In Hawes: Waldendale

July 20, 2022

Rachael chided me last night for not working on the journal. She was right - now it’s morning, breakfast is well past done and it’s time to pack for the road and I’m out of time. So we’ll skip with the usual scintillating commentary and just leave you with the photos and the observation that the world has transformed overnight. The heat wave has passed, the highs dropped 25 degrees, and there’s the threat of rain. See you tomorrow.

Leaving Hawes, starting out in the same direction as yesterday. Overcast and cool this morning, less brilliant but still fine enough.

For Greg, so he’ll feel content to be back in the Midwest. He’d hate all the viewblockers here.

Meadow crane’s-bill (Geranium pratense) is prolific along the roadsides here.

Looking south across the River Ure, the principle river through Wensleydale. So why isn’t it called Uredale?

We’re biking here through Bishopdale, a side dale of Wensleydale. The land lower in the valleys has a different look than it does higher up, the fields outlined with oaks.

It’s not just the width constraint that limits the traffic.

The lane firms up a bit, but it’s still totally empty except for ourselves. When we come back this way later though we’ll find an unattended car parked in the middle of the lane, with just room enough for the bikes to squeeze past.

Entering West Burton, another attractive stone village that deserves more attention than we gave it today.

At West Burton, the Burton Bridge crosses Walden Beck. It’s a feeble structure, and I’m not certain but it may be closed to motor vehicles. A sign at its entrance labels it as a ‘Weak Bridge’, which doesn’t inspire confidence.

Two roads diverged in the Yorkshire Dales; and we, delighted that we’re cycling vagabonds and can go where we will, decide to take both of them.

A common sight - sheep sheltering from the sun behind a stone barn. We’re biking now up Waldendale which is a side dale of Bishopdale, which is in turn a side dale of Wensleydale.

We first follow the right fork, Temple Lane. The sign at the fork says this leads to Walden North, only. Walden, because we’re in Waldendale now and following Walden Beck in the valley below. ‘Only’, presumably because it’s a dead end. Across the way and further down you can see the other road paralleling ours.

As good a place as any to note that I finally looked up what the stone is that everything is built from here. It’s Yorkstone, naturally enough. Sandstone has been quarried here as a building material since the Middle Ages.

This is a humorous scene. When I biked up, dozens of sheep were lying on the ground in the shade, forming a dense white line along the wall. I stopped to take a shot but they immediately sprang up in alarm and scattered across the field.

Then they all stopped and stared back at me, concluded that I was less of a risk than the sun, and one by one returned to the wall.

Back at me. I’m sure there are amazing things to be seen in that last mile until the pavement ends, but not by me today. Maybe she captured it on video.

It’s generally downhill as we drop through Waldendale back to our fork in the road, but there are always exceptions to the rule.

It must have taken a beefy crew of Yorkshiremen to heft that stone up there.

There’s that amazing purple carpet again.

Still descending. It doesn’t show it so much here, but the sky is darkening and I’m wondering if we should skip the south fork and head home before it rains. By the time I get to the junction she’s already climbing it though, so the decision is made.

I’ve looked at Waldendale from both sides now.

I’m going to have to think differently about oystercatchers, a bird I’ve always thought of as purely a shoreline dweller. Maybe they’re oyster and snail catchers.

She made it to the end of the pavement on this side too, and stayed on the bike for the 20% grade I chose to push up. Now we’re really heading for the barn though.

Video sound track: Out in the Country, by Three Dog Night

But first, lunch. We’re stopped on the Green back in West Burton, its obelisk a reminder of the days when it was a significant market town.

Another humorous sheep drama. We heard a loud commotion behind the trees to our left and then came across a man in the road waving us to get off quickly because a sheep drive was coming through. We hopped off and I pulled out the camera to video the great sheep drive we envisioned, and then maybe ten sheep entered the road and raced away, to quickly to video. Then this ATV emerged, the driver bellowing to his partner to hop on quickly. Then they raced after the disappearing sheep, the driver yelling out curses at his useless dogs.

We made fast time on the last ten miles back to our hotel, keeping a wary eye on the darkening skies and wonder if we’d arrive dry.

We arrive dry. This is the bridge crossing Gayle Beck at the entrance to town.

Heart

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Patrick O'HaraNice elevation profile. Not.
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2 years ago

Scott AndersonTo Patrick O'HaraTypical. Actually it’s paying off. The 10 percenters are feeling pretty minor when we come to them now.
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2 years ago

Ride stats today: 41 miles, 3,100’; for the tour: 1,180 miles, 54,700’

Today's ride: 41 miles (66 km)
Total: 1,200 miles (1,931 km)

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