The Great Adventure - Tuesday, August 30, 2022

Wednesday we are up and ready to explore more of the Yorkshire Dales countryside. We enjoyed a toast and coffee breakfast and then drove to Reeth in search of some bread from one of the two bakeries in the village. It was a glorious day for a drive; the skies and clouds were stunning, the temperature was in the upper 60’s to low 70’s, and, due to midweek, the traffic was much lighter. We returned and unloaded our supplies and groceries, rested and read for a while and then back into the car to drive towards our evening meal reservation. One of the villages we pass through on our runs up and down the B6270 road bordering the River Swale is called Low Row. According to Wikipedia, the name Low Row come from the old Norse word “The Wra” meaning a nook or small place. Overlooking the road is a pub, The Punch Bowl, the building dating to 1638. We had reserved a table for 6:30.

Compared to our local Kingshead Pub, The Punch Bowl is upscale, with multiple dining rooms and servers. Deb ordered a starter of scallops, which turned out to be an English version of Coqueilles St. Jacque, smothered in cheese and garlic sauce, on a large shell and broiled. It was very tasty. We then both chose the Steak & Ale pie as our main course, accompanied by mashed potatoes and hot vegetables. The vegetables were a combination of roasted carrots and parsnips, with warm broccoli, green beans and kale accompaniment. All washed down with red wine and a Black Sheep ale. We topped it off with a shared dessert of Eton Mess. One of our better pub meals.

Thursday was another stay-at-the-cottage day! We read, enjoyed a full English breakfast, Deb worked on some client files, and we generally just relaxed. After all, we are on vacation, right?

Friday we took off mid morning for the Market Town of Hawes in the Wensleydale area, the next valley over. Hawes was probably first settled in the 1100’s. First mention of a market in this town is in 1307. The name is derived from the old Norse “hals” meaning neck or pass through the mountains. Market Towns stem from the Middle Ages and are designated as such by custom or have been granted a royal charter. Hawes was granted a charter in 1699 by William III. Market day in Hawes is on Tuesday, Reeth’s on Wednesdays and Leyburn’s on Friday.

Hawes is also the setting of the fictional DCI (Detective Chief Inspector) Harry Grimm, whose exploits we have been reading during our stay. We spent most of a morning and afternoon wandering the village, checking of the spots we had read about; the Village community center which is where the police are offices, J.W. Crockett Butcher and Bakery, serving the town since 1854, and the Herriot Hotel and Cafe.

We stopped at The Crown Pub for a lunch of Stilton and Broccoli soup, and a cheese and chutney sandwich. Deb enjoyed a glass of fruity Cider and Mark a pint of Theakston’s Old Peculiar Ale. After lunch we walked the streets and shops; Deb sampled an ice cream cone and we ended up purchasing some Wellie gardening boots for Deb and a waxed cotton flat cap for Mark, the first real souvenirs of our trip. As we walked along the streets of Hawes, we ran across amazing little crocheted figures perch upon outside furniture and along benches. There were signs attached noting that they were created by local Hawes knitters and labeled yarn bombs. The same practice that Abigail and her fellow knitters do at home, usually with yarn scarves around trees and light posts!

We drove back over the famous Buttertubs pass and back to our Gunnerside cottage, having enjoyed a day of touring our small part of the world. On the way, we took a side road to the hamlet of Ivelet to photograph the famous single lane arched bridge over the River Swale. This hamlet is just off the main road up from Gunnerside. It is also the home (hidden) of Robert Miller, richest man in Yorkshire (according to published reports.) Miller, an American who founded the chain of Duty Free Shopes in airports around the world, owns the Gunnerside Estate, some 32,000 acres of moor and dale. It is one of the finest grouse hunting areas in England, and we are in the middle of grouse season, which starts on August 12 (“The Glorious Twelfth “) and runs through December 1. This may account for some of the increased traffic in our Gunnerside village. 

Friday evening was a cheese and cracker meal after our cocktail hour. Before the meal, we took a short walk along the the public footpath towards the west, crossing three or four fields and communing up close and personal with some of the famed Swaledale sheep.

Saturday, after a few loads of laundry, we made a list of food we had on hand and calculated what we would need to finish up our last few nights. We then drove into Leyburn for some shopping time. Unbeknownst to us, there was an Agricultural Show going on in the town and traffic was horrendous. This weekend is the August Bank Holiday weekend. Bank Holidays are on Mondays and basically mean a three day weekend. The August Bank Holiday is a big deal as it is the end of the summer school break and means lots of tourists in the area. Deb went into the Campbell’s Grocery store, our favorite, as Mark drove around the square a few times in hopes of a parking spot, one finally opened and he grabbed it. We finished with our shopping and loaded the provisions into the car and pointed ourselves back to the west. 

We took the scenic route - trying some roads and byways we had not traveled before. As we have become more familiar with the roads, villages and geography, we are becoming more adventuresome and finding single track roads up and over and around the moors and dales. Our chosen route took us back over the moors towards Wensleydale as we looked for a fuel station. Google pointed us to one in Aysgarth, near the Falls, a spot we had visited a number of times before. The National Park Center there has good parking, easy and clean restrooms, and, importantly, some of the best soft serve ice cream/gelato that Deb has discovered on the trip. Since we were headed that way for fuel, we needed to stop for her fourth tasting of their cones. Who knows when we may get back again and this was top notch stuff!

Back over the moors again and onto our cottage. We sat in the front garden, enjoyed our martini and G&T while gazing at the dairy cows grazing on the moor side directly above our garden.

Deb whipped up a sausage and tomato topping for our supply of penne. We cracked a bottle of wine and enjoyed the evening, ending with some solid reading time and into bed by 10:00.

