Outfit used
2007 Argente 480-2 towed with
2007 Subaru Legacy Estate 3.0 Automatic
The Peak District is the shining jewel in the heart of England. The national park is a holiday favourite, partly because it's sandwiched between the sprawling cities of Manchester and Sheffield and Leeds, and it's just a couple of hours' drive from the Midlands. Of course, the landscape is the primary reason for its popularity: rolling hills in the south (White Peak) hide pretty towns and villages, while dramatic crags in the north (Dark Peak) loom over heather-clad fells and moorland.
Hoping that you might have the Peaks to yourself would be like believing Elton John's mop was all his own. But to avoid the district would be to deny yourself the lovely landscape, hub of architectural heritage, and pretty villages the area boasts. So I set out to see whether it's still possible to enjoy a relaxing holiday in the country's second most visited national park – during the school holidays.
I pitched at the Caravan Club's Chatsworth site, a regular in our Top 100 list of the UK's best sites. Hardly a well-kept secret then, so perhaps not the best start for a quiet relaxing holiday. However, the site is sensibly arranged with roomy pitches and wide access roads so you never feel like you're on top of your neighbours. A children's play area is along one side of the site beneath the trees; any noise they make is well contained.
Nearby is Bakewell, which was my first stop
– and my first mistake. I visited on Monday morning, as did the district's entire population, or so it seemed. Monday is market day, so if you're not keen on crowds I would avoid it.
I queued for half an hour to enter the already overflowing car park on the edge of the River Wye. I couldn't walk along the pavement due to a 30-person queue for the chippy. (This line,
I thought, must mean that this is a chippy and
a half, especially with so many charming tearooms in the town. However, I decided not to try it out, fearing I might collect my fish lunch with my pension.) I got shinned three times by the walking sticks of over-zealous ramblers, queue-jumped at the supermarket and the tourist information centre resembled Selfridges in the January sales. I could have stayed in London for this.
A retreat to the caravan, a strong drink (I like my tea well-stewed) and a rethink was the only option. Chatsworth, arguably the finest stately home open to the public, would have to await an off-season visit by me. Walking in Stannage Edge was struck off my must-do list and a trip to the Ladybower Reservoir would be reserved for another day. I needed help. Luckily, my sister, who is something of a Peaks expert, was staying with me for a week. When she's not teaching, Rachel, who lives in Stourbridge, West Midlands, leads Duke of Edinburgh groups round the park, pulling hapless map readers out of bogs and guiding the lost off lonely moorland, so she's familiar with the quieter parts of the Peaks.
The last time we holidayed together was in India. At my invitation, she left school for
a well-deserved Easter break only to land in the heat, confusion, colour and chaos of New Delhi. She returned to England looking forward to the relaxation of lesson plans, expulsions and detentions that school represents. This time she took control
of the holiday plans. She assured me that although we were here in 'peak time', with
a bit of extra exploration, we could enjoy the relaxing break we both craved.
Cowed by the crowds at Chatsworth House, we headed instead for . This Tudor manor house lies just two miles from Chatsworth as the crow flies, but feels a world away. Haddon, unlike many of its neighbouring piles, underwent no renovations during the Victorian and Georgian eras, having been uninhabited from the 18th to the 20th centuries. It is also on a much more modest scale, and improvements have respected its style; for example, the electric lighting is subdued. It has a musty air, as if the aristocratic owners, the Manners family, and their Tudor cronies had just moved out.
A guided tour, which adds £1.50 to the entry fee, is a must: every nook and cranny has its own story. Take the windows of the Long Gallery, which appear to have warped in the sun. In fact, they were originally bent so passers-by along the road could see the light glinting off the angled panes and know that this was the house of an affluent family, one that could afford to use glass in their windows. Another feature is one of the finest examples of a Tudor kitchen, with two bread ovens, which work on the same lines as a wood-fired pizza oven. There's an adjoining butchery. Pretty gory, but in those days, before chest freezers, the meat was fresh. The butcher's block is
a wonderfully knarled lump of wood. Perhaps the biggest treat of our visit was that, besides
a few families and a clutch of couples, there were few sightseers.
Back on site, we chatted to the Davis family, whose kids loved the attractions on offer at Chatsworth, the Duke of Devonshire's country pad. We were pleased for them, but it confirmed that Haddon had been the right choice for us. On our other side, a quick chat with the Skuses revealed that we would be unwise to ignore Chatsworth completely. It's such a big place that everyone can find their own quiet nook. They recommended that we try the walks around the estate. They had done a couple and hardly met a soul. This sounded ideal. It goes to show that, if you look too hard, you'll miss what's right under your nose. You can pick up the walks guide
– with beautiful pen-and-ink illustrations – for £1.80 at most tourist information centres, shops and fuel stations; we bought ours at the touring park's shop.
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