I stay safe by keeping my eyes tightly shut
English lanes – like the one above, taken from the passenger seat – terrify me. For Roy, they seemingly hold no fears. As we zip around blind corners boxed off with shaggy green hedgerows, I stay safe by keeping my eyes tightly shut, while he revels in the action of driving, punctuated by the occasional expletive as we narrowly escape collision with yet another articulated lorry.
A couple of weeks ago, we drove from Biddulph to Leek and up to Buxton, through the spectacular moorland of England’s Peak District. (We were staying in the northern England town of Stoke-on-Trent, while Piper Boats was finishing our 49-foot Dutch-style barge, Karanja. There’s only so long you can hang around watching busy craftsmen, so it was a good opportunity to see something of the area.)
Long and winding road up to the spa town of Buxton
At 1,000 feet, Buxton itself is in the High Peak district, and billed as the highest market town in the country. Solid and substantial houses and elegant late-17th-century public buildings hewn from the local grey stone recall the various heydays of the town, when the carriages of the affluent must have traversed these same lanes and roads – minus the tarmac and roadside warning signs – to take the waters at this famous spa town, second only to the southern city of Bath. (Buxton, too, was a Roman spa, and again from the Elizabethan era onwards.)
Historic Buxton Crescent and the Old Hall Hotel
It’s soon going to be possible to take Buxton’s waters again – in two or three years’ time, volunteered the construction-helmeted chappie who saw us peering through the fence at the elegant, late 18th century Crescent Hotel, currently undergoing restoration. He even whipped out his smartphone to show the photo he’d taken of the spectacular interior – probably of the old Assembly Room – before work began.
For now, you can wander through the quaint boutiques of Cavendish Arcade, enjoying the Victorian/Edwardian tiles, mouldings and an impressive if slightly gaudy glass domed roof, but especially one of the original marble-lined baths in all its Victorian glory, complete with a winch and pulley system and a wooden armchair to lower you into it. I hope the new spa retains something authentic to the place, and not just another temple to Kerstin Florian or whoever.
