Marple

 

Leaving the train in Marple station, a light rain, and an even more ominous sky, suggested that it was not going to be a great day for photographs. Reaching into my bag for a raincoat for the half mile walk to my B&B for the night, I considered my options. First, after dropping my luggage off, I could make my way into town, find a coffee shop, and wait for opportune periods, when the rain let up, for exploration and walks. After checking in and starting back out for the walk into town, two women who had just checked out offered me a ride into town because of the rain. They were on their way to see one’s son, and thought it was interesting that I had come to walk. It was nice of them to offer the ride, a brave gesture to offer a lone man a ride. Perhaps the driver lost her nerve, or that she was a nervous driver, when she suggested I get out near the canal because she was concerned about driving into the town center. The rain had become heavier in the meantime, and there was no shelter near the canal. Luckily, I was on Stockport Road, a primary thoroughfare and within ten minutes I found a Costa coffee shop to decamp, have an americano, and wait for a break in the rain.

Walking a canal in Europe or North America is immersive into nature and a location’s history from roughly two hundred years ago. Often, we believe that the world two centuries ago was a simpler time and life was both pastoral and better. Likewise, we tend to believe that we are smarter than those who proceeded us by a couple of centuries. While some of their beliefs may seem strange today, perhaps this is a source of discontent. But the notion that times were simpler and that we are smarter are not true. Life in the early nineteenth the century was brutal, and full of squalor. Look no further than the writings of Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, and Thomas Malthus. 

Marple Aqueduct from below

Equally intriguing is the supposition that we today are smarter than our predecessors. Perhaps this is because of our access to instant information. The powerful computer that many of us carry around in our pockets gives us a sense that we are smart. Consider, however, the Marple Aqueduct, constructed in the 1790s, without the benefit of computers or heavy equipment, a hundred feet above the River Goyt. Looking at the aqueduct and the nearby railroad bridge, I am reminded of what I do not know. The knowledge and skill required for such an undertaking is immense, something that those who use these places but do not think about. The train ride from Manchester to New Mill traversed the railroad bridge and allowed for a glimpse of the aqueduct. Flying along at 60 miles an hour, or so, I suspect that most people never considered that the 120-year-old bridge was what kept the train from plummeting into the valley below. 

Located about a mile north of town on the canal, the aqueduct is a restored treasure, carrying the water of the Peak Forest Canal across the river valley. The local mills and factories depended on the canals for transporting their products around the country and out to the ports. Walking along the canals, many decades after they ceased commercial operations, I cannot but help but romanticize that portion of nineteenth century transportation. While the pollution and working conditions of the mills were awful, transporting goods around the country via canals evokes a pastoral setting, manure from the donkeys aside. The relentless deadlines faced by semi-tractor trailers (lorries) and the intimidating driving on the same highways feels manic. 

Half a dozen eggs for £1.50 

While the aqueduct may attract the attention, part of the allure of canal walks is to see where people live juxtaposed with the flowers and animals that inhabit the canal. Some people sell excess eggs, others nurture the aquatic birds, while still others develop intricate and beautiful gardens that benefit the pollinators. Along British canals in particular, the romance of living and exploring on a narrow canal boat intrigues many. Walking or riding along the canals allows time to observe, contemplate, and explore. 

Moorhen snacking on a fish