Through Britain

I spent last night in Easy Hotel Leeds but this time my room had a window. I rose before 6 a.m. with a plan to catch the 7.55 X99 bus to Roundhay Grange to continue from where I left off last time. At the bus station I was unable to establish where the X99 began its journey. The previous night I’d checked a number of bus stops but the X99 used none of these. At this early hour there was no one providing information so I approached a young security guard who proved extremely helpful. He checked on his phone and recommended the 49 bus. He then took me outside the bus station and showed me where the 49 stopped. I was able to catch this bus at about 7.45

The 49 took me along the A58 that I’d walked along a few days ago. Things started to go wrong when the 49 veered off the A58 into dense residential housing. I caught a glimpse of the A58 at one point but I stayed on board in the hope that Monkswood Gate, its terminus, would be close to my starting point. After dismounting I discovered that the busy road nearby was the A6120, a road that circles round Leeds. I reached the roundabout that had been in view when I stopped last time and turned onto the A58 heading north east. This road had a narrow pavement so I made good progress, passing the village of Shadwell to my left.

Just before the next village of Scarcroft, there was a squall so I donned my waterproofs. I also attached the new protective covering to my rucksack. This proved difficult. As soon as I’d wrapped the covering round one end of the rucksack, it slipped off the other end. The rucksack became coated with mud as I wrestled with it on the ground. Soon the rain eased and I was able to discard the waterproofs in a woodland owned by Woodland Trust which I support. There was a welcome sign and a bench which was preferable to the more frequent barbed wire fence and “Private keep Out”.

The next village was Bardsey which boasts the oldest pub in England established in 953 A.D. Later research indicated that other pubs made similar claims. The crucial factor may be documentary evidence which is likely to outweigh oral tradition. As I passed a bus stop near Bardsey an old man shuffled towards me with a loose hood obscuring much of his face. I stopped and asked if he was catching a bus. He didn’t respond but remarked on my bare legs and said that he preferred to keep his legs warm. He continued shuffling so there was no further conversation.

After East Rigton and Rigton Hill, I reached Collingham. There I had a coffee and a brownie in a cafe run by several young people. They didn’t have a coffee making machine so I had to wait a long time. When I got my coffee it was too hot to drink. At Collingham I left the A58 and stopped by a convenient wall to study the map. A friendly woman asked if I was lost and proceeded to give me details of a route ahead that would enable me to avoid roads. As I would depend on a road bridge to get me over the River Wharfe I thanked her for her help and stuck to my original plan.

I passed the prosperous houses of Linton and approached Wetherby. I saw there was a dismantled station on a disused railway. This had opened in the 1840s and was discontinued in the 1960s. The path along the trackway to Spofforth was called Harland Way. Massive trees had grown up on either side of the way. There was considerable usage near each end of the path but much less in the middle.

At Spofforth I joined a rough path running alongside the river Crimple. Two friendly women walking their dogs were playing their part in keeping the path usable although nettles and brambles were closing in on some sections. The stream ran fast after recent rains. Later the path became indistinct. I drifted away from the river but later returned to it to take advantage of a bridge on the road to Follicot.

In a Follicot village churchyard, a finger post pointed towards the busy A658. I crossed fields towards the increasing sound hoping for a bridge or underpass. I reached steps leading down to the road and waited for a gap in the speedy traffic. On the far side thee was a golf course in full use. I had a right of way so long as I followed a park wall. I reached the A661 which led me into Harrogate and the hotel which my wife had already reached by driving from Bury St Edmunds.

Today’s mileage 18.75; total 354.44.

I woke up in my usual hotel in Leeds. As I was having breakfast, a bare footed woman in her forties entered the coffee bar. She apologised to the staff for having no money but asked for a glass of water. As she might have foreseen, another customer in the queue offered to buy her a hot drink. The woman sat at a table quite close to mine. When I got up to leave I asked her whether she’d forgotten her shoes. She looked down at her feet and said, with emphasis, “So I have.” She seemed able to talk coherently but what was going on in her life?

I took the train to Harrogate. Having negotiated the maze of town streets, I found the Nidderdale Greenway on an old railway track to the north west of Bilton next to a mass of modern housing estates. It had been asphalted over. The Greenway soon came to the Nidd Gorge Viaduct. This was opened in 1847 to carry the Leeds/Thirsk railway but closed to rail traffic in the 1960s. It is 104 feet high and 448 feet long. There are seven rounded arches supporting the structure. Looking out over the parapet at the tree canopy below it seemed much higher than it was. The small River Nidd hardly justified such an imposing edifice.

I planned a right fork onto another disused railway heading directly north. I established the probable location of the fork but this alternative route was entirely overgrown and no use as a path. This meant I had to go westwards in the direction of Ripley. The Nidderdale Way took me into the village where I stopped for a coffee. Originally this small village had three pubs. The local landowner in the early 20th century was a member of the Ingolby family that had lived locally for 750 years. He’d been a priest and insisted that all three pubs should close on Sundays. That was the pubs most profitable day so all three were forced to close for good and the village remained dry for 71 years. The Boars Head opened in 1990 and the local priest gave it his blessing.

I left Ripley on the B6165 but quickly branched off on a cul de sac leading to Slate Rigg Farm. Beyond the farm I was on a Public Bridleway which I thought would take me to High Cayton Hall from which a path headed north. Instead diversions away from private property led me to a minor road heading north west to nowhere in particular. I walked along this fast, straight road for a while until I was able to turn right towards Markington. I left that village on a track heading north towards Ripon. Unfortunately I missed the correct continuation and came to a dead end road leading towards Morcar Grange. Beyond that property the road quickly became a rough track unfit for motor vehicles. However, it did lead me to the Ripon Rowel Walk which I would have been on if I’d not strayed.

I entered Ripon in dense housing to the south west of the town and found the bus station just off the market square. In a short while I was able to board the 36 bus to Harrogate and Leeds with a crowd of school children the time being about 4.30 p.m.

Today’s distance 15 miles; total 369.44.