Upon getting to good old England, and with it turning somewhat summery (as summery as it can feel after Europe, that is) I stayed with Joy for a week, bathed in the ease of speaking English, and went for a hike. This was the first time I had properly heard of the national park the Peak District - like the lesser known cousin of the Lakes District, expect much cheaper, much quieter and just as gorgeous, I was an instant fan.
Little did I know that in less than a year, I would become far more familiar with the Peak District than I expected, as I would move to live on the edge of the National Park!
My first experience was memorable. Hiking isn't something I was ever a fan of, which seems ridiculous when you consider how lucky I was growing up in NZ, which has more hikes than you could ever complete. I don't know when it changed but somewhere along my travels, I realized I loved hiking - as long as it was at my own pace! There's nothing worse than hiking with people who march along like they're on fire, leaving me huffing behind (I blame my short legs, definitely not my fitness level hah!)
Luckily in my present company I knew there'd be no running off and missing taking in the beautiful scenery around, due to a rather heavy package called Harvey. This was one of the last times - to my knowledge- that Joy used her brilliant Kathmandu backpack that Harvey was carried in, and for good reason - he had become atrociously heavy!
My first experience was memorable. Hiking isn't something I was ever a fan of, which seems ridiculous when you consider how lucky I was growing up in NZ, which has more hikes than you could ever complete. I don't know when it changed but somewhere along my travels, I realized I loved hiking - as long as it was at my own pace! There's nothing worse than hiking with people who march along like they're on fire, leaving me huffing behind (I blame my short legs, definitely not my fitness level hah!)
Luckily in my present company I knew there'd be no running off and missing taking in the beautiful scenery around, due to a rather heavy package called Harvey. This was one of the last times - to my knowledge- that Joy used her brilliant Kathmandu backpack that Harvey was carried in, and for good reason - he had become atrociously heavy!
It was on the cusp of summer, and still overcast and windy but that just meant there were fewer people to interrupt our wanderings. We had picked a walk in the charmingly named Roaches, which was far more beautiful than I expected.
Our destination was the whimsically known Lud's Church, situated in the Black Forest, by the River Dane (feel like you're in a fantasy story yet?). No wonder Tolkien was able to come up with such wonderful place-names for his novels with this sort of thing to draw on.
It's not surprising then I suppose that this place has an interesting history, steeped in folklore and myth. Descending into the cool depths of the chasm known as Lud's church, it suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched that it was known as such due to it being a secret place of worship by the Lollards in the 15th century; or perhaps it was named after the god Llud, Celtic deity of healing. There are numerous etymologies.
The stories of Robin Hood hiding down here were slightly harder to believe, but I guess Sherwood forest isn't too far away!
None of the myths explained this strange phenomenon though, a soft tree trunk that coins from all ages had been pushed into.
One of my favourite things about this country is their dry stone; sometimes called drystack, this age-old method (no really, it's been going on since the Neolithic times) of making stone walls involves the careful interlocking of stones without any mortar to bind them. It's something of a dying art in many places now, which I find sad as not only are the traditional methods rather brilliant, it also looks lovely. Far better than the wire fences hanging at sad angles from old wooden posts that characterizes New Zealand farmland anyway!
