Above: There are very few good quality colour photos of the Goyt Valley before the construction of the twin reservoirs.

This one comes from Corrie’s collection of old postcards and shows a view over the stepping stones in Goyt’s Bridge, as the Goyt joins Wildmoorestone Brook.

Gatehouse Cottage is just visible behind the copse of trees. The gypsy caravan is just to the left and the packhorse bridge behind.

Sadly, this part of the valley now lies submerged under the southern end of Errwood Reservoir, opposite Errwood Hall car park.

I discovered this poem on the Whaley Bridge Local History Group’s forum. The post’s author explains that the Goyt Valley was originally known as The Dale of the Goyt. And that he found the 3-page poem, signed by Wm. Mellor and dated 1908, in a box of old documents.

A pleasure great it is to me,
Thy sounds and sights to hear and see,
Dale O’ Goyt!

I’ve journeyed oft thy stream along,
The wild flowers and woods among,
Charmed with its clearness and its song.
Dale O’ Goyt!

Dale O’ Goyt, fair Dale O’ Goyt,
So beautiful, my Dale O’ Goyt!
How clear my memories are to me,
Dale O’ Goyt!

I like to trace thy tribute hills,
Delight to climb thy bordering hills,
Dale O’ Goyt!

To hear the birds so sweetly sing,
Midst the awaking buds of spring,
O’, how they make thy valley ring,
Dale O’ Goyt!

Spring’s tender green and Summer’s glow,
And Autumn’s brown and Winter snow,
Dale O’ Goyt!

The changing scenes I know so well,
And of them often think and tell,
My lot still be in thee to dwell,
Dale O’ Goyt!

How often have I watched the trout?
That now lie still now dart about,
Dale O’ Goyt!

Seen Errwood’s Rhododendrons bloom,
A glorious sight in early June,
With nature’s music all at one,
Dale O’ Goyt!

King Sycamore by Intake Farm,
A picture is far size and charm,
Dale O’ Goyt!

By Hill Bridge foot, King Larch is seen,
New Oaken Clough, King Oak and Queen,
Still Normanwood’s old Yew shades of green.
Dale O’ Goyt!

Then Taxal Church, with quaint old tower,
Among the trees in sacred flower.
Dale O’ Goyt!

How treasured is the old Yew tree?
Sundial and arch top tomb you’ll see,
Sweet are the pecking bills to me.
Dale O’ Goyt!

On Rie Edge high, hit moorland home,
Thy brooklet first begins to roam,
Dale O’ Goyt!

And winding with a river grows,
When Goyt meets Tame their courses close,
Then, world famed Mersey seaward flows,
Dale O’ Goyt!

By Wm. Mellor, Whaley Bridge. (1908)