Sunday morning we arose and found the road outside our cottage busy with people walking to and fro. Looking for parking spots along the road, unloading their dogs, kids and hiking shoes and setting out for a walk along the river, across the fields and up into the moors. As the middle day of this three-day weekend, the area looks to be very busy. Last Wednesday we had stopped into the Kings Head pub to make reservations for tonight’s dinner, hoping to get a helping of the roast, mashed potatoes and Yorkshire pudding we had glimpsed last week. They were so pre-booked for the weekend that the earliest we could get a table was 7:45, giving some idea of the rush in the area. We prepared our breakfast and spent the morning reading the World Herald.  In the afternoon we read and Deb began pre-packing our bags for the next leg of our adventure. We enjoyed a cocktail in the front garden and then headed across the road for our evening dinner, the last at Kings Head pub. We were disappointed to find that our hoped for roast and pudding was not on the menu for the evening. The pub was packed with diners.

Deb ordered the beer battered scampi and Mark the fish pie. Neither dish was what we had envisioned. The scampi with chips was more like “Shrimp McNuggets,” heavily battered and no shrimp shape at all. The chips were fine, as usual. The fish pie with mashed potatoes was not a pastry covered pie with a side of mashed, but rather a bowl of mashed potatoes, covered by unidentifiable fish (probably cod) in a white sauce, the entire bowl then covered in a cheese sauce and toasted under the broiler. It was really quite tasty, but not what I thought it would be.  Both dishes were accompanied by huge bowls of freshly cooked peas. An interesting meal, to say the least.

We walked home in fading light looking back at our neighborhood pub with some fondness. We never actually sat in the pub for a pint, as it was usually filled with walking tourists, not the locals we had expected. There are perhaps 90 cottages in the village, only some 60 full time residents, and it is jam-packed with walkers and cyclists who converge here for the scenery, walking trails and backroads to wander on their bicycles. A real Mecca for the outdoors type. Justifiably so. We finished the evening in front of the television, watching an Inspector Lewis we had never seen and Mark then stayed up until midnight finishing a Harry Grimm novel on his Kindle.

Monday, as we are doing more preliminary packing, we realize that there is no way in hell we can get everything in our 5 (count ‘em, FIVE) suitcases.  Even through we have not bought much in the way of knick-knacks, we have still managed to purchase much more than we thought, mostly presents for other people or gardening items.  So, off we go, in search of another suitcase.  (Luckily, we get to check two apiece on United for free and the additional two are our carry-ons.)  We decide Leyburn may have what we want and we would like to have tea one last time at our favorite tea shop, The Posthorn Tearoom & Cafe.  Off we go, traveling through Reeth, which is having it’s big fair today and it is packed.  The roads are packed, the parking lots are packed, the people are streaming into Reeth from every which way, clogging up the roads by car and on foot.  The one-car bridge leading out of Reeth does not accommodate both walkers and a car.  Mark, who is by now a master left side driver, managed to only piss off one young walker who felt some entitlement to the bridge.  Her mother apologized.  Finally, a mile out side of Reeth, we are free to hit the high roads on our way to Leyburn.  Where, being the last day of a 3 day holiday weekend, the place is PACKED!  Note to selves:  Never go to Europe in the late summer, August especially!  

After our tea and toasted cheese scone, we hit all the stores in Leyburn but alas, no suitcase.  So we decide to go another 8 miles (and 40 minutes) to Richmond and the Super-Tesco there.  We somehow manage to take two wrong turns but arrive unscathed.  And, voila!, they have a perfect, small-ish suitcase for a very reasonable price.  As we are checking out, our very adorable cashier asked if we were going on Holiday and we said, no, we ARE on Holiday.  She was nonplussed that anyone would come to Richmond (basically an Army town because it is right next to Cattrick Garrison) for a Holiday.  We assured her that it was lovely.

We decide to try to find Pen Hill on our way back home.  Pen Hill is a local landmark that is mentioned constantly in the Harry Grimm mysteries we have read (10 so far) but we have never quite figured out where it is located.  We finally did and got to stare at it for awhile as we were stopped dead on the highway by a herd of dairy cows heading for the barn!  As we were hoping for a livestock event, this was one more item we could check off of our list.  

So onward, upward and downward, over hill, moor and dale, we take one of our favorite scenic drives back to Gunnerside.  Almost got killed by a speeding Miata but otherwise, incredibly beautiful.  Deb has taken picture after picture of the views from the tops of the moors but a picture just doesn’t do the scenery justice.  We will miss this.

Home after 6pm.  Drinks in front of the fire.  Salmon and red beans & rice for dinner.  Reading after clean-up and to bed for our penultimate night in Burnside Cottage.

Tuesday morning dawns bright and beautiful in Swaledale. We start the day with our final home cooked “full English” breakfast. Mark even included his favorite baked beans! Deb did not partake!  When we return home, we will be on a quest to locate typical English breakfast sausage, as we have developed quite a taste for it. We may end up searching the internet for recipes and stuffing our own! Another project for Mark to tackle. After breakfast we started collecting clothes and towels to toss into the laundry pile for the miniature washing machine tucked under the counter in the kitchen. We have, we hope, gathered all of our belongings that have been spread over the premises. There is no doubt that we will leave something behind, but not to worry, nothing is irreplaceable! 

For the evening, we clean up remaining cheese and crackers, together with wine and reminisce about our time here. It has truly been the vacation of a life time. We have spent a glorious month exploring the Yorkshire Dales, gaining a new appreciation of the history, from pre-Roman conquest times, through the Middle Ages, the lead mining of the industrial revolution, and into the sheep and dairy farming of the middle 20th century. Now tourism is the primary industry in this gem of a National Park. We will never forget our time here. Tomorrow we head off in our Kia towards London for the last leg of our Great Adventure-through the Chunnel and into Southwestern France.

