Nina Nixon


I'm Nina, a photographer, film maker and forever wanderer.  Passionate about nature, the great outdoors and all of life's adventures.  This is the place where I keep all my 'field notes'

Castles and Dragons

                                       All words & photography © Nina Nixon

                                       All words & photography © Nina Nixon

We've always felt a strange pull towards the Goyt Valley.  Like some kind of mysterious magnet has a hold on us and keeps pulling us in.  It was one of the reasons we decided to settle where we have. Just a picket fence divides us from the Peak District and a hop over the hill lands us deep in the heart of it, where the valley can be found.

We've walked some of the hills and wandered around the famous forgotten village, now buried deep under the reservoir many times over the past year or so.  

Before you reach the valley though, right on the crest of the hill is a popular stopping point to all visitors that reach it.  The views are magnificent, the vantage point incredible standing 1543 foot above sea level. We measured it with an altimeter on one particular jaunt, curious to see just how high we could get.  

But the old ruins of Errwood hall deep down in the valley has always eluded us.

We'd heard whisperings from the villagers that it was a magnificent place to behold, a secret spot of long lost times forgotten.  Somewhere that was just special. 

Curiosity became too much last weekend.  So we packed our rucksack with biscuits and a thermos of hot chocolate, hopped over the hill in our little car and weaved our way down into the heart of the valley to seek out the ruins of the great old hall for ourselves.

The track took us through an old stone gate and we trod the path that followed alongside a stream rushing far below us.  The drop down to it was enough to stop us wandering off..or racing ahead.  Steps were found that took us back up again, the ruins were located and we took kindly for the rest.  Feasting on our hastily gathered supplies from the rucksack

Old walls were clamoured over and explored and when that was exhausted to it fullness the children played hide and seek and games of castles and dragons whilst us adults found a sunny spot to sit with our backs against the coolness of the stones, faces raised in almost worship to the sun and the small amount of warmth we had missed after the long cold Winter.

Now I've become a villager that whispers about the beauty of the old ruins of Errwood Hall, deep in the valley in the heart of the Peak District.

You might like to find article and our other adventures over at This is Your Kingdom