The Forgotten Dale – Cotterdale

Reunited, walking down to Appersett

 

The Stats:

Area: Wensleydale

Distance: 8.5 miles

Time taken: 4.5 hours

The Review:

Cotterdale is a largely unheard of offshoot of the famous Wensleydale. Even Dad hadn’t heard about it because it is located between two different Ordinance Survey maps, making it difficult to spot when planning. Cotterdale was the target and main attraction of today’s walk, which headed out along the river to Thwaite and Cotterdale itself, and returned by a long broad hill to the start point of Appersett.

Looking back at the start of the route

 

So, after a long but not too long drive we headed out of Appersett west, along the Rive Ure. The first part of the route was straight forward and flat, so we were soon at the hamlet of Thwaite ready to head north for Cotterdale and beyond. The first part of the route was pleasant and the walk had been very enjoyable. At the end  this straight was Thwaite where we found an owl looking at us through a barn window, although it flew out of view just as Mum turned the corner and Dad brought out his camera. There was also a surprise falls that we hadn’t previously spotted on the map. We had lunch under Thwaite Bridge where we all sat in different places along the riverbank (because… well, I don’t know.)

The surprise waterfalls

 

When we reached the brow of the hill we headed down though a plantation on some very slippery and boggy slopes. Dad took a tumble and went ankle deep before we arrived in the beautiful village of Cotterdale. It was small, quaint and quiet but Mum and Polly (yes, Polly went on this walk for the first time in a long time) wanted to keep walking whilst me and Dad stayed behind in the village. This of course meant that they took the wrong route and we were separated for about an hour before the girls found the correct route and caught up with us. We expected them to continue along the low route and end up in Appersett to meet up with us. We found each other anyway, and the walk continued as planned.

Confusing directions towards Cotterdale

 

The route we thought we were going on was 7.5 miles but Dad had extended it without realising so it ended up being 8.5 miles. This made the final mile a difficult one, and at least Dad and I were exhausted when we reached the car. Strangely, the girls didn’t seem too fatigued, even though they had done a slightly longer route.

A short but agonising road walk to the car concluded a great day out. It wasn’t too eventful, for once, and I was thankful for that.

Caves, cliffs and a cafe – the Settle and Faizor ciruit

The view to Stack House on the ascent towards Faizor

 

The Stats

Area: Settle

Distance: 7.5 miles

Time taken: 5.5 hours

The Review

Yesterday’s walk (unlike many recent walks and rides) actually had some good reviews and it wasn’t from a page in a 20 year-old-newspaper that Dad had kept over the years. No, this one was only two years in the making and had a four out of five star review and the weather was almost perfect so what could possibly go wrong, right?

The foss towards the start of the walk

 

Apparently, a few things. I started the walk grumpily, with gaiters causing more trouble than I’d anticipated. I soon ripped them off and strutted away to catch up with Dad. However, for most of the walk Dad was the one that needed to catch up with Mum, because he spent most of his time admiring views and taking endless pictures of Settle AFC. Anyway, Mum and I made good progress despite having to stop every so often to wait five minutes just to catch sight of Dad. It was as if Mum and Dad had swapped bodies because now Dad was the one consistently at the back of the group.

The intimidating ridge

We were soon to reach Stackhouse Foss, where I enjoyed some Cola sweets and Dad enjoyed a caramel shortbread (obviously for much longer than Mum and I). Next, we passed two signs next to each other, one saying: “Feizor 2”  and the other saying: “Feizor 1 1/2”. Unsure which sign to believe, we continued up a rather slippery slope to a bleak and strange plateau. Before us was a towering pillar of grass and limestone, which at one point I was worried that we would have to climb. After all, we were meant to be walking on a ridge but we ended up walking in a small valley beneath a ridge.

A view past the cows into the snowing Yorkshire mountains

 

We had lunch at Elaine’s Tearoom in Feizor, in which I had two tuna toasties, some of Dad’s gammon and a ton of chips. We set off for the highroad again soon afterwards. At first, everything navigation-wise was fine, but that was until we approached some cows on the brow of an open, bleak hill.

Our first task was to negotiate around the cows. This was made all the more challenging because there was a large puddle of muddy water underneath a gate into the field, however there was also cows on both sides of the fence. Apparently, these cows wanted to be in the same field, which meant that they were all crowding around the gate over which we were trying to navigate. Several petrifying moments later, we had got past the cows, but we were faced with our next challenge: finding our way with Dad as map reader.

Mum finds her way around a difficult gate, being careful not to let the cows in

 

We soon realised after the cows that there was no way out of a walled field apart from a dubious-looking hole in the wall and a padlocked gate leading into another (yes, you’ve guessed it) entirely walled field. After thorough analysis of the map, we decided the best option was to get through the hole in the hole. This turned out to be the right option, as we were soon back on track.

