The Yorkshire Dales National Park
Christina Rossetti, Up-Hill, verse 3
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
I did meet other wayfarers, though during the day and only those who were walking currently. Campsites worked well and regardless of the local protocol they never left me waiting.
Today (Tuesday 14 September) I quickly cross the M6 which in my head roughly translates as moving into the Yorkshire Dales National Park. This is a 20-mile day and much longer than some of the Cumbrian days but is one of gentle rolling moorland, splendid views and would turn out to be a recovery day after those hills. If you ever drive along the M6 and see the Shap junction, look eastwards at the seemingly endless moor and know that when walking across that moor it does feel endless; a large expanse of beautiful countryside. Early on I am debating the correct path with myself when someone off to the left waves enthusiastically and quickly comes over. It is Hilary and we combine our navigational tools and know-how to plot a course and off we go. Our confusion was down to a missing stand of trees which had recently been felled. It was a feature of the whole walk that I'd see piles of felled timber - labelled with their length or the word "chip" - waiting for collection. A surprising amount of felling was happening and this is due to the mass tree planting that happened in the 1960s; tress that are now reaching maturity. After 10 miles a convenient self-service café presents itself. This is a summer house in someone's garden and is run on an honesty basis. You make your own instant coffee, take some flapjack and pay. As usual, any pause means people catching up and soon there is a crowd including a couple doing the walk from east to west.
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| Wide expanse of countryside under a brooding sky |
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| Confusion reigns; 72+91=163 so maybe this is the cycle distance |
Towards the end of the day Mark joined us as we walked the last few miles to Kirkby Stephen. Hilary knew him and I had met him at breakfast that morning when we exchanged a few words. As we entered the town I peeled off to the bottom of the high street to my campsite as they headed to the center and their respective B&Bs with plans to meet for a curry night at 6:30 pm. Though there was no one at the campsite reception to meet me they had thoughtfully left an envelope with a site map and my pitch number which was a large pitch given over to the small tents of the coast to coasters. Being a good caravan park I enjoyed a welcome hot shower and was sat down in the restaurant unfashionably early at 6 pm with a bottle of Cobra writing my journal. Despite the long and brisk miles today it felt like a recovery day after the demanding hills. My campsite is called Pennine View, and it takes a while for the obvious to sink in. Tomorrow I will have to get over the Pennines which run on a north-south axis up England from Edale in the Peak District to Kirk Yetholm in Scotland and which form the basis for the demanding Pennine Way National Trail.
On Wednesday 15 September I am up early but need to get provisions. I make use of the co-op at the other end of town and stock up as there will be limited food at Keld. Near the start of today's walk a convenience store has a coffee machine so two coffees to go with my breakfast and I happily take my time before setting off. The walk soon starts to ascend to the highlight of today which is Nine Standards Rigg where nine 'structures' sit proudly. The usual meet-up with people pausing at the top and as Hilary is there already she suggests we walk together. As we walk the same pace we will be walking together anyway and I sense that she welcomes help with navigation. Not that she needs help. She has clearly studied the route and can easily remember the map so will know we will follow such as such wall until a given point.
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| Nine Standards Rigg stands at 662 meters above sea level |
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| The Pennines |
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| Approaching Ravenseat and the home of Amanda Owen, the Yorkshire Shepherdess |
Ravenseat was a remote little known farmstead in a valley until it rose to fame as the location of Clive and Amanda Owen's sheep farm and growing family. Now, it caters to coast to coasters in providing a coffee van and also attracts people in cars (I counted 15) wanting to explore the more remote corners of the Yorkshire Dales.
On arrival at the campsite in Keld I order two lattes while "checking-in" and sit down to start the re-hydration process. Today's campsite protocol is to check-in at the desk installed by the front door of the farm house, a desk that also acts as café counter. No campsite map here, just a broad wave of the arm to indicate the four camping fields that are in the general local vicinity though not visible from where we are stood. As it is day seven I am fully warmed up to walking and as fit as a flee if I ignore the somewhat painful but not too aggressive blisters. My strategy is to tolerate the blisters and provided they don't really need to be drained or covered with a blister plaster, to let the skin harden. It takes a while but by the time I hit the North Yorkshire Moors National Park this strategy will have worked.
