England Coast to Coast - Yorkshire Dales
Day three of the Coast to Coast Walk we left the spectacular scenery of the Lake District behind and after about an hour’s van ride arrived at Aysgarth in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. The day started with gray skies, cool enough that we donned long sleeves and jackets when
heading out. Aysgarth falls was the first stop, a wide flat drop in the River Ure where a battle scene in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves was filmed. Shortly after West Burton and a snack of strawberries bought at a small market, we headed up Penhill and came to the ruin of a Knights Templar Chapel built circa 1200 and unearthed in 1840. There isn't much left of the temple but a few pieces of wall and some extremely small stone coffins. We continued down country lanes and across many fields to the Wensleydale Heifer, a gastro-pub in West Witton well known for seafood, though it’s in the middle of the country. In England you’re never very far from the sea. I gather the gastro pub is a relatively new phenomenon becoming popular as the EU has made it easier for French chefs to bring their skills to other countries.
Though the day continued to be gray, as long as we kept walking it was perfect weather, not too hot not too cold. The fields were filled with pheasants, rabbits, curlews and oystercatchers. The
afternoon brought us to Middleham and a very welcome tea stop including scones with cream and jam. After the reviving tea we trod on past the impressive ruin of Middleham Castle. Bill told us the tale of the Middleham Jewel, a 15th century jeweled pendant stumbled upon near the castle by a man metal detecting in 1985. The real thing is in the museum in York but we saw a replica in the village church. Late in the afternoon, after twelve miles of walking our group of weary walkers stepped across a river and came to the night’s stopping point, the Blue Lion in East Witton. This was my favorite little village, just a street of brown stone buildings with a wide green down the middle. At dinner over a very animated argument about the merits of the English Monarchy, we sampled the Wensleydale Cheese of Wallace and Grommit fame. By the end of the day I was worn out, happy and feeling very healthy.
The morning of the fourth day we walked out of the Blue Lion heading up to Witton Moor. As we climbed up the moor the vast patchwork green of the Yorkshire Dales was laid out in all its splendor below us. The grayness of the day only added to the Englishness of the scene and made the varying greens of the fields deep and atmospheric. A word here about walking through England. The walker strolls through field after field filled with sheep, cows, horses etc. Sometimes there’s a gate to go through, and the variation on gate latches is endless. Other times one climbs over a stone or wooden stile built into the stone fences. And so we walked through the Yorkshire Dales pastureland with Bill pointing
out different breeds of sheep and cows, explaining methods of building walls, the activities of the mole catcher, the difference between hunting and shooting, and anything else we asked about.
Walking on the moor was a different scene altogether from the woods and fields we walked through the first few days. The goarse and heather grow about knee high, the flat landscape interrupted only by the crisscrossing stone walls and occasional trees. There is a certain loneliness when walking across a moor, no village in sight, no cows, a very few sheep. The heather must be beautiful in full bloom, in spring it’s mostly a dark brown interspersed with green of new growth. Apparently I’m allergic to heather as my legs became bright red from rubbing against the brush. Across the moor we walked down a lane and a cottage along a brook, Sowden Beck, came into view. Though it needed some fixing up and didn’t have electricity it was for rent and I could only dream of the reading, writing and painting I could do if
holed up there for a month. At the crest of a hill we came upon a car by the side of the lane. Curiously we looked toward the nearby field and there was an old farmer in English tweed whistling to his dog as the dog performed his duties rounding up the sheep. The concentration and teamwork of man and dog was remarkable and they quickly got the job done. We came off Witton moor into the town of Fearby, where they were expecting us - an American flag was flying high in front of an old stone house. The rain started in the latter part of the morning making our lunch stop, the Black Sheep Brewery in Masham that much more inviting.
The afternoon continued to be rainy off and on, fortunately it was only a short way after lunch to our evening stopover the fairytale palace of Swinton Park. As we approached wet and muddy
I had my doubts that this scraggly band of travelers would be welcome in such a magnificent place. When we arrived the Swinton staff immediately made us feel most at home. I was shown to the Ripon room (where else?) and on the way up the stairs was enthusiastically informed that I would surely like the view. And I certainly did. It couldn’t have been a more perfect room for me, a large bay window with a small couch overlooking the river and lawn. Sitting on that couch by the window, sipping a glass of whiskey writing postcards watching the rain pour down I couldn’t imagine a better place to be. I did go sit in the big, comfy, leather chairs in the sitting room for a while and that was not a bad place to be either. Dinner was fantastic and included a delicious tropical pre-dessert before the dessert of
raspberries floating in an elderflower jello. After dinner Alan showed me a bit about snooker, which is somewhat like pool on a bigger table with odd rules. Now I understand why the Americans play pool instead.
After a good night’s sleep I woke up early and had a walk about the Swinton Park grounds in the pouring rain. There's nothing like a solitary wet morning walk through the woods - ducks taking off in the mist rising from the lake, a deep dark trail through an old quarry, a world of quiet peace. The place was so welcoming and comfortable, walking around the park I felt like it was built just for me. 9:00am came all too soon and we departed for North Yorkshire Moors National Park.
