Lockdown is easing and overnight stays are permitted again in the UK. After months of staying local, I have been given the freedom to stretch the legs further afield in my search for adventure. I wanted to do something different, something I hadn’t done before. After a little bit of browsing online I settled on the idea, camping in a cave sounded like it could be fun.
Relying on nature’s own shelters, as humans had done for thousands of years. I searched deeper online until I found one which seemed suitable.
I coerced two friends into joining me and we made our way into the Peak District Saturday afternoon. We parked 30 minutes away from the cave and walked in the final 1 ½ mile, following the footpaths through the local farmland. A couple of styes helped us over the stone stacked walls which were symbolic of the UK’s countryside.
As we bundled through the fields, we found ourselves high above a valley, our cave somewhere deep within the depths of descending moorland. We made our way down a winding path, searching. On the far side of the valley, we could see a person emerging from an opening in the rockface. My heart sank a little. Camping has only just been permitted and we were expecting places to be busy, so had brought tents just in case. The lad on the far side was picking up small crash mats and looked like he was packing up. Must be a mountain climber finishing for the day. We crossed the dried out river bed at the bottom of the valley and began to plot our route up the hill. It was steep and gravely, the floor moving underneath our feet. Having climbed over a small fence I turned back to the others when I saw it. Hidden around the corner from where we had descended was a clear opening to what was most certainly the cave we were looking for. Better still it wasn’t nearly a high up as the one we were first looking at. The cave was fairly easy to get to now that we were at the bottom of the valley.
The cave was named after a Goblin who was believed to live there and would bring luck to the local farmers. Add the myths of fairies in the area, and the discovered burials of Romano-British, and the caves had had a mysterious pull to it. The cave is wide at its opening but narrows as you go further in. It is not long until you reach the back, where there is a small opening on the floor with a drop down into another chamber. Beyond this, there are other chambers, and a little stream, not that I dare go down to find out.
Once settled in we sat at the lip of the cave and finished watching the climber on the far side pack his stuff away and climb his way home. Here, deep into the countryside, there was no buildings in sight, no noise from passing traffic, just the sounds of the wind and the birds gently passing through the valley.
The opening to the cave was fairly flat and wide and was not covered by the roof. In April the weather was warm all day and then dropped drastically at night. With this in mind, we made a small contained fire on the rock.
After the rock climber left we didn’t see anyone else for the rest of the night (certainly no goblins). We sat peacefully watching the darkness swallow us, as the fire light flickered across us. The night slipped away, and as the weather was still clear we pulled the sleeping bags to the entrance of the cave and lay down by the fire. With the warmth of the fire, it didn’t take long until I lost the night and fell asleep.
Waking up, the valley before me was perhaps worth the compromise of being a bit cold in the night. Even within wild camping, there are more comfortable nights to be found than sleeping on a cold stone floor. Yet the confinement of 4 enclosed, plastic tent walls would not allow me this. Fresh morning air blowing across my face as I held my eyes shut for that little longer. The early morning chill running through you, enough to know it’s there, not enough to bother to move or do anything about it. As I opened my eyes to soak it all in, I felt content.
Get Up Go Outside 