The magic spinner was not required for this last journey out of Hathersage. I already knew which direction I had to go – SSW was the only one left out of all sixteen options on the compass. This last straight line would take me all the way to the south coast, passing slightly to the west of London and ending in Worthing. It seemed a long time since I set out for the first time heading SW towards Ironbridge in early June. More than four months, and thousands of miles of cycling, had elapsed. Now this – and an elusive 3 days between Fort William and the Outer Hebrides – was all that remained.
The weather in north western Scotland was looking particularly uninviting; but there were very acceptable windows of opportunity here in England, so the day after I returned from Tenby in a very sunny Pembrokeshire, I decided to push on and ride in low cloud along the Derwent valley to Derby, from where a train back home could be easily arranged. I didn’t wake up today with this expectation; but the desire to keep the trip moving along as the days get shorter, and the availability of a dry, mild afternoon – better than forecast – led to a spontaneous decision. And so, after lunch and free of bags, I set out.
The 38 mile ride to Derby, on paper, is all downhill and follows the River Derwent downstream all the way. But cycling doesn’t take place on paper, so the reality was somewhat different. There was also the challenge of avoiding the busy A6, which is the main road option following the narrow Derwent valley and not a lot of fun for cyclists. But I like a challenge, and where there is a will, there is way.
The first part, as with all of my rides out, was on very familiar roads. This one took me through Grindleford and crossed the river on the old arched stone bridge at Froggat, under the cloudy gaze of lofty Froggat Edge. I would normally have crossed the river again at Baslow (as I did on my ride south); but I decided to try something different, and instead snuck into the back of Chatsworth Park via a special revolving kissing gate they have on the footpath that leads in from the rear of Baslow village. It’s designed for push chairs rather than bicycles, so don’t tell the Duke. But thereafter you can ride through the extensive and very beautiful mature parkland along estate roads, right up to the house itself, and then out over the ornamental stone bridge, rejoining the proper road near Edensor as it rises up through the deer park. It is all delightful; but taking this back route avoids a hill and a section of narrow, busy road. I might well do it again!
I was back on my route south past the pretty estate village of Beeley and into Rowsley, where I met the A6 for the first time. But only for the briefest moment, because right across from the junction was the start of the White Peak Loop, a signed cycle path that leads almost all the way, traffic-free, along the Derwent valley to Matlock. Half way along you reach Darley Dale, whose church graveyard contains one of the oldest trees you could wish to find. It is an ancient yew whose age is estimated at around 2,000 years, meaning that it provided shade for ancient Britons, Romans and countless worshipers over its lifetime. If only it could talk!
Matlock is a town with the prettiest of locations, but also the longest and steepest of hills. It is Derbyshire’s county town, and the council offices occupy the grand old Hydro buildings high above the town centre. I was glad not to be cycling that way today. Instead I crossed the Derwent and then followed its course – popular for serious kayaking – through the deep gorge it has cut between limestone cliffs – and underneath the more modern cable car – to reach the inland resort of Matlock Bath, once a Victorian spa and still the source of natural springs. It has a genteel appearance with terraces of Georgian houses and shops, as well as a smattering of churches, bridges, pubs and riverside parks and walks. Most of the action is along the river, but the buildings also climb steeply up the sides of the valley. Every autumn there are illuminations here that get very popular. Rowing boats are decorated with lights to resemble other objects and rowed up and down a stretch of river.
Matlock Bath can at times resemble Blackpool inland, attracting lots of day trippers. It is especially popular at weekends with motorcyclists. There are plenty of fish and chip shops and places to buy ice creams. But it is all quite fun and it manages to retain a degree of style and history despite the superficial “kiss me quick” veneer. I like it and always enjoy riding through on a bike, where you can move as quickly as anything else on the main road, and take in the sights. Today I was impressed by the many red poppies decorating one of the bridges across the Derwent, ready for Remembrance Day in early November.
