Peveril Castle, in Castleton The two days following Elizabeth's, Teemu's and Floortje's birthdays were pretty quiet - I think that everyone needed some time to recover! I hung out at Stephenson for both nights. The Thursday I mostly distracted Patrick from his studies and had a couple of drinks at the Stephenson Bar, and the Friday I went to the Broomhill Tavern with a few people, then went back and watched the IT Crowd (and met Patrick's mum, Barb, over Skype. I was more excited than Patrick about this).
Because two of Patrick's friends were flying out from the States on the Sunday and a lot of people were leaving Sheffield on various weekend trips, we decided that we wanted to have an adventure of our own... on two conditions: one, it wasn't too far so we could do it in a day trip, and two, that it wasn't too expensive. We looked up the UK in our guide books, and did a bit of a Google search, before deciding to go to the Peak District. The Peaks is a massive area that's mostly national park now, and is really hilly and very pretty. It's bordered by Manchester, Chesterfield, Derby and Sheffield, so we thought it would be fun to explore the local area!
We invited a couple of other people, but Elizabeth and Karsten were both away, Astrid and Joey were both sick, and Trista slept in. So it was just Patrick and I, and we definitely made the most of it! We booked a train ticket to a place called Hope, which was used for many pun-like purposes throughout the day, such as "we HOPE this is going to be fun!". Strangely enough, we didn't really get sick of that one joke repeated in different forms.
When we woke up, the weather was cold and foggy bordering on drizzle. Despite that, we thought that it would add to the atmosphere. Or at least, we hoped it would. We headed down to the train station, collected our tickets, and ran to the train. It's a really pretty trip, that goes through places with names like Buxton, Bamford and Grindlewald (which sounds like something from Harry Potter). We'd already decided that if Hope was a bust, we'd head over to the next town called Castleton, which was about a mile and a half away. We got to Hope, and quickly found that the train station (read: platform) is a fair way away from the town itself. Luckily enough, there were a bunch of tourists around, and so we followed them. It was around this time that we realised that we were dressed a bit differently from the other tourists. They were all wearing brightly coloured hiking gear, where Patrick was wearing jeans and trainers, and I was in a skirt and Dr Martens, and we had matching red coats. Definitely a bit more town-friendly than the others!
We walked up and found a pretty church in Hope. I took a couple of pictures, then was itching to go and look at the cemetery. Patrick found it odd that I like cemeteries, but I told him that the dead people didn't mind me checking out their headstones. He agreed, and said he'd never thought about that before. So that's Maddie's weird interest for the day. After looking at the church for a bit, we kept on walking a bit behind the other tourists to see where they were heading. We ended up walking through pretty much the entire area of Hope - which is not as impressive as it sounds because there is really nothing in Hope. It's a bust. Other than that church, which I really liked. It was when we were walking along the road that I learned about Patrick's weird fetish with framing his photographs. If he sees a fence, he has to get a photo featuring the fence in some way to give his pictures some atmosphere. Imagine his excitement when I pointed out a large hole in a wall that he could see through! After that, I think he accepted my cemetery interest a bit more. We continued on, and before we knew it, we'd arrived in Castleton.
Castleton, unlike Hope, was really pretty and really, really old. As soon as we got there, our eyes lit up with the English-ness of the whole place. And, it even has a castle! We wandered through the streets - passing another gorgeous old church that I took a bunch of photos of - and decided to hit up the castle before having lunch. We found the gate, abused the National Trust's free samples of lemon curd, relish, wine and mead, paid our admission fee and headed up to look at it. Turns out that Peveril Castle dates back to 1066 (both Patrick and I acknowledged that this is significantly older than both of our countries) and the Norman invasion. Also, the town is called "Castleton" because it is built underneath the castle. Obvious, but still interesting. The hike from the information centre was pretty much straight up - even though the footpath zigzagged to make it easier to climb, I was still out of breath by about half way! Still, the view was amazing and only got better during the way up.
When we got to the Castle, we walked around the perameters of the walls, admiring the views from all the different angles. We found the ancient toilet the soldiers used to use, and then explored the old guard tower (that's pretty much the only structure left standing other than the walls). We were up there for about an hour, and unfortunately in that time we both forgot to ask a tourist to take a photo of us together! Clearly, we're the worst day trippers ever.
My version of a framed Patrick photo. I kind of get what he was going on about.