 

The Great Adventure - Thursday, August 25, 2022

Saturday was another stay at home day for the travelers. We started with our full English breakfast and then settled in for some housework. Completed a few loads of laundry, did a little housekeeping and Deb managed to complete some work on her computer on behalf of some clients. As it was raining off and on most of the day, we started a fire in the cast iron stove heater in the lounge and enjoyed our martini and G&T in front of the fire. Mark pan-fried our lamb chops and Deb prepared some red beans and rice we had brought with us from home. 

Around 7:30, Deb wandered into the kitchen to refresh her drink and noticed that the floor was covered in water. We quickly surmised that the back garden area was flooding from a downburst and it was coming in  over the back door sill. We couldn’t open the back door as that would let in more water, so Mark put on his rain jacket and walked around the building to the entrance to the back garden to fetch the mop and bucket from the shed. We contacted the landlord who in turn called the local cleaning person to come over and help. By this time the water was over an inch deep in spots and was threatening to flow into the hardwood floors in the rest of the lower level. Armed with the bucket and some large towels, we began to sop up the water, wring it into the bucket, and then Mark would haul the full bucket out the front door to pour into the street as the rain continued to come down.

Rowan, the cleaning person, noted that the kitchen had often been wet in years past, but never to this degree. The problem stemmed from the fact that there is a low spot outside the kitchen door into which a drain is set that flows under the buildings, across the street and empties into the creek. The downspouts from all three attached houses flow into this one drain point and it was overwhelmed. The Victorian era drainage lines under the street could not keep up.

By 9:30 we had soaked up all the water and laid rolled up towels along the threshold to stop further water. We thanked Rowan for her help and eventually bedded down for the night. The next morning, all was clear although the drain area was still slightly filled. The Gunnerside Ghyll (creek) was running full and we were hoping that the rain did not wash out any of the road as we were headed to York for a two day outing.

We departed Gunnerside around 11:00 to head for Haworth and then York for a two day trip away from the cottage. We first arrived at Haworth, just west of the metropolis of Leeds around 1:30 PM. Our destination was the Brontë Parsonage, the home of the Brontë sisters, authors of such classics as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. This home is now a museum maintained by the Brontë Society and is outfitted just as it would have been in the time period. Many of the furnishings are original and the placards describing each room were very informative. Entry is by separate ticket, and we were to wait in the front garden until our name was called. this is a somewhat curious procedure, but became apparent as we made our way inside. The facility is not large and the entry process allows the staff to control the number of people in the home at any one time. This was one of the best museum presentations we have ever encountered. It was informative, educational and unobtrusive. Although there were some children , there were no dogs, as is usually the case anywhere we have been in England. Parking is a bit tough as the public lot available is not nearly large enough. Sunday is a big outing day in England and the village of Haworth was crowded.

We left Haworth half past Two and pointed the Kia in the direction of York, our destination city for the next two nights. We arrived and found our way to our overnight accommodations, Jorvik Hotel, just by the ancient walls surrounding the old city.

We checked in and stowed our bags on the first floor (the one above ground level) and headed out for a bit of a walk around. The old city is a vehicular restricted area, so the streets were filled with roving pedestrians with their dogs in tow. We finally found what appeared to be a likely prospect for our evening meal - The Guy Fawkes Inn. Purportedly this building was the one into which the rebellious traitor was born. We chose to sit in the open rear courtyard, as it was protected from the wind and seemed very pleasant. We ordered drinks at the bar and placed our meal orders. Our first clue that something was amiss was that the server requested us to pay for our meals as soon as we had ordered, holding his little card machine out for our card tap. We had never encountered this before, but we went along. Within moments, our meals arrived - a slab of pork loin roast and a slab of roast beef. Both were supposed to be accompanied by mashed potatoes, Yorkshire Pudding, vegetables and gravy. The gravy came separately, the vegetables turned out to be a bowl of boiled-to-mush cabbage and carrots, and the potatoes were not mashed but rather peeled, halved and pan fried. Both cuts of meat were so tough that they would not cut with the knives provided. These knives would not even cut the potatoes! Mark managed to carve off a bit of his pork, Deb could not get a single bite of her beefsteak cut and the vegetables, while hot, were unappetizing and cooling rapidly. We finished our ale and wine and quietly left; easily the worst meal we have encountered in England and one of the worst ever in our travels.

Next morning, we arose and were in the hotel reception area waiting for our pick up to the start of our day long tour of the North Yorkshire Moors, another national park area. Our guide and driver, Peter, arrived only a few minutes behind schedule in a fairly new, Ford 8 passenger van. Although the tour was scheduled for 6 passengers, one couple was a no-show so it was just us and our new acquaintances Catriona and her mother Siriphorna Duncan. These two ladies were on holiday from their home in Richmond outside of London and had been in the Yorkshire area for a week. This was their penultimate day on the road, headed back on the train to London the next day.

This day long tour, a 40th wedding anniversary gift from our children, was a drive through the moors and farmland of the York plateau following the byways and country roads. The end portion of the trip was to be a steam locomotive ride from the village of Goathland, on the north east coast, down to Pickering. Before we even stepped into the van, Peter, with a sad look on his face, informed us that the bad news was that the steam locomotive had been replaced by a diesel locomotive. The excessive dryness and heat in the area prevented the use of the steam engine, due to the fire risk, sparks, coal embers, etc. Oh well! Off we went. Peter is an excellent tour guide with an encyclopedic knowledge of the Yorkshire area. We stopped in the Village of Helmsly for a walk about, restroom break and a cup of coffee and scone from a take away bakery and then back in the van for more touring. We crossed the moors, stopped at the top of one of the lead mining areas for a walk around the kilns and a view out over the Dales below and then eventually into the town of Whitby on the northeast coast. Originally a fishing and shipbuilding town, it is now much given over to tourism. We started our 2 hour walk at the Abbey ruins at the top of the cliff, descended the 199 steps to the old village area and joined the throngs of tourists, all with dogs on a leash, children also on a leash or running loose, and prams galore.

