I quite unexpectedly got sun-burned on my trip over Whernside, surprisingly as I'd barely seen any direct sunlight, but I noticed when taking a shower afterwards and finding that it stung my cheeks and ears a lot more than normal, and sure enough, lower half of the face (due to consistent hat-wearing) is looking distinctly pinkish. Work colleagues greeted me with 'Where have you been that we haven't?' and 'Are you going to try to even it out next weekend?', so I must have been looking unusually healthy! Anyway, after that experience of light frying on an otherwise unremarkable day, we've hit that rare point in summer where the clouds disappear, the wind drops and the temperature soars, the sort of weather which we haven't seen since 2006, I think, and I had better slather on the sunblock and don the sunhat and the most lightweight clothing possible and prepare myself for a whole day of seasonal warmth in the gritstone country of Lower Wharfedale.
Barden Fell & Simon's Seat 12.1 miles
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| Barden Fell |
Three rides are take from home so I might be able to hop off the bus at Bolton Abbey at 9.55am, and for the first time this year I'll be heading out in my shirtsleeves as the head is already bearing down us the scene. First steps are made through the grounds of the Priory, and there are already hardened sightseers out in this field, before crossing the Wharfe at Waterfall bridge, not fancying the stepping stones at this early juncture, and instead of following the riverside path, I instead take the route sharply up some of 80m and away from the river towards Storiths. An unpleasantly steep ascent for so early in the day, but key for getting some early insight into the surroundings, so I'm not up there for the view back to the Priory, I'm here to get an early view towards Barden Fell which needs to be seen early otherwise it wouldn't be seen until I was upon it. The best view comes once I've met the road beyond Banks Farm, and the heather-purpled mass of the moor stands out above the greener rises in the landscape, with its high points at Carncliffe Top and Simon's Seat, and its good to get this view as it gives my destination some visual context and I know where I am within the landscape as the back road descends down to the ford at Pickles Beck, and this is definitely a popular track for the cyclists as they pound it out in both directions. I stick to the road so as not to duplicate paths walked on the Dales Way, but despite the excellent surface, it's not that great for walking as there's little space to accommodate you when a vehicle wants to pass, and you have to be super alert to the cyclists whilst under the shade of the trees. Get sight down to the Cavendish Pavilion, and already look forwards to my brew and piece of cake for later, and ascend the road as it rises high above the riverside path as I look for the turn off that leads to the most arrestingly named place in the county, the Valley of Desolation.
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| The Valley of Desolation |
Set out away from the road on the farm track, past Waterfall Cottage and over the pasture with the modestly heighted and under-named grassy hillside rising before you, it looms impressively despite being only 319m and having potentially four featured names and not one of them covering the whole hill. We head to its north side, following the track as it leads us into Posforth Gill, and the beck burbles away far below us, and some notice boards illustrate how the replanting work that has gone on in this vicinity has been planned out to replicate the variations of vegetation that have grown in the area over the last 10,000 years of human habitation, a noble idea which is completely lost on the botanical philistine like myself. It's all a lot of shrubs and deciduous trees to me, and a pause for watering is taken as Posforth force is glimpsed far below, and I won't be venturing down into the woods to get a closer look, I'll instead drain my first bottle of water and move on as the path rises above the valley before the beck rises to bring me down to the valley bottom. For a distinctly lush valley like this, is odd that it should be known as the Valley of Desolation, but it was named as such after it was scoured by flooding in 1862 and it must have been quite a scene of devastation for the name to have stuck. There's not much indication of that now, as 150 years of regrowth will cover up many scars, but you do get the odd view through the trees to see where the high banks have never quite regrown their coverage, and once over the beck, the path rises unsteadily through bracken and a patch of quite unidentifiable vegetation that looks positively alien. We are led out into Sheepshaw plantation and a broad track through the high conifers is taken onwards, and it's a pleasantly cool and well-shaded interlude that will have to be made the most of because at its top edge the moorland starts and there won't be much shade to be had for the next couple of miles.
