While the rain fell in the north west of Scotland, things further south were much brighter. Indeed, the weather in Hathersage the morning after my grey and grim push through bleak Lanarkshire was positively cheerful, if a tad brisk early in the morning. Nevertheless, an early start was in order to make the most of the conditions with a ninety mile ride WSW to Shrewsbury. At this stage in October, any good weather is to be seized, and the forecast lent itself perfectly to two days of cycling with a day off in Shrewsbury, with Jenni, sandwiched in between.
It really was nice to be out in the hills. The Peak District looked a picture this morning, with autumn just beginning to show itself. My first twenty miles were well known to me, following a well trodden line out through Bradwell and then up through the White Peak to Tideswell, with its splendid parish church, known colloquially as the Cathedral of the Peak. The tower is decorated with the grandest of pinnacles at its four top corners, almost mini towers and spires themselves.
There is a long descent into Millersdale to cross the River Wye, and then a long climb back out again to reach the A6, albeit briefly, before cutting across the higher country above Buxton and between large quarries to the uppermost reaches of beautiful Dovedale. Here you are afforded the most exceptional view of Chrome and Parkhouse hills, two mini Alpine eminences with very steep sides and jagged, dinosaur back summits. They were a well kept secret in this seldom visited backwater until they featured in the very last episode of Peaky Blinders, and now – with the help of social media – these twin hills are rarely without people on their slopes. But they still thrill when viewed from all around. This road is one of the best vantage points, starting high above and descending rapidly to their base.
Just a couple of miles further on, I entered Staffordshire and reached Longnor, an upland gritstone village built around a crossroads. It does a good impression of a tiny market town. It has a large, cobbled market place with important looking buildings and it must once have had several pubs. I think only one still functions, but there are also two cafes and a chip shop, plus a small village store, a post office and a fire station. None of the roads leading in or out are very busy, but it feels like a place that once saw a lot more action. For me, today, it was a perfect late breakfast stop. I wasn’t sure when the next such chance would arrive, if at all. I found a sunny table and enjoyed the break twenty hilly miles into my day.
After Longnor came a lot more climbing. The tiny lanes were all mine and I received encouragement from a couple out in their front garden, which enjoyed the most extensive of views of the surrounding hills. Up and up I went, finally achieving a high ridge that looked down both to the east and west with equally breathtaking effect. From up here you could see all the way to North Wales across the Cheshire plain, and indeed to the Shropshire hills a little beyond my destination today. And much more besides. Below me in the near distance was the rocky ridge of The Roaches, a spectacular spine of millstone grit arching across the landscape like a Stegasaurus. From below it looks – and is – imposingly tall. From above, high up here, it appeared like a world in miniature. It was all quite breathtaking and a few people had parked up to stare at it all and take photos.
What goes up, must come down. I carefully negotiated the steep descent to the valley floor, where my route took me past Tittesworth Reservoir, through pretty Meersbrook and on along leafy lanes close to Rudyard Lake. I had now left the national park, but the countryside was still lovely. You’d never know that Stoke on Trent was just down the road!
But it was. I reached a main road at Endon and decided the best strategy was to aim straight for the centre of Stoke and get it over with. It is a sizeable built up area that includes not just the five towns that make up the official City of Stoke on Trent; but also several other towns in the close vicinity, including Newcastle Under Lyme, Kidsgrove and a few more. Stoke town centre contains the main train station; but the principal shopping centre is in Hanley. My route in followed an arrow straight line to the station from the leafy outer suburbs. It wasn’t a pretty few miles, but it got me there quickly and easily along my WSW straight line. At the station, I crossed under the railway and over a busy dual carriageway that slices right through the middle of town. Then I was next to the town hall and Stoke Minster church, which didn’t seem very special but occupied an enormous churchyard. Nothing around here was very appealing, and nor were the complicated streets after that where I got a bit lost. In the end, to avoid the bigger, faster roads, I clipped the edge of Newscastle and doubled back to break free of the urban spread. Within minutes I was in quiet countryside on a tiny lane that could have been miles away.
I won’t be rushing back to Stoke. I had a good look at it today and it didn’t make me feel like stopping. Perhaps I should, given it’s historical Wedgwood family connections, but it’s a pretty ugly place to be honest, and I would sooner go elsewhere. That said, I have come to associate these kind of post industrial towns and cities with a certain general scruffiness (which was certainly apparent to the south of Glasgow only yesterday) – and you couldn’t make that accusation of Stoke, or the countryside close by. It was all tidy and well kept, despite its unattractive buildings. So, points for that.
From here onwards, for a good couple of hours, I crossed only tiny lanes through occasional small villages, and saw next to no traffic, barring a few over large tractors, pulling vicious looking machinery behind them. I also saw a few people out on horses. And then I met another cyclist, Robin, who rode with me for an hour or so. We chatted and compared cycling and waking experiences. He kindly saw me much of the way through the labyrinth of lanes until my route became clear for the final, flatter hour to Shrewsbury. It was nice to follow and let it all unfold without constantly checking the map, as I had been when we met.
The final part looked after itself in a long, straight line, with views left to the distinctive Wrekin hill, and I arrived at our BnB a few minutes ahead of Jenni, which came as a mild surprise. We wandered into town and found an ancient half timbered pub called the Henry Tudor, that looked like it might have done four hundred years ago. It served good food and beer, too, and was busy tonight. I enjoyed that part of the day, too, and we saw enough of Shrewsbury by night to have reason to look forward to tomorrow.
The next day was not sunny, but it did stay mostly dry until we were back at our room for a rest around 4pm, by which time we had seen quite a lot of the town, it’s lovely park and riverside walks, and it’s many churches and old buildings. We even did a boat trip on the River Severn. Once again, this idea of exploring somewhere new along a compass line paid off. It has been a rewarding project.
Jenni went home and I stayed on for another night so that I could resume my cycling in the morning, after the rain stopped and the sun returned. Then, I would be heading for mid Wales, whose border lay not so very far away.
