Somewhere along the Derwent Valley Heritage Way, beneath the gritstone rise of Froggatt Edge, an old stone bridge crosses the River Derwent with the kind of grace only age can give it. Froggatt Bridge, built in the seventeenth century, sits in one of those corners of Derbyshire that seems to ask very little of the world beyond being left well alone.
Dale and I arrived with Ruby, my irrepressible springer, and settled for a while in a small stand of pines near the bridge. It was one of those spring days that feels gently alive, the sun a little brighter and warmer than usual. Water moved steadily beneath the arch. Light touched the river in broken flashes. The village beyond seemed to doze while a steady stream of walkers passed through on their trek along the Heritage Way or maybe just down to the villages of Calver or Curbar.
For a couple of hours we did very little, which was the point. Ruby nosed through the undergrowth with her usual missionary zeal while we listened and recorded the sound of the Derwent carrying the day along. A nuthatch called nearby. Then robin and wren. A grey wagtail flicked through the scene like a quick thought. Higher in the trees came chiffchaff, treecreeper, goldcrest, blue tit and coal tit, with song thrush and blackbird laying their voices across the water. Somewhere further off, almost lost in the layering of birdsong and river flow, a jay made itself known. A lone swimmer, much braver than I could ever, be slipped into the cold waters giving a cheery wave as she passed by.
What stays with you about Froggatt Bridge is not grandeur but a kind of balance. Gritstone above. Water below. Pines at your back. Picture perfect. Birdsong shifting through the branches. It is a place that lends itself to stillness without ever becoming silent. It’s a place to return to time and time again, if only to gaze upon this quintessentially beautiful Derbyshire scene and take a few moments to yourself.
This recording was made there, on location, with no music, no talking, and almost no interference: just the River Derwent, the birds, and an uninterrupted piece of Derbyshire left to speak for itself.
And your writing is exquisite.
Beautiful place, Matthew.