Wednesday, April 14, 2026 Reeth and Hawes

Wednesday morning we arose with no specific plans in mind. We again had our bangers, bacon, egg, toast and coffee to begin our day. the weather was cool, breezy and rainy. As we ate breakfast rather late, we decided we could do without a lunch as we had dinner reservations at another local pub for 6:00. We showered, Deb in warm water, Mark starting in warm water, which turned to ice halfway through the process!

The facilities in Dinmore Cottage are very nice, but the hot water system is an Immersion system, similar to a coil you plug in to drop into a cup of tea. The heater takes time to heat the water up. It is on a timer and so, if your heater is scheduled for evening bath time and you want a morning shower, one needs to make some adjustments to the timer or flip switchs to turn the hot water on and wait for it to warm up again. Since the cottage is not in use everyday, all day, but a holiday rental, this plan makes sense. All power in the cottage is electric, from the space heaters to the kitchen appliances. 

For an American family used to continuously available hot water from a gas fired heater, this is a “novelty” to which we must learn to adapt. Such a hardship - but the price of learning how the rest of the world works. There is also a ceiling heater in the bathroom that ties into the light fixture. It is operated by a pull string switch. Great concept, until someone tugs too hard on the string to turn it back off and breaks the string! Again, we will learn.

After resting a bit after breakfast, reading the NYT and the Omaha World Herald for the meager obituary listings, we are ready to attack the day. Today we decide to do a walk-about of the village of Reeth. First stop is the Scenicview Gallery, to check on publication of the 2027 calendar. We have, each year since our first trip, had one of their gorgeous calendars on or kitchen wall. The photography is stunning; all scenes of the Yorkshire Dales area, mostly up and down the Swaledale area. For the 2026 calendar, which wasn’t available when we were last here, we had tried to order one on-line, which was entirely possible, except they were unable to mail to the USA due to the new tariff rules. Our solution was to order and pay on-line with the shop mailing to our friends in Ireland, who in turn mailed it to us at home. 

We walked into the shop, and there was the 2027 calendar, printed and ready for purchase. The owner remembered our troubles from last year’s purchase attempt! He happily sold us next year’s edition which we will tuck into our luggage and hope we don’t misplace at home before January 1, 2027!

Next stop was around the corner to visit some of the craft shops. We stopped at The Nutmeg embroidery shop and Deb procured a couple of very cute embroidery crafts that she thinks she can do at home while watching TV during her retirement. Next door was what we thought was an art gallery, but was actually an artist’s studio and she was sitting there with the door open. We stepped in and then had a wonderful 45 minute visit with Jane Ellis, local artist. We were very taken by some of her work; unfortunately, whatever she had available was framed and too large for our luggage. We were however able to secure a few of her line drawings for cards which we tucked away.  It was Jane who told us how much we had missed by not heading up the Northumberland coast from Seahouses to visit the small villages and castles.  Deb is still trying to figure out how to get one of her large drawings home!

Next a stroll along the green to another craft shop, the Fleece. Mark chose to spend this time sitting on a nearby bench on the green, admiring the beauty (not dozing as there was a rather stiff breeze, but happily ensconced in his Abigail knit hat and windbreaker). Deb spent some time in the shop visiting with the staff and made some small purchases. The shop was actually an artist’s co-op set-up and had some really interesting one-of-a-kind knickknacks, exactly what we don’t need!  Next we crossed the green to the Post Office/ Grocery Shop for some provisions, more eggs, a bottle of Moreland Gin (brewed here in the Swaledale) and a bottle of shampoo. Another lovely visit with the proprietress, and then back up the green to Dinmore Cottage. By then it was cocktail hour and time to sit with our glass of wine prior to ambling back across the village green to our 6:00 reservation at the King’s Arms Hotel.

Built in 1734 by a wealthy local lead mine owner as a private home, The King’s Arms Hotel is one of Reeth’s most iconic buildings. Affectionately known to locals as The Middle House due to its central position among the trio of historic Buiildings facing the village green, it has long been at the heart of village life. The King’s Arms is a warm and welcoming inn, retaining many of its original 18th century features. Exposed oak beams and a magnificent large open fire — the jewel in its crown. Period sash windows, stone fireplaces and historic staircase make this hotel a living piece of Swaldale heritage.

