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Travel StoriesCamping In Derbyshire 2005 - By Sharon Parker
Camping In Derbyshire 2005 - Day 1
Morning
The next morning we wake early and are loaded and ready to go for 9.30am. Just as we are about to leave my boyfriend reminds me that this trip is simply a trial run to see how my back holds up. If I feel any pain, he says, be it 5 minutes into the journey or 2 hours, in fact whenever, I was to say so. We could turn back anytime it was not a problem. Inside, I am so relieved, this is just what I needed to hear. I simply smile and nod at him but what I really want to do is throw my arms around him and thank him, for some how knowing just what I need to hear and for being sympathetic enough to know and say it. One thing that bothers you, when you have any anything at all afflicting you, is the fear of being a burden. A nuisance and a goddamn pain in the arse to those around you. My boyfriends’ empathy with my situation takes away that burden and I am once again made to smile to myself. For someone who always believes himself to be selfish he can often act so completely unselfishly.
The poor bike is buried under all our gear, tent, sleeping bags and various other bits and pieces squashed into saddlebags, back box and tank bag. This particular bike has only recently returned from Spain and Portugal, having carried the boyfriend to the Faro Rally and back. So once again the trusty lady is weighed down, what a star she is. I love this bike, she is steady and reliable but with a spark that makes her fun. With the addition of a gel seat, I purchased recently; the bike is super comfy easing out the bumps and therefore being gentle with my back. She is fast when you ask her to be and she growls nicely as she moves through the gears. I like the sound and feel of this bike; she’s a lady with a dark side.
For any one considering buying a gel seat for the bike then my advice would be …DO! It has made a big difference to my own comfort levels, no numb bum and no jarring, fantastic! Go for the biggest one you can afford, usually around £55 new, but worth every penny. Second hand ones can some times be found on Ebay. Which, incidentally, is where I bought mine.
We have decided to travel through Cheshire en route and once aboard the bike we hit the motorway. I tense up. I usually don’t mind motorways but this particular stretch is an accident hotspot and I feel uneasy. The road is marked with chevrons and signs request that vehicles stay 2 chevrons apart. Not surprisingly, few heed the advice and as I watch cars speed along just inches away from those in front my tension increases. WHY? Why do they do this, they can’t go any faster, all they are doing are increasing their chances of not getting to their destination at all. Which is fine, if that is how they want to do things. The only trouble being on a motorway, they will not be the only ones involved. I don’t have a problem with speed but there is a time and place for everything and this over packed stretch of motorway is not the place. Sometimes the boyfriend is himself in the mood for speed and I love the thrill of roaring along and swinging around bends. Today however he is relaxed and happy to go at a slower pace. Watching the scenery rather than have it flash by. I am happy to go at this pace too and leaving the black spot and the chevrons behind we find ourselves cruising along in a nice space in the inside lane.
As the landscape around us changes to that of the English countryside I feel myself begin to relax. This is usual for me, somehow seeing fields, tress and open spaces calms me, leaving me feeling happy, relaxed and with a sense of freedom. I have never lived in the country. I am a city dweller born and breed. But I have never felt at home in the city. My spirit home is within woods and rivers, not bricks and tarmac.
The sun shines in a blue sky, lightly scattered with white fluffy clouds. I would have liked to wear my leather jacket, but this being England I opted for the full waterproof gear and I am beginning to feel warm.
I smile as I look about; England in the August summer sunshine is a truly beautiful site to behold. Being a pillion one has the advantage of being able to watch the scenery pass by at ones leisure. No need to concentrate on the road ahead and your mind is free to travel and muse at will. As we pass a field of ripening corn I go into one such muse. In horror films fields of corn are often featured, some poor victim usually hiding between the stems, while their killer gets closer and closer! I shiver what a thing to be thinking of. I wonder what I would do if being hunted in this way? Would it be best if the hunted became the hunter, rather than waiting to be found would it be better to trace the killer, following them at a distance as they hunt for you? I decide I don’t like this train of thought anyhow, far too sinister for a lovely day, so I shake the idea and watch the views instead.
As we pass through a smallish village on the outskirts of Wrexham, the beautiful and unusual houses situated there stun me. They are very individual in style, some with dreamy Arabian style windows. The last house is a large cottage, surrounded by vast gardens within which is nestled an orchard. Surrounding the gardens themselves are open fields. This house gives a true feeling of wide-open space and I dream for a while about what it would be like to live there. I see myself picking fruit from my own orchard while watching the children running free within the space such a house affords. The boyfriend interrupts my daydreams as he comments on how the other half live. I smile, his thoughts were on the same track as mine. Yes indeed …how the other half live … very well indeed it looks like in this particular village.
As we continue on our way signs begin to appear along the roadside with such captions as, Think Bike and another depicting a motorbike with the rather chilling words, To Die For. Clearly this is a popular route with bikes and the road signs in addition to numerous speed cameras are here as a visible deterrent to speeding motorcycles. From a side road a quad biker waves a warning. We see why, an unmarked police camera van is parked on the side of the road.
