I may be biased but there can be few more beautiful places to walk than God’s County. Here we have it all; gorgeous countryside, proper tea and cool, creamy beer to finish the day.
Picking a walk published in The Yorkshire Post, the invitation was sent before Boris’s new Rule of Six. It looked a reasonably gentle eleven mile stroll, notwithstanding a 1200 foot climb, which I omitted to mention to Big Al.
Lacking several regulars, I met with Big Al, resplendent in his stained shorts and clutching a slender looking walking pole at Shipley Station. Lynton arrived just in time and we were off, fully masked aboard a deserted train.
Leapy joined at Bingley sporting another dapper cap, every bit the country gentleman, a bounce in his step, let the games begin. Off we rolled again to Skipton where we collected Big Al’s carer, Patient Pete.
Skipton was bustling as we headed up Chapel Hill, a steep ascent that had Big Al already suspicious. We crossed the lush fairways of Skipton Golf Club with no need of any guidance so far.
Strangely, given Leapy and I had form in getting lost, we were entrusted as tour guides. I clutched my newspaper cutting as Leapy squinted at a tiny red arrow on his phone unsure which way up it should be; it could never end well.
Soon we had found the wrong track and, to rectify things, trudged across rough terrain as the big man wheezed and cussed. Ahead of us was a 1200 feet climb to Sharp Haw. Several sprightly youngsters ran past, old age is cruel, as we put heads down and best feet forward.
At the summit, as he contemplated his decision making, Big Al gasped: “Just push me off the edge…I don’t care!”
It was here we made our next error, descending down the wrong side of the peak. Fearing the big man’s stick somewhere painful, we decided that keep calm and carry on was the best result. If we were hoping this would be a shorter route, past experiences should have put paid to this false hope.
I could just about hear his moans way back in the forest as we searched for the quaint sounding village of Flasby with surely a pub, cafe and massage parlour. We reached a hamlet with several houses and enquired of a local the direction of Flasby.
“You’re here lads, this is it!” We tried not to give off the impression we were less than impressed. I noted they had a village notice board but what could you put on it when sod all clearly went on here.
Off we went again up a steep field in the direction of Gargrave with Leapy and I keeping a safe distance – not hard – from the cussing behind.
The magnificent Eshton Hall came into view but even this could not raise the big man’s spirits. The sign said Gargrave 1.5 miles but the canal – and lunch – was barely half that, only across – and up – more fields.
“I’ve ‘ad it, I’m fooked!” he said opting for a slow trudge without his carer into Gargrave and a train to Skipton. Off the four of us strode, suspecting the big man would be seeking comfort in one of Gargrave’s locals very soon. How wrong we were.
Finding the station he had a near two hour wait for the next train so decided to sleep. It must have been a disturbing find for any locals using the station to find a sweaty fat lad snoring away to his heart’s content.
On the canal we came across a couple who had somehow managed to ground their rented barge. Leapy suggested the silence between them masked the following conversation.
Wife – “That will teach you to get your hand in your pocket and pay for a hotel next time!”
Husband – “Now you know why I drive”
After some considerable combined effort, we managed to get them going again as the barge sailed off, leaving the husband on the tow path clutching the two guide poles.
Wife – “Ha, ha, ha…walk you old sod!”
Husband – “I know where these poles are going!”
Sensing more disaster as the wife was not for berthing anywhere soon, the boat’s owner suddenly appeared on a tricycle, dashing to open the next bridge before the barge careered into it. We left them in peace to begin divorce proceedings.
The last bit of this walk was a foot slog along the canal but soon it was Skipton and a grand reunion loomed. It was time for our reward.
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