The current establishment is under new ownership and menu. At dinner Deb chose duck breast while Mark picked lamb loin. Both were accompanied by fresh vegetables, asparagus, roast carrots and ramps, A very enjoyable meal. Mark topped it off with a wee dram of Laphroig and an ice cube. We returned to our cozy cottage, lit the fireplace and enjoyed our quiet evening, retiring around 10:00.

Thursday Morning, we finished our breakfast and routed ourselves across the moor towards Askrigg, the village we had stayed in on our last visit. We then turned  west towards Hawes as we needed to gas up the vehicle. We parked up and walked the market street of Hawes. We window shopped, stopped in a small Jewelry stall where Deb picked up a pair of amethyst earrings. She had lost one of her current set some time ago, and this simple pair was a great and relatively inexpensive replacement.

We stopped at a small clothing shop where, two years ago, Mark had purchased his “cow suspenders,” known as braces to the locals. Deb spotted a really cool credit card case and after much weighing of color and texture, a sky blue version was calmly tucked away for her future use. We enjoy Hawes greatly as it is the setting for some of our favorite Yorkshire Dales mysteries by author David Gatward. The hero is a former big-city detective who finds himself as the chief of detectives for the Yorkshire Dales area, headquartered in Hawes; Harry Grimm by name.

The town businesses and the surrounding area are intergral to the novels and the places and shops are like characters in their world. A favorite eatery for the Detective Grimm: the Penny Garth Cafe. We passed by and could not resist the temptation to stop in. We sat to enjoy a mug of tea, a coffee, two bowls of absolutely scrumptious mushroom soup, and split an area specialty “Eccles cake,” a pastry with a fig raisin filling and perfectly beautiful crisp, flaky crust.

We walked back to the local Sparta grocery store and picked up a fresh supply of fireplace logs and returned to our vehicle in the parking lot.

Leaving Hawes we next motored towards another favorite stop, Aysgarth Falls and its National Park Center. The aforementioned “orange cone” season caused us a lengthy detour, following multiple “road diversion” signs, but we finally pulled in, parked, used the public facilities, and then stopped into the cafe for the real prize, a chocolate-vanilla swirl gelato cone, one of Deb’s favorite treats, and something we cannot travel to the Dales without obtaining at least once.

Returning to the Dinmore Cottage, we built a fire with our newly acquired firewood supply, broke out two of the airplane sized vodka “shooters” that Deb had brought along and constructed our first Dirty Martini in the Yorkshire Dales. Unable to locate vermouth at the liquor store we had settled for a very dry small bottle of white wine. We also lacked a standard shot glass, so the head bartender had to fall back on past skills of eyeballing the measurements. The results was acceptable. We broke out some cheese and crackers and dined in. TV was watched and we were under the duvet before 10:00.

Friday morning we cooked our last full breakfast, leaving enough sausage and eggs for the evening meal and then struck out towards the northern portion of the National Park for a bit more driving. We ran across an offshoot road towards the village of Crackpot and decided to explore. Some travelers strike out on an unfamiliar road and become lost but in the Dales you can experience an adventure and great beauty!  We were still sort of lost, however.  We wended along a hillside on a narrow one lane road that, thankfully, provided no oncoming traffic so reverse driving skills were not called into play. We drove up and over the fells, and back down towards Swaledale. 

Next we drove northward across some high and unbelievably beautiful open moors following the river and its falls as they run to the East. This is spring, the ewes were all out with their double sets of newborn lambs. As they ran across the fields, they were actually gambolling. what a sight. New lambs everywhere. We know that the price of wool is to the point of making it almost useless; we only have found lamb meat on one restaurant menu, so we are left wondering what happens with all the sheep. Something to investigate. The sky above these peaks is ever changing, from blue to cloud streaked, to totally cloudy. At one point our windshield wipers were beating double time, the next moment we were lowering the shades on the bright sun. Astonishing beauty was everywhere. 

Back at the cottage, we began our packing process and then had a last martini while Mark prepared a dinner from our remaining larder.  Sausages sliced into rounds and sautéed, then added into the scrambled eggs, accompanied by some red wine and double thick toast. It may not sound like much but it was delicious. We burned the last of our logs, tidied up the kitchen and tucked in for our last night in The Yorkshire Dales.