A short time later we pull into a petrol station at Gresford, just north of Wrexham. There’s a problem with the bike. The rear brake has stuck on. A smack in the right place by the boyfriend releases it, nothing major, problem solved. After filling up we notice the heat and strip off our jumpers and stuff them into the back box. Way too warm for them now. We cross over from the petrol station and lean against a garden wall while the boyfriend has a cigarette and we stretch and chat. Even the petrol station here as made an effort with tubs filled with pretty flowers in pinks and reds. My back has given me no major problems so far and I’m feeling good, happy and relaxed. On we go again, pass fields of sheep grazing the day away. Some kneel down on their front knees while others, lazier still; don’t even bother to stand at all but chew the luxurious green grass where they lie. Horses lazily swish away flies with their tails as the sun reflects off their glossy coats. Others stand under a huge ancient tree taking advantage of the shade cast by its branches.
I recall to my mind a trip to Gran Canaria, where a bedraggled horse was tied to a post beaten into the parched barren ground. No trees was on offer to afford shade to this poor animal. I know we are not perfect in this country, we have are own shameful catalogues of animal abuse, but today the sun shone and England was looking her best, her most charming and peaceful. Today was a day for contentedly sighing, admiring the beauty and taking pride in our own special county.
Afternoon
We stop for lunch at Nantwich, a picturesque historic market town in South Cheshire. The supermarket we stop at unfortunately has no café. However, an extremely friendly parking attendant points out the way to a nearby café. The Town Street we go down is clean and bordered with pretty, quaint houses. We find the café, which is small with polite and friendly staff. Much to the boyfriends’ surprise, I am not hungry and just order a coffee. The boyfriend orders a bacon butty with a cup of tea. A plate of free biscuits is brought over and I nibble a couple of these while musing as to whether the pills I am on are affecting my usual large appetite. We talk about living here and if we did would we fit in? A man with longish brown hair brings our order to us. Well then, appearance wise the boyfriends shoulder length hair would not be out of place. The waiters accent wasn’t posh so again there would be no problem with the accents….or would they? Would we indeed fit in? The boyfriend thinks not but I’m not sure, the real question being would we want to fit in and if so would we really want to live here. After paying our bill and choosing the free sweets on offer from the café, we conclude that the perfect way to find out how you feel, would be to rent a house in the area for a short time, so as to get the feel of the place. Well if money was no object that is.
A street in Nantwich
We continue on our way feeling refreshed. As my back has been holding up quite nicely I give the boyfriend a go of my gel seat, to see if it eases his sore behind. It doesn’t take long for me to begin to notice the difference the gel seat has made to my own comfort. My bum is numb in no time. I do love the boyfriend but I’m taking my gel seat back when we next stop.
We pass through another town, this one I do not like one bit. It has a sad, neglected and very depressing air about it. Too many empty houses and shops with smashed windows give the whole place a run down and unloved feel. The pubs are built of dull dark brown bricks, surrounded by vast uninviting concrete car parks. It is not a town I would want to stop in, so much so I can’t even remember its name. I am more than glad to leave this place behind.
My neck begins to itch and when we stop for a stretch, just outside of Leek, I check it out. NO WAY! I have been bitten with full bike gear on, helmet, gloves, jacket, pants, boots, the works. The only exposed flash on my entire body is a small area on the front of my neck where I unbuttoned the top button on my jacket. This one tiny area was all that was needed for a nasty, evil insect to get its teeth or sting into. Typical!
The boyfriend says the gel seat did help and I get a pang of guilt as I take it back. Well I have got a bad back you know.
We eventually roll up to the campsite by late afternoon. Rivendale Campsite is situated about 6 miles north of Ashbourne.
I have enjoyed the ride. As usual with riding I experienced a sense of freedom, a sense of being in touch with my surroundings. I don’t get that feeling when in a car. In a car I feel like an observer, like I am watching the scenery go by, in the same way as I watch the TV screen back at home. Being on the bike I feel I’m out there, part of the action itself. You can feel the air temperature, the wind, and you can smell the cut grass.
Before we check in we have a quick look around the site just to make sure its ok. There are two pitching options. The field at £9.50 per night, or the more expensive hard pitches with electric hook ups for £12.40. The hard pitches are situated in what appears to be a disused quarry. The step rock sides making a stunning and dramatic backdrop. We don’t have anything electric with us and we both agree that we prefer the space available on the field. The only downside to the field is that the toilets and showers are in portacabins. However they are clean, so we opt for the field option.
We book in. The field is fairly empty and we choose a pitch overlooking rolling hills. Beautiful, we admire the surroundings for a short time and then begin the task of putting up the tent. Or rather the boyfriend begins the task of putting up the tent … ALONE! Now I know I have a bad back and all that but that is not the reason I leave my poor boyfriend to this task. No it’s because he wants to do it alone. He likes to do things his way. I’m more than happy to leave him to it. I have been on too many camping trips in the past with everybody trying vainly to do the same thing, getting in each other’s way or simply telling the other person how best to do it. Needless to say such trips invariably ended, or rather started, with no one speaking.
