Captain's Log

Dentdale

I It was a grey day as I packed up my tent at the Ewegales Farm campsite. The owner of the site had told me yesterday evening that the weather forecast for today was good. The prospects didn’t look that good to me. 

The first part of the walk turned out to be unexpectedly tough with the route winding through areas that were overgrown with grass, nettles and occasional brambles. The leaves were wet too, causing my clothes and boots to get soaked. The foliage was sometimes quite thick so that I couldn’t get a good view of the valley. To be honest, I didn’t enjoy that stretch of the walk that much. There was a single track road that ran parallel to the path down the valley. I reckon if I did this walk again, I’d just use the road instead. Maybe the path would be better in winter when there was less undergrowth to walk through. 

The path improved after I crossed the River Kent on a footbridge with a plaque attached stating ‘This Bridge Was Erected By No140 Airmen Aircrew Initial Training Course From Royal Air Force Finningley on 27-28 June 1987. I used to go cycling near RAF Finningley as a kid; it’s a small world. It was only a small tour of the north side of the river and then I was back on the south side again. The church of Dent came into view and it wasn’t long before I was heading up the road from Church Bridge into the village. 

Dent 

Somewhere in the last few miles I'd walked from Yorkshire into Cumbria, although I was still in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. Rather surreptitiously, Dent transferred to Cumbria in 1974. The centre of Dent was like stepping back into the 19th century with its cobbled main street and old cottages. It was all very pretty. Well, it was until traffic rumbled through the narrow street.

 To my shame, I'd never heard of Dent's Adam Sedgwick before visiting Dent today. There was a huge slab of rock in the village centre inscribed with his name and the date of his birth and death. The memorial seemed a bit out of proportion until you realise that he was the geologist who came up with the Cambrian and Devonian periods in the geological timescale. Coincidentally he was born on what is known as the Dent Fault; the interface between a huge block of granite that lies underneath the whole of the Dales and on the other side, the Silurian and Ordovician gritstones and slates. This why the landscape differs between the limestone outcrops of the Yorkshire Dales traversed so far, and the rounded Howgills that come next. Thanks to the granite support, the limestone above the Yorkshire Dales has remained largely unbuckled and intact giving us all those lovely limestone pavements and outcrops. It is also why buildings usually get built with Slate on the Cumbrian side of the fault, rather than the usual limestone, gritstone and sandstone of the Dales.

I popped into the Dent Store for some grub and exchanged pleasantries with the fellow serving behind the counter. 'It's a bit grey out there, but at least it isn't raining' I said to him. As I left the shop it started raining and it didn't stop until I reached Sedbergh, another two and half hours walk down the valley.

Dent is famous for the 'Terrible knitters of Dent.' 'Terrible' in this sense was meant to describe their speed and skill at knitting items. There wasn't much money it and they had to work long hours just to scrape a living. At least they had a nice landscape to look out on. I think I'd have preferred that life than working in a woollen mill.

Rain

From Dent, the Dales Way followed the River Dee on its southern side. It was flat and easy field hopping, but the rain was putting a damper on things. It would have been an excellent walk on a sunny day. Near to the farm at Brackensgill, the intensity of the rain increased to a level that I had to make a dash for a large tree to shelter under its foliage. The maelstrom lasted 10 minutes during which time I got totally soaked. I transferred back to the north side of the river and came across two large groups of ramblers. They all looked as bedraggled as I probably did. The path gradually climbed uphill until I  breached the edge of the hill revealing a wonderful sight. I could see the buildings of Sedbergh below with the high, rounded tops of the Howgills behind them. I had big plans of stuffing my face with grub and coffee in Sedbergh. I headed towards the place almost at a run. 

Sedbergh

The town sign for Sedbergh said that it was ‘England’s Official Book Town.’ That seems odd, since after I'd walked up and down the main street, I couldn't recall seeing one bookshop. There are probably some; at least half a dozen shops according to the Trailblazer guide. I think I missed them because I was focusing so much on food that my brain just Photoshopped out those establishments that didn’t sell anything edible. I settled on the Number 46 sandwich shop which supplied my rations for both my dinner and tea. It was a great little shop. So good in fact, I went back for seconds. By the time I called in at the Spar, the rain had stopped and the sun was trying to show itself. Things were looking up. 

Sedbergh was another one of those towns that the Dales Way just skirts. Why on earth the trail designers didn’t include the town centre is beyond me. The official route had headed westwards, along the River Rawthey, on the town's outskirts. In order to get back on to the trail I headed through the Sedburgh streets towards the river. On the way I got a good view of the Sedbergh public school. It’ll cost you a hefty £15K a term if you want your offspring to learn and live there (September 2024 prices). I must admit, their rugby pitches looked far better than the dog shite splattered comprehensive school fields on which I used to play. Interestingly, I have a vague memory of having played on this Sedbergh pitch. I went to a comprehensive school, but we played against some public schools too. My attention was drawn to what would look to most people like a grass roller. In fact, in one sense it was a grass roller, but its main function was as a scrum training machine. It had a padded frame on which the scrum packed down against and pushed. Our school scrum machine wasn’t as posh as this one. Rather than pushing a large  roller, ours just had a wooden platform on which the rest of the team  stood. This caused the friction against the ground and the resistance required for the scrum training. It scuffed up the grass, but it was effective. I hated the bloody thing. I was on the front row and the padding was nowhere as near as good as this expensive looking machine in front of me. Happy days. 

Lunedale

The path along the River Rawthey turned out to be quite pleasant. The sun had gone in again and the clouds looked like they might bless me with some more rain.  Just outside of Sedbergh I came across Briggflatts where George Fox, the Quakers founder, resided after his moment of revelation on Pendle Hill (see Quaking Pendle Witches). Unfortunately,  I couldn't get a good view of the house since it was hidden behind hedges. Just after this, the trail left the River Rawthey and went over to join  the River Lune. I'd now follow it northwards through Lunesdale, keeping the towering Howgills on my right. This turned out to be a really nice path too.  I came across the impressive Lune Viaduct with its massive stone piers. It was built between 1857 and 1861 and is another example of the huge railway investment made during the railway boom. The path climbed steeply after the viaduct, through fields until I came to my camp spot for the night at Bramaskew Farm.

Bramaskew Farm

Bramaskew Farm had got a mention as a potential camping spot in my Trailblazer Guide, but I was a bit unsure when I approached the farm house. There weren't any signs about saying that camping was offered. The farmer exited the front door even before I'd had time to knock and he seemed jolly enough. He showed me where I could pitch, which was just outside the farmyard. It wasn't the flattest of pitches, but it'd serve the purpose. I also had access to a utility room that was attached to the house and this had a toilet, shower and also a kettle for making a brew. 

I was surprised to see a Tescos lorry turn up at the farm; I bet this place took some finding. The delivery driver then went past me down the farm track, to another nearby house. I was the only camper at Bramaskew Farm. In fact, I didn't see any other walkers pass along the Dales Way while I was camped there. A nearby section of the field was fenced off and contained some of this year's lambs, most of these being quite large now. One of them had a bad cough. Apparently this could be pneumonia, pleurisy or sheep lungworm.  I heard the poor thing coughing throughout the night.

It had been a rainy and mostly grey day today. It had been quite interesting though with a variety of landscapes and curiosities.