We stopped in one shop for a purchase, and then, together with our travel mates, walked to the Magpie Restaurant for reputedly the best fish and chips in all of Great Britain. Evidently the crowd queued up at the front door concurred. After a 20 minute wait, we were seated and looked over the menu. It was a forgone conclusion - we ordered the fish and chips, some beer and wine. The fish choices were huge, but the defining description of cod versus haddock made the choice easy - the cod was skinless under the batter, the haddock was skin-on. All our diners picked cod! We waited an inordinate amount of time, considering the number of diners packed into the restaurant. They obviously were used to the rush, but may have had to send a boat out to catch more fish. Eventually we received our piping hot meals and had to agree that it was some of the best fish and chips we’ve encountered on the trip.

We were due back at our pick up point at 1:55. We arrived at 2:01, and Peter was afraid he had lost all four of us. Deb’s phone rang as we were crossing the parking lot to the agreed upon spot and told him we could see him ahead and were almost there. Crisis averted. Off we headed for our 2:50 scheduled train departure from Goathland, a few miles down the road from Whitby. This train station is the one depicted in the Harry Potter movies as Hogmeade Station and it truly looks it. This was the reason for the steam locomotive, but we made do with the diesel.

We stood on the overhead trestle, filming the arrival of the train and then boarded for the one hour trip to Pickering, only actually a 20 mile distance but over some steep inclines. As this is a single track line, we were twice shunted to a layover track as other trains passed us by. Hence the slow progress. the scenery was nice, but nothing dramatic. We spent the time sitting in our booth, face to face with our two new friends getting to know a bit about them.

Peter met us in Pickering and we loaded back into the van for our drive back into the City of York. We passed through some more villages, crossed the estate and saw Castle Howard in the distance, and finally arrived back in York shortly after 5:00. We said goodbye to our traveling companions, climbed the steps to our hotel room, and settled in to decide what we wanted to do for the evening. We were tired from a long day of driving and walking so didn’t feel like fighting any crowds to find a place to eat. We stayed in, finished off the provisions we had brought with us - chips, crackers, rice cakes and wine, and read until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. Another day of intense touring gone.

Tuesday morning we parked up our traveling bags, checked out of the Jorvik Hotel and stowed our bags in the car trunk. We then strolled through the St. Mary’s Abbey ruins and gardens on into the old town area of York. Our first destination is a restaurant called Betty’s which is known for its breakfasts and afternoon tea service. This restaurant chain (there are three in England) was founded by a Swiss immigrant in 1919 and the food was glorious and the service impeccable. There was a line at the door when we arrived around 9:30, but the wait wasn’t too long. We were seated and ordered a full English with scrambled eggs and a Swiss Rösti breakfast with a poached egg. The Swiss Rösti leaves off the toast and sausage but serves a poached egg on top of a huge pancake of hash brown potatoes made with cream and Gruyère cheese. Absolutely amazing.

Following breakfast we were out to explore York on foot. We wandered the streets, spent some time in the Shambles Alley and its attendant market square and did some serious people watching. Shambles Alley is the spot that JK Rowling based Diagon Alley on for the Harry Potter novels. The replica at Universal Studios in Los Angeles looks exactly like the real thing, less all the magic craft store fronts.

Thankfully, there were only two stores that were trading off the novel’s fame, selling souvenirs and other items (wands etc.)

Next we stood in line to enter the York Minister, one of the grandest cathedrals in England and the one with the largest stained glass windows. The wait was long as the web site used for pre-booking was off line this morning, causing most people, such as ourselves, to stand in line to buy tickets. Once inside we wandered the huge area, crossing the transepts and looking in wonder at the windows, pipe organ and the general layout. Lots of statues of famous clerics and pastors, wealthy people’s graves and other spots just like all the other English Cathedrals we have been in. The stained glass was wonderful; some were closed off for restoration, and the entire cathedral seems to be one continuous historic renovation site.

After our tour through the cathedral, we walked back to our car and by 1:00 we were on the roads headed out of York and onto the smaller town of Thirsk. We really didn’t have a specific reason to go to Thirsk, just that it was the location of the veterinary practice of the real James Herriot (James Alfred Wight.) There is an “All Creatures” museum in Thirsk at the site of his original Veterinary Surgery. We never did get into the town of Thirsk, only drove through it. Our reason for not stopping was we became distracted when we spotted a White Horse on the way towards Thirsk and started a chase to find a spot where we could properly photograph it. The famous white horses of southern England are cut into the chalk hills and are therefore permanently white, some prehistoric and some not so old. The Uffington White Horse outside of Thirsk was created in 1857 by  local volunteers and is cut into limestone. It is the largest White Horse in England. Since limestone is naturally grey, not white, the horse was originally whitewashed with tons of lime to appear white. In present times the whiteness is maintained by covering it with chalk chips from another area of Yorkshire. It may be that the chips were recently renewed, as the horse was very white.

We drove some small roads and eventually pulled into a road rising into a hayfield for our view and photo. Next to where we pulled into the field, a batch of cattle milled around the gate adjoining, mooing and bellowing. Apparently they were expecting us to feed them as there was a stacks of freshly cut bales of hay. we just thanked them for their time and apologized for our intrusion, driving away leaving them to chew their cuds.

