I never used to be the spontaneous type, and it’s definitely still something I’m working on, but the more time I spend with Darryl – the more adventurous I become. When we met I’d happily spend all weekend sat under a blanket with an unnaturally large supply of Doritos by my side, but thanks to Darryl’s love for the outdoors I now grab any chance I can get to go exploring. My blog has also made me appreciate this planet a great deal more, if I have the opportunity to visit somewhere new and get some blog photos whilst I’m at it – count me in!
So on Saturday morning we embarked on our road trip up North in search of vast, green countryside. Soon enough we arrived at our £12 per night camp-site, and despite it only being 10 minutes West of the centre of Sheffield – we were also only 10 minutes East of the rolling hills of Derbyshire. With our tent firmly pitched in the farm grounds with a view that overlooked field after field, it was time to hit the road once again – but this time on bikes.
I’ve never particularly loved cycling, but since I seem to now love all things fitness I thought why the hell not – let’s go for it. Perhaps that was too optimistic of me, because after 4.5 hours of being on that bike for a total of 20 miles, it’s safe to say I was shattered – and had a seriously painful backside. Pain, sweat and tears aside – we saw some breathtaking scenery, and the feeling of hurtling down one particularly large hill on two wheels at 40mph was seriously liberating. When we eventually got to the Derwent Dams & Reservoirs, we were completely in awe at the endless glittering waters. Lucky for us we were also blessed with gorgeous sunshine and fairly high temperatures, which really made all the difference. England, you can be so beautiful!
Whilst that part of the bike ride was all smiles and loveliness, getting back to the camp-site was another story. Remember that hill I mentioned? Getting back up it wasn’t so fun. With no path or god forbid even a grass verge, peddling/hobbling/crawling back up the 50mph country road which appeared to be in the height of rush hour was our only option. Let’s just say I’ve never been more pleased to arrive back to a camp-site and have a BBQ on the go! Regardless of how much it tested my patience at the time, I’m so glad I did it. It was certainly a bonding experience to remember!
The next day we drove (thank god for cars) South through the Peak District, stopping in Bakewell and Dovedale on the way. After snapping away with my camera, driving through fords and tasting some of Bakewell’s traditional Bakewell slice – soon enough we were back on the M1 heading for Milton Keynes. But oh no, the adventure wasn’t over there, because ten minutes from home – what happened? The bloody exhaust only went and fell off. What a way to end a trip, but thank the lord it happened here and not in the middle of nowhere… always a silver lining.
If you haven’t visited the Peak District before, add it to your bucket list immediately! You won’t be disappointed.