Driving from Birmingham as the sun began to set, my phone flashed a warning: 'expect heavy snowfall' over the Shivering Mountain in the Peak District village of Castleton. A part of me hoped it would. The journey had already been breathtaking, taking me through the awe-inspiring Winnats Pass, a landscape so dramatic it felt more like Middle Earth than the English Midlands.
The idea of being stranded in this picturesque setting was strangely appealing. With one pub for roughly every 90 residents, being snowed in seemed less like a problem and more like a perfect plan.
A Twinkling, Timeless Escape
Following the scent of wood smoke from cosy pub chimneys, I wandered along the Peakshole Water stream, past ducks perched on a wall, and was led to a welcoming old boozer, The George, renowned for its hearty pies and mash made with local produce. It was, like everything in Castleton, practically perfect.
Giant, colourful vintage bulbs illuminated every twist and turn of the village, eschewing modern, cold lights for something far more playful and nostalgic. The decorations were everywhere—on trees, bridges, and lining the streets—creating the enchanting sensation of having been shrunk down and placed inside one of those miniature model Christmas villages you find in shops.
Exploring the Magic and History
My visit was a follow-up to a previous trip to the Hope Valley in September, which had left me eager to discover more. Castleton did not disappoint. The Christmas shopping was a unique experience, featuring twinkling apothecaries, curiosity shops, and jewellers specialising in Blue John, a rare mineral found only in this part of Derbyshire. These were charmingly interspersed with traditional tea rooms and sweet shops, one even featuring a magical toy train in the window.
The history looms as large as the scenery here. A challenging uphill climb leads to the ruins of Peveril Castle, named for a trusted knight of William the Conqueror. The drops that once served as its defences now offer stunning views down to the mouth of the famous cave below, traditionally known by its rather rude local name, The Devil's Arse (now politely called Peak Cavern).
We spent time inside the cavern system, learning about its history of rope-making and the families who once lived and worked there. The caves were being prepared for December, with Christmas trees positioned for carol concerts that would fill the vast chambers with song.
A Reluctant Return to Reality
Our stay was just one night, spent in pretty holiday cottages right beside the cave mouth. Evenings were spent by the fire, playing Scrabble, reading books, and watching DVDs—a blissful escape from phones and modern life.
When the time came to leave, I confess, I wanted to cry. Of all the pretty villages and towns around Birmingham I've visited, Castleton was the first one whose departure I genuinely grieved. I've missed its unique magic every single day since.