Sunday, April 12, 2026 - England

Sunday morning we awoke in our snug little cottage with a whole week of adventures ahead of us. A late brunch; Mark has to prepare his traditional English breakfast, although without the small fried tomato nor any baked beans. (We forgot those at the grocery run yesterday.) Fried egg, back bacon, sausage (banger) and toast & rhubarb strawberry jam accompanied by copious amounts of coffee. Sunday, there was little traffic about as we traveled again to Leyburn to pick up some additional supplies. Deb purchased a small ceramic pot from her favorite hardware/notions store and we laid in some more provisions from the Co-op store. The weather was drizzly rain and very cool, also a bit breezy; we are beginning to think we may have not packed enough warm wear. 

Returning to the cottage, we dined on some chips, crackers and cheese and watched the History Channel for an hour before crawling back up the steps and into our bed. Not a very exciting day, but we were glad to refresh our memories of the glorious Yorkshire Dales moors and byroads.

Monday morning, we again were up and breakfasted before heading out for a bit of some exploring. There seems to be the same orange cone season around the Dales as we encounter at home. Our Google Maps were not very helpful as to roadwork, but we found our way around via the various diversions, and finally arrived at Tan Hill Pub, Britain’s highest altitude pub. This visit has become a tradition with us, we enjoyed a late lunch of cheese, fruit, an ale, and a glass of wine. Our original route was thwarted by more road diversions, so we found an alternative and made our way back to our home based in Reeth. 

Reeth, in North Yorkshire, is in the civil parish of Reeth, Fremington and Healaugh. It is the principal settlement of upper Swaledale, the valley formed by the river Swale. The village dates back to the Saxon era and by the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066, it had grown sufficiently in importance to be  listed in The Domesday Book. It later became a center for hand-knitting and the local lead mining industry was controlled from here; it was always a market center for the local farming community.

In May and June of each year, Reeth becomes the hub of the Swaledale Festival, a two-week celebration of music and guided walks. It is a center for hiking and bicyclists as it is along the Penine Way, a cross country hiking trail. There are, surprisingly, three public houses (The Kings arms, The Buck Hotel, and the Black Bull Hotel) plus some fine dining in the Burgoyne Hotel. All are within 3 minutes walking distance and most feature pretty authentic pub food.  We hope to dine in all four on this trip.

Following our return from Tan Hill, we rested for a bit and then walked across the village green to The Buck for some pub food. It was a bit crowded as there was a football game on the television, (Man City vs. Chelsea, Chelsea won 3-0.) Deb ordered a roast beef with mashed potatoes and a Yorkshire pudding. Mark opted for the burger and fries. Both meals were huge servings but we worked at it and made a pretty good showing!

After our dinner, we walked back across the green for some exciting TV time in the cottage, ending our first weekday in the Yorkshire Dales.

Tuesday morning we got an early start with just a piece of toast and a split banana. We mounted our trusty Mercedes and headed northwest toward the coast and the destination of the village of Seahouses in Northumberland. We are going here because of a chance conversation with a Dutch woman (now living in Malaga) at the car rental location in Leeds.  She was a lone traveller returning her car and she raved about Northumberland and seeing the puffins up close. Since the route was straightforward, most of it on the divided motorway, we decided this was a must-see and we had not been to that part of Northumberland.  We passed through Newcastle and eventually reached Seahouses. We had pre-booked a boat trip out to the uninhabited Farne Islands to view seals, puffins and other birds. Seahouses is also where most of the equipment and boats for sea rescues in the Northeast are located.  They have a museum with some fascinating history and the many rescue successes and failures over the past 150 years.

The Farne Islands are first recorded in 651 AD then they became home to Saint Aidan, followed by Saint Cuthbert. Among other acts, Cuthbert introduced special laws in 676 protecting eider ducks and other sea birds nesting on these islands. These are thought to be the earliest bird-protection laws anywhere in the world. There is no permanent population on the islands, although as they are now property of the National Trust, trust rangers do live there part time to care for the wildlife. Over the centuries, there have been many lighthouses on the islands. There are currently two, although they are automatic and no longer require lighthouse keepers.

