Day 16. Derby to Repton.

 My mobile rings at 10 am “Do you fancy a coffee?”  I do, as I’ve just arrived back in Derby after a very early start from home. Over the sound of the busy traffic, I explain my whereabouts; no need to explain why I am here. Hopefully, completing my ‘pilgrimage’ to Lichfield. That coffee will have to wait. 

On this trip, I managed to walk across Manchester almost entirely on cycle paths or parklands. I was pleased with my choice of routes, but the leisure infrastructure was a great help. So far, I managed to walk into Derby in rural surroundings, but getting out of the southern side could prove challenging. Looking at the map, there are no obvious green spaces and no cycle ways or redundant railways. I need to get to Repton somehow.  Half the fun of choosing your own route is the time spent linking up likely footpaths on the OS map.

However, first, I want to visit a couple of sites in Derby that I missed last time. 

St. Alkmund’s Well.    Derby’s last remaining Holy Well. The earliest mention of the well dates back to 1190, but it may have been in use much earlier, possibly as early as 800. I find it hidden away in a residential area of the city.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c8reyld535jo

I retrace my steps to the bridge over the bypass leading to the stately St Mary’s Roman Catholic Church. It is closed, but I find a bench in its peaceful garden for a breakfast snack.

Nearby, a plaque commemorates the site of the original St. Alkmund’s church, which was demolished to make way for the bypass road. During this demolition, the sarcophagus of St. Alkmund was discovered, which I viewed in the Derby Museum on my last visit.  Here are some historic pictures of the church and its demise.

I can’t find the plaque, so I move on.

A 5-minute walk away is The Chapel of St. Mary on the Bridge, one of six medieval bridge chapels left in the UK. It stands just above the Derwent next to the 18th-century St Mary’s Bridge, which replaced a medieval bridge to which the chapel was originally attached. I don’t know how I missed it before.

The first chapel was probably built late in the 13th century on the original stone bridge. Later in the 14th century, it was replaced by the present building. The chapel would have been a place of prayer for travellers leaving the city and a collection point for bridge tolls.   The hagioscope, or squint, was used by the hermit to monitor traffic, as well as by passers-by to see the altar. One of the arches of the old bridge can be made out under the chapel.

Unfortunately, it is closed, so I miss out on its peaceful interior. It’s open on some Saturdays and continues to have services.

I don’t dally at the Museum of Making, the Cathedral, or the Art Gallery/Museum, all of which I visited last time.

Instead, I head across the city to visit St. Peter’s church, which apparently has much of interest from Medieval times. The streets around here are edgy with lowlife, a heavy police presence reinforcing the feeling. ( I learn later that there have been recent armed robberies here, a bank and the Pawnbrokers, hence all the police) Anyhow, the church was closed, so I don’t see the Florence Nightingale window.

I’ve had my fill of Derby’s beggars, drunks and addicts. Sorry to be judgmental, but it is a fact of many city centres these days. My resolve is weakened, and I jump on the first bus heading out of town. This saves a couple of miles of suburban walking. A Pilgrim’s dilemma, forgive me.

Using my bus app, I know where to alight in Littleover to get back on track. The road looks busy with little verge, but fortunately, there is a traffic-free way alongside a new housing estate. I get my first glimpse of the countryside along with the loud mooing of a herd of cows. Let’s hope I don’t encounter too many of them.

A footpath continues past a fishing lake to the edge of the farmland. The bedraggled Heron is the only one fishing.

The farm is bypassed, and I’m on my way. The fields are not well walked, but those new-fangled metal kissing gates lead the way. Strangely, they are all missing their yellow catches. Did they run out of funds during the installation, or are scrap metal dealers profiting? 

Kestrels quarter the newly cut fields;  no doubt, the rodents have less cover.

Over to my left are five cooling towers, all that remain of Willington Power Station, a familiar sight for travellers on the A50.

I pass through one of those farms that collect junk, but don’t worry, they are commited to the environment. 

The steeple of Findern church is a good landmark to head for. On a map somewhere, I saw this route marked as The Priory Way, and as I enter Findern, there is a board explaining where and why the Priory existed; it has since disappeared completely.

I find the Find Cafe in the village’s old meeting rooms.  A pleasant surprise: good coffee and cake. 

Findern was mentioned in the Domesday Book when it was held by Burton Abbey.  All Saints’ Church was rebuilt in 1863, on the site of a Saxon place of worship. Its fine sandstone a pale colour.  Again, it is closed. There are some interesting properties around the village green. The village pump is preserved along the High Street; it was used until 1931, when a water main arrived.  

A short stretch of pavement walking alongside a busy road over the A50, and I’m soon back in fields leading to the Trent and Mersey Canal. First, I can’t resist diving into the Willow Spiral, funded by the nearby Mercia Marina. It could do with a trim, but I do reach the centre. 

A metal footbridge has me on the canal towpath for a stretch into Willington. The canal barge owners are a friendly lot with some fine narrowboats.

There is little to detain me in Willington. Despite the sign, the church is closed. I’ve not had much luck so far today. The bridge leaving Willington over the River Trent was built in 1836, replacing a ferry, and was one of the last main road toll bridges in England. It was not made free until 1898. It has five elegant arches, which I can view from the site of the demolished toll house. The toll fees per animal, for assorted carriages and wagons, were based on the thickness of their wheel. 

The stretch of road leading to Repton is very busy, and the pavement is narrow.  The spire of St Wystan’s prominently ahead. I’m relieved to arrive in one piece.

Immediately, the influence of the Repton School premises takes prominence with their chapel and modern buildings. The Chapel was opened in 1859; prior to that, pupils attended St. Wystan’s.

It’s rush hour, and the village roads are a nightmare; I risk taking a photo of the Village Cross and St Wystan’s Church before catching the bus to Burton-on-Trent. Exploration of Repton can wait till tomorrow.  

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I’m booked into the basic GO2 Hotel for three nights. A converted grain store by the railway.

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