We drove onward into Leyburn, the location of our favorite grocery stores and picked up some supplies we knew were low at the Burnside Cottage and then rolled into Gunnerside at 4:00. We unloaded the car, put away our supplies and then adjourned to the front garden area for a martini and a G&T. We cooked another set of cheeseburgers for dinner and then spent the balance of the evening reading, retiring at a respectable 10:00. 

The Great Adventure, Friday, August 19, 2022

Monday was a beautiful day in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. We left Burnside Cottage around 10:00 after a toast and coffee breakfast and drove across the moors. We have been trying to put into words and show with some of our photos how stunning the scenery and landscape is in this part of England. The heather is in full bloom in August and paints the fells a gorgeous hue of purplish lavender. The fields dotting the hillsides, delineated with their stone walls, are all in different shades of green; so many shades of green that it is difficult to list them. When, on  partly cloudy days such as we have had, the intermittent sunshine and then the shadows cast by the clouds moving across the landscape adds another dimension to the color palette.

We point our trusty red Kia south towards our destination, the village of Grassington.

This picturesque village is also where a number of the scenes from the current BBC rendition of All Creatures Great & Small have been filmed. The Stripey Badger Bookshop shows up in the films as G.F. Endleby Groceries. After a walk about the streets and wandering into and out of a few shops in the intermittent light rain, we stepped into the Love Brownie Shop for a spot of tea and a bite of brownie.

These were exceedingly chocolatey, moist and delectable. We opted for a trio - double chocolate, fudge caramel and sherry chocolate. All delicious. We poured our milk and sugar into the cups, added the hot tea, and sat in contentment, watching the rain chase the other tourists off the streets and back to their vehicles. A welcome stop in a probably not so typical village. Almost Disneyland like in its charm.

Leaving Grassington, we headed back in a slightly northerly direction to a National Trust site known as Brimham Rocks, on the road to Ripon.  This is an incredible collection of eye-catching rock formations sculpted by 320 million years of ice, wind and continental movement. There is a small ice cream truck parked near the parking lot, and a set of restrooms and a snack bar some 700 yards further up the hillside, but otherwise it is all walking paths and huge stone formations for children and the adventurous to climb over, upon and around. Needless to say, we walked some, made use of the restroom facilities (one of an old man’s most important rules-never pass a bathroom location) and watching the kids clamor around.

We walked back to the car park and back onto the byways towards home. Dinner this evening was cheese, crackers, a dirty martini and wine.

Tuesday was a stay at home kind of day. We started with a full English, sans baked beans, and then settled in for some laundry and some reading. Amazingly, the day just scurried by. We cooked a pair of cheeseburgers for dinner along with a small salad. Quiet and relaxing, almost like we were on vacation. There was some guilt however at doing nothing when we have invested all this time and money in being in the Yorkshire Dales, but, what the heck, we still have two weeks to go!

Wednesday we were up and out. We left the cottage around 10:30 and headed north. Our destination today was Hadrian’s Wall near Hexham in Northumberland.

Our first stop was Eggleston Abbey ruins just south of the town of Barnard’s Castle, along the River Tees. The Abbey, started in 1190, was constantly in financial difficulty, at one point almost being reduced in importance from an Abbey to a Priory. It survived, but barely, until the dissolutions of the Monasteries in 1536 by Henry VIII. The building and its holdings became the property of the Crown and were sold off, as were other monasteries, to support the rule of Henry VIII and provide funds for the various wars. The ruins today are but a mere shadow of the original structure, hinting at its grandeur.

Onward north towards Housesteads Fort, a National Trust property, and also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is on Hadrian’s Wall and is the Roman Empire’s best-preserved outpost in Northern Europe. We parked and paid for our spot and then entered the visitor’s center, checking out what was on offer. We then began the 1/2 mile walk, uphill, towards the fort and the wall.

The fort is set high on a dramatic escarpment and is amazing in its layout. The Romans placed these forts along the wall as a barracks for its military for protection of this northernmost frontier of the Empire from the potential invaders from the north - the Scottish hordes! According to information in the museum, these forts followed a standard plan throughout the Empire, like standardized housing. They were sized to accommodate a certain number of troops and officers and included everything they needed, baths, housing, toilets, kitchens and all the necessities of life.

Hadrian’s Wall was started in 122 AD and was completed some 15 years later. It stretches from Newcastle-upon-Tyne westward across the entire British island. It is much higher on the Scottish side than on the English side, allowing for easy defense by the Roman troops. The current Scottish border is much further north, on the other side of Northumberland, but this is still an impressive accomplishment. 

We were able to walk along the top of the wall for a small section. It is some six feet wide at this point and was an easy walk. A national walking path follows the wall across the country and is a favorite of long distance walkers. Our one mile round trip didn’t qualify, but was still enjoyable and, due to the hill we had to climb to get to the wall, plenty of exercise for the two of us. We then motored south heading home after a long day of travel. Our way up north and back was stymied at times by roadwork detours, another round of orange cone fever evidently a worldwide pandemic to plague tourists and travelers everywhere. We were back shortly after 5:30. Time for another cheese and cracker dinner.

Thursday morning we had another large breakfast and then headed into Leyburn to restock our provisions. We stopped for a fill up of petrol and also to the favorite local grocery store, Campbell’s of Leyburn. This is an amazing store, with a deli and butcher shop to rival the best, and upstairs a wine and liquor shop with more wine than we have ever seen. It puts Spirit World in Omaha to shame, and in a small Yorkshire village with an estimated population of 2,500 to boot! We dropped our groceries back at the cottage and then headed south towards the village of Hawes, where we had dinner reservations. We took a different track over the moors this time - one Deb says we are never traveling again!

