Bloody Gate (literal.) B. bog (swearing.)

 Wednesday 30th October 2024

Dank, dismal, dreary and sometimes dangerous. The contents of a less than satisfactory walk

I crossed the road to New Hutton church. There were a pair of dramatic greyhound gatekeepers on columns at the entrance. Ah! An almost certain snippet for this post. But no! Subsequent research revealed not much was known except they may have been brought there from a local farm.

Squelchy, cow trodden farmer's fields were the main feature of the rest of the day with awful stiles competing with the field for degrees of censure.

OS shows the footpath crossing the wall in the exact corner of the second field of the day. There was no stile. But, thirty yards to the right the wall top was broken where folk had obviously crossed but it was all a loose jumble. I did managed to cross with much difficulty, fortunately without bringing down the whole lot, but it was like playing that game of Pick-a-stick where one false move creates disaster.

Part of the low rating for this day of dismal weather was my own fault with several egregious errors of navigation. At Millrigg farm I did a hundred yards of steep uphill on the wrong side of a fence and had to retreat having missed the footpath sign somewhat obscured by trees. (The slightest ascent is noticeable with my breathlessness.)

The next stile may have been ok in summer but the through stones were covered with green slippery slime and impossible to stand on. I had to climb the wall on the right instead, again with awkward contortion and exaggerated care to avoid breaking a leg or worse.

Approaching Hall Bank farm I could see a bullock feeding from a trough next to the field exit. With one eye on the animal I set about opening those huge double galvanised farm gates. They have a kind of heavy attachment that folds over and down each side of the gate to fasten. With part of my attention on a potential bullfight I let the thing slip and it bashed the back of my hand. A small vein was cut and quite extensive bleeding followed. I wrapped a handkerchief round that and later on a plaster from my rucksack. At the farm there was no indication of the marked footpath. There was an attached holiday cottage and I wondered round the back as there seemed to be nobody at the farm. I was taken aback to see a portly naked guy sitting in a huge outdoor hot-tub bubbling and steaming away. He had no knowledge  of footpaths and was quite curt and unpleasant in his manner which was perhaps understandable. I retreated and found an unmarked route through gates to get back onto the main track- Country walking eh!

A bit of relief followed from a stretch of downhill road taking me to Millholme Bridge and then an ancient sunken uphill bridleway with loose rocky stones underfoot covered by fallen leaves. 

At Ashes farm I thought the path went through the farmyard and I was accosted by a slightly irritated farmer who directed me onto the proper path down the side where again, mea cups, I had missed the footpath sign.

You can see the rest of the route on the map below, but again I missed a path turning for Hall House and walked several hundred yards downhill in error having to return back uphill. By now with all the diversions and endless stopping to check the map I was starting to worry about it getting dark before I finished.

At Hawkrigg Farm my route coincided briefly with my outward path and perhaps because of tiredness  I made the huge error of turning the wrong way when I was only about a third of a mile from the car. I walked over half a mile in the wrong direction with no option but to return.

On the short common stretch with my outward journey I had crossed a very boggy area with difficulty to a stile. There was no way of avoiding it. As I now ventured back onto this stretch my feet became suctioned and I fell forwards into the mud, Both arms went in right up to my elbows, and I was wallowing in sloppy mud. With my two replacement knees I do have difficulty in getting back up from the ground. There was one thicker tussock I manage to crawl frontside onto then heave myself up pushing down, but my feet were sucked in. Eventually with supreme effort I managed to stand. I took one step forward and the rear foot didn't follow and I fell again and had to start all over. I was there for half an hour. It was now dark and I was completely covered, rucksack and Paramo jacket and trousers and all in wet mud.  I walked the couple of hundred yards to get onto the road. From there a footpath of about quarter of a mile lead back to my car but I didn't fancy that in the dark even though I did have a torch. I could see that I could use the road instead albeit a longer distance. Just then a farmer appeared from the farm on a quad bike and I waved him down and he kindly took me back to my car.

I think I have finished with farmer's fields, blocked footpaths and country walking. I yearn for higher ground but with my affliction that is not easy to attain. I must search out again some of the old Dales limestone lanes even if it means just doing a linear there and back.

In a lifetime's walking there will always be bad days as with any sport or pastime, and if nothing else I did manage to extricate myself without calling out the boys and there was some mild satisfaction in that.

New Hutton church with the unexplained greyhound gatekeepers

Here we go into the squelch

OS marked the footpath at the wall corner fifty yards to the left. There was no access over the wall there - just this precarious problem which I managed to cross without breaking my leg

I had walked up the wrong side of this fence and had to retreat, only then to see the footpath sign partly obscured by trees

Through stones covered in slime. I had to climb round the righthand side of the posts instead

Happy days!

This just shows the gloomy atmosphere that persisted all day contrary to a more optimistic weather forecast

The man in the hot-tub is just under the bush to the right of the house door. I did zoom in Photoshop but he is just concealed by the bush

Route goes clockwise from New Hutton. The odd red lines show where I went the wrong way