Wednesday 30th September 2026
I'm not sure if I have some kind of phobia about public transport but looking up timetables and making sure I am at departure times correctly sends me into semi-panic mode. I have already phoned the Little White Bus people who operate in Wensleydale to make sure they are still there and to confrim exactly where to wait in Hawes for the 09:17 bus to Askrigg.
To be on the safe side, and although it is only just over an hour's drive I set off at 07:12. I travel again via Ingleton and that seventeen mile deserted, switch back wild terrain B 6255 motor cylists heaven (or nemesis) and arrive at Hawes three quarters of an hour early. I sit and sup coffee from my flask and play my Freecell Daily Challenge on my phone, and worrying about discharging the battery too much. Forecast had said rain until 10:00 then sunshine,. They were only partly correct aabout hte rain. It persisted as I waited outside the Board Inn with a walking couple from Otley. We were the only travellers. The driver was known to my couple from their previous use of the bus. He was a jolly chap and using common snese just waived me through when my bus pass didn't work - it is dated to 2029 but as far as I can remember the last time I used it was several years ago.
I am ready for the off by the church in Askrigg at 09:35. The square church tower has a ghostly appearance apparently painted uncharacteristically in an off white. It seems that essential repairs to the stonework demanded using authentic materials in sympathy with the church's age which included a limewash or similar. There has been mixed reception from locals, and others from distant parts of the globe.
In the wall an ancient indecipherable stone plaque caught my eye with a modern plea for cylists not to despoil by leaning bikes on it.
Gleaned from the Internet:
Marion Connett. The stone was above the door of the Old Hall. Unless you were a Latin Scholar you would be unable to read it. A translation is "For every house is builded by some man; but he that built all things is God". (taken from "Wensleydale" by Ella Pontefract and Marie Hartley)
Cul de sac tarmac lead to paving stones across a sheep pasture and into a wooded ravine. Climbing steeply on a wide path I was mildly concerned at the worryingly steep drop on the right plunging sixty feet down to the stream . There was no great danger, the path was wide but it was scattered with substantial gnarly roots from mature beech trees and if one had tripped there was no way you would have stopped before hitting the bottom.
More fields gave extensive views across Wensleydale to Bainbridge and Addlebrough. Alonother stretch of cul de sac tarmac road teminated at Skell Gill. From there ancient tracks more or less contoured high up on the slopes pf Wensleydale punctuated by a line of old stone barns and the odd farmhouse all the way to Sedbusk. I do not exaggerate when I say there were I think more than twenty of those spring loaded gates akin to wildlife snares. Although forecast had said sun at ten it was somewhere along here after eleven that sun appeared and I stashed the waterproof. Despite the shin trapping gates it was all good going on sheep pasture with views to the right up to the limestone escarpment now shinng white caught by the overdue sun. Perfect walking.
At Sedbusk paths descended to cross the Rivere Ure and a walk back into Hawes and my car. Country walking as good as it gets in my favourite locale.
I did ponder why Wensleydale and not Uredale as per the river. It seems the dale is named after the village of Wensley, but it was known in older times as Uredale or Yoredale.
WORTH CLICKING PHOTOS TO ENLARGE
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| The white church, more so in real life. It stands out as a kind of anomaly and can be seen at great distance from many viewpoints in the dale |
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Marion Connett. The stone was above the door of the Old Hall. Unless you were a Latin Scholar you would be unable to read it. A translation is "For every house is builded by some man; but he that built all things is God". (taken from "Wensleydale" by Ella Pontefract and Marie Hartley)
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| Walking out of Hawes |
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| The woods and start of the climb up the ravine seen in the far distance |
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| I have darkened the image to try and capture the overexposed stream at the bottom. The slope in many places was even steeper but difficult to photograph |
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| Across Wensleydale to Bainbridge - still raining |
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| Barns like this were scattered along this ancient contouring track along the slopes of Wensleydale |
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| Perfection |
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| Skell Gill. End of tarmac. Start of old contouring track |
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| Addlebrough |
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| The walls around here were skilfully constructed and maintained to perfection |
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High Clint limestone escarpment.
At last: rain stopped, sun out. |
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| Sedbusk. Leaving the old track and descending to the River Ure and back into Hawes |
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Light green - Lady Anne's Way. Blue with dots my route plotted.
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