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Truckle Crags, Simon's Seat
& Hen Stones |
Only a few steps have been taken onto Barden Fell before the heat hits you hard and the walking pace has to be slowed, and initial going is good as a gentle rise is taken and and views towards the high points emerges, but the decent down to the crossing of Great Aigill Beck means a renewed ascent on the other side and the track of loose gravel is pretty hard work and one of the worst sorts of surfaces for ascending on. Soon the gritsone moorland feel like it has totally surrounded you with a landscape of bracken and heather, and it only the view back to Wharfedale and the ridges of hills leading back as far as Rombalds Moor that offer any variation. It may be hard going, but a straight view towards the summit point is soon gained, whilst various outcrops of gritstone loom out to keep the horizon interesting, and if I'd been feeling bold I'd have made a bid to summit on Carncliffe Top too, but it has no obvious tracks and features the same contour profile on all side so I'll be sticking to the well made track above the beck that separates me from it. We're past the 400m contour when I find a bench/seat/shelter that provides a break point and I can do the damage on my second water bottle, and I realise that I'm going to run out long before I get to the end of the day if I keep up this supping rate. Move onwards as the moor turns to all heather, and pass around Great Aigill head, pausing to successfully photograph the Grouse before they make their noisy bid for safety, and the rise of the moor is much gentler as we make the 80m ascent to the crag of Simon's Seat, the high point of Barden Fell, which doesn't appear to be the summit from here as the spread of crags and boulders at Hen Stones appears higher. The moorland turf is surprisingly spongy and easy going (and dry!), in contrast to having to cross the bare gritstone which is rough on the ankles and threatens to tear up the sole of your boots at any moment. Still, excellent moorland views and outcrops up here, and Truckle Crags can come closest to the path for an inspect and the most attractively sculpted is the distant Cow & Calf outcrop, because everything in Yorkshire has something that shares its name.
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| Simon's Seat |
We're almost on to the summit at Simon's Seat when the view towards the companion gritstone upland of Barden Moor finally opens out, and that is followed by the appearance of Wharfedale to the west and the remainder of Barden Fell which stretches all the way down to the Washburn valley a couple of miles to the east. Immediate attention is made to summitting at Simon's Seat, where at least five other walking groups are taking lunch, and getting up that last few metres involves actual climbing and the route has to be carefully picked as you find that the outcrop sits right on the edge of a steep drop, like a tooth. Two abortive attempts are made before I finally reach the 485m trig point with only the minimal amount of scrambling and you wouldn't think such a modest peak would require so much effort, but it's here that lunch is taken, using the column to provide shade, and I contemplate the views into Wharfedale as far as Grassington Moor, as everything beyond that disappears into haze. I look down to the valley of Skyreholme Beck and decide that Trollers Gill is going to have to wait for another day as I'm going to start running short on liquids if I don't hit the return trail as I'm already onto bottle #3, so clamber down from the crag and find the path that leaves the moorland down the steepest possible route and judging by the condition of the walkers coming the other way, this is an ascent that is no fun at all. Not much fun as a descent either, as the stone steps are at an awkward pitch and the dirt track is easy to drift off of into the knots of heather. It's a long zig-zag down to meet the bracken again, and also another of those odd landscape grooves which the path follows and as we're sheltered from the prevailing wind, the temperature starts to increase unpleasantly, so meeting trees again for momentary shade is most welcome, and then it's a rapid trundle down to meet the lane leading to Dalehead farm.
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| The Road to Howgill |
That's the apex of today's route and for a while at least, we can enjoy relatively level going along the lane as we walk around the low edge of Barden Fell, passing what is surely my favourite fantasy country retreat at Eastwood farm, an exceptionally building that could be an excellent retreat if |I were significantly more moneyed than I am in reality. Tramp an as the views to Upper Wharfedale recede, and at Howgill Lodge campsite and guest house, I can be amused by the sign that declares 'This Garage is Startled' to complement the one that is traditionally 'Alarmed', and it's nice to know someone out here shares my sense of humour. Meet the other route that comes off the Fellside and take the turn down to Howgill, and a gate post along here is adorned with a straw chicken and a sheep's skull, oddly, and at the road we can find a 1972 Lotus Elan, which is not the sort of vehicle you'd expect to find parked by the road in the depths of the Yorkshire Dales. Then it's on to the banks of the Wharfe and I fancy trying my luck across the Howgill stepping stones rather than retracing the Dales Way path, so I boldly face down the gushing river and it's not easy getting balance on knees wobbly after all that hill walking, but my confidence grows as I pass half way across only to find that three stones at the three-quarter have water running over the top of them, and not fancying an impromptu dip in the river which is probably deeper than it looks, I beat the retreat back to the east bank, and it's much easier going this way! So back to the long haul along the riverbank retracing the Dales Way, as the alternative route along the road is really a non-starter, and it's definitely an easy path to walk, and in conditions that are as different as you could have wanted from back in March, but that doesn't make it interesting, and diversions come from nature again, watching the birds that nest by burrowing into the exposed earth along the banks, but I'm no ornithologist, so I can't accurately identify them.
