Skip to main content

Springtime walks: Croxden Abbey and Shining Cliff Woods

It seems to be taking a long time to get properly warm, this spring. But suddenly there are flowers everywhere and the world has turned green. We had to go and see it all.



Croxden Abbey

800 years ago, there was a community of 70 monks at Croxden Abbey, hidden away in a beautiful nook of Staffordshire. Now there are peaceful ruins, carpeted with soft green grass. It was hard to imagine the space filled with busy worship and work.

Croxden abbey cloisters

the west door of the church


We had parked at the village of Hollington and walked down the hill, playing a game of spot-the-animal. In just a few short fields we had seen sheep, cattle, horses, alpacas, rabbits, a dog, and even a donkey. We decided we only needed pigs to make our farm animal collection complete!

It wasn't a long hike - we probably spent just as long eating snacks and playing hide and seek in the abbey ruins, as we did walking. Our return journey took us past a few horses, but sadly no pigs. We followed an old Roman road (now tarmacked) back to Hollington, where we removed ourselves from history and jumped into our very modern car.

Shining Cliff Woods

It's bluebell season! Usually that means a trip to Calke Abbey, but this time we decided to venture a little further afield. Shining Cliff Woods are just off the A6 between Belper and Cromford. They certainly lived up to their name on a surprisingly warm April day. The sunshine picked out startlingly green leaves, enthusiastic streams, and yes, the gorgeous colour of bluebells in bloom. 





We had paused at a direction sign when some people came past and said, "Go that way, it's more interesting". That way took us up to a small reservoir, built to supply power to a wire works in the valley below. It had a No Swimming sign which I suspected many people ignore - it looked a perfect place for a wild dip. 



Further on, we passed a hostel and a fire circle tucked under a rocky outcrop. Graham had read about a 2000 year old yew tree at the other end of the wood, so we set out to find it. After a decent hike we found it - a broken stump, with two tiny yew saplings bravely carrying on the family line. Definitely not the enormous gnarled tree we had been expecting!

Theo and I by the stump

Fortunately the path back down the hill turned into a stream, which turned our walk into an exciting hop from rock to rock. The boys forgot their disappointment as they splashed their way down as fast as they could. 

We came back through the derelict remains of the wireworks factory, which closed in 1996. This blog is worth a look if you like photos of deserted buildings - they obviously had a good time exploring the wireworks. Most of it is securely bricked up now, to prevent entry. So here's our attempt at a family selfie instead.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Place at the Table: Spiritual Formation Book 12

"God has ordained in his great wisdom and goodness that eating, and especially eating in company, should be one of the most profound and pleasurable aspects of being human." Miranda Harris had been intending to write a book for years. She'd got as far as a folder full of notes when she died suddenly in a car accident in 2019. When her daughter, Jo Swinney, found the notes, she decided to bring her mum's dream to fruition. A Place at the Table was the result. I thought this was going to be a nice friendly book about having people over for dinner. In one sense it is, but it's pretty hard-hitting as well. Miranda and her husband Peter co-founded the environmental charity A Rocha, so the book doesn't shy away from considering the environmental aspects of what we eat and how we live. They also travelled widely and encountered hunger at close quarters; the tension between seeing such poverty and believing in a generous God comes out clearly in A Place at the Table.

Flexitarianism

Hey folks!  I learnt a new word today!  I can now proudly proclaim myself to be a flexitarian .  Yes, I wish that meant I'm in training to be a trapeze artist.  Or that I'm a leading world expert on the chemical properties of stretchy materials.  All it actually means is that I don't eat meat that much. Well, big deal.  That lumps me in with a majority of the world's population, many of whom have no choice about the matter.  So why the need for a fancy new word?  Because, it seems, that we in the prosperous West have come to regard having bacon for breakfast, chicken sandwiches for lunch and a steak for dinner as entirely normal.  But also because we in the prosperous West are starting to realise that might not be an entirely good idea. You know about factory farming, of course.  The images of chickens crammed into tiny cages and pigs which never see the sunlight, which we push out of our minds when we reach for our plastic-wrapped package of sausages in t

Hosting Thanksgiving

OK, I have to confess.  This will be a very boring Thanksgiving story.  Everything went right and it was a lovely day.  For an interesting story you need a few things going wrong.  I heard a couple of interesting stories this year - like the one about mis-measuring bourbon to go in the stuffing.  Apparently if you put far too much in, all the alcohol doesn't boil off.  Or the one about going to cook dinner at an Asian friend's house, and discovering at the last minute that she doesn't have any baking trays, and it's quite difficult to roast a turkey in a wok.  But as I said, we didn't have so much as a lumpy gravy panic. Where's my food??? We're working on it, baby! So what do you want to know?  Well, it was my first Thanksgiving dinner cooked on American soil.  Back when I was free and single and shared a house with lots of people who liked to eat, I got into the habit of celebrating the American feast for a few years, until the number of peopl