A Dales Way Odyssey.  

The official and only route for me, sets off from the riverside at Ilkey in Yorkshire and finishes close to Lake Windermere in Cumbria, following the course of the rivers, Wharfe, Dee, Rawthey, Lune, Sprint and Kent, also crossing the watershed of Britain, where a short part of the route is along the Pennine Way. In our planning, we had decided to use the baggage carrier, Sherpa, to move our luggage from one overnight stop to another and this worked well. What, with hindsight, we might have done differently, is to choose the accommodation more carefully as some were truly delightful and others, not quite on the same par, having said that, nearer the Pennines, the accommodation available is rather more sparse and relies upon how many miles you wish to walk each day. However, we survived all.

Day One. Ilkley to Howgill 10 miles

Perhaps the most pressurised day of all, the restless nights sleep due to the anticipation and excitement of the next day, an early start and the drive to Yorkshire allowing a break for a cup of tea, starting our walk around mid-day. We still found time to visit the wonderful 16 C. church of St. Peter, Addingham and a good rest stop at Bolton Abbey where, I think we finally unwound, ready for rest of the day. After the abbey, a decision, over the stepping stones or over the bridge, we choose the former with near disaster for one of us, stopping in the middle to test the depth of the water with a pole that was far too short.
Gently on now, but quite quickly over this fairly flat and easy path alongside the Wharfe, excited by the prospect of a cup of tea at the Cavendish Pavilion near to Strid wood, leaving there accompanied by a gentle shower. We strode on to Barden Bridge, and our first sighting of Kingfishers, flying up and down this stretch of the river, in fact the bird life and the inhabitants of the riverbanks would become a central theme throughout our adventure. We arrived at our first overnight stop, re-united with our luggage, we washed and changed ready for a pre-booked taxi to take us on to Appletreewick for an evening meal in the local pub there.

Day Two. Howgill to Kettlewell 14 miles

A good nights rest and breakfast, we were off and away by 9.30, again following the wonderful Wharfe to Burnsall, sightings of ducks and ducklings, Heron and Kingfishers along this stretch. A short break to view, Burnsall, this much visited and photographed village, that comes alive with weekend visitors treating the river banks as an inland coastal resort.
On then to Hebden Suspension Bridge, my worst nightmare, making sure I was, by then, well ahead of the others, before gritting my teeth and dashing across this narrow waltzing span, making the other side before the bounce of their feet could turn my head. Linton falls, Linton Bridge and finally a stop at the Church of St. Michael and all Angels, Linton, a magnificent 12 C. building, access gained by crossing, safely this time, more stepping stones. Our companions were due to meet with relatives in Grassington around lunchtime and this we made with ease, allowing for some shopping and some time to idle and chatter. After Grassington our way would now leave the river bank for a delightful high level moor-land walk, over terrain not to dissimilar to Derbyshire, passing by a notably restored Lime Kiln in use probably about 150 years ago, producing lime for local agriculture. Soon, we were able to look down to see Kettlewell and the end of our second day and after registering, we had enough time to view the village and select the best place for our evening meal. The food was good and a stroll afterwards, led us to the sound of bat on ball, where on a riverside pitch, the local team were playing Grassington.

Day Three. Kettlewell to Oughtershaw 10 miles

After a restful night and an excellent breakfast, we were making tracks again along the relaxed River Wharfe, its flow retarded by the recent lack of rainfall, here Sand Martins, Sand Pipers and Oyster Catchers foraging for their young, added to our growing spotters list. To Buckden, expecting here, after walking off path to the village, to find a teashop, but alas Buckden closes on a Wednesday, so on we went to Hubberholme, sipping from our water bottles along the way. Lunch here and a visit to the very ancient St. Michael and All Angles parish church, one of only two left in the country with a ‘rood loft’, after having read much about this church, I was somewhat disappointed by its appeal to me.
Our next stage led us into the more remote parts of Langstrothdale, still following the Wharfe, where water flow and life was low. The water disappearing below the limestone to corridors hewn out over time, we were able to stride along the dry riverbed to Beckermonds and here finally we left the Wharfe to walk away, up to the austere setting of Nethergill Farm, our luxurious overnight stay with evening meal.

Day Four. Oughtershaw to Ribblehead 9 miles

A good breakfast was had and we emerged into a bleak landscape, the wind had increased and fine rain was blowing directly into us as we made the ascent that would take us over the top of the backbone of Britain, to walk along the Pennine Way for a while before dropping down to Gearstones.
Hoods up, heads down, there was not much to see or to hear save for the incessant breeze, not a place to loose ones way, as later we heard that another traveller had done. We had made good time, even with walking a mile off path, unfortunately to the only accommodation for miles, arriving around lunchtime, where we had a ‘pie and a pint’ and split up to spend a more pleasant afternoon exploring the environs of Ribbllehead. Gerry made the ascent of Ingleborough, a seven mile round trip, the rest of us visited the restored Ribblehead station, staffed by volunteers, on the Settle to Carlisle Line and then had a four-mile walk near to Whernside, returning just as the rain returned. An evening meal and a room we were just able to squeeze into, to spend the night listening to the thunder of the trains as thy passed by on the nearby magnificent Victorian viaduct.

