The High Way

 Friday 4th July 2025

This walk starts from Thwaite Bridge, about three kilometers east on the A 684 from The Moorcock Inn. Just beyond Thwaite Bridge there is a large lay-by for parking.

The nine mile drive from Sedbergh down Garsdale to the Moorcock Inn must be one of the  longest  most twisty roads in Britain. Fortunately it is not single track, but still worryingly narrow. The scenery is dramatic in this steep sided archetypal Dales valley and despite the drama of the road it is always an enjoyable experience enhanced by the knowledge that it is the gateway to the still largely unspoilt Yorkshire Dales.

From the lay-by a fifty yard walk back up the A 684 gives access to the old Thwaite Bridge to cross the River Ure. Straight ahead is a not very obvious path leaving the tarmac into a dark and steep brief ascent through woods. The path then opens out onto upland sheep pasture with tussocks and reeds and, for me relatively, a steep huffing and puffing frequent rests ascent gains what is named as The High Way on the 1:25 OS map. This high level ancient bridleway starts from further east on the A684 from my own start and continues to eventually join the Kirkby Stephen Road with Wild Boar Fell looming up on the other side of that road. This track is included in various long distance walks including Lady Anne's Way. I have previously walked on the section opposite Wild Boar Fell past the Water Cut sculpture.

The views from this track are stunning with a complex of steep sided dales and wild hills in all directions, most of which I have memories of visiting over the years, but others that have been missed and are firing the imagination for exploration.

Most of the way there is a broad grassy path following a wall on my left which on and off shelters me a little from the strong wind that persisted throughout the walk.  I keep having to tighten the chin strap on my Tilley hat to stop it turning into an unleashed kite. Every now and then I would peek over the wall and look very steeply down to the river Ure and the A 684 high on the opposite side of the valley. There were a couple of occasions when RAF jets heart stoppingly flew through below my level.

Yet another long distance path, The Pennine Bridleway, branched off to the left to descend to the Moorcock Inn. Where that path crossed the River Ure at Ure Force Rigg there was an attractive mini waterfall and another footpath leading off east to take me back over undulating sheep pastures to Thwaite Bridge. As I was approaching that waterfall I noticed a female walker about fifty yards behind me. I stopped to take a photo and thought she would catch me up, but she also stopped. I guess she thought I may be some kind of predator. It's such a shame that female walkers should feel so threatened. As I went off on my path left she had continued on the path back to the Moorcock.

At Yore House marked on the map I was able to sit on a vehicle trailer for my sandwich and coffee break. This old farm with several buildings was in the process of renovation but had a sort of Marie Celeste atmosphere of dsertion. Tools and equipment had been abandoned looking as though there had been no attempt to tidy before some unexprected urgent departure. Everything about the work being done looked shambolic and disorganised. I'm glad I was not employing the builders involved. I often come across similar rernovations in remote locations all over our countryside where no work is taking place and little evidence of it having been done so recently. Perhaps folk just run out of money, or contractors go bust or walk off after finding the job is more demanding than expected.

I got back to the car at a 3:00 pm. Rain had been forecast for later in the afternoon and it came with a vengeance on the way home, which made me smile a little with some smugness, and I applauded the fairly consistent accuracy of our forecasts these days. It had been a great pleasure to be high up again in the Yorkshire Dales, the best walking area in England in my opinion.

Thwaite Bridge

Sleep ascent from here all the way to The High Way

Out onto the fell side, and below

Looking back up the A684 towards the Moorcock Inn

Back down to Thwaite Bridge before gaining The High Way

Lime kiln in  good condition. One wonders at all the activity that must have been afoot up here at an elevation of 1500ft. or so

Just short of my high point on The High Way

Looking back down to Thwaite Bridge from The High Way. Note the wall I followed up here sheltering me to some extent from the wild wind

Wild Boar Fell

Branching off for my descent on the Pennine Bridleway

Ure Force Rigg

Lunch stop. Yore House, woeful deserted restoration in the background

Scaleber Force wander

Map browsing brought Scaleber Force to my attention. l made a plan to incorporate that in a walk. Google Earth confirmed marginal parking where the footpath leaves the road.

I pulled in there and thought the car was going to tip on its side, but all was well. Over the stile I went and into woods and a well worn path above a tree filled gorge with only a glimpse through the trees of this over celebrated attraction.

I retraced back to the road and after a dip to Scaleber Bridge I plodded up one and a half kilometers of steady uphill tarmac. To say this is not a significant through route for cars it was surprisingly well used, but that did not spoil splendid views of  Attermire Scar to my left and looking back in the direction from whence I came, Ingleborough.

About a third of the way up I could hear talking behind me. That usually indicates approaching cyclists. I looked back and saw a chap pushing a heavily laden cycle and talking on his phone. I stopped and let him catch up. This guy was cycle/camping from Pitlochry in Scotland where his father lives to his own home in Hampshire. Huge paniers back and front must have contained enough to kit to get Hannibal and his army over the Alps. He had pushed all the way out of Settle! Even so heavily laden he was going faster than my breathless affliction would allow, but apart from that chat-stop I walked the one and a half kilometres to the high point at a steady pace without further stop. As I approached the summit I saw my acquaintance at last mount his bike and disappear, he must have pushed it for four kilometres.

