It was 6.30am, the cockcrow slot at Jubilee Park lido, and still not quite light. I hadn’t wanted to come this early – it was the only time I’d been able to book. But as I slid into the pool – heated to a delicious 29C – I realised it was a gift. Vapours rose dreamily into cool air laced with owl hoots and the whiff of dewy blooms, and I swam into a sunrise that became more vivid with every stroke. A man in the next lane paused to admire the reddening dawn too; he was hungover, he said, but had come to do his morning lengths nonetheless. A cure of sorts.
Bath, Harrogate, Buxton – Woodhall? This Lincolnshire village isn’t one of Britain’s headline spa towns. Most probably don’t know where it is – 18 miles (29km east of Lincoln, for the record. But at the turn of the 20th century, Woodhall Spa was among the most fashionable places to be seen, to be healed.
Those wellness-seekers didn’t come, as I had, for the 90-year-old lido (open April to November). They came for the springs. In 1821, a hopeful entrepreneur sank a mine shaft here, prospecting for coal. He discovered water instead, which was found to be high in iodine and bromine, thought to be beneficial for everything from rheumatoid arthritis to gout. The first proper bath house was built in 1838; trains arrived in 1855. Woodhall Spa was on the map.
The village’s Edwardian heyday is long gone. The railway has closed, the baths are no longer in use – the original building is now a beauty salon. But Woodhall Spa still has a deeply restorative feel. With its broad, leafy avenues, red-brick and half-timber villas, protective shroud of trees, numerous cafes and delis, and promise of simple, bygone pleasures, it’s like a safety blanket; a place to escape the world’s horrors for a few days.
Tina Delaney, a director at Woodhall’s Cottage Museum, agrees. She came here on holiday from Bedford six years ago and ended up staying: “My husband describes it as moving 100 miles north, 80 years back in time.”
The little museum occupies a rare 19th-century prefab of yellow corrugated iron and documents Woodhall’s history, from its early fortunes to its part in the second world war. The 1st Airlanding Brigade trained here for Operation Market Garden, the ill-fated plan to seize bridges in the occupied Netherlands; of the 2,500 men who left, fewer than 500 returned. Many became prisoners of war. Also, Squadron 617 – the Dambusters – were briefly stationed at RAF Woodhall Spa; the officers’ mess was in the grandiose mock-Tudor Petwood Hotel. I wandered there after the museum and sat on the terrace, looking out across the elegant gardens with a half of Petwood Bomber ale.
While officers hung out at the hotel, lower ranks frequented the Kinema in the Woods. This late-19th-century sports pavilion was converted into a cinema in 1922 and nicknamed the “flicks in the sticks” by airmen, who were shown top-secret reconnaissance films here. It is now a cinephile’s delight. The lobby is all rich reds and movie memorabilia, with separate counters for popcorn and ices. In screen one, deep-plush seats face a stage through which a Compton organ sometimes rises, played by the resident organist – but sadly not for my showing. There was an intermission, though, during which I devoured local-made Dennetts’ apple pie ice-cream.
When I emerged the owls were hooting again and I headed back to Bainland, an 18-hectare (45-acre) holiday park of reclaimed-timber lodges on the edge of the village, large but nicely done. My lodge was smart and cosy, set on a teeny lake. The next morning I breakfasted outside, listening to acorns smack the decking, watching mallards skim through perfectly reflected trees.
I was in no rush. My plan was to borrow one of Bainland’s bikes and make the most of Lincolnshire’s flatness. First, I headed north-east. The railway, so key to Woodhall’s former prosperity, may be defunct but its old trackbed forms part of the off-road Spa Trail, an easy ride (around three miles) to Horncastle, via ancient woods and excellent sculptures: there are steel Viking ships and oversized plants, nodding to Sir Joseph Banks, the botanist on Captain Cook’s first Endeavour expedition, who grew up near Horncastle. Banks also brought the canal to Horncastle, transforming it from backwater to busy market town. The canal, which I followed briefly, is quiet and unnavigable now; these days, the town’s main trade is antique and secondhand stores. I browsed around, wishing I had a bicycle basket to load with dog-eared books and comedy toby jugs.
I also cycled the Water Rail Way, a mostly traffic-free route following the former Lincoln to Boston Railway, by the River Witham. In the middle ages, Lincolnshire had one of England’s greatest densities of monastic houses – abbey-averse Henry VIII called it “the most brute and beastly shire” – and the greatest concentration was in the Witham valley. I started at one, Kirkstead Abbey, where the merest sliver remains, and rode northward for six miles to another, in Bardney, where there was even less. But it was a joyful pedal, along the river, fenlands spreading either side, dotted with more sculptures, swans and defunct stations that now serve only walkers and cyclists.
Finally, I followed the same route a few miles south to Tattershall, home to the enormous, light-flooded Collegiate Church of Holy Trinity and one of England’s first brick-built castles. My timing was good, arriving just as National Trust guide Nigel was starting a tour of the castle’s moated 33.5 metre-high Great Tower. It was constructed in the 15th century by Ralph, third Baron Cromwell, treasurer of England, who wanted a show-off home befitting his self-importance. Nigel described it as “ eight million bricks and a fashion statement” – exposed brick was avant garde at the time.
We climbed up the storeys, from the vaulted basement buttery (used as a prison during the civil war) to the turreted roof. A superlative lookout – and power move – for Cromwell, it’s still the highest point around; Lincoln Cathedral’s gargantuan towers, visible when it’s clear, are 18 miles away. I looked north towards Woodhall Spa, too flat to be perceptible amid the fuzz of green, hidden despite being so close. Indeed, the ideal spot to hide away.
The trip was provided by Bainland Lodge Retreats, which has lodges from £649 for four nights (sleeping two) and bike hire from £15pp. For more information see visitlincolnshire.com