While we enjoyed the day, the boat cruise was less than stellar as it was hard to see out the windows and the outside seats were all taken up by families with young children and dogs (not sure as to why the dogs wee along - perhaps they were training to be bird-dogs!)  Also we could not understand one word of the commentary because of a raspy loudspeaker.  We’ve come to find out (from a lovely woman in Reeth whom you will meet later) that if we had gone north of Seahouses (considered a tourist trap) we would have seen incredible coastline with castles and really quaint villages.  Maybe next time!

Returning to Reeth, we were back in time for our dinner reservation at The Black Bull Hotel Restaurant. We dined on a beef and ale pie and a spicy tagliatelle. Both meals were very tasty. We retired to our cottage for some more TV on the History Channel. We are learning a lot about ancient Britain and its history.

Friday, November 8 through Sunday, November 10, 2024

This morning we needed to finish off the rest of the food supplies we laid in at the beginning of the week. Mark prepared the final Full English Breakfast including beans, but lacking the tomato and mushrooms normally served. As tomato growers ourselves, the sad specimens provided at these breakfasts are rarely eaten, at least by us. The sausage and bacon on the other hand is always delicious. 

We did some preliminary packing and then turned the car towards Leyburn and a final stop for some stocking stuffers and a bottle of wine to take with us in the car for Saturday evening. Friday is Market Day in Leyburn, so the traffic around the square was busy. We were forced to park in the public lot a few blocks away from the Market Square and hoof it back. After purchasing some wine at Campbell’s we dropped in again at the Posthorn Tea Shoppe for a slice of Victoria Cake and a cup of tea before taking our leave and going towards Gunnerside.

This time we drove the high road, over the moors and through the army firing fields. Catterick Army Barracks is located just outside the City of Richmond, and this area is used for troop maneuvers. The Catterick Base is reputed to be the largest Army base in Europe. Similar to Bellevue’s relationship to Offutt AFB in Nebraska, Richmond provides a ready market for Catterick personnel and lots of economic support.

We dropped down through the village of Grinton and then followed the Swale River passing the Dales Bike shop. There is a lot of biking in this area of the Dales. In 2014, the Tour de France even held their opening stage here and the peloton went riding across the moors and over the bridge at Grinton. 

We journeyed on again through Reeth, past its church and market square and followed the Swale along, eventually reaching Gunnerside. Our goal was the Kings Head Pub for dinner. Faithful readers may recall that our first stay in the Yorkshire Dales National Park was at Gunnerside and Burnside Cottage, a small guest house directly across from The Kings Head. That previous stay was the start of our love affair with the Yorkshire Dales. This pub is fairly unique; it closed down around 2015, but the community was so lost without it, they founded a non-profit group, raised the necessary funds and purchased the pub. They cleaned it up, ran it themselves for a few months, and then secured a tenant to run the operation. There is a note in their menu telling patrons that occasionally shares of the community organization come up for sale and urging anyone interested to purchase a share if they become available.

We arrived just at opening time of 4:30, and ordered a pint of ale and a pint of cider. Dinner service begins at 5:30 and we then ordered: Deb a steak pie with chips, and Mark a sausage with mashed potatoes. Both were served with a separate dish of steaming hot vegetables. The food was delicious, and, as this was Friday night, the pub was beginning to fill up with villagers and travelers enjoying a beer and a chat. We took our leave and then proceeded back up over the moors in the pitch black night towards Askrigg and our home base.

Arriving safely, we finished our open bottle of wine and began our preparations for the next day’s travel, We were mostly packed and into bed by 10:00.

Saturday morning we had a cup of coffee, started the dishwasher for the cleaning crew and placed our baggage back in the Nissan for a long day’s travel. We were out of Brook Cottage at 9:02 AM and on the road. We drove back through Leyburn and stopped at the Posthorn for breakfast, an egg, bacon, sausage with toast and a nice cup of coffee. Finishing up, we bid adieu to the Yorkshire Dales for this trip, and pointed the car towards our next destination. Our first taste of how bad the traffic was going be was in Thirsk.  For those of you are are ‘All Creatures” fans, both of the shows and the book, this is the real hometown of “All Creatures.” The Clock in the Market Square was covered in poppies, the symbol of remembrance.

