Peak District

In an effort to detoxify ourselves after Manchester, we thought to sweat it out in Peak District. This was a bucket list area for me and I’d definitely go back. 
A brief aside: 

Just after checking in at the BnB, we experienced the most silent but gut-clinchingly hilarious moment of the trip. The walls of the BnB were paper thin and an old man on the other side of the door was… well, we’ll say struggling. He could have been just bending down to tie his shoes, could have been on the toilet, who knows. Almost an Austin Powers moment, imagine a farce of someone creating 10 minutes of the most stereotypically frustrated old man grunts they could think of. Of course, we tried to stifle the laughter. If it was that easy to hear him, it would be easier to hear the reaction! Whatever the hell that man was doing, I presume he succeeded, though I think we experienced as much or more pain that he did. Hard to put into words. I won’t forget it though.

Anyway, Peak District. It’s got a big range of different but equally fantastic landscapes to get lost in. We did some nice walks through little villages along old farm roads, crested peaks overlooking endless stretches of English countryside and stormy skies, and we marched begrudgingly through endless trails of saturated sheep shit while even our fleecy hosts wondered why the hell we were there. A good mix, really. 

We also went to Chatsworth House. Makes Downton Abbey look like a guy with no teeth living in a cardboard box yelling at cats. My favorite part was the single file of a thousand sheep migrating across the gardens for no reason.

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