Beware the wreckers
The carnivorous coast that makes up the South West Coast Path.
ON SCHOOL TRIPS TO Alton Towers, I was always the weird one. I wanted to see the gardens.
It wasn’t that I was madly horticultural. It was because I was a walker, and because Alton Towers had a little valley right through the middle of it – a valley most visitors cross using the cable car. A valley with trees and temples and footpaths. And I did like footpaths very much.
To my schoolmates, the gardens were an obstacle in between the Log Flume and the Corkscrew. Spending any time gadding about down there would eat into precious queuing minutes and thus ride time – and I’m talking about 1989 here, long before fast-track tickets were thought of.
Eventually I had to snap out of it, remember I was 13 and that I actually loved rollercoasters as much as I loved footpaths, and go with the flow. But I’ve never forgotten that pang of longing.
And recently, looking at the place on an OS map, I’ve realised something. Not only is the Towers estate beautiful in itself, with its dells, woodlands and lakes, but beyond its perimeter fence and monorail lies an equally spectacular landscape that hasn’t been manicured at all. A place that few visitors to the Towers will ever pause to explore. It’s called the Churnet Valley, and like many hidden parts of Staffordshire, it is downright gorgeous.
So my thinking was: if you’re a parent who likes walking, and you have children pestering you for a trip to the Towers, is there a way to make the two ideas work together? My answer was yes, and this time I had the children to inflict it / try it out on.
I managed it in the form of a deal: on one day we’d walk and explore the valley, then we’d stay over, leaving us fresh and ready to hit the Towers as soon as they unlocked the gates next morning.
Thankfully, this gained the approval of all three members of my decision-making cabinet: Molly (12), Rosie (8) and Mrs Hallissey (old enough to remember 1989).
I promised them an adventurous walk, and it is. If you look at the Churnet Valley on the map, you’ll see why I call these the Rollercoaster Hills. The valley is a wooded smile that curves round the bottom edge of the Towers estate, and its switchback sandstone ridges easily mimic the ups and downs of Galactica, Smiler, Rita and Oblivion, which rise above the treetops to the north.
You might even say it’s where the Midlands meet the North of England, because this place has dales – Rakes Dale, Dimmings Dale, Ousal Dale. Linguistically, dales don’t really exist south of this spot. And although it’s a mere ten miles from Stokeon-Trent, this is the birthplace of the Pennines (see panel over page for more on that).
And so, one splendid spring day, we set out from the village of Alton, which sits on the opposite lip of the valley from the Towers that stole its name.
“I can hear the rides!” shouted Rosie, in fairly short order.
“Hear them? I can see them,” said Molly, who with slight height advantage could see one of the Oblivion cars pootling along above the tree canopy across the gorge.
Over Toot Hill we went, with Rosie leading the way across stile and meadow. As much as they were excited about tomorrow, it didn’t take them long to start seeing the best of today. It was in Rakes Dale, to be precise, on account of it being secretive, secluded – and home to a field full of very friendly alpacas. There was nibbling. There were selfies.
Down dale and over hill we went, with the girls gabbling away as they do when they have a new victim – in this case, photographer Richard. He has a wonderful knack for capturing special moments, whether it’s a great view over the Churnet Valley or just those fleeting instants when my daughters stop
“You might even say it’s where the Midlands meet the North of England, because this place has dales. ”