Once I get to the high reaches of the high route I see the grouse butts and also about eight separate groups of five grouse. More than I've see in my life so far. They live off the young shoots of heather and cannot be raised by hand like pheasant or partridge. As the gamekeeper cannot supplement their food with grain they (the gamekeepers not the grouse) need to manage the heather and they do this by either burning stretches of heather or cutting it to promote new growth. It is September and though I can see the faded flowers and a few sprigs of purple I have missed the magnificent purple bloom of the heather which occurs in August. On arrival at Reeth I am sat enjoying a delicious ice-cream and pondering why Mark and Hilary have not been present today when they stroll over. They had taken the low route and missed the trail at one point. After the usual catch-up we part and I pitch. At the campsite I am warned that the pubs will be fully booked so I beetle back into Reeth and catch a café before it closes and enjoy some excellent home cooked food following my well practices rule of two. Two light suppers and two beers please.
Friday 17 September and the fair weather has held so it's another early start on a less hilly day with Colburn, three miles east of the Georgian market town of Richmond, my target where I will spend two nights with family. Like me Mark is having a rest day in Richmond and Hilary will walk on and arrive at Robin Hoods Bay a day before us both. Early on I drop down to a track where a farmer on a quad bike is setting his "tuck shop open" sign to "closed". Darn. He asks with apparent genuine concern if my car has broken down. An old joke no doubt and I smile my acknowledgement of his humour and secretly admire his ability to make it sound as if it is the first time he has used that line. Onward to the village of Marske just above the River Swale where the church provides an honesty tuck shop of drinks, snacks and blister plasters.
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| Walking out of Reeth |
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| Approaching Richmond from the path above the River Swale |
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| The falls at Richmond; see how the River Swale has grown since Keld? |
I pass quickly through Richmond and after a mile encounter a couple who are lost and sensibly are not afraid to admit it. They are staying in Richmond and have acquired a printout sketch map for a short walk. I feel for them as the map is not really usable so I walk back towards Richmond with them until we are on a clear path where I know there is only one way to go. I set them on their way with simple instructions (keep sun to the left, river to the right) and hope they get to re-connect with civilisation. My bed for the night feels like luxury and I get as much rest as feasible before I join in the Northallerton parkrun the following day - my so called rest day.
Sunday 19 September sees me passing through the flat of the Vale of Mowbray. I would have fun over the next few days asking people where the Vale of Mowbray starts and ends. This flat plain of a valley sits between the Yorkshire Dales to the west and the hills of the North Yorkshire moors to the east. Surprisingly it stretches as far south as Thirsk which most people I surveyed placed in the vale of York.
My first stop is another church-cum-tuck-shop in Bolton-on-Swale which lets you make coffee and buy snacks. It is also the resting place of the country's oldest man, Henry Jenkins, who died at the age of 169. Apparently, his age and knowledge made him sought after for settling land disputes and he appears in a number of legal records which adds to his credibility. It is a long but easy and restful day on the flat with an amount of lane walking. Some guidebooks mention that you could skip the Vale of Mowbray if time was limited but I think you would miss out on the complete coast to coast picture.
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| Helpful farmers keep you on track |
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| Where I grew up (age 4-18) though I barely recognized it given the changes over the years |
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| Monument to Henry Jenkins |
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| Tuck shop at St. Mary's |
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| Treetop living |
In Danby Wiske, and close to my resting place for the night, I meet Max and Tessa again and after catching up on mutual acquaintances they introduce me to Ian who is staying at the same place as me tonight. Mark turns up and we agree on 7 pm dinner at The Lion Inn, Blakey Ridge, in 2 nights time when our paths will again cross. I have two B&Bs coming up before the final three nights of camping and I book evening meals at both given the general absence of food. Hills are all relative and as I walk to Lovesome Hill Farm B&B I struggle to make out anything hilly though down in the heart of the vale I guess anything not spirit level flat is a hill. I am greeted with tea, flapjack, a kitten, and instruction not to let the kitten on the picnic bench. In one of those happy co-incidences it turns out my host knows my former next door neighbour at St Giles Farm and she is delighted though I suspect her delight is driven more by her detective and interrogation skills.
As you will have noticed I have rolled some of the Vale of Mowbray into this page on the Yorkshire Dales National Park and I hope you will forgive me. What remains of the Vale of Mowbray will get bundled into the last National Park on this journey.