We headed southeast to York, arriving at the ring roads to this metropolis around 12:30 and spent nearly 45 minutes battling traffic to get around the city. Weekends are just an excuse for the English drivers to get out and clog the roadworks. We fought our way towards Hull, crossing over the umber River on the huge suspension bridge then turning southwest back towards Lincoln for a stop at the beautiful Lincoln Cathedral, on the grounds of which their is a large bronze statue of Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Wed left Lincoln just as the sun was setting in the west and pushed south towards our final destination of the day, Headington, joust outside Oxford. 

We arrived at our hotel,The Black Boy, at 6:30 PM, exhausted but glad to see some areas of England we had not visited before. The unfortunate name of the hotel honors a famous British racing horse, and the pub in the hotel is festooned with a saddle, some bridles, and other paraphernalia strewn about. We moved our overnight bags into our room, opened our remaining bottle of wine, and had a cocktail before heading down to the restaurant for our 7:30 reservation. Deb enjoyed a nicely cooked halibut with chips while Mark had a nice piece of salmon on a bed of lemon tanged rice. 

After dinner we trundled up the steps to collapse in our bed for our last night in England. Sunday morning, we loaded up and drove to Heathrow Airport, only missing the car rental drop off exit once! We turned in the car at Enterprise without any further delays and, after driving over 750 miles, we gladly took their shuttle into the terminal. This day, Sunday, in England is Rememberance Day, akin to our Veteran’s Day, and at 11:00 AM, throughout the country, bugles sound and everyone stops what they are doing and stands in place for three minutes of silence. Some other unknowing tourists, especially the ones who do not speak English, moved about, not realizing the solemnity of the moment. This was a silence that would never be heard in the USA for anything that far back in history.  It was inspiring and took both of us by surprise.  When we first came in, not realizing what was about to happen, we asked an agent a question and were hushed with a stern look.  After the silence was over, we were helped by the same agent who was so friendly and gracious.

When the silence ended with another flourish of the bugles over the loudspeakers, the bustle of the airport returned. We checked our bags and headed toward security and our assigned gate. One pleasant note; Mark was traveling with his walking stick, as his back troubles cause him pain while walking for any distance. Not once, but at least five times, employees asked if he needed assistance, perhaps a wheel chair or a ride to the gate? We declined and  made our way to the United Airlines Club for a glass of wine and a quick bite. At 1:30, we boarded our 767 and taxied down the runway towards home and the end of our time in England and Ireland.

 

The nine hour flight was uneventful, the food marginally better than the flight over, and we landed at Chicago O’Hare right on schedule. We collected our bags, waltzed them through Immigration and Customs and then boarded the inter-terminal train to Terminal 2 and our last flight of the day. Again through security where chaos reigned. Deb was sent through the scanner twice, the second time shoeless because the security person didn’t hear her state that she had a replacement knee, thereby setting off the alarm. Mark was warned that he could not have a cloth handkerchief in his back pocket as it showed up on the “moose ears” scanner and he should know better. All in all not a warm welcome.

We made our way to C concourse and soon boarded our final leg towards home. Incidentally, although Mark was offered assistance five times in Heathrow by helpful employees, not a single offer was made in Chicago. He was actually questioned about having collapsed his walking stick to slide it along the scanner belt in security. A sour coda to a great trip. Abigail was waiting at Eppley to ferry us home, help us with our luggage up the home steps and leave us to reunite with Poppy the cat. We had, at this point, been awake and traveling nearly 22 hours, and we fell into a deep sleep (stupor.)

As we look back on the trip, it was, except for the last day, a wonderful time to see friends, enjoy their hospitality, and to visit some of our most favorite landscape.  We are also glad to be home and, even though the future of the political landscape may be daunting and scary, it is still home.  

Saturday, November 2 - Tuesday November 5, 2024

Having packed the night before, we were up and ready to go on Saturday morning. We said our tearful goodbyes and loaded our bags into Zoe’s Prius for a run into Sligo and the train station. Although Zoe and Garth had kindly offered to drive us to Dublin, we chose instead to take the train; both to see the countryside and to grant them some weekend time after the hubbub of our visit and Halloween. The train ride was very smooth and quick. The railcar we were in started out sparsely populated but, as we passed towns on our way south towards Dublin, it quickly filled up. By the time we arrived, the car was full: teens headed into the big city, travelers like ourselves pushing onward with their luggage, and perhaps a few commuters. We arrived around 12;00 and quickly found a taxi to take us to the airport. First crisis of the trip - Mark left his beloved cap on the seat in the taxi, not discovering his bareheadedness (some might say air-headedness) until standing in the check-in line in the airport!