By the time we reached the top of the fells, some 1560 feet above sea level, the road had deteriorated not two narrow asphalt or gravel tracks over the hills. Deb was delegated to get out and open two different gates for us to pass through. The steepness of the drop offs, and the lack of guardrails was unsettling to the passenger and a great challenge to the driver.

We finally descended into the Wensleydale area, along the river Ure. One of our goals was to find the small lake of Semerwater, which figures prominently in the first Harry Grimm novel. We found it, and managed to also find our way back to the main highway along some ever smaller one lane roads- England’s roads are phenomenal. You rarely see a stop sign or a set of stoplights. Almost every intersection is either just a “Give Way” (Yield) sign, or a roundabout. 

Back into Hawes, we drove through to the neighboring village of Hardraw for our reservation at the Red Dragon Inn. Behind the Inn is a tea shop and a ticketed entrance to a walk up to see Hard Force. Force is the term used for waterfalls, and this is the highest single stream waterfall in England, at over 100 feet.

As it has been relatively dry here this summer, it is not the thundering torrent that we have heard is common in the spring, but still respectfully impressive. It was an easy walk up and back in the light rain. Our spirits were not dampened in the least. We strolled back to the pub, a bit early for our reservation but ready to eat. We enjoyed a pint of Theakston’s Best Bitter, a red wine with soda, and a taste of a fruit Cider. We both enjoyed a steak and ale pie, one with mashed potatoes, and one with chips. Both were accompanied by extremely fresh peas. The pie was one of the best we have tried and the mashed potatoes were  scrumptious.

Satiated, we headed back up over Buttertubs Pass towards home. This is a better road than the one we took to get here but still steep and narrow. It didn’t help that it was still drizzling and the clouds descended over the fells, putting us into a fog of sorts in spots. Slow going but still enjoyable. We returned by about 7:15 and settled in for a little television and reading, another great day.

Friday we were up and out by 10:30. Our destination today being Bolton Abbey and eventually the town of Skipton. Bolton Abbey is a town on the river Wharfe in the Wharfedale area and takes its name from the nearby Bolton Priory. The priory was originally established in 1140 on land donated by Lady Mary de Romille of Skipton Castle. The priory sits directly on the river Wharfe, which runs though its front lawn. The Romille line died out and in 1340 Edward II gave the estate to Robert Clifton.  In 1748, Baroness Clifton married William Cavendish, and thereafter the 33,000 acre estate has belonged to the Dukes of Devonshire. The 11th Duke of Devonshire turned the estate over to the Chatsworth Settlement Trust to manage and it is now open to the public. The grounds are magnificent and the ruins are stunning. There is a public right of way that crosses the River Wharfe at the foot of the lawn of the Priory. It is a set of stepping stones set in the water that the public is always allowed to cross towards the other side of the river. There is a sign noting that 14 of the stones are currently missing due to several large trees downed in a storm that rushed down river in a surge, wiping out the stones. Replacement stones are in process of being quarried but are not yet in place. That did not stop people from walking across the stones, at some points wading in the water to get to the next. There is also a more recent footbridge, which we more mature sightseers, used to get across.

We left Bolton Abbey, and drove back through Skipton, our destination to be the Keelham Farm Shop. Abigail had found this website which purported to sell all things local to Yorkshire. She was right, but they must have a great marketing department. This was basically a Whole Foods grocery store with everything geared towards Yorkshire produce. It was interesting and we did pick up a Victoria Cake to go with our Wensleydale Cheese and also finally some nice thick lamb chops. It is interesting that, with sheep everywhere, there is so little lamb on offer at the supermarkets. When we have found it, it has been fairly expensive. We paid these four thickly cut chops for only £11 so considered it a bargain. They should brown up nicely in the one oversized skillet on our cooktop Saturday night. 

It being a chilly and damp day, we returned to Burnside set a fire in the wood stove in our lounge and settled in for our dirty Martini, Gin & Tonic, and our dinner of a fresh salad and some steak and ale pies we had purchased Thursday from the Two Dales Bakery in the Village of Reeth. An excellent meal, the best tasting pies yet and a warming fire to enjoy our cocktails and read our books long into the night. A great week in the Dales.

The Great Adventure, Sunday, August 14, 2022

Thursday morning we arose, dragged our bags down the three flights of steps to the car and then stopped in the dining room for our last breakfast in Windemere, delicious again. This morning we took the highway south to enjoy the southern portion of Lake Windemere. We quickly discovered that, just like at home, there was nothing visible of the lake due to all the high end homes or hotel accommodations along the lake shore. Nothing to see but walls and the occasional three or four story lodging facility. A rerouting was in order. 

We were headed for Sizergh Castle, a National Trust property, so the navigator picked some smaller roads to take us cross country towards our goal. We traveled some of the smallest and windiest roads of our entire trip as the highways twisted up and down the hills, into the valleys and across some very narrow bridges. At one point, Deb said we next would cross a river called Winster, coming up around the next bend. Mark said, jokingly, “By bridge or do we ford it? We came around the bend and there was the river, the pavement leading up to the water and only a foot bridge to get across. We slam on the brakes and came to a halt, some seventy five feet from the pavement on the other side. There were a pair of women walking across the foot bridge, so we asked how deep? The lady said no problem, it was shallow and we could easily make it. In we plunged, hoping we would not have to call the car rental agency for a tow and a very expensive repair - not sure how the rental agreement treats flooding, especially when it was self-induced. In the middle we felt the rocky subsurface, but we were quickly across, the water only being 12-18 inches deep. Needless to say, we didn’t stop in the middle for a picture opportunity, although later in the day, we talked about driving back to reinstate the incident for visual proof of our exploits.

