Victorian ‘seaside’ town that’s not actually near a beach – with unique Alpine-style attraction and retro hotels

EVERY seaside must-do is being checked off my list.

I have eaten ice cream, devoured fish and chips as well as played — and lost — on the arcade penny slots.

I have sat with a cup of tea in a wind shelter, walked past a bandstand and even visited an aquarium.

But I cannot see a beach anywhere.

It is hardly surprising, since Matlock Bath is 70 miles from the nearest coastline.

You will find this lively town at the bottom of a limestone gorge in deepest Derbyshire — not a county ordinarily known as a must-visit for a bucket and spade holiday.

But Matlock Bath has been ignoring its inconvenient geography for centuries. Once famed as a spa resort, the town saw a decline in the fashion for mineral bath treatments.

Instead there was the rise of railway travel in Victorian times, which encouraged locals to turn this village into an eccentric destination, caring not a jot that the nearest beaches are in Skegness or north Wales.

A retro experience

Staying in Hodgkinson’s Hotel on the high street is a retro experience, which combines the attractions of the Edwardian seaside experience with the Derbyshire inland charm.

The corridors are a curiosity shop, displaying ancient tobacco tins, Oxo cubes and beef suet packets.

My attic room, called Mayfield, is a cosy, characterful nook. Decorated in shades of cream and sage green, it has ancient wooden eaves, Victorian pitcher jugs and a view across the high street and burbling river.

Yet Matlock Bath’s quirks extend further than faux seaside attractions.

At the end of the main street is the entrance to the Heights Of Abraham, a 60-acre hilltop park, reachable by mainland England’s only Alpine-style cable car.

The “swinging buckets”, as locals refer to the cable cars, were built 40 years ago by the Pugh family, who still live on the summit.

Before then, it was more of an effort to reach the top. While a princess, Queen Victoria rode a donkey to the summit of the Heights in the early 1830s.

Later, a tower was built in her honour, and today you can climb the spiral staircase for panoramic views of the Derbyshire Dales.

I am grateful for the easier ride as the cable car winches me towards the Heights, which are named after the Plains of Abraham battle site in Quebec.

Cavern tour

The British fought in the Canadian city during the 1759 conflict, leading to a period of British supremacy in North America.

After the gentle ten-minute ascent, rising above the treetops and demurely rolling hills and meadows, I arrive to find a Georgian-style pergola and a restaurant.

Here I was served the finest Derbyshire oatcake I have ever eaten — bursting with melted cheese and ham.

There is also that Victorian viewing tower with steps steep enough to burn all those calories off again.

More exercise awaits in the form of an underground cavern tour. The Heights were once lead mines, with much of the extracted metal being used to help rebuild London after the Great Fire of 1666.

Our guide takes a group of us into the caverns, which were formed more than 350million years ago.

Mining began here in Roman times and, after the deposits were exhausted in the 19th century, former miners would lead candle-lit processions of visitors into what were then called “show caves” for live concerts by brass bands.

Emerging back into daylight above ground, I let the cable car gently ease me back to Matlock Bath.

Tempted by another ice cream, I think of Lord Byron, a visitor to the town in its heyday as a spa resort.

In a letter to a friend, he wrote: “I can assure you there are things in Derbyshire as noble as Greece or Switzerland.”

The Don Juan author had a point.

Matlock Bath may struggle for sea views, but when it comes to the eccentric, this is a one-off British oddity that’s still riding the crest of a very peculiar-looking wave.