England C2C: Prologue; Lake District; North Yorkshire Moors
Flickr Set
heading out. Aysgarth falls was the first stop, a wide flat drop in the River Ure where a battle scene in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves was filmed. Shortly after West Burton and a snack of strawberries bought at a small market, we headed up Penhill and came to the ruin of a Knights Templar Chapel built circa 1200 and unearthed in 1840. There isn't much left of the temple but a few pieces of wall and some extremely small stone coffins. We continued down country lanes and across many fields to the Wensleydale Heifer, a gastro-pub in West Witton well known for seafood, though it’s in the middle of the country. In England you’re never very far from the sea. I gather the gastro pub is a relatively new phenomenon becoming popular as the EU has made it easier for French chefs to bring their skills to other countries.Though the day continued to be gray, as long as we kept walking it was perfect weather, not too hot not too cold. The fields were filled with pheasants, rabbits, curlews and oystercatchers. The
afternoon brought us to Middleham and a very welcome tea stop including scones with cream and jam. After the reviving tea we trod on past the impressive ruin of Middleham Castle. Bill told us the tale of the Middleham Jewel, a 15th century jeweled pendant stumbled upon near the castle by a man metal detecting in 1985. The real thing is in the museum in York but we saw a replica in the village church. Late in the afternoon, after twelve miles of walking our group of weary walkers stepped across a river and came to the night’s stopping point, the Blue Lion in East Witton. This was my favorite little village, just a street of brown stone buildings with a wide green down the middle. At dinner over a very animated argument about the merits of the English Monarchy, we sampled the Wensleydale Cheese of Wallace and Grommit fame. By the end of the day I was worn out, happy and feeling very healthy.
The morning of the fourth day we walked out of the Blue Lion heading up to Witton Moor. As we climbed up the moor the vast patchwork green of the Yorkshire Dales was laid out in all its splendor below us. The grayness of the day only added to the Englishness of the scene and made the varying greens of the fields deep and atmospheric. A word here about walking through England. The walker strolls through field after field filled with sheep, cows, horses etc. Sometimes there’s a gate to go through, and the variation on gate latches is endless. Other times one climbs over a stone or wooden stile built into the stone fences. And so we walked through the Yorkshire Dales pastureland with Bill pointing
out different breeds of sheep and cows, explaining methods of building walls, the activities of the mole catcher, the difference between hunting and shooting, and anything else we asked about.Walking on the moor was a different scene altogether from the woods and fields we walked through the first few days. The goarse and heather grow about knee high, the flat landscape interrupted only by the crisscrossing stone walls and occasional trees. There is a certain loneliness when walking across a moor, no village in sight, no cows, a very few sheep. The heather must be beautiful in full bloom, in spring it’s mostly a dark brown interspersed with green of new growth. Apparently I’m allergic to heather as my legs became bright red from rubbing against the brush. Across the moor we walked down a lane and a cottage along a brook, Sowden Beck, came into view. Though it needed some fixing up and didn’t have electricity it was for rent and I could only dream of the reading, writing and painting I could do if
holed up there for a month. At the crest of a hill we came upon a car by the side of the lane. Curiously we looked toward the nearby field and there was an old farmer in English tweed whistling to his dog as the dog performed his duties rounding up the sheep. The concentration and teamwork of man and dog was remarkable and they quickly got the job done. We came off Witton moor into the town of Fearby, where they were expecting us - an American flag was flying high in front of an old stone house. The rain started in the latter part of the morning making our lunch stop, the Black Sheep Brewery in Masham that much more inviting.The afternoon continued to be rainy off and on, fortunately it was only a short way after lunch to our evening stopover the fairytale palace of Swinton Park. As we approached wet and muddy
I had my doubts that this scraggly band of travelers would be welcome in such a magnificent place. When we arrived the Swinton staff immediately made us feel most at home. I was shown to the Ripon room (where else?) and on the way up the stairs was enthusiastically informed that I would surely like the view. And I certainly did. It couldn’t have been a more perfect room for me, a large bay window with a small couch overlooking the river and lawn. Sitting on that couch by the window, sipping a glass of whiskey writing postcards watching the rain pour down I couldn’t imagine a better place to be. I did go sit in the big, comfy, leather chairs in the sitting room for a while and that was not a bad place to be either. Dinner was fantastic and included a delicious tropical pre-dessert before the dessert of
raspberries floating in an elderflower jello. After dinner Alan showed me a bit about snooker, which is somewhat like pool on a bigger table with odd rules. Now I understand why the Americans play pool instead.After a good night’s sleep I woke up early and had a walk about the Swinton Park grounds in the pouring rain. There's nothing like a solitary wet morning walk through the woods - ducks taking off in the mist rising from the lake, a deep dark trail through an old quarry, a world of quiet peace. The place was so welcoming and comfortable, walking around the park I felt like it was built just for me. 9:00am came all too soon and we departed for North Yorkshire Moors National Park.
England C2C: Prologue; Lake District; North Yorkshire Moors
Flickr Set
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