I now left the road for footpaths downhill. After an electric fence with an opener and several hundred yards I took stock and realized I was following the wrong wall. I made a midcourse correction across easy going grassy and reed covered  ground to meet up with my proper footpath, see the red line on the map below.

Once realigned I looked back across an attractive wild meadow with Rye Loaf hill, a recent ascent, dominating in the background. Pleasant walking on downhill sheep pasture followed and it was time for my coffee and sandwich. I used a stile as a seat and hoped nobody would need to use it when I had my camp established there, but I was now in a pretty remote location and had seen nobody since leaving the road.

I had been using my Merlin bird identification app and sadly it only managed to find skylark and meadow pipit. However after my lunch a flock of birds were perched on a wall and the app immediately identified them as starlings. 

An interesting descent to an old ruined bridge and then more sheep pasture brought me to Bookliber Barn as marked on the map. The building is now converted to an opulent looking residence. It stands at the terminus of what is marked on OS as a "track." It turned out to be a well tarmaced but narrow road leading for about two miles to join back with the road close to Scaleber Bridge. 

Halfway along this stretch I met and chatted with a chap and his Bernese mountain dog. He had recently had open heart surgery but was now walking several miles a day and seemed very fit. He carried on in the direction I had come from but later returned and passed me again demonstrating how slowly I am walking  compared with the average walker. At one point this long winding road passed through a mini gorge which must have demanded much head scratching from those stone wall builders producing a  network  of walls looking like a portion of spaghetti dumped on a plate.

Attermire Scar was starting to look much closer and eventually this track/road joined my outward road only a couple of hundred yards from my car, This was an enjoyable walk, mostly across what I guess was rarely walked terrain with non stop views and fairly easy ground.

The contrast was marked as I drove back through thronging Settle only a couple of miles back down the road. 

The stile to Scaleber Force off to the right. The angle of my car was more alarming when sat in than it looks here. When I opened the door its corner was only two inches from the road

The best shot I could get of this shy and not all that impressive waterfall

Looking back down some of the 1.5km. ascent

Attermire Scar (click to enlarge)

My cyclist acquaintance continuing his long push

Leaving the road after the long ascent. It was from here I followed the wrong wall for a few hundred yards.

Electric fence, thankfully furnished with a hooked up insulated handle. I have had shocks from these before and they are not funny

Not surprisingly little indication of a footpath, I was off route!

Now back on track and looking back at my recently ascended Rye Loaf Hill

Descending with sheep for company. A small herd of young cows in the next field followed me but through curiosity I think rather than any threat

Lunch stop

Descent to the left down to the old bridge. Easy going through sheep pasture

The starlings picked up on my bird app

Bookliber "Barn"

Labelled as a "track" by OS. Now 2kms. of tarmac

Demented dry stone walling

My flora identification is woeful. Answers please. See also below for close up

Still plodding on but not far from re-joining my outward road. Attermire Scar now closer ahead

Start/finish at furthest north. Note red shows my incorrect wander

BC visits my domain.

Friday 13th June 2025 

A call from Bowland Climber with a plan to visit my local area.

We covered just short of five miles on local paths I have visited many times over the years but not so much in recent times so it was an enjoyable re-acquaintance for me. I noted some newly formed paths leading off here and there that I made a note of to explore later.

As we set off from Yesland Storrs I realized I had forgotten my camera. I deployed my iPhone and after getting my finger in front of the lens, then the flap that closes its case, and then not being sure if the "shutter" had clicked, and not being able to see the screen in the bright sunlight, I managed a shot of our departure point. Trying to create a continuous record of the walk with all that faffing was only going to spoil the day, so I only took two more photos during the walk.

The highlight, halfway round was to visit our old climbing venue, Trowbarrow Quarry.  Quarter of a mile of limestone crag at around 30m in height is an impressive sight containing many routes with good choice throughout the grades. We are told by archaeologists that these vertical cliffs were once flat seabed which is difficult to comprehend, but they are littered with fossils and other features to excite budding geologists. As we approached we saw about half a dozen folk wafting insect nets around and a chat with one proved to establish a connection with a mutual friend of BC. We had a good look round and sat on boulders for our sandwich watching a couple climbing what BC thought was one of his own conquests, Javelin, E1. We must have spent about an hour all together including a search for a coal seem in the rock known to BC, but elusive today.

As we were leaving one of the more tech members of the insect collectors from the trip organized by Liverpool University was sporting a noisy hand held vacuum cleaner to capture his samples. Given much longer I don't think there would have been many insects left at Trowbarrow. I imagined the net manufacturers worrying about he small return they were getting on the sale of their nets and coming up with a plan to produce something more "value added" for these entomologists. Each to his own.