 We soon reached Sizergh Castle, presented our National Trust passes and spent the next few hours touring the wonderful gardens and the castle itself. The property has belonged to one family for over 1,000 years, the Strickland family. We watched an informative video before we began the interior tour of the castle where Tom Strickland, the current “lord of the Manor” talked about the history of the family, the number of times they were on the losing side of politics, as they were Catholic, an unpopular point for most of their history, depending on which way the ruling monarch was leaning, but always able to hang on to their holdings. Upkeep costs became most difficult into the mid 20th century, so the property was turned over to the National Trust for care and maintenance. They still live in a portion of the property and it is still a home to the Stricklands. Deb’s friends Peg and Rogers Strickland have visited and stayed at the nearby Strickland Arms hotel. Peg says that they have not found a direct connection with this group of Stricklands but we have decided to assume there is some family history here and next time we visit, we expect Peg to provide us with a more formal invite!

On our travels back towards Gunnerside, we passed near the famous arches railway bridge, outside of Hawes. You will recognize this bridge from countless scenes in movies, usually with a steam engine trailing smoke from its stack as it puffs along the track over the arch bridge.

We passed through the village of Hawes, an area we are going back to in the next week. Our good friend, April Dillon (a known Anglophile) recommended a detective series, The Yorkshire Murder Mysteries to us. This is set in the Yorkshire Dales with the protagonist Harry Grimm assigned to the Hawes police station. (The author is David J. Gatward.) We are enjoying the series immensely, following Grimm as he traipses through all the small villages we are visiting as he searches for the solutions to his murder mysteries. It provides us a different  and local perspective on the area. We are continuously passing landmarks and pubs mentioned in the series. At one point there is even mention of our neighborhood Kings Head pub. Thanks, April, for recommending the series; it really brings to life all we are seeing and experiencing, not just the scenery, but a locale where real people live, work and interact in their daily life.

Friday morning, we completed some housekeeping around Burnside Cottage. A few days ago, the kitchen faucet came apart in our hands, although Mark was able to cobble it back together. We notified the landlord, Graeme who said he would come by to replace the item. He and his wife arrived Friday afternoon and between he and Mark, the problem was quickly repaired without having to replace the entire 

unit. The couple then spent an hour or so trimming plants and other gardening issues around the cottage, as we visited with them and learned a bit about the area. The weather continues to be absolutely stunning,  clears skies with temperatures in the upper 70’s, dipping into the mid 60’s overnight. So,Saturday we decided it was time to explore our immediate surroundin.

Accordingly, we stepped into our walking shoes and headed out along the path that follows the stream directly in front of our cottage for a bit. Sticks in hand, we walked along the cobbled and rocky patch, fording a few small trickles, avoiding the sheep scat, and truly enjoying the scenery. We stepped through stone stiles, passed through walking gates, and scrambled up some steeper parts of the path. England is a land of walkers, serious walkers. The nation is crisscrossed by footpaths and the law provides that there is free passage by foot across any land, no matter the ownership. This is a wonderful pastime for everyone of any age throughout the countryside. The village of Gunnerside sits at the crossing of the north-south Penine Way path and the east-west Cross Country path. There are long distance walkers everywhere, and our parking area is always  a spot for people to park their cars, lacing up their hiking boots, strap on their day packs and head out for a days walk onto the moors 

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We returned Saturday afternoon and stopped at The Kingshead for a quick pint. One of the neighborhood hens came strutting down the road, trailing her five chicks. they marched right up to the patio of the pub and stood around accepting handouts of tossed breadcrumbs. This was obviously a regular stop on their daily ramblings. Every inhabitant of England seems to be a walker of some sort! Returning from the pub, we set up for our scheduled Zoom chat with the family. Seven o’clock Greenwich Mean Time is one o’clock Omaha time. It was great to see and talk to everyone. Technology has its merits when one can visit halfway around the globe in real time, not just hearing, but seeing each other. Our grandparents would not have believed it.

Sunday, we relaxed a bit. A drive into Leyburn for some shopping, back to our cottage for some afternoon reading and laundry, a cocktail out on our freshly trimmed front patio garden, and then across to the pub for dinner of steak and ale pie and fish and chips. Another week gone by - two down and two to go. We are surprised how quickly time flies.

The Great Adventure, Wednesday, August 10, 2022

Monday was a touring day of the southern portion of our Yorkshire Dales location. After our toast, jam and coffee breakfast, we completed a load of laundry in the provided washer and dryer, folded the clean clothes, emptied the dishwasher, and loaded up the vehicle with our normal rain jackets, although the weather was sunny and predicted for a high of 70º F. Predictions turned out to be correct - a gorgeous day in North Yorkshire. Our first foray was to try a small road out of our village that, at first glance, appeared to loop around a few blocks. Wrong! We followed this narrow and winding track for a couple of miles. At one point coming around the brow of a hill into a hard turn around a barn, nearly colliding head on with a pick-up truck towing a trailer. We backed up a few yards to the turn-in to the barnyard and allowed the truck to pass with a friendly wave. Just normal protocol in this area on these one lane roads.

Other encounters included following a local hay load being moved from one town to another. It is very hard to pass such a vehicle on these small roads when you can’t see over or around it. One just needs to wait until the farmer decides he has reached the appropriate turn-off.

We ended up a few miles down the road from where we started and were forced to drive back along the highway to our cottage in order to replot our route. We started out again, and made the turnoff a mile past where we had last hit the highway and started up over the moors to the village of Askrigg. The one lane road was winding and very steep. At one point we came to the brow of a hill that was so steep, we were unsure there was a road under us as we crested the hill. More scary than a roller-coaster. At least with a roller coaster you are on rails and you know the car will follow the path designated. Reaching Askrigg village, we then headed east and south towards Aysgarth Falls. We parked at this National Park attraction car park, lifting our hiking staffs out of the car trunk for the first time. We had purchased two pair of these collapsible staffs from the National Trust on a previous trip to England. Our choice of a suitcase for this trip was predicated on our being able to pack the staffs, disassembled, into the luggage as we knew we might need them. We then began the walks to the three various viewing areas of the falls. 

