Janie had originally intended to visit Phillie, Tony & Charlie in Germany that long weekend, but for reasons long since lost in the mists of time that idea fell through and I suggested, instead, a visit to Hope, in the Dark Peaks of Derbyshire.
Similar place.
The night before we set off reads “Lars Piss Up” in my diary, which I assume was the night of Lars Schiphorst‘s informal leaving do after work.
So I don’t suppose Janie and I set off for Derbyshire at the crack of dawn 26th.
I have/had long loved the Dark Peaks – one of the better kept secrets (amongst many) in the UK as places for stunning countryside, walking and away from the more touristic “usual suspect” places in the North.
In truth, the search for peace away from tourists in the beautiful parts of The North can be satisfied pretty much anywhere in February, but I didn’t know that back then.
Two or three years earlier, I had stumbled across a lovely place to stay, in Hope; Underleigh, when taking a brief sojourn out that way with Wendy Jacobi. We went at a more sensible time of year during 1990.
Anyway, I suggested Underleigh to Janie and booked it. My diary helped me to identify the place and TripAdvior lets me know that, 26 years later, it is still highly regarded.
The one thing that Janie didn’t like about the place was the communal dining. Dinner, bed and breakfast was the deal in those days (no more, it seems). One big table with an expectation that whoever is staying makes up an informal dinner party for that evening.
We live and learn. Janie has such an aversion to such notions she/we positively avoid such places these days. In the UK they are much rarer now in any case, as the more individualistic culture has swept away the communal, dinner party chic.
The food was good there, albeit a bit rich, I recall. The owner/patrons were very friendly and helpful; a different family now, more than quarter of a century later, I should imagine but rave reviews still.
I remember Janie and I kitting ourselves out for this winter walking trip, with a visit to Millets in Kensington, I think the weekend before when we were at mine.
I also recall the icy walking being really quite difficult and treacherous for us, despite our new clobber. All the gear, but no idea.
Somehow we survived – thrived even – nonetheless, resolving to persevere with hill walking but probably to choose less challenging routes and seasons in future.
The only other specific thing I remember about this trip was a drink in a pub at a suitable stopping point on one of our walks. Janie looked at pictures on the wall of locals from a gurning competition. Janie wondered what they were about so I explained about competitive gurning.
That’s not a very challenging thing to do as a competition…
…said Janie, which motivated one of the locals to chime in to our conversation…
…it’s a lot harder than it looks. You try it…
…so Janie did.
The handful of locals were seriously impressed.
I think we might have been bought drinks all afternoon had we hung around in that pub, but we beat our retreat while we were still on top. As much as anything else, we wouldn’t have risked that icy hill walking after any more than one drink.
We have occasionally returned to the Derbyshire Peaks since, although we in the end sort-of made the North York Moors “our place” for that sort of stunning, quite-challenging hill walking.
