Cycling with Grandpa
Spinning along the smooth gravel of the Peak District rail trails, three generations found our flow.
It was the second day of our trip and we were hauling ourselves back up the steep incline from High Peak Junction. The slope sits on what is now a trail for walkers, cyclists and horseriders but was once the trackbed of a railway built to carry minerals and goods.
The incline was too steep for locomotives so static engines pulled goods wagons to the top. In 1888, two of these wagons escaped their tether and tore down the hill towards the canal. Unable to round the curve into the wharf, they flew over the canal and the double-track railway line beyond, landing in a field. We, though, made it safely to the summit with our load of snacks.
And we celebrated by consuming them at a convenient picnic bench. As we ate, we reflected on our rides: the Tissington Trail the previous day and the High Peak Trail that day. On satellite images when planning our trip I’d seen the trails as veins of white gravel through the green countryside. Now these veins had carried my son, my dad and I nearly 120km through the national park.