NEW DAWN, NEW DAY, NEW YEAR
New
dawn, new day, new year, I got my act together for a change and did my
pack up last night, so this morning I was up early had breakfast and was
off. The sun was still some way off rising but it wasn't dark outside, a
beautiful, silvery, three quarter moon shone brightly from a clear,
star filled sky, casting moon shadows all over the garden. It was a bit
nippy at just two degrees but there wasn't
much frost about. The roads were quiet and I made good progress, most
people still sleeping off last nights revelry. As I approached Fimber
three Pheasants were in the middle of the road, I slowed down but just
when I thought they were clear one decided the other side of the road
was more attractive and ran back in front of the car, I'm afraid he
didn't make it. This was not a good start and I was not at all happy. I
have been watching the weather for the last week and it looked like
today was going to be a good day up on the North Yorkshire Moors. I
drove up the hill from Fimber towards North Grimston, I could see the
Sun climbing magnificently above the horizon, a huge fiery red ball
filling the rear view mirror as it rose into a clear blue sky. I crested
the hill and the moors were spread out before me, a pale Blue grey with
White frosting the colours gradually changed as my gaze rose higher to
Bluey Pink, then Magenta, a washed out Buff colour then pale Blue which
increased in intensity until overhead it was deep Azure, what a show. I
parked up in the middle of Kirbymoorside, donned my boots and pack and
headed East, I got as far as the loo's on the other side of the road
then stopped, it's an age thing. Picking my way through the streets of
Kirbymoorside trying to follow the poorly marked path was a bit tricky
but soon I was climbing over a stile into a field, leaving the houses
behind me. The field was crunchy with frost and the sun was still low in
the sky, it was straight easy going so I got out my phone and texted a
Happy new year message to friends. By the time I had finished my right
hand was frozen and I'd blundered through several large puddles and a
couple of swampy sections. I put the phone away and started to take more
notice of my surroundings, I dropped down into a shallow grassy valley,
a small copse on my right, I noticed a path coming out of the trees
that looked interesting, as I climbed the hill on the other side I saw a
farmer with a quad bike stopped to open a field gate, I headed over to
him. The two Black Labrador's that accompanied him, saw me and barking
loudly, came hurtling towards me, full speed downhill, their coats shone
like gloss paint and they were bursting with health and vitality, they
were the finest dogs I have seen for some time, I gave them a big fuss
which they accepted with enthusiasm. The farmer came over to me, so I
walked to meet him, "Am I going the right way?" I greeted him. "No your
not" he replied, not unfriendly. He pointed out the right way to me then
wishing me a Happy new year he called his dogs and we went in different
directions. My route turned out on to a road for a short section,
passing Kirkdale cave on my right, an old friend of mine Neil Hannan a
man I used to go caving with once dived a sump in this cave, swimming
through the flooded section into some undiscovered passage beyond. An
act requiring a very level head and a huge amount of courage. I turned
right onto a footpath following a small river, the Hodge beck on my left
hand side, the path followed the river bank easily for a short
distance, then it climbed the steep and muddy valley side and twisted
it's way through the trees, I slipped and slid, skated and skidded but
managed somehow to stay upright. On the other side of the river the flat
valley bottom was grassland a hundred feet wide and still white with
frost, the sun was unable to reach it because of the trees on the far
side casting their long shadows across it. Just a narrow strip of the
far river bank was bathed in sunshine, it was cold in the woods and
quiet except for the babbling river, Kim and I have walked this way on
several occasions, the last time I remember was really hot. We crossed
the river, hopped over the fence, hid behind a large thorn bush and
sunbathed in total isolation removing more clothes than was entirely
decent. I disturbed three Deer on the track ahead of me there was
another a little higher up the bank, they had heard the Bear bell I have
on my pack and it sent them scurrying, I watched their fluffy white
tails bound along the trail and into the woods. Soon I came to Hold
Caldron an old water mill which has been converted in to a fine looking
house, it looked frosty, the sun not quite having reached it yet, smoke
drifted up from the chimney, a imperceptible breeze very gently folded
the smoke first to the right then to the left, shafts of sunlight
penetrated the trees nearby turning the frost to a hundred thousand
dewdrop jewels that glistened brightly. Just past the mill the path
turned uphill once more, this time heading for the top of the bank, the
screech of a Buzzard, or maybe a Red Kite could be heard down the
valley. I passed a half eaten Pheasant carcass the breast meat still
soft wet and pink, a part eaten Fox meal perhaps, funny it should be
left like that. The haunting screech of the birds came closer, I looked
to the sky but the canopy of trees overhead restricted my view, a little
further on the trees opened out and I had a clear slot of sky above me.