The cave near Schoolboy’s Tower

 

Next stop was a surprisingly long cave that me and Dad courageously explored (until we retreated a couple of metres in). Soon we were arriving at one of the main attractions of the walk, the so-called “Schoolboy’s Tower”, a tower of rocks in which tradition is for schoolboys to climb at the end of term. The tower stood by a surprisingly well hidden quarry, that was long disused.

We ended the walk by heading back down into Settle on a road, until the car was in sight. All in all, it was a great day out, despite the occasional cow-trauma.

Little hill, big thrill! – Almscliffe Crag

The Stats

Area: North Rigton, south-west of Harrogate

Distance: 6 miles

Time taken: 3 1/2 hours

The Review

We’d had to forgo our annual Boxing Day walk this year due to miserable weather all over Yorkshire over Christmas, but all hopes for jubilant jaunt were not lost.  As the full family this time we headed for the hamlet of Stainburn near Harrogate and set our sights on a short round-trip, making the great ascent of Almscliffe Crag on the way.

Enjoying the views at the start of the walk

And, despite the weather throughout the previous days, it was a fine morning, and it remained that way all day. The start of the walk flew by and our progress was only slightly hindered by the occasional patches of wet bog produced by prolonged previous rain. The view however were spectacular and left you wondering why this place wasn’t even an AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty), let alone inside a National Park.

We soon had the crag right in front of us. From afar it looked like a castle amongst gentler surroundings, but up close it was more of a meagre beast. This truly was a beginner’s mountain although it couldn’t be denied that the views at the top were glorious. It was a great place for scrambling around and finding secret little nooks and crannies, perfectly sheltered from the wind.

Can you spot me hiding amongst the rocks?

After possibly slightly too long atop the crag we descended and found that we weren’t quite as close as we thought we were to the pub. And to add to our increasing anxiety, Dad had lost the photocopied map we had. We’d be having to use the inferior map on Polly’s iPhone to get by.

Navigating treacherous waters near Huby

To our surprise, it all seemed to turn good on reaching the pub. Even though we’d gone the long way due to the absence of a map, we’d arrived in good time, and there was a spare table for us in the pub. Also, the map seemed to give up hiding and revealed itself by popping out of the bottom of Dad’s trousers just before we entered the pub. We breathed a sigh of relief and enjoyed a fabulous pub meal, despite the long and tedious wait for puddings.

Countryside that deserves a bit of recognition

 

Leaving slightly later than ideal, but with full bellies, we headed out across the moors again towards Huby. And only after Dad had caked his backside in mud to mine and Polly’s delight, did we return westwards towards Stainburn.

As with many of the short walks, they are always longer than you expect, meaning that we were ready for the end as the car came into view. And so ended a merry family day out, and one perfectly suited to the occasion.  Next walk: tomorrow. Stay tuned!

A Step Too Far… – The Mighty Midget Addlebrough

Enjoying the summit plateau of Adleborough – a true poison dwarf

The Stats

Mountain: Adldebrough, near Askrigg

Height: 476m

Distance: 7 1/4 miles

Time taken: 5 1/4 hours

The Review

At this point he could barely hear each other over the sound of the torrential, apocalyptic rain and I had left Dad stranded on a rock in the middle of the river Ure.

After the great heroics of last week a calm, fairly relaxing is what we were hoping for today. And in some respects, we got that – an open, pleasant ascent up to a beautifully peaceful mountain watchtower over sunny, glittering Wesleydale. It was only with around a mile to go when the tables turned…

We parked up in the serene, quiet village of Worton and ascended gradually but persistently soon to find ourselves stopping regularly to admire in awe at the ever-broadening views. The first part of the walk was over open moorland but nonetheless offered necessary preparation for what was soon to come. Looking ahead on our map the point beneath the great bulk of the mountain was “where the fun starts”. In other words this was where the tracks end and the off-piste, free walking begins.

Having lunch on the plateau after a strenuous climb up

Except to our surprise and perhaps slight dismay, the small path (or, to use the technical term, “trod”) lead us clearly up the eastern flank of the mountain. The climb was tiring and relentless but we were soon tucking into our sandwiches on an arty summit shelter. Now we were free to roam and explore the plateau. We made our way to the summit cairn first, on the other side of the mountain. The descent we knew was going to be difficult as we knew there wasn’t going to be a bridleway for another kilometre or so. Also the flatlands that we could see clearly beneath us were criss-crossed with stone walls meaning that we had to plan our route carefully to avoid any awkward wall-climbing.

Anyway, we were up there so we soaked up the endless views. The sunshine seeked out little areas of land to highlight in bright lights, perfect for photography. We could also see clearly into the valley of Raydale to see Seamer Water and Wether Fell, the route which was another surprise classic back in April.

