Some trips feel like a gentle wander through history. Others feel like stepping into a forgotten world of moss-covered rock corridors, misty lakes and landscapes that seem to belong more to legend than modern life. Our journey in Peggy to the Staffordshire Moorlands was very much the latter.
We began with a riverside park-up, tucked away beside a gently flowing brook. As evening settled in, the sound of the water became the soundtrack to the night. The babbling stream, the rustle of trees, and the occasional distant owl created a sense of calm that you simply don’t get on a campsite. It felt like Peggy had parked us in a private corner of the countryside where time had slowed down.
Early the next morning, before many other visitors had arrived, we set off for Lud’s Church.
Hidden in the woodland near the village of Gradbach, Lud’s Church is not actually a church at all, but a deep moss-covered chasm formed by a massive landslip in the millstone grit rock. It stretches for around 100 metres, with towering green walls that drip with moisture even in dry weather. Historically, it is said to have been used as a secret meeting place for religious dissenters during the 15th century, and local legend also links it to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
Walking through it in the early morning silence, with only birdsong and dripping water echoing between the rock walls, it was easy to see why it has inspired myths for centuries. There’s something almost otherworldly about it—like stepping into a hidden passage carved straight through the landscape.
From there we moved on to Ramshaw Rocks, another dramatic outcrop shaped by time and weather. The landscape here is wild and open, with strange rock formations rising from the hillside like giant sculptures.
However, the visit was slightly soured by something far less timeless: the amount of rubbish left in the free parking layby. It’s always disappointing to see such beautiful places treated so carelessly. These landscapes have been shaped over millions of years, and it takes only minutes for them to be spoiled by thoughtlessness.
Thankfully, the natural beauty still dominates. The famous “Winking Man” rock formation stands proudly nearby, its shape altered by perspective so that it appears to be winking at those passing by. It’s a reminder that nature is the greatest sculptor of all, even if some of its work is best appreciated from a particular angle.
The journey then took a more unexpected turn when Arnie found himself rescuing a car that had come off the road in the heavy rain. Using a ratchet strap—normally reserved for securing the LiveWire in the garage—he managed to help get the vehicle safely recovered. Not your typical tourist activity, but very much in keeping with the unpredictable nature of life on the road in Peggy.
As night fell, we arrived at Rudyard Lake, a beautifully peaceful reservoir created in the late 18th century as part of the Caldon Canal system. The water lay still beneath the darkening sky, reflecting the surrounding trees and hills. It was so quiet you could hear owls calling across the valley.
At dawn, the chorus of wildlife was unforgettable—birdsong rising across the water as mist drifted over the surface. It felt like the world was waking up slowly, one breath at a time.
We spent the morning walking around the lake, passing the elegant Rudyard Lake Sailing Club and admiring the beautifully maintained waterside buildings. A highlight was spotting poached eggs being served at the café—simple but perfect fuel for a lakeside walk.
There was also a striking old manor house being carefully restored nearby, its grandeur slowly being brought back to life. It was hard not to feel a little envious of the lakeside retreats dotted along the shoreline—perfectly placed for waking up to that view every morning.
From Rudyard we made our way through a series of stop-offs that each had their own character.
In Leek, a historic market town known for its textile heritage and Victorian architecture, we wandered through streets that once thrived on silk production. In Hollinsclough, the landscape turned quieter and more remote, a small village surrounded by rolling hills and dry stone walls.
Finally, we arrived in Stone, a town shaped by the Trent and Mersey Canal. Once a key transport route during the Industrial Revolution, Stone still carries the slow rhythm of canal life today, with narrowboats easing through locks as if time has barely moved on.
Stone also has a wonderfully eccentric connection to Narrow Dog to Carcassonne, the true travel story by Terry Darlington, which follows a narrowboat journey from Staffordshire all the way to the south of France with a whippet called Jim. Parts of the journey begin along this very canal network, making Stone feel like a gateway to one of Britain’s most unusual adventure tales. Standing by the water, it’s easy to imagine setting off from here and simply following the canal system all the way across Europe, lock by lock, mile by mile.
As the journey home began, Peggy carried us back through layers of landscape and history—ancient rock formations, hidden gorges, peaceful lakes and canal towns. Each stop had its own story, its own atmosphere, and together they formed another unforgettable chapter in life on the road.
peggy and crew
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