Further on a geological hollow at the summit of a primeval forest contained an unlikely pond  indicated on the map. We descended into this eerie lost world and found the pond was mostly an area of swamp where one imagines the foot of humans had never trod.

Looking closely at the map the pond is encircled by a contour line on the 1:25 map. The immediate conclusion is that this is a continuation of height gain relative to its contour neighbors, but it indicates descent into the hollow.

A most enjoyable day, thanks BC.

Our starting point finally captured after taming my iPhone. 

For Alan. I know it's not rare but at least it is a Massey

Couldn't resist continuing my lifelong ranting about farmer's hairy orange string.

 

This was actually pink but of similar ilk, and being used intensively at its limits of 

capability to create a gate hinge. By now I had managed to faintly touch something on the iPhone and found that I had taken three versions of this photo. Blogger has taken over here with this caption. Couldn't sort it.

Anti-clockwise from Yealand Storrs. The pond is at the bottom right corner

Bampton, Haweswater, and hospitality on the way

Sunday 8th June 2025

I have come through another period of medical appointments, missed weather window opportunities and also changing my car , and at last a chance for a decent walk, not for the want of trying.

I swapped the lumbering manual Kia Sportage for a nippy little automatic Kia Picanto Sport. The contrast in handling is revelational.

So off I went up the M6 to explore more of the Haweswater hinterland albeit partly on previously walked ground. Parking south west of Bampton Grange had been researched on Google Earth. In that network of narrow lanes parking is problematical. The first half of my six mile walk was uphill, first on tarmac then across pleasant undulating pastures and stoutly built through stone stiles. My breathlessness does spoil things to some extent but tiny uphill steps and frequent rests had me arrive at the Standing Stones marked on the OS map affording a splendid surprise view down to Haweswater. It was now downmhill all the way to arrive at the well made wooden footbridge over the  lively Measand Back. Many walks fade in the memory but my previous visit here is ingrained and worth repeating, I think. From my blog post, 18th May 2021:

https://conradwalks.blogspot.com/2021/05/an-important-forty-minutes.html#comment-form

"I crossed the bridge as it started to spit with rain. I stopped to don my waterproof. The rain came heavier as I raced to get the waterproof from my rucksack before getting soaked. Mission accomplished, but there was resistance to picking up my rucksack The plastic buckle had lodged between the wooden sleepers of the bridge and because, now suspended, it opened out at one hundred and eighty degrees to the strap like one of those fixings for plasterboard. The rain was coming heavier. I fiddled to no avail. I found a stick to poke but it broke - the rain was heavier. I would need to search again for a better tool. To work properly, because I can't kneel, I would need to lie flat on the wet planking. There was no easy way it was coming out. The top pocket of my rucksack - Swiss Army Knife - strap cut, and off I went up my steep ascent now relieved to be moving again. "

I crossed that bridge and continued alongside the beck and its steep descent  to Haweswater, The beck is present to your left running through a gorge only a few yards wide and fifty feet or more in depth, the water more heard than seen as it rushes over rocks and waterfalls. There are a few places where you can look with some apprhension down into the torrenting depths.

Walking back along the side of Haweswater two Coast to Coast walkers caught me up and after a brief chat they carried on. As I was entering the village of Burbanks I came across these two again. They had stopped opposite a house and the lady there had made them a sandwich. I told them of the bench I knew of on the village green a couple of hundred yards further on. We walked there and we all had our sandwiches together, a pleasant interlude. I wish them well on the rest of their Coast to Coast and harbour some envy for long distance walking. They continued on their way to Shap and I on the road for a couple of kilometres back to my car.

The village of Bromby consists of houses that were built to accommodate workers during the construction of Haweswater between 1929 and 1935. Water now feeds the Greater Manchester area by a gravity pipeline, another marvel of construction.

A recent post by my friend Bowland Climber where he was offered a drink at a pub by a friendly family, and the offer of sustenance here for my two acquaintances prompted me to comment on BC's post:

" I was amused to see you getting a drink. As you know I have had a reputation for cups of tea and home invites. I think those instances occur when you are on an extended project rather than just a day walk. Your acquaintances are attracted by the concept of a long distance haul. Maybe they have not previously been aware of such exploits and either want to know more, or at worst just take pity on you?:

At the start, my new (s/hand) car in proud red awaiting my return

Steady uphill for the first half of this six miler

Beehives. At least something else other than landscape to photograph

There were several of these well made stiles, but lacking the desired extended pole at the top

Littlewater

Note the long line of the Pennines on the horizon. Even more of that in view in real life. Quite impressive - click to enlarge

The Standing Stones and Haweswater. All downhill from here

Where I got the buckle on my rucksack stuck between the planks of the bridge on a previous visit.
My route crossed over and followed the stream and steep descent down to Haweswater

Lunch break here with the two coast to coasters I had met. A pleasant interlude. They went off down through the gate to Shap, and I up the road to the left

Looking back the way we had come

Anti-clockwise from top right

Ignore red route from a previous visit