We woke up to the first of what turned out to be a run of gorgeous days. Our hotel, Lucy Cross, had everything we needed for a proper breakfast: eggs, bacon, whole wheat bread, jams, and juice. Melanie whipped up a great meal while we talked through the day’s ride.
The last time we’d come through this area, heading north into Scotland, my leg was still pretty sore from the accident. We’d skipped the northern part of the Peak District, so today felt like the perfect chance to make up for that. A few years earlier, we’d met a guy named Danny at Horizons Unlimited UK. He owned Haggs Bank Bunkhouse and had become a friend to loads of travelers, especially motorcyclists. Since we knew the ride would be a good one, we pointed the bike his way.
The countryside rolled by in soft green hills, forests, and the occasional old village. We loved riding through these little places, imagining over our helmet intercoms what life must have been like hundreds of years ago. A lot of these villages really were that old. Sometimes it felt like the only thing that had changed over the centuries was the people.
Generation after generation had lived here, many of them living lives not all that different from their grandparents’ and great-grandparents’. Little kids in freshly pressed school uniforms walked to class while parents dropped them off and then stopped at the local market on the way home. Older folks, weathered by time, watched the world go by. Some were still hard at work, while others sat around small, slightly wobbly café tables, trying to solve the world’s problems over tea or coffee in the warm morning sun. Life here seemed wonderfully simple, but also quietly hard.
More than once, we joined them, sipping our own coffee while staring down narrow streets and getting completely lost in thoughts about another time.
Along the way, a sign for Bow Lee Plantation caught our eye. We’d been following a crystal-clear stream as it wound its way toward the sea, with moss and bright greenery lining the banks. Curiosity got the better of us.
We crossed a graceful stone bridge arching over the water and pulled off just beyond it. The fresh smell of damp earth and moss filled the air as the stream rushed over the rocks below. We sat on the edge of the centuries-old bridge, just listening to the water and taking in the peaceful scene. The only thing missing was our tent pitched beside the stream and a hot cup of coffee in our hands.
Eventually, we climbed back on the bike and kept heading toward Haggs Bank to see Danny. Our GPS decided the best route was straight over the hills. This part of the Peak District feels wonderfully wild, with wide views of brown moorland stretching off in every direction. Sheep grazed behind old stone walls while others wandered freely, sometimes trotting up the road in front of us.
As we started descending, a sign warned, “20% Grade Ahead.” Fair enough.
A moment later, another one appeared: “Dangerous Road Ahead – 25% Grade.”
Okay, now it was getting interesting.
Luckily, the narrow road was empty, so we could ease our way down the steep descent without any drama. After one sharp downhill left-hand turn, we rolled into town, just a couple of miles from our destination.
We pulled into Haggs Bank Bunkhouse and parked beside a big oil stain, and Helen came out right away to greet us.
Then came the bad news.
Danny had ridden north to Scotland.
That made two missed visits with friends in two days. Helen laughed and pointed to the oil stain beside our bike, saying it had been left by our friend Doug Wothke, who’d stayed there only a couple of weeks earlier. Even though we were disappointed, the ride through the northern Peak District had been worth every mile.
On the way back, we came across a huge herd of deer grazing peacefully in the shadow of an enormous stately home. It was Raby Castle, a stunning estate with centuries of history, royal connections, and a family that still lives there today.
Raby Castle is one of England’s finest surviving medieval fortresses, located in Staindrop, County Durham. Built in the 14th century by the powerful Nevill family, it is currently the home of Lord and Lady Barnard.
The castle was open for tours, but we decided to keep riding. After picking up a few supplies at a local market, we headed back to the inn, where Melanie once again worked her magic and made another fantastic meal.
The next morning was just as beautiful, so why not head off in another direction?
An Australian couple staying at the inn recommended nearby Hexham Abbey, so after breakfast we made the short ride into town. We toured the impressive abbey before settling into a café overlooking its ancient walls with cappuccinos in hand.
Hexham Abbey dates back to 674 AD. Its crypt is reached through a narrow stone passageway, where generations of footsteps have worn the ancient steps smooth and curved over nearly fifteen centuries. Elegant stone arches soared overhead, supporting an old timber roof, while the shiny silver pipes of a magnificent organ stretched almost to the ceiling in perfect symmetry.
Watching everyday life unfold outside the abbey was just as enjoyable. Some people carried bags full of fresh fruit, vegetables, and warm bread from the bakery. Others simply wandered along hand in hand, enjoying each other’s company on a perfect summer morning.
Before leaving the area, we made one last stop at Squires Café Bar, a favorite hangout for motorcyclists. The parking lot was packed, and the conversations were even better. Motorcycle riders are wonderfully proud of their machines, and it’s always fun swapping stories while checking out each other’s bikes.
From there, we headed toward Alcester, where the ABR Festival would kick off the following weekend. But first, we had one more stop to make. The next day we’d be riding to BMW Bristol to catch a presentation by Kinga Tanajewska, better known as “OnHerBike.”
But that’s a story for next time.
Cheers for now,
2WANDRRs
2WANDRRs 
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