As we had a few hours to wait, we journeyed up to the Fallow Restaurant and Lounge for a bite of fries, a sausage roll, and a glass of wine. The flight over the Irish Sea was uneventful and we, together with our luggage, arrived at the Manchester airport by 4:30 PM. This is a huge airport with three separate terminal buildings. We deplaned into a coach for the 15 minute drive around the airport to reach the baggage terminal, so we viewed a good portion of the facility. A travel note - there was no immigration or passport control upon our arrival. We sauntered through the “Nothing to Declare” doors and we were in the arrivals area. Perhaps that was because we were required to show our passports at our boarding gate in Dublin before boarding the aircraft. Our next stop was the Enterprise Car Rental counter to pick up our assigned vehicles - a Nissan SUV similar in style and size to our own RAV 4 back in Omaha.

We spent a few minutes familiarizing ourselves with the vehicle and its controls. Although we had picked up a large map book in the airport, everything now has SAT-NAV included so we set our destination to the village of Askrigg and we were on our way. The drive was about three hours; due to shortened daylight, it was nearly dark when we left the Manchester airport, so most of the drive was in the darkness, a bit harrowing when one is in unfamiliar territory but, other than a few sharp words between the pilot and the navigator, we managed without too many wrong turns to arrive at our new “home” Brook Cottage by 8:30 PM. We unloaded, parked the car and clambered into the cute cottage, tired but glad to be on the next step in our journey.

The Cottage is thoroughly modernized and fresh on the inside. steep steps to the upper level holding the bedrooms and the bath, but otherwise, one of the nicest places we have ever stayed. A bit of a struggle for two old, tired travelers to wrestle our luggage up the steps, but once that was accomplished we were able to settle in for a good night’s rest.

We awoke Sunday morning, fresh and happy. The weather was cool, not rainy, but cloudy. We quickly found the coffee paraphernalia and injected some caffeine into our systems. Deb has a bit of a sore throat and a nasty canker sore in her mouth, but the warm beverage helps. We plotted our day, knowing we had to make a provision run for some food, wine, and other essentials. We are very familiar with this area as it regular readers will know. this is our third year of traveling to the Yorkshire Dales National Park area and we have our favorite stores and suppliers.

First stop of the day was a drive into nearby Hawes to replace Mark’s cap. This was the store where he had purchased his beloved waxed cotton cap on our first trip - luckily the store still carried the same brand, color and size. With his head now properly covered we drove on to Leyburn, a large market town on the eastern edge of the National Park area to shop at Campbell’s of Leyburn, a larger grocer and wine merchant Here we stocked up on most of our grocery and wine needs, then across the market square to the Co-op grocery store for some more necessities. Next we stopped at the House & Home store, a kind of household goods emporium, for a bag of logs for the little black stove in our parlor.

To be honest, we could drive all around the Dales and never tire of the natural beauty and the charming villages, valleys and fields.  We ooh and aah over the same scenery every year but it fills us with a sense of belonging.  We feel like we are coming home every year and hope we still have a few more trips in us.  

Back home, we stocked up our kitchen, started a cozy fire in the stove, curled up with a book and rested for the balance of the afternoon into the evening. We snacked on crackers, Brie, and hummus for our evening meal.   

Monday we were slow to get rolling. We showered and then Mark made a “Full English” breakfast (less the baked beans.)  we headed out late morning for a drive back into Leyburn where we secured more logs, kindling and fire starters as we were quick to burn yesterday’s supply. We stopped in our favorite tea shop - The Posthorn, for a cup of tea and a cheese scone. Arriving back at the cottage, we snuggled in, laid some more fire in the fire stove and then snacks and watched TV. Turning on the television we were surprised to find we were viewing Criminal minds, and NCIS while lounging and drinking our wine. It occurs to us that we spent a lot of money to sit around doing exactly the same thing we do in Omaha!

Tuesday morning we arose with a plan. We breakfasted on scones with strawberry rhubarb jam and then got on the road. We drove south east towards the village of Dent, passing under the Dentdale viaduct. The scenery was glorious and the weather cooperative. Although we had been to Dent before, it was only a quick drive though for a photo stop. This time we drove more slowly, enjoyed the scenery and made an extended stop at the Dent history center. We enjoyed the displays and had some coffee and a huge shortbread cookie, called a shortbread ring. Delicious enough that we purchased two for the road.

