Tag: Sudbury

#365daysofbiking Beyond the blue

August 26th – I normally hate August Bank Holiday Monday – it’s seems to be the end of summer (although it usually isn’t). If it’s grim it’s the most depressing day, and when bright it can be hard to think of a summer passed.

However, today was fabulous. I slipped out in the morning heading for old hands – the countryside of the A515 corridor to Sudbury, the lovely villages between there, Ashbourne and Utoxetter and the Weaver hills, before returning via the Churnet Valley and Blithfield.

I was fast and the riding was good. I caught Sbnelston, the perfect little village in the Dove valley with it’s gorgeous, tree shrouded church; I sat at the top of the Weabvers, unusually with the company of picnickers. I saw the Moorlands edge village of Cotton shrouded in heat mist.

A cracking day that was just what I needed. A most excellent Bank Holiday.

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#365daysofbiking Unexpected discoveries

June 1st – I had been to the steam event at Klondyke Mill near Draycott-in-the-Clay as is usual the first weekend in June, and had left on a dull but warm late afternoon to have a pint and a rest at the Vernon Arms in Sudbury – which to my total consternation was closed, and had been for some time.

That pub – opposite Sudbury Hall and with a fantastic beer garden and architectural impression – should be a goldmine. I have no idea how it could fail.

Sad but undaunted, I headed for Rolleston on Dove via Scropton and Marston on Dove. Arriving at Rolleston, I found the beautiful Spread Eagle pub.

After a lovely drink on the benches by the river, watching ducklings potter around the and enjoying the comings and goings of this charming village, I rode south to Anslow.

On the way though, I by chance took a look to my right and noticed a high weir arrangement in woodland. For the first time ever, I’d noticed Brook Hollows Spinney, despite passing it by for 25 years or more.

I can’t find much online about it at all – it’s a high weir with a beautiful footbridge with a double arch; behind it there’s a pool and an island and all around, tucked in by the houses of the south of the village, wild garlic scented woodland.

It’s tranquil and nthoroughly gorgeous.

I must return when I have more time…

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June 2nd – A ride that turned out nothing like it was meant to, but still very good. First weekend of June is always the steam fair at Klondyke Mill in Draycott in the Clay, near Sudbury, so in the afternoon, I was headed there. 

Coming down a long hill far side of Yoxall on the A515, the return spring in the front brake calliper overheated, buckled and bound in the disk.

It came out after a struggle lasting well over an hour – thankfully, patience and care meant neither the calliper nor disc were seriously damaged, and I had spare pads and a spring. But it meant I was far to late to justify the entrance fee to the fair, so I went to Sudbury, had a pint in a lovely beer garden, then explored Scropton, Hatton and the Dove Valley on a beautiful summer evening.

It was 55 miles, and not a bad ride overall.

June 8th – A very, very British Sunday. I left at 1:30pm for Draycott in the Clay, knowing there was a steam event going on at Klondyke Mill. I like to visit every few years if the weather’s nice – it’s a great run up the A515 and a a nice hour or so ferreting about around lovely old machines and even more fascinating characters. More of that on my main blog in the next few days.

I set out on a warm day with bright blue sky and high cloud. As I got to the mill 70 minutes later, the heavens opened and we had torrential rain, thunder and lightning – which cleared within minutes. This was the pattern for the remainder of the day.

I enjoyed the event – lots of great machinery and lots to mooch around – but the entry fee was eye-watering, to be honest. But I understand running the machines is costly and the society need funds, so I don’t mind too much.

I did learn that there’s a huge, possibly even gourmet, selection of coal and coke. It really is a different world. 

I returned with a challenging climb up Hanbury Hill, close to the Fauld Crater, and back through Anslow and Tatehill. Passing Battlestead Hill, I stopped to think of the RAF training aerodrome that was on these hills during the war. So many lads learned to fly here, left for war and never came back. Now the sheep graze safely while I look out towards Burton.

On the way back, I experienced several more heavy showers. But I also got a sun tan, had ice cream, and cracked a hard climb. Not an afternoon to be faulted.