Upper Derwent Valley

The first time I drove along Derwent Lane up to Fairholmes was in autumn and to me it felt like driving in to the Yellowstone National Park in America. The leaves had not fallen yet so the trees on either side of the narrow road were like spikes towering into the sky with hues of gold and lime. It lifts me still.

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Derwent Dam, Upper Derwent Valley, Peak District National Park

I have just finished the section for the Upper Derwent Valley in the guidebook I am writing. It is a section I have laboured over with much love as it is where I spend a great deal of my time as a Ranger for the Peak District National Park and as a solo explorer.

The first time I drove along Derwent Lane up to Fairholmes was in autumn and to me it felt like driving in to the Yellowstone National Park in America.  The leaves had not fallen yet so the trees on either side of the narrow road were like spikes towering into the sky with hues of gold and lime. It lifts me still.

I always look across to Derwent edge and the Wheelstones  then down to the reservoir to see how much if any of the old village is showing through the surface. The reasons I chose the area as my Ranger station, the scenery, the geology, the history and the valley does not disappoint on any of these. If you want to explore, discover history then this is the place.

The more time I have spent the narrower my focus has become. Somedays it is a single clough, deep, incised, generally wet but full of hidden nooks and crannies teaming with wildlife and history. I recently spent time in a clough and sat having tea in an old sheepfold now derelict. Near to it was a small ford I had crossed and a flat piece of land, enough for a shepherd to drive sheep out of the fold and onto the flat plain before heading down the valley and into the village, or up on to the high moorland. I sat and imagined the scene in my mind, a shepherd in old worn beige clothing, string around the coat to keep it closed. A Collie keeping the sheep in line stopping them from running away. The noise of the sheep and the sound of the shepherds voice as he gave the dog commands. A real hive of activity now quiet and forgotten.

The sheepfold is on the map and true to OS is there on the ground.

 

Author: Paul Besley

Writer I have spent most of my life escaping into the Peak District National Park, I have grown to love the solitude it can bring. I also have an interest in the growing field of psychogeography particularly, in post-industrial landscapes. I am the author of Dark Peak Walks published by Cicerone Press. I am also studying Creative Writing at Sheffield Hallam University.

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