Dent’s most famous citizen was Adam Sedgwick, 1785-1873. Sedgwick was a geologist and Anglican priest, one of the founders of modern geology who proposed the Cambrian and Devonian period of the geological timescale.

 

Leaving Dent we directed our vehicle towards Hawes and arrived around 2:00 PM. We parked up and walked a bit before dropping into The Fountain Pub for a late lunch and cider and a pint. This pub is featured frequently in one of our favorite detective series featuring Harry Grimm and his crew of police, headquartered in Hawes, written by David Gatward. We both have just finished reading the latest available installment during this trip. It brings the books to life as we sit in the pub surrounded by patrons, each with at least one dog tucked under their tables. We soon realized we were the only patrons without a canine accomplice in the premises.

We wandered around a bit, looking over the quoints (a form of horseshoes) field below the pub, and making the acquaintance of the neighborhood sheep stationed in front of the pet supply store.

We arrived back in Askrigg just after dark and later snacked on cheese and crackers with wine. We had picked up a few bottles at Elijah Allen Grocers in Hawes. Not nearly the selection available from Campbell’s in Leyburn. The bottle of Australian Shiraz we opened was barely drinkable - sweet and fruity. Deb diluted hers greatly with soda water to make it palatable. Mark did not, but uncharacteristically cut him self off early in protest of the taste.

Another interesting day in the Dales. We tucked in for the night, knowing the U.S. election was well under way and that we would find the results the next morning. We went to sleep hopeful for an intelligent outcome.

 

The Great Adventure - September 3, 2022

Wednesday was another long traveling day. We packed up and said goodbye to Burnside Cottage leaving the village of Gunnerside in the glorious Yorkshire Dales and headed out in our trusty red Kia towards London Town. We reached the A1 (M1) and pointed the steering wheel South. The distance to London Heathrow Airport is about 235 miles and the traffic was rush hour all the way. The number of lorries (semi-trailer trucks) puts I-80 at home to shame. Three or four lanes most of the way.

We reached the National Car Rental return spot Near Heathrow airport, turned in the car in a surprisingly quick and easy manner and then loaded our 6 pieces of luggage into the van for a trip to the airport to grab a cab for the next portion of our journey. Our plan was to taxi into London, hop on the Eurostar train through the Chunnel to Paris and then drop three of our suitcases at a “Left Luggage” store before boarding the high speed TGV train to Bordeaux, our eventual destination for the day in southwest France.

Best laid plans always go awry. Brexit has caused a massive delay at the Chunnel station; all luggage has to be scanned, all passengers have to go through not only TSA style walk through devices but then through passport exit control from the UK, step into the next line for passport control into the EU, and then onto the train. Wrestling our 6 pieces of luggage onto the train was a feat, however due to our first class seats, there was plenty of room in our coach for all the luggage. The ride was smooth, the meal and wine included were very tasty. So far, so good.

Arrival in Paris at the Gare du Nord station was on time. We wrangled the luggage out the door and into the taxi line which had at least 200 people with all their luggage. Finally, at 2:30 we crawled into a taxi for the run to Montparnasse station to catch our TGV. Traffic was horrendous and it took nearly 45 minutes to reach the station. Our train left at 3:06 - we missed it, nor did we have a chance to drop our luggage. We stood in another line for nearly 30 minutes to get our tickets reassigned. We were able to catch a 4:06 train, but our 1st class tickets were altered to 2nd class. No meal and little luggage space for our plethora of crap! We managed to tuck it all in, and polished off the bag of chips and bottle of water we were carrying in our backpack. Arrival in Bordeaux at 6:25 and we pushed our luggage over the cobblestone streets the four blocks to our home for the next two nights - Hotel Particular., exhausted, sweaty and glad to be at the end of a very long day.

We and our bags climbed the 25 steps to our 1st floor room in this lovely remodeled apartment home. The room is really a small apartment and the bottle of wine we had packed in our carry-on suitcase was most welcome and we settled in for some crackers, wine, and a bit of reading before tumbling into bed. 

