Dales Way 2
20th
March 2017
Cicerone
Guide, The Dales Way (2005); map OL297
Ilkley to
Bardon Bridge – 9.3 miles
The day
dawned grey and damp – not really raining, but certainly not dry either, with
dark clouds threatening to rain. Sandra assured me that the forecast was dull and
damp today, but it was going to clear up as the week progressed. Despite not
getting to sleep very early, I woke up at 6.30am and after about half an hour,
I got up, had breakfast and found that Sandra was up early as well, so we
decided to set off as soon as we had finished breakfast.
The first
thing we needed to do was to drive to Barden Bridge so we could drop off one of
the vehicles, then drive back to Ilkley to start the walk. Sandra arrived at
Barden Bridge first and had walked up from the car park to meet me on the
higher road. She advised me that the lane was awkard and narrow to the car park
as was the bridge (the car park being on the far side) and so suggested I
turned round where I was. Easier said than done! Eventually, after a lot of
to-ing and fro-ing (a nine point turn??) I managed to find myself facing the
opposite direction, and with Sandra on board, I drove back to Ilkley and parked
in the spot we had decided on last night.
The path was
variable – some of it was at least semi-paved; other parts were just dirt paths
and mostly single file and narrow. There had been a substantial amount of rain
during the preceding days, so the ground was very wet and muddy – even on the
paved parts there were massive puddles right across our way. On the dirt paths,
it was like walking through treacle – very ‘gloopy’, with serious danger of
slipping over – either into the mud, or into the river which ran alongside and had huge amounts of water in it!
[Apologies for the darkness of the pictures - I changed the settings on the camera later and they are not so dark. I know it was raining, but it really wasn't quite as dark and gloomy as the photos make out!]
Having
Storm along didn’t really help, as she was excited to be walking and so was
pulling like a steam train to get ahead. Sandra was out in front and Storm
thinks that is her place – she needs to make sure the path is quite safe for
her whole ‘herd’ before we are allowed to walk on it! Eventually, we sorted out
who would be out front (Storm, of course) and we came along behind her. Because
we had the extendible lead, it didn’t make much difference which of us was in
front of the other, just as long as Storm was in front. Note to self – work on
making Storm walk to heel more!
I was very
glad I had worn my waterproofs, as the mud really splashed up everywhere. By
the time we had got to Addingham, I was covered in mud up to my knees, even
though I had not fallen over, despite Storm’s best efforts. Of course, Storm,
being a dog, can’t wear waterproof trousers, so she was covered too half way up
her sides and all of her underneaths.
Addingham
was a delightful little village. Was walked along a lovely narrow and traffic
free lane for a while after coming off the path next to the river. There were
some lovely houses along the lane – but one (turned out to be the former
Vicarage) was exceptionally beautiful. A stream ran through the garden and they
had made every effort to make a feature of it – and very successfully too. It
was stunning!
Just past
the old Vicarage, we turned right and headed towards the old church.
We decided
to visit it as it has a blue clock face (a rarity, we understood)
and
is a ‘Thompson’ church, by which I mean, Thompson the ‘mouse man’. He made
furniture and wood panelling for houses and churches, his trademark being a
little carved mouse. I have even seen a carved wooden sheaf of corn (the kind
used to decorate a church on harvest Sunday) with a little mouse carved into it
– but that was elsewhere, not here. We went inside separately – we didn’t think
a very muddy dog would really be welcome inside, though two pretty muddy people
might have been rather unwelcome too, though no-one said anything. The church
was full of workmen and women. After looking around a while, I had to ask about
the mice. Apparently there are 15 in total and they often have school trip
visits and set the children the task of finding all the mice. There is one
however that no-one ever finds – it is carved into the wooden cross hanging
over the bit where the nave meets the chancel and has the back end of a mouse
on one side and a hole on the other, with the head of the mouse inside the
hole. The cross was too high and I couldn’t see it, but I did see several
others – once they had been pointed out, that is.
The mud bath
continued past a weir or two
and we spotted a Mandarin duck and his wife
swimming downstream. I say ‘swimming’ but really the current was so fast, he
was simply being carried along by the stream.
