They might not be internationally celebrated yet, but I’ll let you into a little secret: two miles west of Durham city centre are some of the most picturesque stretches of cycle track you’ll find in Britain. A bold claim perhaps, especially when you consider that this region was once the coal mining heartland of the county, but this area’s industrial past has actually proven instrumental in its reinvention, providing the basis for it to blossom into a true haven for the biker.
The key is the proliferation of old railway lines. Once used for shuttling coal and minerals through the valleys, linking stations, mining villages and collieries, they now form a wide-ranging network of cycling, walking and horse-riding tracks. Cutting through woodlands, fields, meadows and over open hills and beside rivers, each is a journey into a lush landscape now restored to its natural glories, where encounters with traces of industry are haunting reminders of what was here before.
One of the finest routes to tackle on two-wheels runs along the Deerness Valley Railway Path, a 17-mile circuit that begins and ends in the old mining village of Meadowfield. It traces the course of a historic railway that first opened in 1858 and carried coal for nearly a hundred years alongside the ancient river Deerness, before reaching the market town of Crook and looping back in a circle to the start.
After hiring cycles from Martin Stout at Specialist Cycles in Meadowfield, we follow his directions to the old railway and are soon sliding along up to a park on a hill. The surrounding meadows are awash with wildflowers; the grass is gleaming yellow with buttercups. It would be hard to imagine it was ever anything else, except there is a signboard showing the same view not so long ago when this spot was still a bleak, grey shunting yard, abandoned after the pit closures.
Cruising on we pick up signs for ‘Ushaw Moor’ and careen down a hill to a tiny bridge. Crossing the shining, slow-flowing Deerness, we are in a scene of classical beauty, of water meadows and woods straight from an oil painting. Even the East Coast mainline cutting along in the distance doesn’t detract from the view. A mother and her daughter, haloed by the sun, are picking their way through the sea of high, pollen-heavy flowers. There is the rich ground flora of red campion, dog mercury, wild garlic, bluebells, stitchwort and dog violet. When a train whooses past, bound for Scotland, butterflies stir and rise from the grasses: tortoiseshells, meadow browns and common blues flitting about like confetti.
All the way to Ushaw Moor, it’s the same story of rejuvenation. The trees – birch, hazel, holly and oak – have re-colonised the surrounding gullies and gaps, covering the land with remarkable lushness, almost seeming to grow more thickly over the scars of industry. The bike track is frilled with herbs and grasses that tickle our legs; we pass smiling cyclists, horse-riders and wandering couples holding hands, lost in the enchanting atmosphere.
Pushing on we come across numerous old iron bridges, utilitarian things that carried coal wagons until the 1960s, but even they seem grand now with their rusted metalwork framed by greenery. Reaching the bottom of Esh Winning, another mining village that boomed in the last century (reflected in the size of its Miners’ Hall – once reputedly the best dance hall in the area) we find other relics of the age repurposed. The station has been converted into a handsome house; the old railway bridge over a little river is a doubling as a diving board for local kids.
At times a lack of signage betrays the fact that the majority of cyclists and walkers here are natives. Who knows – perhaps they take them down to keep it that way. I wouldn’t blame them; if these trails were close to London they would be crawling with tourists on a day like this. But for the visitor it makes for some moments of indecision. Fortunately everybody is friendly and happy to reassure us that we’re on the right track. “Aye, it is.” Says one lady when I ask if this is still the trail to Crook. “Just keep going!”
So we do. The trees fall away and we are riding through open grazing land that rolls and dips like a messed up duvet; horses swish tails under oak trees and sheep and cows lie in the sunshine. Grasses swirl in the soft breeze. Old hay bails left to go to seed erupt with flowers and bees. When we stop to eat apples and rehydrate beside an old gate, the sound of crickets is almost deafening.
The climb to Crook is steady but long and in a couple of places our creaky legs complain enough that we walk a while. In a patch of pine trees, the sun shines so hot that the air smells like a sauna. There are tawny owl pellets on the path and roe deer droppings. Then, finally, all the altitude pays off and we are cresting a rise and smiling at the sight of the landscape falling away beyond. Hurriedly we jump back on and freewheel all the way down to the town hungry for lunch.
After delicious burgers, scoffed guilt-free with stacks of fries on the side at the Cornerhouse Bar & Kitchen, we saddle up and get a few road miles under our belts, wheezing up the climbs and whistling down the descents to reach the former pit-town of Willington. Here we turn left to rejoin the flat, sedate cycle tracks all the way back to Meadowfield, following first the blue signposts labelled ‘Durham’, then picking up the ‘Bishop Auckland/Brandon’ trail. Returning the bikes to Martin, I feel the lightness that comes with a day’s cycling, but have to confess to a twinge in my legs too. Thankfully our hotel is less than four miles away, tucked down a cute, little lane in yet more spectacular scenery.
The BEST WESTERN Whitworth Hall Hotel is not only a beautiful country house but it sits in its own deer park. After checking in and a quick, muscle-easing soak in the bath, I pick up a bag of deer food from reception and head out in the evening sun to get acquainted. Sitting with a perfect gin and tonic as the days slips over the fields and the fallow deer eat from my palm, it strikes me that this old industrial region is mining its natural resources again. Only this time it’s the astounding landscape, not what’s underneath it, that’s putting the region on the map.