The beautiful view into Raydale. The top of Wether Fell can just about be seen to the left of Seamer Water

After a great deal of discussion over which route to take off the mountain, Dad surprised me by trusting in my route and not continuing to fraternise further on the summit. So, we made our way off the steep side of Addlebrough and got a good view of the craggier, meaner side of the mountain before it disappeared under the horizon. Despite difficult navigation around very long grass my route seemed to work well and before we knew it we were back on a perfectly clear bridleway.

Our plan from here on was to ignore the guidebook instructions and head by the river on the disused railway line. Bad idea. The route was scenic and amiable, yes but the prospect of stepping stones at the end was mentioned. “They’re always a bit dubious. You never quite know what’ll be there,” Dad told me on the approach to the stones and my apprehension didn’t ease.

Some clever map skills from Dad lead us back to right side of the river and we were hoping that we’d be able to make our way back to the car before a rainstorm arrived. Indeed, to our right was a mass of grey cloud that looked worryingly angry and unstoppable. Finally, we found the stepping stones but we’d immediately noticed that the river was still a good ten metres wide.

The stepping stones from hell…

A total of twenty stones stood in our way – and they were slippy. The picture you can see above was just before the sky above became grey, dark and menacing. I got nervous before Dad did and he volunteered to go first. It had been raining heavily for two minutes or so and the stones seemed to be getting slippier and slippier. Dad was one stone ahead of me. He stepped tentatively onto a stone further and precariously nearly slipped over completely. Not wanting to stay in a danger zone he moved quickly and made the big step onto the next stone further.

I had seen the near fall from Dad wished not to test my luck so turned back. At this point he could barely hear each other over the sound of the torrential, apocalyptic rain and I had left Dad stranded on a rock in the middle of the river Ure. I was running back and forwards not sure whether to wade through a smaller crossing in the river or not. My mind was made up when I realised there was no other option.

“I’m gonna go for it, Dad,” I shouted but Dad was still trying desperately to turn around and pass the slippy rock again without falling. I was soon in the middle of the river, trying carefully not to slip over a smooth, huge rock. I reached the other side by the time Dad had got off the stepping stones. I sat there emptying the pools of water out of my shoes whilst Dad reluctantly walked across.

Walking through on of the tropical forests of Thornton Rust

The rain finally stopped and we changed our socks. Dad’s mood didn’t lighten as we soaked our legs further through a thigh deep “jungle”. Hoards of nettles waited for us on the narrow, steep, walled track ahead and our legs were soon sodden, stung and covered in tiny seeds.

At last we found refuge in the car and changed our shoes ready for a relaxing journey home. A step too far – well, for Dad at least…

Sunny Surprise – Wether Fell

Offpiste-ing to Wether Fells summit with the Roman Road behind us

The Stats

Mountain: Wether Fell

Height: 614m

Distance: 8 1/2 miles

Time taken: 6 hours

The Review

At 614 metres, the Yorkshire Dales’ Wether Fell is hardly comparable to the likes of Bucken Pike or Ingleborough but its a mountain, right? After the success of last year’s Easter walk with Guy (an old Primary school friend) we didn’t expect this walk to be anything overwhelming. But Wether Fell was just that. Once again we had hit the jackpot with the weather and the location around Lake Semerwater boasted staggering views. This was a route not to be sniffed at, and one that started and finished in extacy.

The initial climb up a stepp fellside.

The long car journey was worth it as we entered a land famous for Britains highest (unbroken) waterfall, cheese and stunning mountains. You guessed it – we had just pulled up in the heart of Wensleydale. As we approached there was a constant yearning to get a glimpse of the beastly mountain itself but – as expected – Wether Fell remained secretive in its hiding place.

The start of the walk steeply acsended the north-west flank of what felt like a more significant peak than it was (it was unamed on our map, apart from the humble description of “crag”). A short, unnessessary scramble later and we were busy enjoying the views over Countersett.

Encountering countless piles of moorland snow

Next we headed north, over the long and thin “Wether Fell massif” if you like. The views into Wenleydale remained fabulous throughout. In the seering (14 degree) heat of the day, we were shocked to see so many large patches of snow silently lying at the bottom of many shake holes, as is waiting for someone to shoo them away. Like young puppies, Guy and I were soon rushing to every hollow we could find, instantaneously ruining the snow’s pristine smoothness and perfection. We had snowball fights and dug snow holes before finally realising that it was April and we weren’t in the Alps.

The descent back into Burtersett

Soon after we reached our next destination: a dead straight Roman Road slightly bypassing the summit of Wether Fell. At first this may seem like a disadvantage but it was all in the plan. We went (legally) offpiste and into the unknown before quickly finding the surprisingly conspicuous summit. There was certainly plenty to look at as we had our tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches.

