A thirty seven kilometre trek today, about which the cantankerous old Wainwright had little good to say. However, while he may have inspired this walk, we neither have to stick slavishly to is fictions, nor believe what he says about the points of interest on the way. So we didn't.
Straight out of Richmond this morning we deviated from the path, forsaking the advertised boggy footpaths for a pleasant stroll along a track by the Swale to the ruins of Easby Abbey. There seems to be a little more of this abbey ruin left standing than many others I've seen. Of course, the Tudor fatboy's thugs did a comprehensive job of knocking things down, and Henry Viii personally ordered the monks there to be hanged, in retaliation for them having supported the "Pilgrimage of Grace", a northern led protest/rebellion over the split from the Catholic church. Other abbey ruins have been comprehensively plundered by the locals who were encouraged to view them as a kind of "free quarry", but the monks of Easby were kind to and popular with the locals, so I wonder if what remained standing of the abbey was left alone out of some kind of respect.
The next twenty or so miles consisted mostly of road and path walking through and alongside field after field of oilseed and other crops. Part way along, we said goodbye to the Swale, which has been our Guide and companion for the last few days.
Geographically, today was not very interesting - in fact the sameness of it all made it seem a much longer walk than it was, which was a bit dispiriting. What we did get, though, was a nice little village pub stop for lunch at Danby Wiske, and quite a bit of wildlife to ogle, including yellowhammers, hares, linnets as well as the usual cows and sheep. Still no pigs, though. I am a little worried about Mike, though. Between you and me, I think he might be losing it. Sometime around mid afternoon, he stopped, pointed and excitedly cried "look, a sparrowhawk!" doubtless shocked at being thus identified, the bird concerned revealed its true identity by denying Mikes statement with a mighty and resounding "QUACK!".
Tired and weary (or given my drugs for toothache intake, maybe that should be wired and teary) we arrived at tonight's B&B, Park House, just a mile or so beyond Ingleby Cross. We've generally been lucky with our accommodation, and this one was a gem, the owners Mike and Beverley greeting us with a glass of bubbly before showing us round their place, which is really dedicated to walkers. Since its quite a trek to the nearest pub, they fed us, too, and you won't hear any complaints from this direction regarding either the quality or quantity (no wonder the table is so sturdy) of the repast.
My tooth still hurts.
No comments:
Post a Comment