Our last day about Skipton was to be spent doing
one or two of several activities on the list and I left the choice to The
Chauffeur. He elected the canal walk, although the original plan had split into
about three or four different options, and the ultimate decision turned out to
be the best choice possible. 
We drove back westward along the A65 to Gargrave, a
village we had passed through on the day we travelled through to Skipton, and
again yesterday as we came down from the Dales. Today we made our way to the
canal, parking on the side of the road near Eshton Road Lock, Lock 31 of the
canal, and setting off along the towpath toward Liverpool.
I have already mentioned this canal, having walked
a little part of this a couple of days ago, but today we wanted to sample a
section through the countryside, the bonus being two sections of multi-locks;
the first the Gargrave Locks and the second Bank Newton Locks.
The first are a flight of six canal locks individually
named rather than just the sterile numeric title; Holme Bridge, Eshton Road,
Higherland, Anchor, Scarland and Stegneck. The first of these we were to miss
having joined the canal too far west. This section of the canal passes along
the northern edge of Gargrave, then beside the A65, before turning south,
promising a more rural aspect.
And indeed it did, the towpath continuing on
through the rural countryside, sheep and cattle grazing on the fields nearby,
and the canal becoming busy with narrow-boats populated with such friendly folk
and equally sociable folk taking their dogs for their daily constitutional. We
chatted for some time with a woman who lives permanently on her narrow-boat and
this morning was taking her two dogs for their morning walk, the older of the
two, aged fifteen and a half (the half apparently very important).
Soon we arrived at the first of the six locks that
make up the Newton Bank Locks, Locks 36 through to Lock 41 rising fifty six and
a half feet. At the last we fell into conversation with the lockkeeper who
looks after these and the Gargrave Locks, who had a cousin living in a part of
Auckland we know well. He was keen to chat for some time, however rain started
to fall and we hurried on to seek shelter under a bridge.
After ten minutes there, we decided to abandon our
walk, and head back to the car. The towpath ascent which had taken one and a
quarter hours including chat time, took us just less than three quarters of an
hour on the downhill return to the car.
By now the weather was closing in and while we
could have chosen to visit the museum or castle at Skipton before returning home,
we chose instead to replenish our supplies and fuel, then spend a sedentary
afternoon back at camp.
When we did arrive back, we found the “abandoned”
caravan being fussed about; it seemed that the chap who had recently purchased
it for £500 was
to take up residence later in the day and in the meantime his sister and nephew
were applying themselves to the cleaning thereof. Chris was concerned about the
fact they had plugged into our power point, so soon found himself involved in
their domestic situation. He returned with news we might well be in for a “bun
fight” later in the afternoon. But later when the young dry-stone wall builder
arrived, a gentle faced hippy sort, Chris was out there helping him shift his caravan
and later after dinner, out in the rain trying to sort the mess that should
have been an awning. It seems that this innocent has been done like a dog’s
dinner.
In the midst of all this, a couple
arrived in their motorhome, and were obviously put off by the scene trying to
unfold before them. Whether they were booked or not, they took their business
elsewhere, which has proved well for us, because as I write this, everyone but
us has abandoned the site. We presume our companion camper has retreated to his
sister’s residence to rethink his options and we have access to electricity
without ration.
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