After that, we headed back down and wandered through more of the town, and up to Peak Cavern, which we deemed too expensive for a big cave, then walked through a bit of a paddock before realising that our shoes probably weren't up to the job of hiking, visiting the tourist information centre (where I wanted to get a postcard, but had to wait for a crazy postcard-stand hogger to make his decisions before I could get mine!) before succumbing to our hunger. We found a little pub on the corner - Patrick ordered the gnocchi and I ordered a traditional steak and ale stew in a huge Yorkshire pudding. It was delicious.
While we were eating, the door to the pub opened - and in walked Sue, one of the teachers from The Elms (where I did my Gap year in 2008). What are the chances? This little town in the Peaks doesn't even have its own train station! Turns out, she was in town with her husband for her brother-in-law's birthday, and was staying at the pub where Patrick and I had decided to have lunch. Crazy. Patrick had the best reaction - when he'd seen me recognise someone walking in, he'd turned, expecting it to be someone from Sheffield, and instead had seen a middle-aged lady, and just got confused after that.
We walked around a bit more after that, stopping at a sweet shop where I stocked up on Flying Saucers and Dolly Mix, and Patrick bought some berry flavoured lollies. We nibbled on them before pouncing on some tourists to take some photos of us together, finally! Then we decided to start walking back towards the train station. On the way, we stopped at a hand-made fudge shop, where we were lucky enough to get offered some free samples, and then both Patrick and I bought some to take home. On the way back to Hope, we found a Public Footpath. Reasoning that we had hours to get back and weren't in any rush, we decided to walk along it, thinking we'd get to see some pretty sights and maybe even make friends with some sheep.
It turns out that the term "public footpath" is used very loosely, and the footpath itself lasted only about 200m before deteriorating into loose gravel, and finishing at a fence. We looked around for a bit, then realised that we had to climb the fence to continue along the path. We did this, and then started following the vague shadow of hiker's footprints. We considered turning back, but realised that we didn't know if we were halfway or not, so there was no point in turning around. It was around this time that we discovered the self timing function on my camera:
Which we used to document the Adventure.
We continued on, climbing over a couple more fences, before beginning to lose faith in the footpath. We strayed once, realising that we could see the road, but after climbing down a bank and through some squidgy grass, we found that our way was hampered by a two and a half metre wide creek. Patrick honestly thought we (he) could make it, but I pointed out that I was wearing a skirt, and not even at the best of times would I really be able to jump over things that are about one and a half times as I am tall. We trudged back up to the gate, where we spotted the horse. Turns out, Patrick's not a massive fan of horses. So we wandered away again, looking for a way to cross the creak or to find a road.
We ended up walking around one of the fields for an hour, looking for an exit and trying to think of something we could say if a farmer with a gun should happen to accuse us of trespassing on his land. We had lost Hope, in more ways than one! I should also point out that other than the horse and a couple of sheep, we hadn't seen anyone else since setting off on the footpath. Luckily, we realised that we still had a few hours of daylight left, so if we did get more hideously lost, at least we could still see. We decided to head back the way we'd come, and then lo and behold, people! Lots of them, coming in different directions!! It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
We asked one of them if we were still on the footpath, and she said yes, and then pointed us in direction we needed to continue. She looked at us a little oddly for wearing a skirt and jeans, but we didn't really care by this point. I'd also stopped caring about the mud that covered my shoes (and tights). We carried on, climbing over another series of fences, and after about another forty-five minutes, climbed over the last fence before the road. At this, we took a couple more photos with the "Public Footpath" sign, showing how happy we were to have conquered it, and others showing disbelief at the "footpath" claim.
We decided to reward ourselves with hot chocolates, because it was f###ing freezing outside and I couldn't feel my hands any more. We had two of the most delightful beverages ever, before wandering back to the train station (and realising that we hadn't checked the return times, so we had a half hour wait before the next train). While we were waiting, we kept on getting whiffs of farm, and panicked that it was us who smelled like that. When the train finally arrived though, we realised that it was in fact a farm that smelled that way, and we just looked like we should.
When we got back, Patrick and I decided to make burgers, because a lot of the ones in the UK don't taste like proper burgers. Great success - I can cook now! After that, we decided to celebrate our successful adventure with Tequila Night. We were joined by Elizabeth and Lise, and we really slammed through a bunch of tequila, alternating between lemon and lime with salt, as well as orange with cinnamon sugar (which was really delightful!). Strangely enough, none of us were that drunk, but we had a good night and it was a great end to a full and exciting day!