Seth Valley Trail

Seth Valley Trail

In doing my research about Hayfield and High Peak, I had noticed the Seth Valley Trail on the map. It looked rather like a small trail. perhaps a nature path, but I knew at some point I would have a walk on it. Upon exiting the train at New Mills, a sign to the Millennial Trail completely distracted me. I walk over to have a look, the trail started about 40 steps down into a valley is between the train station. A rolling suitcase was not optimal for a walk on the trail. Thus, I needed to figure out the bus to Hayfield, and I could arrange to come back as well. The sidewalk was somewhat of an uphill excursion to get the bus stop, although less than 200 meters. Any, it turned out, the bus stop was little more than a series of shelters.

Scanning the bus schedules, a somewhat gruff older woman, sitting in the middle of the closest shelter, inquired, “Where are you heading?” “Hayfield,” I replied. “That’s your bus there just pulling in.” I acknowledged her kindness, and she gave a faint smile, mixed with satisfaction I thought. She continued, “You were lucky, just in time – the next bus would be in an hour.” Sometimes, when one is traveling, it is easy to lose count of the days. Intellectually I knew that it was Sunday because I had a reservation to stay in at a lodge but did not really think that buses might run infrequently on that particular day of the week. As the bus made its way through New Mills, it was sufficiently interesting to warrant an exploration. At some point, I would come over to this small town for an exploration, perhaps lunch or dinner, and a walk on the Millennial Trail.

Seth River Reservoir

The bus stop in Hayfield is at the trailhead for the Seth Valley Trail, a former railway line, originally opened in 1868, that transported coal and goods in this once heavily industrialized area. The bus stop in Hayfield was once the train station, a place where thousands of mill workers every Sunday would come and enjoy nature and recreation. The trail is a two-and-a-half-mile multiuse path that parallels the Seth River between Hayfield and New Mills. Shortly after checking into my guest lodge, and dropping my bags, I went back to the trail to have an exploration. While the land had been transformed during the industrial period, today it is a sanctuary for birds, wildlife, and those who seek the solace of a walk. Much like in Ireland, the bluebells were past their peak, but plenty of other wildflowers were to be found. The bluebells, nevertheless, have their own quarter-mile diversion, the Bluebell Trail, expressly for their protection and enjoyment.

European Robin

Blackbird

Mama Blue Tit

Woodpigeon

As 4pm approached, the traffic on the trail began to thin out substantially. It was the last day of the English Premier League, and a win would make Manchester United, the relatively local team, league champions. Near the halfway point of the trail, a couple were sitting on a bench watching the pregame commentary on their phone. After four, most of the walkers were decidedly older and female.

The walk into New Mills was interesting, with many side excursions along the way. Despite the nature’s recovery, the is no doubt that this was an industrial area. The landscape is beautiful, but the towns and villages have the hallmarks of nineteenth century factories and buildings. The cloudy day, with threatening clouds, made it difficult not to remember the gloom and squalor that people once endured in those factories.

Railroad Bridge in New Mills

Upon returning from my roundtrip journey, it was nearing evening. A quick shower and change meant that I was ready for dinner. There are not many restaurants in Hayfield and most cater to visitors. It was stunning, however, to see that every restaurant had signs in their windows looking for help and reducing opening hours because they were short-staffed. I opted for the local Italian restaurant, Colosseo, for the first night. It was quite busy, and the two servers on duty were attendant and efficient but everything took a long time. Many Man United fans were in the bar area, celebrating their victory and ordering takeout for their families. It was chaotic, but all good spirited.  

I ordered a beer, the only interesting one on the menu was Kozel. I chuckled to myself: I came to an Italian restaurant, in central England, to order a Czech beer.  At a table next to me, was an older British couple, with a younger woman, and an 8-year-old son were dining engaging in a rather stilted conversation. The discussion centered on entertainment television shows like Dancing with the Stars. I had not yet deduced that the awkward conversation was an attempt to avoid the obvious. The boy fidgeted and had trouble communicating with the older couple. The mother commented, with a slight accent, that the food was quite good. The older gentlemen went into detail about how the restaurant only did takeaway during lockdown. His wife tried a few questions with the boy, only then did I realize what was going on: the mother and boy were Ukrainian refugees, and the older couple were their hosts. Hence the awkwardness. The older couple were trying to make both mother and son feel comfortable and welcomed. Meanwhile, the Manchester fans were raucous. Whenever there was a crescendo in the congratulatory yelling and celebration in the bar, the young boy covered his ears. The British couple seemingly did not notice. The mother gave a quick, furtive glance at her son. War has a devastating effect on children.