The holiday was delightful and we were fortunate to have good weather for most of the week. The Yorkshire Dales are stunning but there is no getting away from the fact that they are better in the sunshine. Yes there is a drama in the grey and the wet but I know which I prefer. Whilst I had the company of a dear friend for most of the week Thursday was to be my fully ‘solo’ day.  As the weather forecast was not good I had intended to go into York and wander round Fairfax House, a Georgian house now open to the public. However, as on waking there seemed to be little sign of the predicted rain, I decided that I didn’t really want to drive for an hour and spend my day in the city but would prefer to remain in the countryside. I would drive up Swaledale to Keld. 

 

Keld is a hamlet at the western end of the dale. For those of you who watch the Channel 5 programme ‘Our Yorkshire Farm’, the Owen family live not very far away!  It is remote to say the least and the twenty mile drive up the dale probably took a full hour.  I parked in the little car park, put my pounds in the honesty box, donned my boots and set off on the walk to Muker. Although Keld is tiny (population under a hundred)  it has a small heritage centre which explains something about the history of the cow’uses (cow houses) which can be found in just about every field. These were built as places of refuge for cattle in the winter months. Hay was stored in an upper storey and the cattle would be warm from the winter weather below. If you refer to them as 'barns' you give away the fact that you are not a local! Of course many now are in a state of collapse but they serve as a reminder of the past and of the fact that this is a working landscape. Information on a notice board pointed out that Keld has been described as a ‘thin place’. This is not an expression I have come across before and evidently harks back to Celtic spirituality. A ‘thin place’ is where the dividing line between the holy and the ordinary seems exceptionally narrow.  And as I set off on the track heading upwards around Kidson Hill I could feel it. The silence had a curious depth to it punctuated only by the sound of the wind and the birds. Yes, heaven on earth. As I skirted the hill two curlews put on the most amazing display circling the skies and calling to each other. There can be a delight in walking alone in such a space . No conversation. Stop and rest when you like. Speed up, slow down, as you like. Feel yourself as part of the landscape. Magic.

The descent into Muker three miles later was quite steep and I met a young couple coming up the other way. Red faced and breathless they paused and we discussed whether going up or coming down was preferable!  Muker is larger than Keld with a population of 249! It has a delightful Arts and Crafts shop full of lovely locally made pots, ornaments and pictures and of course there is The Farmer’s Arms! A motley collection of folks were sitting outside in the sunshine so I decided to join them and ordered a half of Black Sheep pale ale and got chatting to a man with a dog from Newcastle who told me he had been coming to camp in Muker regularly for many years.

The walk back began with a paved path through seven meadows. I can use the word ‘meadow’ rather than ‘field’ as they were indeed meadows, filled with buttercups, clover and a whole host of other flowers whose names I do not know. A sign encouraged you to stick to the path as the meadow would ultimately be turned into feed for the livestock. I crossed the river over a tiny footbridge and soon found a delightful spot where I removed my boots and dangled my feet in the cold water. Oh what bliss. I was inwardly delighting in the belief that the return walk would be along the river bank when I noticed the path ahead rising significantly. Oh…. Now, walking six miles in Bedfordshire is a different experience from walking six miles in upper Swaledale. My friend who was walking parts of the Pennine Way during the same week I suspect would think nothing of it, however, being rather less fit, by the time the walk plateaued I was feeling fairly done for!  Eventually I descended past the East Gill waterfall only to be confronted by a final haul upwards to return to Keld.  Just before the car park there was a farm house where you could buy tea and tray bake cakes to eat in their garden. I needed no persuasion.  It really was a perfect day and I look forward to returning to Upper Swaledale.

Perhaps the take home lesson is that you can’t always trust the weather forecast!