Friday morning we arose refreshed and showered to head out and explore this city which neither of us had ever visited. It is a large and very old city, famous for its weather and its wine. The city is a much smaller version of Paris, filled in the old town area of walking streets with shops, sidewalk cafes and lots of people, although fewer dogs and children than in England. The weather was spotty, one moment clear and sparkling, the next a torrential downpour - the latter gave us ample excuse to pop under umbrella covered cafes for a coffee, an omelette and croissant, or a sandwich and glass of wine. Plenty of people watching available.

We paid to take the tram in to the Place de La Bourse which is the entrance to the old city.  Since we had not had breakfast, we traveled a block or two and settled in for one of the many things the French do better than we do - the Omelette.  Perfectly done with cheese and ham (no champignons however) and moist.  Mark felt they were skippy with the ham but Deb, as usual, disagreed.  The first deluge started while we were at this restaurant and it was a doozy.  Within 10 minutes, here came blue skies and sunshine for our 2 mile walk along the Unesco historic tour and saw many old sights in the city.  Unfortunately, Deb has pictures but most will have to be unamed because we left the map in the car!

 We did see the the 15th century Tour Pey-Bergland, a free-standing belfry for the Cathedrale Saint-Andre,  with it’s golden 19th century madonna on top and the Gros Cloche, a huge clock in one of the many gates the old town.  Our favorite was the Water Mirror which reflected the entire Bourse.  Suffice it to say, it was an absolutely beautiful town with great weather until….

We sat down for lunch at what seemed like a nice place and it wasn’t terrible. Every time we try to speak French, they either shake their head in denial or start speaking English right away.  Luckily, this was the latter so Mark was able to order his Croquet Monsieur and Deb had a big pile of Frites.  Wine was also consumed and when the 2nd downpour started, we ordered another glass.  Then within minutes, the sun was out again and we were back on the road.  By 4pm, we had about had it and hopped on the Tram to get back to our hotel.  We didn’t have tickets but we noticed that no one was showing theirs anyway, so we just hitch-hiked to the train station, bought a couple of fromage en baguette sandwiches and went back to our lovely mini apartment to eat, read, shower and relax. 

Saturday is another travel day. Deb replied to about 50 emails from clients in the morning and then we headed to the train station, Gare St. Jean, for the Hertz office. Easier said than done. We logged at least a mile around the train station before we found it. then another 45 minutes to negotiate the paperwork, although the staff was very nice. We drove back to our Hotel Particular to load our bags as we had, presciently, not drug them over the cobbles again. Since we missed our left luggage appointment thursday, we negotiated with our landlord, Julien, to leave our three bags for pick-up next week on our way back, much to our relief.

We departed Hotel Particular at 11:50 but then spent nearly 45 minutes getting lost in the construction zones and byways of Bordeaux. We finally made it to the A2, another divided, limited access highway and directed the DS (we have no idea of the brand of vehicle) to our destination of Carcassonne. We arrived around 4:00 PM to our “Guest House” and our rooms on the second floor (what we would call the third floor) and we’re thankful for leaving our three larger bags behind. The Guest House is a charming building built in the 1850’s and houses four apartments. We have a rooftop view of the castle and a very, very modern bathroom. We opened a bottle of wine and planned our strategy for the evening, glad to be over with another strenuous travel day.

Following our rest-up we went down the steps and out to explore the city of Carcassonne. The city, occupied since Neolithic times, is located in the plain of Aude, along the historic trade routes between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. It was occupied by the Romans until the fifth century. The medieval Citadel overlooking the city is magnificently preserved and spectacular looking at night. We wandered the old town walking area, looking in shops and trying to find a place to eat. As is was a Saturday night and none of the restaurants opened until 7:30 we were discouraged. We finally walked by one interesting looking place, Le Bistro  D’Alice (Alice’s Restaurant) and so logged onto their website to make a reservation. We found another cafe to have a glass of wine and kill some time until our reservation time and then walked back to D’Alice for our seating.

Dinner was marvelous; as Carcassone is reputedly the birthplace of Cassoulet, this is what Mark ordered. Deb went for the Lapin, roasted with frites. We accompanied this with a bottle of Minervois red wine and wandered home a little tipsy and very satisfied with our discovered meal. We climbed up one more flight of steps beyond our room for a nighttime view of the skyline and then down to cozy into our little room for the night.

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.