My only job is to blow up the airbed. A job, I am afraid to admit, that was only half completed by the time the boyfriend had finished putting up the tent. Maybe this was due to the fact that the boyfriend is super clever and super quick at putting up tents. Or maybe it was due to the fact that I kept stopping to admire the boyfriend whilst he was putting up the tent. I mean come on, there he is working away, hair flopping in his eyes, building our little home. Give me a break, I can’t help it if I have to sit there watching with wide eyes and my heart all a flutter. I think he is gorgeous, so despite the fact stunning scenery surrounds me, right now all I want to do is stare at him. He is so busy working away that I can stare and stare without him realising it. It’s a rare opportunity and I am making the most of it.
After observing my pathetic effort with the airbed, the boyfriend takes it upon himself to finish the task. The stuff is taken off the bike and thrown into the tent. As the boyfriend says himself, the job was a gud ‘un and all done in a remarkably fast time, by us, err ok him. A quick visit to the site shop does not see me laden with goodies. It is very basic, too basic for anything fresh, even a loaf of bread. All I come back with is a bottle of coke and some chocolate bars.
A wonderful view from the tent at the Rivendale campsite
Evening
After a short rest in the tent, hunger pangs drive us out in search of food. We get on the bike and ride into Ashbourne. Once there I pick up some basic supplies from the supermarket. As we ride through the town we spot a Chippy and decide to eat there. It’s a lovely warm evening, with the sun still shining, so we take our food to be eaten outside on a nearby bench. Chips always taste better in the open air; I don’t know why, they just do. My fish his huge and although I felt hungry my suppressed appetite leaves me making little impression on the monster fish.
While sat on the bench I observe the town and its inhabitants. The town is clean and pleasant to look at with numerous flowers in tubs on display. The people are the same people you see where ever you may go. Mums with small children, asking them to behave. Kids in groups, chatting with one another, but with the usual no volume control of youth, sound more like they are yelling. Young men in flash cars, cruising by with windows low and music pumped up high. I feel vaguely disappointed that the people are the same, with its fair share of loud kids and flash boy racers. What did I expect? What am I looking for? House on the Prairie days, some oldie world place that can’t simply exist in modern times. I suspect I might be and also accept that I am about 200 years too late.
We return to the campsite just as the last rays of the setting sun shines onto our tent. Giving the whole place a soft, golden romantic feel. As soon as the sun slips beneath the horizon the air turns chill so we head for the camps pub for a warm up. The pub is housed in what appears to be a converted barn. A climb up the stairs leads us into a small room, complete with tiny bar and a few tables and chairs. At the end of this room a couple more steps leads us down into another room, which has a more cosy feel, with soft couches scattered with cushions. We choose ourselves a couch and settle down. While chatting together I mindlessly stroke one of the tassels attached to a cushion. Did I say attached, well its not anymore, at least not unless it’s been sewn back on that is. You see it just suddenly came off in my hand. No honest, it did, I didn’t yank at it or anything, I was just fiddling with it gently and next thing it is err detached. Oh no I feel mortified, I am a vandal. The boyfriend looks at my sheepish face and asks what I have done. I show him the evidence of my crime and we are both reduced to fits of giggles. The boyfriend says I should own up but I cant, I’m not that brave. So, when the laughter in us both finally dies down, I stuff the offending tassel behind the cushion and we beat a hasty retreat.
Outside it is really cold now. I pay a visit to the toilet and spend rather a long time in there. Suffice to say the painkillers have side effects ok. By the time I eventually emerge I am freezing. Despite this fact, as I rush back to the tent I have to stop. There are rabbits everywhere. Big ones and tiny oh so cute baby ones, with bright eyes and fluffy tails. I am captivated. All around the field and underneath its trees the grass is left uncut and undisturbed, affording a perfect home for the local wild life. I think of my two girls, they adore animals and would be enchanted by these baby bunnies. A sudden violent shiver reminds me just how bloody cold I am so I continue my rush back to the tent. Once snuggled up into a super snugly warm sleeping bag, next to an even more super snugly and warm boyfriend I quickly warm up. After some under the cover night-time exercises I am by now very warm indeed and very content. Ahhhh bliss. I snuggle down all dreamy and just as I am about to drift off onto my fluffy dream cloud … WHAM! The pain hits me. It comes in spasms and the pain is intense. I spend a very fitful night in pain with very little sleep. At 6am my constant struggle to find a comfy position wakes the boyfriend and as by now the pain is so bad I cant even get up, I ask him if he could please fetch me my pills. It’s really too early to be taking them but I cant stand this pain any longer. After the pills the pain finally eases and I eventually get some sleep.
Camping In Derbyshire 2005 - Plans
Camping In Derbyshire 2005 - Day 1
Camping In Derbyshire 2005 - Day 2
Camping In Derbyshire 2005 - Day 3
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Travel StoriesCamping In Derbyshire 2005 - By Sharon Parker