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| Barden Bridge |
Roll up on Barden Bridge, and the land of the daytrippers, and I'm ridiculously happy to meet the man running the ice cream stand, and dropping money for an Orange Refresher lolly is an excellent decision as I've already started on my last water bottle, so I cross the bridge to gain shelter in the woods on the west bank to enjoy my lolly where the aggressive sunshine can't melt it before I consume it. Start to check my timekeeping against the bus time, and decide that an excursion to Barden Tower is going to have to wait too and I'll follow the riverbanks downstream that I didn't walk when on the Dales Way, so that's a stretch down to the Aqueduct and than back to the east bank, where there are folks out sunbathing in the grasslands above Strid Wood, and I venture on into the wood to enjoy prolonged shade and the 'riverside' path does that Wharfedale trick of rising and falling with regularity and drifting well away from the river at times. The altitude at least gives you views down to the Strid and it's less seen companion upstream, and from up here you can see that it is clearly a lot wider than it appears when you are up close to it, and a lack of easy access to it from both sides is probably useful to prevent people trying to jump across it. The high point on this bank is the aspect down to the river at Harrison's Ford View, and that's a beauty of a view and also a confusing moment as the sign almost demands to be misread. There's a lot more walking to be done in Strid wood when you're in something of a hurry, and after all the ascending, it's a long way down again to cross Posforth bridge, and with that you can feel like you are close to closing the circle as the road you walked hours ago must be somewhere up above you. Time keeping starts to suggest that i won't have time for a brew at Cavendish pavilion, and I had better get a move along out of the woods, and despite the weather being the best of the year so far, I think Strid Wood had more people in it on a glum day in March.
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| Cavendish Pavilion |
Emerging from the wood above the Wooden bridge indicates where the bulk of the expected daytrippers can be found, they're basking in the sun along the riverbank, whilst the kids paddle in the shallows of the river and chase balls around on the grass, not the sort of activity I'd consider doing these days, but something I did do with the family in virtually this place back in 1978 (?). The throng at Cavendish pavilion probably makes gaining refreshment-against-the-clock an impossibility, and even using the toilets and finally getting a refill on my water is an ordeal, but refreshing myself is a huge relief after lapsing dangerously close to running out of liquids (and not wanting to drink river water, though my chances of getting any waterborne diseases is really very low). It's not going to be a quiet riverside walk back to Bolton Abbey, as the carpark is full to bursting and there are people everywhere, old folks relaxing behind their windbreak, ladies sunbathing, lads playing ballgames, families playing cricket, kids taking their dinghy out on the river. The fog of barbecuing is also strong, and I would normally balk at crowds, but to see all ages, all ethnicities and so many families and languages out here on this fine day makes me undeniably cheerful, all human life is here and I wouldn't have it any other way! So back to my start point, to rise to the road and pass the Cavendish Memorial fountain, looking a bit too green for a refill, and down past the other end of Bolton Priory to emerge back at the bus stop at 3.55pm to have closed the circle in six hours exactly. There's 20 minutes to wait for the bus, and I need a good stretch before I can ride home, and I also need to get one last bottle of water for the trip too, so add extreme heat to the new walking experience list of 2013, and to finally acknowledge what summer should really be like.
Next on the Slate: Summer continues and Grassington Moor beckons from the heart of Limestone Country, and to want walk that in those conditions I must surely be insane?
1,000 Miles Cumulative Total: 707.8 miles
(2013 total: 242.5 miles)
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