Crookwise Caravan Park, Skipton, North Yorkshire

Since coming further south, the days have shortened but not warmed up at all. This morning we woke to temperatures of 6 degrees which never climbed above 14. However the day remained fine for the most part and we filled it with exploration of Skipton and the immediate surrounds.

We set off at about 9 am, on foot down into the town, supposedly just a five minute walk. Having driven in twice yesterday, it came as no surprise that it took us quarter of an hour. We had read that the best way to explore Skipton was to arrive on Market Day, so today was just perfect. As we arrived, stall holders were still setting up but we had expected to be a little early. 

We headed down to the Canal  Wharf, the junction of the Leeds Liverpool Canal and the Springs Branch, this latter half mile stretch which runs from the main canal around the back of the castle to a former stone loading wharf. The branch was opened in 1797 and built for Lord Thanet, who lived in Skipton Castle and owned the limestone quarries served by the branch. The main canal was built in stages, that between Skipton and Shipley completed in 1774. It seems that this section includes several exceptional engineering features and if time allows, I hope we can go see them.

The Wharf was busy with narrowboats plying their trade to take tourists for half hour jaunts for the sum of £4 each. While the canals and associated boats never cease to fascinate us, we thought a half hour taste would be entirely unsatisfactory, so instead took ourselves on foot along the towpath toward Leeds, turning after about half an hour. There were quite a number of swans on the canal, some with large families of signets, now almost fully grown and all credit to their parents for having brought them to maturity.

Back in town we wandered about the shops and the stalls, buying a few bits and pieces, nothing of great consequence but all considered necessary. Armed with calories from Greggs, we made our way to the Castle Woods, and after consuming the required energy, set off for yet another lovely walk, now up the Eller Beck through lovely woodlands. There are deer in the park but they remained out of sight; we had to be satisfied with robins and the chatter of creatures high in the trees, possibly squirrels. 

Reaching the most northern edge of the walk, and recognising the road noise as the A65, we decided to take a shortcut back to camp. This entailed balancing on the broken edge of a concrete drain holding onto fence rails and scrambling down a bank onto a side road; we would have done just as well to have kept to the loop path and exited the woods at the Bailey Entrance.

We lunched back home, a rare event, and then set off for our afternoon’s adventure; a return to Wharfdale which we had so admired from the inside of our hired motorhome two years ago as we came south in mist and rain. The B6160 which we had then joined at Aysgarth intersects with the A65 just south of Bolton Abbey, the name of the village adjacent to Bolton Priory and also the 30,000 acre estate which is the Yorkshire home of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. It comprises areas of moorland, woodland and agricultural land and at its heart is a seven mile stretch of the River Wharfe. 

Entry to the Priory, which was once painted by Turner and according to the celebrated Ruskin, the most beautiful in England, is free, but unless one hitches a lift with some other mug or comes from Skipton on the smelly steam train, one needs to park in one of the Estate’s car parks and fork out the grand sum of £10 for the privilege.  Surely this is just ridiculous! My husband had other words to describe this rip-off, none of which can be used here.

A visit to the Priory had not been a priority; we were more interested in doing part of the Dales Way footpath along the river, but were not willing to pay £10 for a couple of hours walking. We decided a change in plan was in order, and set off further north along the road, turning a few miles north of the village now intending to explore the minor roads criss-crossing the moors and dales.

Wonder of wonders, we happened upon a casual car park just after crossing the river at Barden Bridge, and so were able to resume our original plan, although walked a part of the trail beyond and in reverse of the original plan. What a lovely walk it was, through Bolton Woods with its lovely oaks and trackside holly, the path in excellent condition which does at least prove that some of the parking fee is ploughed back into the upkeep of the facilities on offer. Much of the river we walked alongside was narrow white water and most picturesque. We turned just less than two miles north of the abbey, retracing our steps for the most part, although did cross on the aqueduct to the western bank for the last half mile of so. Despite the shaky start to the expedition, it had turned out to be most satisfying after all.

Back in the car, we did still continue on across to Nidsdale to the east, climbing steeply up through farmland, dry stone walls everywhere, and old stone barns dotted across the landscape, most seeming to be long abandoned. We came down from Greenbow Hill, past the Thruscross Reservoir to Blubberhouses, here joining the A65 once more and heading back to our camp. 

A little rain has fallen since we returned, and more recently, nightfall has brought another camping party to disturb our solitude, setting up beyond us on the very soggy ground. Better to arrive in the daylight as we do.