There was also an abundance of
lambs in the fields, so Storm needed to be kept on a pretty short lead – which was
exhausting, as she really wanted to be free to run on ahead and so yanked my
arm about something terrible. But actually, for the most part, she ignored the
sheep, which is a marked improvement on former years where she would look with
interest and then try to engage with them – I have no idea if she would have chased
them or just wanted to meet and greet – she was never given the chance. Farmers
are still entitled to shoot dogs who worry their sheep and lambing time is
especially sensitive, so we do the proper thing and keep her firmly on her lead
and close to us. The lambs were a different matter – they were more skittish
and so drove Storm into a frenzy (thankfully a silent one – she wasn’t barking
madly at them, just straining on the lead).
She was no better, in fact if
anything she was worse, with people, children and other dogs – she lunged and
snarled at nearly everyone we met. One good thing about the grey, damp weather
was that there were fewer people about than there might have been otherwise.
We arrived
at Farfield about 12 noon or just after.
Right by the steps leading up to Farfield.
There is a tiny Quaker church here,
with parking space for maybe two cars. A notice on the gate invited us to enter
the grounds to eat our picnic, but the seats were way too wet and it was too
cold to sit around. The door to the building was standing open, but again, wet
and muddy dogs might not really have been welcome and there was no way to leave
her outside, not to mention they probably didn’t extend the invitation to lunch
to be eaten inside! So after a brief look at the place, we continued on towards
Bolton Abbey and Priory (Abbey is the village; Priory is the building, just in
case you ever wondered).
There were
several old stone bridges along our way and a painted bench with distances fore
and aft painted on – Bowness 78½ miles; Ilkley 5½ miles. Added together, the
numbers came to 84, which is two miles further than the sign at the start (82
miles) and five miles further than the guide book says (79 miles) – so take
your pick how long you think the whole walk actually is – somewhere between 79
and 84, we think!
Flat meadows
(and more mud) stretched out ahead of us.
Walking through the mud was heavy
going, but the sky was beginning to clear and ahead of us, we could see the
ruins of Bolton Priory, looking lovely in the sunshine.
After crossing
the field next to the Priory (and taking plenty of pictures), we made our way
across the river on the track and decided to stop there for lunch, sitting on
the wall separating the bridge from the river.
From there on, we walked on mostly
decent paths through the Bolton Estate, eventually arriving at a tea room near
the car park access to Strid Wood, where we stopped for some refreshment. We walked
through the woods on clear and pleasant tracks. This was a really pleasant part
of the walk.
Oddly, we
passed a fallen tree trunk that had been covered with coins – they had been pressed
or hammered into the wood and there were literally hundreds of them – very strange.
We also passed a make shift kind of hut that served as some kind of shop for
someone who made things (garden ornaments mostly) out of wood. It was closed
(as closed as something that has nothing but a tarpaulin for a roof can be), so
we peered in from the outside at some of his creations.
The river
narrowed and the amount of water entering the gully was tremendous – but the
water coming out the other side did not seem to match the amount going in. a
nearby sign cleared up the mystery for us – there is a huge cave underground at
the point where the water enters the narrow part, the depth of two double
decker buses, so the water falls into a huge hole before coming out the other
end.
Soon after
that, we came to a place where we had to cross the river – on a crenellated aqueduct
– very fancy. [This was where I changed the camera settings - as you can see, it was a much lighter day than it seemed!]
Then on the opposite bank, we continued through several more
fields and the inevitable mud. Some parts of the path were so wet, we had to
make large detours to avoid the worst parts. But not too far on, we arrived at
Barden Bridge and Sandra’s vehicle.
After getting into the van, we started to
drive back to Ilkley, but not before we stopped briefly to take some pictures
of Barden Tower, which was much easier from the road than the fields. I had
seen it briefly in the trees and high above where we were walking, but there
wasn’t a good photo opportunity. The Tower is a ruin but the building next to
it, which had been a priest's house, was now a restaurant. I did
leave some muddy footprints on one or two of their flagstones (oops).
All that was
left for the day now was to drive back to my van then drive separately to
Bolton Abbey Caravan Park, where we were to spend the next three nights. There is one part of the drive to Bolton Abbey where I wondered if I would actually be able to get through and if not, was there another way round that wasn't miles out of the way? This is a narrow archway on a sharp-ish bend. But slowly (first gear) I did manage to get through and arrived at the camp site. I was just about to go into the office, when a lady came past me (she turned out to be the owner/manager) and said 'Thank you for pulling over - that was me you let pass on the road back there'. I had pulled off the road into the mouth of a driveway to allow a car to pass because I am big and cumbersome in my motor home. I guess that put me in her good books then! Shame about the absolutely filthy dog!!
Once again,
tea and an early night, so we could be fresh for setting off tomorrow. And this
time, I had no trouble falling asleep.
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