An Ode To Matlock Bath

I’ve been wanting to write this one for some time. And okay, it might not be an ode in the traditional sense, but here goes…

Nestled along the banks of the River Derwent, and under rolling hills-a-plenty, there exists a town that is so dear to me, I often find myself longing to revisit – Matlock Bath. As I sit down to write this ode love-letter, I find myself travelling through the nooks and crannies of time, reminiscing about a place that transcends the physical and for me, becomes a sanctuary of memories, hopes and whispers of adventure.

I think everyone has a special place that means a lot to them. Perhaps it’s filled with memories, a childhood favourite, somewhere steeped in nostalgia, or some place you ticked off your bucket list that was an awe inspiring goal. Perhaps it’s linked to a momentous occasion or somewhere that doesn’t exist anymore, but keeps a special place in your heart. We all have a special place, somewhere that’s ours.

Matlock Bath, with its rugged charm, is my sanctuary, my refuge through the epochs of my life. Famous local poet, Lord Byron, dubbed it ‘Little Switzerland’ on account of its magnificent views and steep, wooded hillsides.  For me, Matlock Bath is not just a town; it’s an embodiment of my journey from the innocence of childhood to the hustle and bustle of adulthood. If I’m happy; I go to Matlock Bath. If I’m sad; I go to Matlock Bath. If I crave a chippy tea; I go to Matlock Bath. If I want to celebrate; I go to … you get the idea.

The very mention of Matlock Bath evokes a cascade of memories, each tied to a unique moment in time. I recall riding on the back of my dad’s motorbike, the wind whistling through my hair as we raced towards the town on a weeknight. The promise of a chippy tea and the exhilarating anticipation painted those school nights with hues of adventure.

Other times, it was my mum at the wheel of our car, taking the longer, more scenic route. The winding roads, flanked by towering green trees, created a prelude to the magic awaiting around that final bend and into Matlock Bath. The journey itself became an adventure, a leisurely drive filled with the promise of fun.

I’ve lost count of the amount of time I’ve taken solace in the warmth of the Matlock Bath’s arcades, with their colourful 2p slots and noisy fruit machines, taking witness to my pursuit of elusive keyrings that I didn’t really want and would lose a few weeks later. Of the Boxing day shenanigans, where we’d get up early to throw bags of flour at homemade rafts, trying to escape the rafters and their water pistols. Giggling like crazy. A yearly Christmas tradition.

As I grew older, Matlock Bath evolved with me. Filming walks around the town, conquering new trails, and sipping half pints of cider before hopping on a train home. I did my very fist solo hike in Matlock Bath, and walked paths lesser known to me, but feeling safe in the cradle of arms that I’m so familiar with.

I’ve picked wild garlic in the woodlands and taken pocketfuls home to make wild garlic pesto, adding lashings of it too my pasta and it tasting oh so much better knowing that a part of it came from Matlock Bath.

The well trodden ‘Lovers’ Walk’ holds the footprints of friendships and romances, as we strolled with hot chocolates in hand and giggling with friends, or nervous giddy steps as I share this special place with someone new. Late night visits with my single friends, visiting the park late at night, reaching high on swings and shouting into the night our hopes and wishes for the year ahead, before trudging on to find a cocktail.

The Matlock museums became playgrounds for grown-up escapades, where I navigated coal mining tunnels meant for children, getting stuck and laughing until tears blurred my vision.

Introducing my younger brother to Matlock Bath was a rite of passage, marked by swings, pirate adventures where he fought Jack Sparrow in the street, and toffee lollipops that clung to our teeth like sweet souvenirs.

There were solitary trips, too, when I sought reflection and solace. Standing on the bridge, watching the twinkling lights accompanied with a favourite soundtrack by Ruth Moody, I found serenity in the midst of life’s chaos. Taking long, slow, walks, enjoying the bitterness of the crisp air, and stepping over autumn leaves crunching underfoot, a silent conversation with the town that held my secrets, and never tired of me searching for answers in the riverbanks.

Matlock Bath is more than a busy town running parallel to the River Derwent; it is the keeper of nostalgic memories, the holder of secrets and desires, and it has aged with me. I hope it’ll guide me into my older years, us both aging gracefully with time. To me, Matlock Bath is not just a place; it’s the warm embrace of coming home.

This is my ode to Matlock Bath.