Map OL30
It looks as though I haven't been doing any walking lately, which is partly true, but not wholly. I haven't been on many longer walks and really 'round the block' or 'along the (disused) railway track' don't really make good blog material. Anyway, now spring is almost upon us, I thought I'd venture out with the camera and write a new post. [Apologies in advance; for some reason, photobucket won't allow me to edit the pictures, so some of them are on their side. As soon as I can edit them, I will reload the right way up].
I arrived at Ivelet Bridge, which is between Gunnerside and Muker, travelling west from Reeth. I had intended to drive further up the road, but signs everywhere warned me of the road being closed and indeed it proved to be so about 100 yards from the junction, just at the foot of the bridge that crosses the Swale. So I parked just inside the junction, right by the road.
There is a small tributary to the Swale comes rushing down the hill and under the road:
I know the sign said 'road closed' so I wasn't actually expecting there to be any traffic, but I had Storm on her lead, just in case. As it happened, the road was quite busy - a tractor and two cars - one at the start and two on my return, drove along the closed road, ignoring the signs. Apart from that, the road was extremely quiet:
The road swung round to the left (there were lots of left turns on this walk) and began to climb steeply, until it reached Gunnerside Lodge and the other estate offices and houses. A cattle grid divided the lane at the point where I reached the Lodge, with a sign saying 'animals and horse-drawn vehicles use the gate' and an arrow pointing to the gate to the right of the grid. Unfortunately, someone had seen fit to tie a sheep hurdle to the gate and it was impossible to pass through:
Storm and I had to use the cattle grid. Thankfully, she is sure footed and crossed without mishap.
The road bent round to the right at this point. It had a tarmac surface and led to some farm houses:
Between two of these houses, but on the opposite side of the road, a track cut across the moor, again heading upwards:
This was the track I took. A sign at the foot mentioned cattle grazing and ground nesting birds breeding, so dogs needed to be under control 'preferably on a lead'. As there were still plenty of sheep about, I kept Storm on the lead. Farmers are entitled to shoot dogs they consider are worrying their sheep; I wasn't about to take any chances. I am told that the worst type of dog for worrying sheep is an untrained border collie!
Towards the top of the hill, the track turned left, proceeding in a westerly direction. A footpath leads off to the right and as I approached, a group of walkers were seen heading down the path towards Gunnerside. Another few yards and I was rewarded for my hard work by some stunning views:
Gunnerside Gill:
The land looked extremely flat and almost uninteresting. But on closer inspection, you can see it is anything but flat! Leaving the track and running or walking through the heather is bound to end in disaster - the peat hags have deep gullies between them, some four and five feet deep:
Once round the corner, there were clearly no more sheep, so I let Storm off the lead
She is usually pretty good about staying on the path; when she does stray, I only have to remind her to walk 'on the path' and she will return. [Some while later, on the grouse moor, she got bored with that game and had to be put back on the lead].
The moors were bleak and empty, apart from the odd grouse which objected to our passing by. There was plenty of sunshine and a stiff breeze - okay, a howling gale, but it didn't detract from the beauty of the scene. More wonderful views from the top of the moor; it felt like I was on top of the world. The area is absolutely stunning:
As I was heading due west, more or less, the bank to my left was facing north and there was plenty of snow along much of it. Two days previously, Yorkshire had suffered a severe snow storm, with a foot or more of snow falling. On the high moor tops were the last vestiges of it, where the sun couldn't reach to melt it:
The track headed downhill towards a gate, then over a small bridge, where the path branched into two. The bridleway (that I was walking) went straight ahead - into mud, grass and almost invisible tracks; the left turn became a 'footpath' despite it being the same track I was already on. Bridge:
After the zigzag over the stream, the path continued due west and a helpful sign reminded me I was actually on the Coast to Coast path:
By this time, Storm was pretty filthy underneath, not to mention she had decided to roll in something unmentionable. It definitely wasn't sheep poop; no, she eats sheep poop! Fortunately, you can't see her disgusting right shoulder in this photo
The snow was deeper in places up here (we had still been climbing, but not very steeply)
We passed a sheep corral - but what's this?
It looked like someone had rounded up the snow and corralled it within the fencing. Or maybe it was just a flock of sheep lying flat and still, pretending to be snow, so we wouldn't see them!
At the point where the track reaches Swinner Gill, it again veers round to the left. The path on the map continues straight on and a side track goes left, but it is still the same track! Swinner Gill is most interesting. It is a deep, natural cut in the hillside. At the bottom, there is a stone bridge. If you walk up the gill itself, the area opens out and there are derelict buildings and much evidence of former lead workings. The area must have been alive with noise and people in the past.
Having turned the corner, I was now walking due east, following the line of the River Swale, but high on the moors above it.
I often walk this route right down by the riverside, from Muker to Keld and back. Again, there were tremendous views of open moorland:
And grouse butts, indicating the use to which the land is now put:
Before the descent, I turned to look back and could see Crackpot Hall in the distance:
Crackpot was so named from old Yorkshire words meaning Crow Holes. The house is now a ruin, but it was lived in as recently as 1957 and was owned by the grandparents of the landlord of the Farmer's Arms in Muker - a great place to go for a meal, if you happen to be passing that way :) The mining nearby had undermined the foundations of the house so that it was sliding down the hill towards the river. The occupiers had to move out when it became unsafe.
As I descended eastwards, I could see Ivelet in the distance:
It vanished from view as I got lower a wall came between me and the village. At the end of the wall, I came to a gate and the track turned right to pass through it:
The picture was taken after I had passed through.
That's Gunnerside in the distance:
Not far beyond the gate, the path joined a narrow metalled road. I turned left and headed along back towards Gunnerside Lodge. It wasn't far and very soon I tuned the corner round the end of the Lodge. In front of me was a small green, which was covered with dogs! They were none of them on leads, though they did have one woman with them. They were a mixture of golden labradors, black labradors, cocker spaniels and at least one border terrier. The woman noticed me as I turned the corner and called the dogs to go through a small gate in the estate wall. Clearly these were the estate dogs. However, it was equally clear she did not have the dogs properly under control as she managed to leave one behind - a cute looking little blue roan cocker spaniel. But you know how they say looks can be deceptive....cute looks did not mean a cute dog. It came to inspect Storm. Either is realised it was not one of its own pack, or else saw Storm was on a lead and therefore contained, but it went for her! I shouted at it to go away and then yelled that someone needed to get their dog under control; mine after all, was properly on a lead! I was about to let Storm off her lead, so she could run away if she wanted to, when the woman reappeared and called the dog. It ran off - but not without a couple of backward looks and another attempt to have a go at Storm. By way of apology she raised a hand and disappeared through the gate, thankfully taking the nasty, snappy little spaniel with her.
So, back to the bridge... a seriously humped bridge and a sign warning 'weak bridge' or, as my son was wont to say in his younger years, ' bridge over the River Weak'!!
I photographed the stream again, because it sounded louder and indeed appeared to have more water in than when I set off:
Four hours and about 8 miles later, I had had a magical day out on the moors and hadn't met a single soul.
For anyone who wants to follow this walk, I didn't use a set walk from a book for this one; I just used the map.