The shortest walk was to the Upper Falls, nearest the car park. Stunning scenery and walk along the highway and through a short wooded glen. This opened out onto a large lawn studded with picnickers and families sitting around enjoying the sunshine and looking at the falls. As this wasn’t too strenuous, we decided to next trek to the Middle falls location, just another half mile in the other direction; this too was beautiful as we descended from the path along some steps and onto the viewing platform. A gracious young man offered to take our photo, and he climbed the steps. A quick thought that we might not see Deb’s phone again, but he turned around, made the shot from above us, and returned the phone. A glorious photo of us with the falls in the background.

 

Next we undertook the longest walk to the Lower Falls, the most spectacular. This too was an easy walk and then a trek back along the river bank to the falls location. We managed a few photos here and then trekked back to the car park and visitor center for a bathroom break and an obligatory stop for a soft serve ice cream cone. The ice cream received a score of about 7.5 on the taste scale we are beginning to devise.

The time was slipping away; we loaded into our vehicle and began the trek back with a stop in Reeth to see about an ATM, We found a machine, but only accepted English Bank cards. We will have to keep a lookout in Richmond or Leyburn for a bigger bank ATM in order to pick up some English currency as we have fairly depleted our supply.

Home again to cook the hamburgers topped with sharp aged cheddar cheese. We had picked up a few onions to put on top with Coleman mustard and some Yorkshire Chutney instead of pickles. We have been unable to find cucumber pickles yet in any store. Note that cheddar cheese in England is white - yellow is an American affectation.

Tuesday we were up and doing a bit of housekeeping. Another toast and jam morning meal and then loaded our purple travel bags into the car for a two night stay in The Lake District at a small hotel in Windermere, on Windermere Lake, one of the largest lakes in the Lake District. We motored west along the moors, towards the town of Kendal at the eastern edge of the Lake District National Park, a mountainous region in the northwest of England, near the border with Scotland. Kendal is a larger city of the region and, owing to summertime, there seems to be a lot of road construction taking place. Add to this the fact that August is summer break for school children and the summer tourists were out in force. Although we intended to head north out of Kendal, we were forced to actually drive south to catch the M6 to head back north towards Penrith, an even larger urban area. We then hopped on the more scenic A593 and followed it south along Ullswater Lake, through Patterdale, and over the Kirkstone Pass, and elevation of nearly 1,500 feet. Back down through Ambleside and on into Windermere, the village, which lies along the eastern shore of Lake Windermere.

 The mountain scenery is terrific. These mountains are not the young peaks of the Rockies, but the weathered peaks of a once high range. Geologists think that these mountains were once as high as the Himalayas. The terrain is rocky, covered with gorse and heather. Excellent for raising sheep, goats and cattle of certain breeds. Due to the large number of glacier formed lakes in the area, it is also a tremendous tourist draw and the month of August, with this year’s record warm weather bringing them out in droves. It is impossible to find a parking spot along the highways and turnouts. Everyone is walking, hiking, boating or camping. All the small hotels are booked solid and restaurants are not taking reservations, only accepting walk-ins! We wound are way into Windermere, and, after circling the block three different times, we finally moved a block south and found our hotel, The Woodlands, for the next few nights. Luckily, the young lobby attendant, Jesus, grabbed our bags and quickly hauled them up to the aerie on the third floor that was to be our home for the next few days.

After a long day of driving, we stretched our legs with a walk and found the Beresford Pub only a few blocks away where we enjoyed a meal of prawns in a creme sauce, accompanied by nice crisp dinner rolls and a roast skinless chicken breast covered in a brown mushroom gravy. All washed down with some  Shiraz and a Guiness. We walked back happy and sated; climbed the three flights to our room and fell into bed.

Wednesday morning we were down to breakfast in the light filled dining room by 8:30. We both enjoyed a full English breakfast, less the baked beans and blood pudding for Deb, together with coffee and orange juice. Most filling and the eggs were perfectly prepared. We headed out for our drive today and our intended  destination of the town of Cockermouth (the jokes are just too obvious!) to visit the childhood home of William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy. Cockermouth is a relatively small town, but very lively. The Wordsworth Home is right on the Main Street and is a owned and maintained by The National Trust.

We spent almost two hours touring the home and the spectacular garden behind the home. In the home, the rooms were furnished as they were in Wordsworth’s time.

In the kitchen, a young woman in period costume explained all the paraphernalia and foodstuffs that were common in the time period. She pointed out the different herbs used throughout the kitchen, how the bread was baked, and how the automated spit for roasting was turned by a fan insides the chimney, light the fire and the heated smoke rising caused the fan blades to turn and the gears to drive the spit in the hearth.

We walked the streets of Cockermouth for a bit then took off back south through the dells and valleys of the Lake District back towards Windermere. Deb had a route all picked out that would take them around Derwentwater, a place she wanted to see for some reason, but a wrong turn was taken and we missed it!  Some harsh words were said. But again wonderful scenery to the rescue.  We just had to look past the congestion of tourists. Every time we saw a place that looked like fun or that might be a nice place for a tea or a photo-op, there was no parking to be found.  Finally, arriving back at Windermere, we walked a bit and, around the block from our hotel discovered a neighborhood pub, The Brookside, located along a stream that eventually emptied into the lake, right through the town and totally hidden. As usual, we are starving….wasting away, we are.  

We dined on a steak and ale pie and a cheese burger with chips. Shiraz and  few glasses of Theakston Bitter Ale topped off a great day.