Day 62 – The Yorkshire Dales (Thursday 13th June 2024)

Day two of our exploration of the counties surrounding Manchester was dedicated to the famous Yorkshire Dales. We’d passed through here way back in 1990 and have fond memories of the couple of days spent travelling through on our way to Scotland so we thought another day here 34 years later would be fun.

From Sale the journey was not so exciting. We hit the ring road headed for Whitworth - probably where the spanners come from, I reckoned. Before I knew it we where there, expecting some countryside somewhere along the journey but, no, just an urban sprawl. Without stopping we pointed GPS-girl at the strangely named town of Bacup for no reason other than we were starved of food and coffee. Nothing exciting happening here either but we did find an average cafe that sold very average coffee and average cakes. We were getting desperate for some of the 1990 magic but none was immediately forthcoming. Through Burnley we trundled and then Colne and finally some light began to appear down the tunnel of grey skies and greyer towns. I’d set GPS-girl to what looked like a tiny village called Airtown, officially just inside the Yorkshire Dales NP. Before we got there we flew past a sign pointing to the Tempest Arms so at the next roundabout on the A road we chucked a u-ey and went back there for lunch. The Tempest Arms is not your wee little English pub but rather quite a large and fancy new-ish place, built in keeping with the grey-stone architecture of the region. But we stayed anyway. The service was very good, the food was good but not ridiculously expensive and the staff and other patrons were up for a chat with a couple of Aussies.

 

 

To my delight GPS-girl started to head for the back roads to get us to Airton. This was finally more like what we’d been hoping for – green fields, rolling hills, sheep, woods scattered across the landscape and small stone villages every few kms. At one such village called Gargrave we stopped for a wander. A small clear stream flowed under an old arched stone bridge, a white-washed house with attendant outbuildings sat between the main street and the stream and up the road the C of E church stood, with obligatory tombstones. We visited the church then went down to the stream-side where some local dogs were enjoying a run and a swim. Kerry had a desire for afternoon tea is a classic English tea house which the Dalsesman tea house provided. The quaint little shop filled with English memorabilia afforded a warm and cosy place to escape from the drizzle that came and went. Kerry was thrilled to meet the resident dog who the owner proudly described as the canine incarnation of Rod Stewart. Not too far from the truth, I must say.

 

 

 

We made it to Airton and then dived in to the small lanes nearby. I saw a monument of some sort on distant hill and thought it might provided a great panoramic view of Wharfedale so I ducked down a lane that went in that general direction. Well, the narrow lane got more and more narrow the further we went. In fact it got to the stage where it was barely wide enough to carry our little Clio. For a good 8kms I was crawling along with the car’s mirrors brushing the hedgerows on either side. A few superficial scratches didn’t worry me, I’ve had worse on this trip, but the 1m high dry-stone walls hiding inside the hedgerows certainly did. One little miscalculation of the width of the car, or the width of the lane or turn of the road and we’d be looking at the Vosges all over again, a prospect that kept me very attentive and proceeding very cautiously. My next greatest fear was to meet an oncoming vehicle, a challenge I’d been dealing with all afternoon. Precisely at the end of this precarious journey just where the road began to widen we met a huge oncoming tractor which we were able to slide past. Phew! Missed it by that much!!

 

 

 

Down the hill we drove as the road continued to widen. At the bottom we stopped at the village of Linton for a very well earned drink to settle the nerves that were jingling in both of us. By now it was about 5:30pm and time top take the quickest route back to Chorlton. Emily had booked a Greek restaurant for 7:00pm. Well the traffic through the bigger towns put paid to meeting that deadline and then the weather and the peak-hour traffic on the Manchester outer ring road made sure we were going to be late. Thankfully, through the power of the internet and WhatsApp we could keep Emily informed of our very slow progress. The gods smiled upon us and we found a park just near the restaurant. Chorlton is renowned for its inability to provide motorists with parking. It was souvlakis all round for dinner!