The Dales Way - Bolton Abbey to Burnsall
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Dales Way
Source to Sea
Nuclear Beaches
Coast to Coast
England E to W
Cumbrian Odyssey
Hadrian’s Wall
Cheviots of Fire
Pennine Way Nth
Pennine Way Sth
What Next
What about a book
Wildlife
All Kitted Up
Why Walk
The Route in Brief
Dales Way
Source to Sea
Nuclear Beaches
Coast to Coast
England E to W
Cumbrian Odyssey
Hadrian’s Wall
Cheviots of Fire
Pennine Way Nth
Pennine Way Sth
What Next
What about a book
Wildlife
All Kitted Up
Her snippet.
His snippet.
It took me a couple of days to get back my hunger to continue with the Dales Way after last week. Surely we couldn’t continue to have such rubbish luck with navigation?
Once committed I began to look forward to the this section with relish. Most of my walking has been based around getting up high and doing the harder routes. The concept of a ‘stroll’ along the riverbank of the Wharfe became more appealing now that I could follow the route on the OS 1:25,000 and see many interesting features.
It took me a couple of days to get back my hunger to continue with the Dales Way after last week. Surely we couldn’t continue to have such rubbish luck with navigation?
Once committed I began to look forward to the this section with relish. Most of my walking has been based around getting up high and doing the harder routes. The concept of a ‘stroll’ along the riverbank of the Wharfe became more appealing now that I could follow the route on the OS 1:25,000 and see many interesting features.
Her Walk Description
Blah blah blah
Blah blah blah
His walk description.
Feeling good we arrived at the large Bolton Abbey car park and did something new....had ‘breakfast’ in a nice cafe, it is soooo soooo civilised this Dales Way walking. I am used to scoffing down a bacon sarnie and a cup of tea, rushing to get to a car park and charging up the hill to begin my walking once the 1,000 contour has been passed. Breakfast with a napkin???
Stuffed with coffee and croissants we bumbled down the massive track to the stepping stones and luxuriated in having loads of time in lovely weather to complete our walk. As we approached the river it became clear that this would be our first ‘issue’. Haitch wouldn’t want to tackle the stepping stones and I looked at them with slavvering chops. So we took the bridge...are you surprised? Just downstream a guy was fly fishing...now I could wax very lyrical about fly fishing, my Dad showed me how to fly fish when I was a lad living near Skipton, we would fish on languid summer evenings on the river Aire. He made his own cane rods and tied his own flies...ace understanding of fly fishing that outstrips anything that I can manage.
Dad = Ken of walling fame in the Lakes and a very long term participant of the Lake District National Park Wardens Service...he has done the lot and deserves massive accolade. Nice one Ken...lol that’s about as gushing as I can be.
The rivers of the Yorkshire Dales are very appealing, they all contain a wonderful mix of deep pools, dashing rapids and tumbling waterfalls. I like these rivers, they are my heritage so to speak and I think a few ‘source to sea’ walks are in order when I get old (ok ok ok ... OLDER).
The path contoured through a wood above the riverbank, I enjoy the early morning walking in high traffic areas because many walkers don’t get cracking until mid/late morning. One curiosity along the way was a large felled tree trunk that had loads of coins embedded in it, at first I thought they were a new type of fungus.
We soon re-crossed the river to amble through the woods to the Strid. This feature on the river held great fascination for me because I heard many tales when I was younger of people taking the leap of faith and coming to grief in the turbulent waters there. Lots of tourists were picnicking and in outdoors party mode so our stay was brief. I tried to focus my mind on the water hurtling through the narrow channel and imagine how terrifying it must have been to fail in whilst executing the leap of faith.
Above the Strid the river is quieter and the route becomes a pleasant plod through meadowland. This was our chatting session, we have one on every walk and it usually takes place in the first couple of hours. Almost catharsis where thoughts, worries, opinions and views sort of dribble out at random, get aired and then filed away for further investigation at a later stage. Haitch is always warbling on about the beauty of nature and how fortunate she is to be wandering around in such a wonderland. Me ... I just moan and complain, unload my miseries, typical male chauvinist stuff.
Highlight of the day came mid-point. We had spotted a cafe at Barden Tower as we drove past early morning, and decided to be seriously decadent and have a lunch break there. As the day was sunny and warm it was a treat to sit at a bench and be served tea and soup (imagine having soup on a hot summer’s day), take a potty break in luxurious surroundings and generally not feel like a walking gladiator at all.
Soft ... Without a shadow of a doubt, and it was set to end in the near future as we preferred the solitude of sitting in a clump of scratchy heather with soggy bread, crisps and a chocolate bar (or three).
Arriving at the car park at Burnsall Bridge was like descending into a carnival. I almost expected Delilah to be at the ringside offering 10 to 1 odds if you could go 60 seconds in a wrestling match with Samson.
Feeling good we arrived at the large Bolton Abbey car park and did something new....had ‘breakfast’ in a nice cafe, it is soooo soooo civilised this Dales Way walking. I am used to scoffing down a bacon sarnie and a cup of tea, rushing to get to a car park and charging up the hill to begin my walking once the 1,000 contour has been passed. Breakfast with a napkin???
Stuffed with coffee and croissants we bumbled down the massive track to the stepping stones and luxuriated in having loads of time in lovely weather to complete our walk. As we approached the river it became clear that this would be our first ‘issue’. Haitch wouldn’t want to tackle the stepping stones and I looked at them with slavvering chops. So we took the bridge...are you surprised? Just downstream a guy was fly fishing...now I could wax very lyrical about fly fishing, my Dad showed me how to fly fish when I was a lad living near Skipton, we would fish on languid summer evenings on the river Aire. He made his own cane rods and tied his own flies...ace understanding of fly fishing that outstrips anything that I can manage.
Dad = Ken of walling fame in the Lakes and a very long term participant of the Lake District National Park Wardens Service...he has done the lot and deserves massive accolade. Nice one Ken...lol that’s about as gushing as I can be.
The rivers of the Yorkshire Dales are very appealing, they all contain a wonderful mix of deep pools, dashing rapids and tumbling waterfalls. I like these rivers, they are my heritage so to speak and I think a few ‘source to sea’ walks are in order when I get old (ok ok ok ... OLDER).
The path contoured through a wood above the riverbank, I enjoy the early morning walking in high traffic areas because many walkers don’t get cracking until mid/late morning. One curiosity along the way was a large felled tree trunk that had loads of coins embedded in it, at first I thought they were a new type of fungus.
We soon re-
Above the Strid the river is quieter and the route becomes a pleasant plod through meadowland. This was our chatting session, we have one on every walk and it usually takes place in the first couple of hours. Almost catharsis where thoughts, worries, opinions and views sort of dribble out at random, get aired and then filed away for further investigation at a later stage. Haitch is always warbling on about the beauty of nature and how fortunate she is to be wandering around in such a wonderland. Me ... I just moan and complain, unload my miseries, typical male chauvinist stuff.
Highlight of the day came mid-
Soft ... Without a shadow of a doubt, and it was set to end in the near future as we preferred the solitude of sitting in a clump of scratchy heather with soggy bread, crisps and a chocolate bar (or three).
Arriving at the car park at Burnsall Bridge was like descending into a carnival. I almost expected Delilah to be at the ringside offering 10 to 1 odds if you could go 60 seconds in a wrestling match with Samson.