The descent was long but again, the spectacular views remained throughout, this time over Hawes. Despite this, the 2 1/4 extra road walk after the end of the descent was a bit of a bummer, especially at the end when we couldn’t find our way into Countersett.

With tired legs, making our final descent

And so ended an extraordinary walk that ended up to be surprising in many ways:

1. It was a good walk

2. It was sunny (in the car it didn’t look too promising at first)

3. There was snow at 500m!

4. The summit wasn’t too delapidated.

Who knows what walk I’ll do next year, but what I know for sure is, it’ll stuggle to be better than this one.

Spring 2015…

Autumn 2004

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Back to the Sea – Saltburn to Redcar

Watching surfers on Saltburn Pier at the end of the walk

The Stats

Area: on the beach of Saltburn of Redcar on the East coast

Distance: 5 miles

Time taken: 3 hours (at a leisurely pace)

The Review

After the shenanigans (or pantomime) of the New Year’s Eve walk we were aiming for a more gentle and simple trip out. And as far as walks go, you won’t find many simpler than this. A five-mile beach walk cracker on a beautiful and crisp Winter’s day.

Looking under the battered pier at the start of the walk

The walk started in one of our few picturesque local seaside towns, named Saltburn. Known for its steep railway that leads from the bay to the elevated hub of the town, Saltburn is popular but not crowded. The town’s other claim to fame is its stubby pier, being the most northerly on the east coast of Britain. We were to make an unscheduled visit to the pier at the end of the walk.

The directions for this walk were possibly the simplest I’ve ever had: go right, then left on to the beach and keep on walking. The weather was perfect for photography but the main reason why we went of this walk was to enjoy the fresh air and be happy in the outdoors. There might not have been any superb panoramas or an air of accomplishment but the was the pleasure of feeling the wind on your face and hearing the wave crashing beside you.

A dog frolics in the sea

I say the route was straight-forward – Dad did take one detour in order to check out Redcar FC (you might be aware of the enjoyment he gets from groundhopping) which he said “satisfied my curiosity”. Quite how much curiosity you can get from such tiny grounds I don’t know, but I enjoyed going along with him to the occasional match. Whilst Dad was away, Mum, Polly and I enjoyed a spot of long-distance hurdles over the breakwaters where me and Polly tried the climb our way over a barrier almost as tall as Dad. As you might have guessed, we struggled.

Once we had finished our athletics, we reached Redcar and breakwaters were swapped for imposing sea defences that were brought in earlier this year. Technically, we had finished the walk, but after 5 miles of seaside strolling we were definitely ready for lunch. Finding a restaurant proved more difficult than we thought it would be – the shop we’d chosen wasn’t their and our favoured restaurant was fully booked. After having a quick look around town and peering in to the less appealing “Fatso’s Filling Station” we returned to where we started and returned to Jac’s. Lunch wasn’t brilliant but it was acceptable.

The view down the street from the top of the Redcar Tower

Next stop was the newly built Redcar Tower, from which you can see much of the town. The design of the tower was interesting, intricate and certainly not ugly. I found it quite fun just running up there and looking at where we’d been walking on the beach.

One of the few panics of the day was when we faced a choice: go for the 3:13 train back to Saltburn or the 4:13 train. The time was 2:54. In the end we decided to go for the earlier train as we worried that it would be very dark and cold by the time the next train arrived. So, next challenge: finding the station. At first we had no idea where the station was and wondering from street to street as methodically as possible. Soon time was running out and we had to find the station quick. Mum asked a stranger for directions and he kindly informed us where it was. He also told Mum and Polly to go on the right side of the track which Dad and I didn’t hear so we ended up on different sides. Our side had what seemed like the only ticket machine so we bought our tickets and got to Mum and Polly by going over the bridge.

Surfers still riding the waves at the end of the day

The train was a short rest and from the comfort of inside the carriage we turned inland as we saw the sunset disappear behind the Pennies. Soon we found ourselves back in Saltburn and knowing what we were doing. On the way down the hill to the car we passed the site of a fire with fire engines parked outside. All hopes for a blazing inferno were safely extinguished – there wasn’t a single puff of smoke in sight.

The walked ended well, with an atmospheric walk along the pier, admiring the surfer and the dying embers of what had been an incredible day. The car was comfortingly warm and, as we remarked on the way home, the walk suited the day exquisitely.

A panorama shot of us on the beach

Posing outside the tower

The view down the street from the top of the Redcar Tower

The view down the street from the top of the Redcar Tower

Surfers still riding the waves at the end of the day

Walking accross the pier at the end of the day

The vast blue sea

Looking back at the hill railway that leads up to the main part of town

Polly and Mum start walking down the tower

Shadow on the beach

A dog frolics in the sea

Looking under the battered pier at the start of the walk

A closer view of the uphill railway