Day Five. Ribblehead to Dent 10 miles

A light breakfast, we dare not push our luck, and on our way another mile to get back on track, joining the Ribble Way. For here, the two paths run in tandem for a while, wet soggy moorland under our feet for the first mile or so, then a good distance on a metalled road before arriving at Dent Head viaduct and the beginning of the glorious Dentdale.
The change in scenery and landscape, extraordinarily beautiful and different to that which had gone before, a delight and well worth the effort to get here. We arrived at our lodgings, perhaps by default as we had missed our way a little and found ourselves on the road that we would have been searching for had we been on the ‘Way’. We then had the rest of the afternoon to spare, so we walked the 1 ½ miles into Dent village, visiting St. Andrews Church whose foundations date back to the 12 C. and also visiting a museum of local life from the past century. An afternoon spent relaxing and waiting for the local tavern to open for evening meals. We strolled the 1 ½ miles back and sat in a most pleasant lounge with log fire watching the light fade and darkness fall on the surrounding hills.

Day Six. Dent to Sedbergh 8 miles

After breakfast and saying goodbye to our excellent hosts we made our way, passing Dent, we followed the River Dee, narrow in places forcing its way with gusto between the rocks. Dippers were seen here, we had expected to see more, but it was not until these later stages that we found them in any numbers. This stretch we had walked before and it was good to find that our memories of this lovely part of the walk had not been dimmed by time. It was as if the mental image we had had, was coming to life with every turn before us, until that most magic of moments, when turning a corner, now before us, that view, distant Lakeland fells, the looming Howgills towering above our objective,
Sedbergh. Downhill, now and in our haste missing our turn and as if for punishment, having an extra mile to walk to get us back on the road to town.  A deliberately planned short day this, a time for browsing the book shops and in general having a good look round and getting ourselves ready for the next days big push to Burneside. We had booked a hotel here, unfortunately, it was still undergoing refurbishment, but they coped well and allowed us a bit of discount off the bill for our discomfort.

Day Seven. Sedburgh to Burneside 15 miles

Breakfast over and away by 9.15 making our way to the edge of town for the start of our penultimate day, a bit of drizzle to start, the landscape pleasant, good walking over pastureland beside the River Dee. All the time that we had been beside rivers, we had never seen any fish and then we came across a local angler, emerging from the river with his mornings catch of two large trout that he declared would do for his tea. As he lived close by on the riverbank, I would imagine this was not a rare occurrence. Some lovely old bridges and viaducts along this stretch, we stopped near one for a coffee. A short while later, after declaring that we had done well not to loose anything, save for Anne’s pack of mints, I suddenly found I was without my guidebook. After some discussion as to whether we really needed it or not, Gerry decided to walk back the ½-mile or so to try to find it, which he did and rejoined us some twenty minutes later. We now followed the River Lune and stopped for lunch by the very narrow Crook of Lune Bridge, its sides scarred by numerous vehicles whose girth was too extreme for this ancient packhorse bridge.
A pleasant peaceful spot as we watched the river flow by and innumerable small fish breaking the water to catch a fly, was that a cuckoo we heard? I do believe it was. Some ups and downs now as we made our way to cross the M6 motorway, a mainline railway and the A6 trunk road. Grazing sheep were all we saw at the start of this walk, now we were in cattle country, passing through fields that contained both male and female young and old, all was well and I suspect that having the Dales Way pass through their pasture was no more than a passing interest for them. We arrived at our destination and took up our rooms; perhaps the least said here the better.

Day Eight. Burneside to Bowness 10 miles

Again a light breakfast and away for the final leg, a spring in the step, in fact although we were daunted by the prospect of walking day after day  (except Gerry) we still felt fresh and had no aches nor pains at all. So it was with good heart that we stepped towards Lake Windermere, in the knowledge that we would be sleeping in our own beds this coming night. Again, plenty of time to savour this walk, to talk over the last days, to enjoy the pleasant scenery, still delightful in its diversity as we walked alongside the River Kent, reputedly the fastest flowing river in the UK. A solitary Heron did its best, by trying not to let us get a photograph of it, constantly moving upstream as we were just about close enough,
I think we succeeded in the end. After the village of Staveley, our way was upward on to light fells and our views of the Coniston fells would have been good, our guidebook said, had it not been for the low cloud that hid them from our view. Suddenly and without to much notice we emerged from the trees to find the stone seat marking the end of our walk, a bit of an anticlimax, as I had imagined, quite wrongly, that we would finish on the shore of Lake Windermere. Pictures were taken of our foursome and then on into town, the hustle and bustle of this tourist hub so at odds with what we had been used to during the last few days of each other’s enjoyable company. Shopping for the girls, strolling and looking for the boys and then a vigil to await our luggage and our transport back to Ilkley. It duly arrived and although it had taken us eight days to get here, in 1 ½ hours we were loading the car in Ilkley and saying goodbye and thanks to our Sherpa driver John, who had manhandled our quite heavy baggage for us throughout. Would we do it again, ‘You betcha’.