conradwalks: The High Way

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My blog nick-name is SIR HUGH. I'm not from the aristocracy - my middle name is Hugh which relates to the list of 282 hills in Scotland compiled by Sir Hugh Munro in 1891. I climbed my last one (Sgurr Mor) on 28th June 2009

Saturday, 5 July 2025

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.