Floral Frolics Down The Derbyshire Dales: Cressbrook Dale (South)
Egressing from the springs of Wardlow Mires, a deepening gorge engraves its way for two glorious miles, oriented north to south, give or take a twist or turn, down to a model village built by the owner of a textile mill that took its name, so the story goes, from the custom of collecting a salad herb from the stream that flows along it. It grows there still in Cressbrook.
On the map, Cressbrook Dale is situated on a bearing exactly east, seven miles from the centre of Buxton. There are no less than five routes in and out of the dale: two from Litton in the north-west, one from the east at Wardlow, another near its source at Wardlow Mires, and this one, from Cressbrook in the south. The simplest way to find its southern approach is from the A6 between the aforementioned spa town and Bakewell. At Ashford-in-the-Water proceed along the B6465 towards Monsal Head, whereupon, from the car park of its mesmerising vista, the lane descending into Upper Dale and Cressbrook village can be sought. Parking can be facilitated at the bottom of the village where vehicles can be safe and soundly tucked away free of charge beneath the wall of the old mill pond directly opposite the entrances to what was formally Sir Richard Arkwright’s original dark satanic mill, now, ironically, a complex of luxury apartments.
The wall of the mill pond incorporates a door through which views are revealed of the weir and its waters. Enter on tip-toe very, very quietly and there’s the possibility of sneaking a fleeting glimpse of a kingfisher ! The wood on the far side of the pond contains a dispersed population of an exotic looking shrub called spurge laurel, quite rare in the Peak District. This evergreen, which resembles a small rhododendron, is easily spotted in winter, especially after a dusting of the white stuff. Also on the opposite bank, on the margin of the water, are desultory specimens of nettle-leaved bellflower, a prepossessing perennial of sylvan glades on lime whose blooms of azure blue unfurl usually in July.
The southern route can be acquired on foot via either one of two points of access linked to the steep, peripheral lane that separates domiciles from dale. From the viewpoint of the mill at the base of the village this is the most northerly road - the one one the right. Whilst negotiating the incline you might be curious to know what lies beyond its kerbs down in the bottom of that enchanting chasm ?
It is, quite simply, a geological masterpiece. The scalloped curtain walls of a claustrophobic ravine, sculptured by the melt waters of a retreating ice age are upholstered with mattress-thick moss. Every crack and every crevice, every ledge and every shelf are stuffed with hart’s tongue fern and ramsons. And on every ankle-breaking boulder and barricading bough glint wood sorrel and opposite-leaved golden saxifrage. Its character is practically Jurassic !
Here, beneath the half-light of jutting buttresses and the dark alley of its grasping, clinging coal forest foliage one can imagine without any effort at all the shriek of a pterodactyl or the snarl of a T-rex; and yet, the twenty first century is less than a hundred metres away. There are at least two magnificent caves, a waterfall and plunge pool. What more could a floraphile want - except, perhaps, a few epiphytic orchids ?! Indeed, the only virtue it doesn’t possess is the tropical heat of the jungle.
Down in that ravine where time has lost its way modern life marches on regardless. Whilst you may have been regaled with an enthralling account of its geomorphological assets it may have become apparent that the divulgence of a footpath has been neglected. That’s because there isn’t one. The lowest zone of Cressbrook Dale is indeed private: there are no public footpaths, there are no rights of way, putting aside the faint trails made by intrepid rock climbers. Here, nature is allowed to ensconce himself unkempt, neither sanitised nor supervised to any noticeable effect.
Three quarters of the moderately demanding hike up Cressbrook’s tenebrous peripheral street and you’ll find a sign on the right-hand side that indicates the lazy descent to the reclusive cul-de-sac of Ravensdale Cottages tucked away amongst the trees. This is one of the two southern (and lawful) points of access from which to embark on your frolic through the dale. It is also a capital place to admire the exquisite visual relationship between the woodland and its flora. Its classic vaulted canopy with its perpendicular trunks of sycamore, ash, and beechcast their dappled shade on mottled sheets of ramsons, bluebell and anemone so prolific in their number that even after sunset they reflect a sort of earthshine. In addition, the hamlet’s semi-sunken approach conveys an obvious postural benefit, making it possible to enjoy the flowers at one’s own head height - merciful relief for those of us who suffer from intermittent sciatica !
Later in the summer, in those meadows intermediate between carriageway and stream, formations of angelica and meadowsweet stretch heavenwards, becoming so tightly packed, they bristle like phalanxes of pikestaffs. Eyes to the north, the footpath sneaks away from the lonely row of homes, clearly visible at the end of the road. Sandwiched twixt the wooded bank on one side and the dale bottom on the other, it meanders parallel with the west bank of the stream to a tiny wooden bridge and the entrance to the National Nature Reserve. Suffice to know that after wet weather this trail can be exceptionally muddy.
If you are intent on a head start, however, drive up Cressbrook’s peripheral street to its one and only hairpin bend where there is an indented junction to a cart track providing free parking to three or four small vehicles. Be careful not to obstruct agricultural traffic. Follow the bridlepath northwards through the wood. Before the tips of their branches have burst into leaf you can spot Ravensdale Cottages below the trees, and equally photogenic are the carpets of flowers from the perspective of looking down as they are when looking up. In particular ramsons, which here appears en masse. The woodland ceases abruptly after two hundred metres or so. Then, beyond the gate, still maintaining a northerly direction, the footpath skips across an undulating meadow, or should I say skids, because, like its counterpart near the stream, the only instance a visitor is not obliged to risk ending face down in the mire is proceeding a lengthy spell of drought. The meadows are filled with knapweed, hogweed and angelica, and close to the path grow primrose, crosswort and dog violet. And only one with a heart of stone could let those cliffs go unnoticed; those jaw-dropping cliffs adorned with their shaggy fringes of ivy and yew. Upgrade your care when negotiating the steep decline. At the foot of the slope there is a mini-T-junction: the path on the right will take you back towards Ravensdale Cottages, and the peril of the mud. Nonetheless, the mouthwatering mosaic of the spring flowers, particularly anemone and primrose, ramsons and bluebell more than compensates for a fresh bar of soap ! The path on the left leads swiftly to that little wooden bridge, the official portal into Cressbrook Dale’s National Nature Reserve - the topic of a different floral frolic.
Fascinating !