If you fancy a change of scene, take a short drive to Worksop or Sherwood Forest—yes, that Sherwood Forest, home of Robin Hood. You can walk under the Major Oak, which is over 800 years old, and pretend you’re hiding from the Sheriff of Nottingham. It’s a cheap thrill, but a good one.
Clumber Park Caravan and Motorhome Club Site | Alan Rogers
Or, stay put and rent a bike from the park’s cycle hire. The trails are flat and easy, perfect for that wobbly family member who hasn’t ridden in years. We did a six-mile loop once, stopping for blackberries and a picnic of squashed sandwiches. It was, unironically, one of the best afternoons of my life.
The Evening Ritual
By the time dusk settles, the campsite hums with a gentle warmth. Barbecues flicker, chairs come out, and you hear the clink of mugs rather than traffic. The toilet blocks stay lit until 10pm (a small luxury, but a real one). Someone always plays guitar by a campervan, and no one minds.
You’ll find yourself sitting out later than planned, staring at a sky full of stars, and realising you haven’t checked emails in hours. That’s the point. Clumber Park isn’t trying to impress you—it’s just there, patient and beautiful, waiting for you to slow down.
So next time you’re dreading the chaos of a big resort or a cramped campsite, think of this spot. It’s not flashy. It’s not loud. It’s the kind of holiday that feels like a soft blanket—and honestly, isn’t that what we all need?
Pack the marshmallows. I’ll bring the flask. See you there.
