Autumn is the season the Peak District shows off. The bracken turns rust and gold, the mornings come with a low mist that sits in the valleys, and the light through the trees on the back roads is the kind of thing you’d stop and photograph if you weren’t, you know, driving.
My imaginary passenger this morning is a woman we’ll call Margaret, heading to the station for a train to see her first grandchild. She’s got a bag of hand-knitted things on her lap and the particular glow of someone about to become a nana for the first time. She barely notices the scenery. I notice it for both of us.
The season of the scenic route
There’s a temptation, on a morning like this, to take the pretty way round — and if the timing allows and the passenger fancies it, why not. A minute or two of gold-lined lanes never hurt anyone’s mood before a big day.
Some journeys you remember for the destination. Some you remember for the ten quiet minutes of countryside on the way there.
We got Margaret to her train with time to spare, knitted bag intact. She waved from the platform like we were old friends, which, after twenty golden minutes through the hills, I suppose we sort of were.
Why autumn’s our favourite
No 4am airport rush, no wedding-day nerves — just crisp mornings, quiet roads and the odd passenger off to meet a new grandchild. Some of the best miles of the year are the unremarkable ones through a landscape that’s anything but.
More tales when the roads are quiet. Wherever autumn’s taking you, we’d love to drive it — see our services or airport transfers.