A mile beyond Matlock Bath you enter the Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site, which is celebrated for being the cradle of the Industrial Revolution. The first big mill you encounter is the huge red brick Masson Mill, which looms on the left of the road, with its tall chimney and massive square buildings. Sir Richard Arkwright’s water-powered cotton spinning mill was built in 1783, containing the machinery that industrially revolutionised the processing of raw cotton into spun yarn and woven fabric. Some of the building is in use today as a textile museum and visitor centre, all powered by hydro electricity from the River Derwent. Until 2020, the huge building also contained a shopping village, with retail units over four floors. I’m not much of a shopper or museum goer, and I’m ashamed to say I have never set foot inside the building, which isn’t really good enough. No wonder it closed.
Soon afterwards, you reach Cromford. There is much here of interest, and it is the main area of visitor activity for the World Heritage Site, with another original mill (the first) and a range of shops, cafes and workshops hosting regular events. Across the road is Cromford wharf, the terminus of the Cromford Canal, which today is only navigable for the first couple of miles. There is a collection of original canal buildings, one of which houses a good cafe with outside tables and attendant ducks. The canal once ran all the way to join the Erewash canal at Langley Mill; but sections have been derelict for many years. You can, however, still walk or cycle along its beautiful banks for several miles as it runs parallel to the Derwent and the railway. And that is exactly what I did today among the stunning autumn colours.
In this pleasant way, I avoided much of the A6, emerging by the bridge at Whatstandwell to cross over and take a higher route on the west side of the valley. I rode along very quiet, undulating lanes that took me through some places I didn’t know high above the mill town of Belper, and brought me back down again in Milford, next to another large mill, a bridge and a weir, and several miles closer to Derby. I couldn’t quite avoid riding on the main road all the way; but I got another couple of miles downstream before acceding to the inevitable at Duffield, an affluent dormitory town for Derby. From here, it was only a short pull to the edge of the city, and then I peeled away again at Darley Abbey and completed the journey to the city centre along cycle paths through pleasant parks. The end came quite suddenly as I found myself crossing a footbridge over a dual carriageway, and arriving right at the foot of the fine 16th century tower of otherwise-Georgian Derby Cathedral.
Derby was the birthplace of my mum, two of her sisters, both of their parents and grandparents before that. Somewhere in a Derby nursing home I still have a great, great Aunt in her late nineties. But I have never felt much affection for the place and I got the same sense today as I cycled slowly through the mostly pedestrianised city centre. I think it got bombed in the war and it bears the scars of some unfortunate town planning and unlovely 20th century architecture. There is a swanky new shopping centre that I hadn’t seen before, and a lot of promising new housing development on the way to the station. I am willing to give it a chance to turn the corner. The main central market place is currently fenced off and most of the slabs have been taken up, so something is afoot. Billboards were promising a new and exciting city centre. So I will reserve judgement. The truth is I rarely come here. It’s easy to forget I even live in the same county.
All that said, the area around the station in this railway town, where trains are still made, is interesting in its own right. There is a street containing at least three proper traditional pubs, and I had just got enough time for a swift pint inside one of them, the welcoming Victoria Inn. I’m very glad I took the trouble. For starters, they served me a sensational pint of black IPA, recommended by one of the other customers, whom I must thank for his excellent taste. With it, I enjoyed a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. That is not something I usually see as a missed opportunity – quite the reverse – but I have truly never seen a more comprehensive range of flavours available anywhere. The lady behind the bar talked me through the full selection and I don’t remember all of them; but I believe it included such flavours as Smoked Pheasant and Wild Mushroom, Grouse and Whinberry, Wild Boar and Apple, and Wild Duck with Plum Sauce. And many more besides!
Our small gathering in the pub had a lot of fun for twenty minutes before I had to leave for my train. It was such a laugh that I genuinely will return as soon as I can. Rarely have I had my pub expectations – or indeed a cloudy afternoon cycle – so significantly exceeded!