Two Red Kites soared above me, turning and wheeling effortlessly, I was
in the shade, but these Birds were in full sunshine which shone a pale
silver on their undersides, the black tail and wing-tips contrasting
sharply. They spiralled overhead, masters of the sky their piercing
screech eerily breaking the silence, they drifted away, magnificent and
just a little sinister. I reached the top of the hill and broke out of
the frigid trees into sunshine. The path followed the edge of a field
planted with winter wheat, much less advanced than in the field behind
my house, a score of Rooks clucked irritably leaving their perch in a
small stand of young Sycamores just ahead, hanging on the wind before
turning to flap lazily away, joining dozens of others in a wood a little
further away. The path turned out on to a road which I followed into
the village of Fadmoor, ordinarily I do not like to walk on the road but
I had little choice here. As I have been walking, I have been receiving
replies to the Happy new year text that I had sent earlier, I had also
heard from a very old friend who I haven't seen or spoken to for over
thirty years, so this road walking did nothing to reduce my spirits,
buoyed up from an intoxicating mix of beautiful natural surroundings,
sunshine, fresh air and Bonhomie. On through Fadmoor following the road
to Gillamoor which was as uneventful as you'd expect from road walking
other than finding a two pound piece in the middle of the road. When I
reached the church at Gillamoor a Friend rang to pass on new year
greetings, I sat on a bench and chatted for a few minutes, he was just
about to set off on his own walk, along the shores of Ullswater. I
dropped down a step bank picking up a farm track and following it to
another converted mill, the path went round the back of the building,
over a footbridge crossing the river Dove then climbing steeply through
pasture to a farm called Grouse hall. The land around here turned out to
be mostly bog and as I tried to pick my way through I found myself
ankle deep in mush on several occasions. I reached another footbridge
then climbed steeply and gratefully to drier ground. I was out on open
moorland now and the path was an attractive greensward through autumnal
golden bracken, dessicated and brittle now, sheep keep the path closely
cropped making the walking easy as it skirted the foot of a steep sided
hill known as The Nab. The path started to descend in to Hutton le Hole,
it squeezed between two hedges and it became obvious this was an old
pack horse trail, it cut down deeply into the ground and of course
became a natural drain. It was now no longer a case of trying to find
the driest way but trying to find the shallowest, the last two hundred
yards were completely flooded, I managed to slip through the hedge and
squeeze along between the hedge and the fence of the adjoining field.
Hutton le hole and lunch on a bench in the sunshine, I like it here at
this time of year it's much nicer than full summer. Hutton le hole is a
very, very pretty village and for me that's it's fault, it's just too
neat and pretty, it could do with a patch of nettles, a tumble down barn
and an overgrown rickety gate to nowhere. The wind has been slowly
increasing since early morning and now I have stopped I have to put my
windproof jacket on. I leave Hutton le hole by another pack horse trail
this one washed clean down to the bedrock by floods, cresting another
hill the track becomes an old byway skirting fields and woods, it is
popular with horse riders so is a little cut up but still passable, it
not the worst path I've been on today. Suddenly the path stops at the
edge of a ploughed field, I stop and swear to myself, it cuts right
across this field, it's wet, soft and incredibly muddy, but at least it
is downhill. I set off and within yards my feet have turned to huge
Clodhoppers the size of footballs, they are so big and heavy I have real
difficulty controlling them. As I get further down the hill it gets
wetter and large puddles appear, I try to dodge round them with feet I
can barely control. When I get to the other side the mud is so sticky I
can't get it off, eventually I arrive at a road and stamp my feet
furiously, it dislodges some but not much, but at least I can walk
comfortably now. The sun is getting low in the sky again as I start the
last leg back into Kirbymoorside, I think about Kim as I slip and slide
through the last of the fields and out on to Swineherd road, I miss her.
I pass a skate park that Jack would really like, I must bring him
sometime. HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYBODY.
