WARNING: Long rambling post or a long post with rambling.
A week in the Yorkshire Dales is always a welcome thing. It had been many years since I’d had one so I set about planning a holiday and finding somewhere to stay. I settled on Ingleton on the western edge of the Dales and this would be a road trip because going by train wouldn’t be practical. The village used to have two stations and still has an impressive viaduct but the last train called in 1954. At around 265 miles this would be the longest road trip I’d driven for a couple of years, I wasn’t looking forward to the drive but needs must. It wasn’t too onerous in the end. Apart from getting around Birmingham obviously.
Ingleton
My “cottage” for the week was actually a 3 bedroom semi about twice the size of my actual home, overkill maybe but the price was right. I had received key finding instructions which said “third rock on pile of earth by garden wall” but the owner met me on arrival and handed me the key personally. Once settled in I went for an early evening explore around the village to get my bearings. It didn’t take long, it’s not a big place. It does have all the things you need though, a Co-op shop, three pubs (one alas closed at the time), and a really good chippy (confirmed on the final night of my stay because that was Friday). There are a couple of restaurants too, though they and the pubs had somewhat odd opening times, being closed for days at a time. I had a nice pint in the Three Horseshoes though, sitting in the small garden out back. Much of Ingleton is picture postcard worthy.
And as mentioned, there’s that disused railway viaduct.
Ingleton Waterfalls Trail
The following day dawned bright and sunny and was forecast to remain that way so I kitted up for a walk and did what visitors have been doing here since 1885, that is joined the queue to get into Ingleton Waterfalls Trail, paid my admission fee (2d in 1885, £10 in 2024), and headed off with all the other Sunday walkers up the valley. The trail is about 4 miles long on mostly well surfaced paths and steps, with fences and barriers at the bits where you might end up falling for the rest of your life. It takes in several sets of waterfalls as it follows the River Twiss up Kingsdale to the 14m high Thornton Force, then up and over to Chapel-le-Dale to follow the River Doe back to Ingleton village.
It was busy, although not so crowded that you couldn’t get good photos of the falls. I imagine it might be more of a challenge in the main holiday season. you can see where the admission charges get spent on maintaining the route, there are a lot of steps and surfaced paths to cope with the numbers of feet passing over them. The trail is a one-way route with a one-way gate where it crosses the River Doe out of the privately owned part of the valley. It was also very hot and many people were taking the opportunity to cool off in the pool at the foot of Thornton Force.
My tracker on the phone says I walked a bit under five miles including to and from the house and it took about two hours since I really wasn’t rushing it. It’s a really nice walk and definitely worth the tenner. I’ll bet it’s utter hell in the school holidays though.
Ribblehead
Monday was cooler but the forecast was dry. I had been considering climbing Ingleborough but thought better of it, it’s big and scary viewed close up and I think my days of solo mountaineering have probably passed. So instead I plotted a little ramble around the Ribblehead Viaduct, somewhere I’ve visited several times but never really explored the surroundings. I parked up on Blea Moor Road a little east of Gauber Road and headed along the Three Peaks Walk to the east of the viaduct.
I climbed on up the hill to Blea Moor Signal box where a freight train was waiting in the siding as if posed for a photo.
The signal box and the area surrounding it was a hive of activity, fenced off with scaffolding around the box and orange-clad workmen busy on site. Couldn’t get a decent photo from that side. Of the three cottages that stood nearby only number 3 remains and that in a state of dereliction. Too remote a spot for most people to make a home I guess with a convoluted access via an unmade track from the other side of the Settle-Carlisle Railway. Lovely spot in summer but it must be pretty bleak here in winter.
I retraced my steps a bit then passed under the railway onto the Dales High Way alongside Little Dale Beck, leaving behind the Three Peaks Walkers and heading west towards Winterscales Farm. Peace and quiet. Well apart from the sheep, the sound of water running over the stones in the beck, and the occasional distant motorbike. I stopped for a drink of water and watched the train leave the siding and head towards Ribblehead Viaduct.
Then I carried on past the farm and onto the narrow lane Kirkby Gate. Where I made a new friend. Usually lambs head off to find mum when you walk by but this one walked straight up to me while I was taking a photo, sniffed my knees, and nonchalantly wandered off along the road the way I’d come.
At the next farmyard I turned left down towards the bridge over Winterscales Beck and left through a gate to Gunnerfleet Farm where I took the path to the right back to Ribblehead Viaduct, getting a view of it from the other side which I’d not seen before - not that it looks particularly different, I’d just not been this side of it previously.
And then I passed under the viaduct to rejoin the Three Peaks Walk (and the walkers) back to the car. No photograph can give you a sense of the sheer bulk of the structure that standing under it gives you. It’s an incredible bit of engineering and history, the Wikipedia entry is worth a read if you’re unfamiliar with it.
Having completed my gentle four and a half mile ramble I celebrated with a 99 from the Yorkshire Ice Cream van parked by the road junction.
Then I went for a little circular drive back to Ingleton, stopping at Dent on the way. I stayed at Dent in 1994 on the campsite just outside the village. My abiding memories are that the farmer next to the site chose that particular day to get the muck-spreader out in the adjacent field and that a group with small tents decided to pitch them right close to the back of our old camper van so that we had to step over their guy lines to get in and out and right by the exhaust pipe too, they might have regretted their refusal to move when we came to leave. I do recall Dent being much livelier than it was today though, it was really quiet in the village - until several fast jets screamed low overhead anyway.
Morcambe & Heysham
To the seaside, by train from the tiny rural station at Wennington which has a free car park, albeit only seven spaces and is a short drive from Ingleton. Off peak day return £6.70 with a Railcard is probably cheaper than driving there and parking. It took less than an hour for the two carriage diesel to reach Morecambe Station having briefly encountered Carnforth along the way and reversed at Lancaster to take the branch to Heysham Port.
