Grassington to Conistone, Yorkshire Dales

The River Wharfe near Grassington, Yorkshire Dales
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There was a fair bit of debate around the breakfast table this morning. Would the rain ever stop? “Oh look it’s brightening up over there”! “Ah, it seems to be starting again!” We fluctuated between hope and despair, until eventually we decided to try a walk with plenty of opportunity to bail out if the weather turned against us.

With slowly clearing skies, we set off along the River Wharfe again, but this time heading towards a village called Conistone. The River was clearly feeling the effects of a night of heavy rain as it was running high and fast. The fields we walked through were waterlogged and we had to pick our way gingerly though them.

The osprey sensibly took one look at us and flew off to find a slightly quieter fishing spot

The River Wharfe, Yorkshire Dales
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This stretch of the river runs through a series of rapids, or Strids, as they are called locally. It’s an exciting landscape, lined with beautiful green pastures that would have been excellent picnic spots – if only the rain would stop! Of course the local landowners probably wouldn’t agree with this. There were an impressive number of signs telling us how to behave, “follow the posts”, “don’t spread out”, etc. Certain people can, however, fly fish if they so wish. Although, at a guess, not everyone.

Our route home along the ridge, Yorkshire Dales
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As the rain finally stopped Y asked me what the bird was, flying towards us. I glanced up and casually replied that it was probably a gull of some kind. If it had still been raining I would have left it at that, but with a little reluctance I dug out my binoculars to take a closer look. “B****y hell it’s a B****y osprey!!! There was a mad flurry of activity as I leapt about like a mad thing, Y desperately juggled her camera tying to get a picture and J tried to work out how to focus my binoculars. The osprey sensibly took one look at us and flew off to find a slightly quieter fishing spot.

Limestone Pavements, Yorkshire Dales
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The sun had come out, the sky was blue and we were finally able to take our coats off. Even a slight climb above the river didn’t deter us. On our right was a beautiful wooded nature reserve and all around us were pretty wild flowers bobbing in a pleasant autumnal breeze. However our time following the bank of the river had finally come to an end. We were forced to come up onto a lane that ran along side it. We still had great views of it, but for now it would have to be from a distance.

"I'M ON THE PHONE!" Yorkshire Dales
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One advantage of stepping away from the river was that we tended to see the bigger picture. Suddenly we became aware of the vast limestone ridges above us. We were particular interested in the ridge on our right where the Dales Way national trail picks its way across open moor land. This was the route we intended to follow on the way back, depending on the weather of course.

Walking along a nice even lane is certainly faster than picking your way along a rough footpath, but it wasn’t terribly exciting. It didn’t help that it was a very straight route. But eventually we arrived in the pretty village of Connistone. We stood in the tiny village square, checking our map as a rather elderly collie dog appeared. He seemed to be patrolling the village, checking out any passing walkers and making sure we were all behaving ourselves. It’s quite disconcerting to be disapproved of by a dog.

Carefully walking along the gorge, Yorkshire Dales
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Connistone may be pretty, but it is also very small and clearly didn’t have a café or shop. But our landlady had told us there was a pub on the other side of the river. Sure enough as we walked down to the bridge, we could see it in the distance, beneath a huge overhanging cliff. I’m not sure I’d choose to live somewhere quite so precarious!

In the end we don’t quite make it to the pub. Getting there involved walking down a very busy road with no pavements. It was scary and when we saw a sign for a farm shop and café we decided to stop there instead. It proved to be an excellent choice and we settled in with a nice warm cup of tea and some fabulous home made cakes.

Rapids on the River Wharf, Yorkshire Dales
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As we relaxed the promised rain finally arrived. And it kept on coming! So we decided to sit it out. We found a few postcards in the shop and sat writing them for a while. Then Y discovered some colouring sheets and crayons, supposedly for children. We dragged our lunch break out for two hours, but there really wasn’t any letup in the rain. Finally we had to make a decision. We could catch the local bus back to town or we could get the serious waterproof gear out and just go for it. The latter option finally won.

The Dales Way, Yorkshire Dales
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We headed back across the bridge to Conistone and finally had to make a decision about our route. Originally we were going to head straight up the hill in front of us to meet up with the Dales Way. But given the appalling weather we decided on a shortcut that would half the distance. It still took us up on to the limestone ridge, but took a more direct route back to Grassington.

We found the footpath sign and gratefully noted that it was only 2 ½ miles back to Grassington. So off we headed. Within 20 paces we were battling our way up the path into heavy rain. It was quite a hike, up a steep grassy field. But as we reached the top, the countryside became wilder and the rain began to ease. I hate trying to map read in this sort of environment, but thankfully we could see the path picking its way through the bracken. Suddenly we found ourselves standing in front of a deep gorge. The footpath precariously picked its way along its edge, with no fence or wall to stop us slipping down into its depths. Gingerly we picked our way around it, climbing over rocky crags.

The final push, Yorkshire Dales
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A final steep scrabble took us up onto a bleak, flat landscape. The moor land was studded by rocks that appeared to be a much degraded limestone pavement. J climbed up the highest mound and rang her husband on her mobile phone – just because she could! I decided to follow her lead and gave my Mum a ring. All she could really hear was Y shouting in the background as the rain began again.

We were now on Open Access land. There were paths across it but we could legally walk anywhere if we wanted to. The only problem with that is I just want someone to tell me where to go! In the end we cut across the moor hoping to meet up with the Dales Way. This worked for a while and we did indeed find a signpost that confirmed we were on the right route, but it didn’t last. We could see Grassington down below us, but couldn’t for the life of us work out how to get down there.

Eventually we found ourselves in a field where freshly milked dairy cows had just been turned out. The footpath seemed to be at the far end, so we picked our way around a huge pile of rubble and a rather dubious looking muddy puddle. The footpath took us around a large dairy farm, seemingly away from the town. But just as we were beginning to loose confidence, we found ourselves at the top of the town. Gratefully we headed down towards our guest house, but the weather has one last surprise for us. All of a sudden the heavens opened. Within a few hundred yards we were totally drenched. Poor J suffered the most with the rain literally filling her boots up.

It was in this condition that we arrived back at base, just as our landlady was heading out. She looked horrified at the state of us but seemed far more concerned about her floors than us. I really don’t understand how someone can run a guest house in the Yorkshire Dales and not provide facilities for walkers. Her only concession was a sign on the back door saying that wet boots could be left on the stone floor by the front door. Great! What about the rest of our kit?

We stripped off our boots, waterproof coats and trousers on the doorstep and then dashed through to the loo with them all. Here we piled all the wet things on the tiled floor. At least this way we could work out how best to dry them out. In the end we had coats hanging in the showers to drip dry and every conceivable radiator covered in the rest of our sodden clothes. This was despite no apparent evidence that the radiators were working.

It was extremely tempting not to go back outside, but we needed some sustenance. So we headed back to the Devonshire Arms for dinner and the following pub quiz. We weren’t the only ones from our guest house either. A couple had told us at breakfast that they were going to be there and we had blatantly tried to psyche them out. But they were obviously made of sterner stuff! Now we were pretty good on general knowledge but this quiz had some really tricky mathematical riddles to work out. In the end we managed an unimpressive 25 out of 40, just ahead of our rivals. But on the plus side we did win some free drinks in the raffle afterwards.

All through the evening I’d been trying to work out why a man at the bar looked vaguely familiar. Eventually I realised it was Stuart Ainsworth, one of the archaeologists from Chanel 4’s Time Team program. The real give away was his jumper, which was probably more recognisable than him!