeze in, it's worth the wait.  Some ducks and a peacock are usually strutting around or squabbling over crumbs in the garden field below. 

The attractive aluminium tableware is, I was informed by John, called "Piquotware", and has the ability to keep tea scalding hot for ages. He and his wife collected 14 sets for use in the cafe by scouring eBay.  

Eventually of course one has to pay the bill and descend the hillside again for the walk along the canalside back to High Peak Junction.