I walked east along the prom, pausing by the statue of the town’s most famous son, the comedian Eric. I obliged a group of ladies who wanted their photo taken with the statue, and did a selfie too. I’m not sure why since I’m not particularly a fan. Although Morecambe & Wise were rarely off the telly when I was a child I’ll venture the unpopular opinion that they weren’t as funny as everyone seems to remember and certainly don’t hold up well now. Anyway, the statue is the closest I’ll get to meeting either of them, although I did once work at Ernie Wise’s house when I was an apprentice telephone engineer. He wasn’t home. Maybe just as well since we accidentally let the dog out and set off the burglar alarm. Having reached the beach by the slipway where a few boats were moored I decided to turn around and walk back westwards instead and find a cup of tea.
That quest was fulfilled at the Stone Jetty Cafe, a former railway station on the pier and adjacent to the small lighthouse. Morecambe has a complicated history of railway station openings and closures but this one was Morecambe Harbour between 1848 and closure in 1904. Morecambe Promenade closed in 1994 and the building is now a pub. The current rather basic Morecambe station opened in 1994 but is located in the same place as Morecambe (Northumberland Street) which existed from 1848 to 1907. I said it was complicated.
From the end of Stone Jetty (and indeed from most of the prom) you can see all the way across Morecambe Bay to the hills of the Lake District. I now had some time to kill before getting the train back at 1730 and on impulse decided to walk along the seafront to Heysham (having checked first that I could get a bus back to Morecambe Station) where the map showed some interesting archaeological features.
Heysham
After a level walk along the seafront I climbed up onto the sandstone headland adjacent to Heysham village. I wasn’t sure what was actually there having done no more research than glancing at the map on my phone. What’s there is the ruins of the 8th century St.Patrick’s Chapel, some graves hewn out of solid rock, and a spectacular view out across the sea to Cumbria. It’s all in the care of the National Trust as well so there are information boards etc. It was worth the walk.
The part of Heysham village around the newer St. Peter’s Church is quite picturesque too. I made my way up to the bus stop and returned to Morecambe in good time to get the train ‘home’.
It’s Grim Up North
Wednesday was a bit wet. As in getting on for 40mm of rain in 24hrs wet. The furthest I ventured out was to get some milk from the Co-op and that was far enough. I did finish reading Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train though.
Sizergh
Thursday’s forecast was a bit uncertain but looked at least a bit drier in the afternoon so I made use of my National Trust membership and drove up to Sizergh. This medieval house has been home to the Strickland family for over 800 years despite them being papists and picking the wrong side in several major disagreements over the centuries. Pretty standard National Trust fare, lots of nice old furniture, many portraits with unmistakeable family likenesses, usual tale of declining fortunes meaning transferring the property to the NT but the whiff of wealth and privilege remains. As do the Stricklands.
The gardens were nice to wander around especially as the rain had ceased but having walked round them the queue for the cafe was longer than I was prepared to stand so I decided it was time to move on elsewhere.
Aysgarth Falls
was the elsewhere I settled on. I’ve been there before but usually after a bit of a dry spell but after yesterday’s downpours I figured they’d not be short of water and I was right.
The Upper falls
The Middle falls
The Lower falls
They were ideal for playing with long exposure mode as you can tell. After walking round the falls and back to the car park I sat on the tailgate of the car to change out of my boots and drink the coffee I’d got from the nearby cafe. There then followed an incident of minor upset. As I sat there with my coffee a middle-aged guy walked by with a cheery “‘Ow do Pops” as he passed. “Pops”?! Fortunately by the time the enormity of this remark registered with me he was out of earshot else he might have heard me mutter something about a “leaky punt” 😀
Water Sinks
I took a scenic route back to Ingleton, or at least partly scenic, the parts where I wasn’t driving through thick, low cloud of the “yes this is the one occasion a year when you actually need fog lights on” variety. In spite of which I managed to find the car park on Malham Moor between Malham Tarn and where Malham Water vanishes mysteriously into the ground. the stream was flowing strongly and I followed it the short distance across the moor to where it just disappears just the other side of a drystone wall with a slightly awkward set of steps embedded in it to allow you to get over to the actual sink point. Last time I was here I remember having to carry a greyhound over that wall who insisted on coming with me.
The water reappears at Aire Head Springs south of Malham village (and not as used to be thought at Malham Cove) from where it makes its way eventually to the North Sea. I made my way back through the clouds to Ingleton.
Kirkby Lonsdale
Last day before the long trek home. Took it a bit easy, popped to Kirkby Lonsdale for a look round this small market town and had a short ramble along the River Lune to the Devil’s Bridge. Nice spot. Nothing like it’s more famous namesake in Ceredigion even though they share the same legend. Funny that, you’d have thought Old Nick might’ve learnt the first time 🙂
I wanted to walk out to Ruskin’s View as well but that’s been closed since 2021 because the path and viewpoint are subsiding into the River Lune valley below so you’ll have to make do with a picture by some bloke called J M W Turner instead. I’ve no idea if it’s changed much.
Anyway my other reason to go to Kirkby Lonsdale was to do some shopping at Booth’s (it’s like Waitrose but for Northern people) so that I wouldn’t have to go out as soon as I got home the next day. Suitably reprovisioned I went back to Ingleton and started packing up. It was Fryday so I had a chippy tea from the excellent Ingleton Chippy which I can heartily recommend. Proper chips and reasonably priced too, particularly compared to down here in t’south.
The next morning I was on the road at ten to nine, it was still a bloody long drive, getting around Birmingham was still shite, and six hours later having stopped only briefly at an overcrowded Frankley Services my trip to t’north was done.
I enjoyed it. Thanks for reading if you made it this far.
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