Hebden

Near to Hebden, a suspension bridge stretched across the river. It is said that it was built after a man called Joseph Slack drowned when crossing the river using the nearby stepping stones. The only record of a local Joseph Slack was a Hebden coal miner who died in 1869, fifteen years before the possibility of a bridge was mooted. So, maybe we shouldn't read much into the tale. I wouldn't have fancied crossing the stepping stones today. Crossing the bridge would have continued the Dale's Way to Burnsall. I headed off from the river towards some nearby cottages. I waited for a couple of women to get through a gate in a stone wall. Three boisterous dogs preceded them. I'd read countless signs along the river bank about keeping dogs on leads because of the sheep, but these dogs looked as though they had the freedom of the Dales. I hoped the rabbits would get back in their burrows before they arrived.

The footpath followed Hebden Beck and meandered through the back gardens of the houses of Hebden. A small-scale water treatment plant was surreally placed in the bottom of a small valley. Surprisingly, it didn't smell much. The path gradually made its way upwards to the centre of Hebden. I noticed a gold post box. Apparently this is to commemorate Andrew Triggs Hodge who won gold for rowing in the 2012 Olympic Games. He grew up in the village, honing his craft on the nearby Grimwith Reservoir. Hebden was a very pretty village with a collection of twee cottages and overlooked by a moorland crag known as Edge Top. I sat down on a bench and admired the view while munching in contemplation on an apple.

Hebden Beck

I was tempted to take a path up to Edge Top but instead followed the road that shadowed Hebden Beck northwards. The OS map indicated a waterfall further up and I wanted to check it out. It turned out that the waterfall was partially covered by undergrowth and so I didn't get a good photo. The other bank would have offered a better viewpoint, but involved stepping across the beck on a combination of a metal plate and wet stepping stones. I didn't fancy it given the amount of water coming down the beck and so I left that path for another day. The tarmac road terminated at Hole Bottom <snigger, snigger> and a stone track continued to follow the beck northwards. I came across the remnants of some old mine workings. The day had greyed over now and the valley had gone from pretty to a little desolate. There was even a spot or two of rain in the chilly wind. I hunkered down behind a small retaining wall and retrieved a cheese sarnie from my rucksack. A couple walked walk past with their dog and were surprised to find me behind the wall. They seemed quite jolly and we had a brief conversation about the change in weather. As I started packing up to set off again, another young walker past me and started heading off up the valley. At least I'd have somebody to show me the way now.

Yarnbury Mines

I saw the lad about 50 yards in front staring at his map and looking like he was lost. I have to confess that the OS map isn't the clearest at this point. I'd seen a sign, before I'd stopped for lunch, saying that the other side of the beck could be accessed by stepping stones further up. Sure enough, I spotted some large blocks in the beck and so I crossed them and continued on the path on the other side. I could see the chap still looking at his map and I thought about bellowing over to him about the stepping stones, but I felt I might be intruding on what might be a navigational challenge. The path continued upwards, eventually reaching some spoil heaps where it turned westwards. The mineworks looked quite extensive. I could even see a chimney over on the skyline to the east. The track brought me to the old Yarnbury lead mineworks. It is well worth spending time wandering around this place and imagining what it was like during its industrial past. There are many information boards dotted about the place describing what the place had looked like and how the lead extraction process worked. The working environment looked a bit grim to me. I think I'd much have preferred to have been a shepherd in those days. An information board said that some of the miners came from Derbyshire, and then curiously casted doubt on such a claim. There are lots of tracks and stone walls up here and it could be easy to get a little disorientated. The next part of my walk continued from the house at the road end of Yarnbury, and so I set off in that direction. I noticed the lad, who had been puzzling over his map, now making his way on a path over to Hebden. I was glad that he'd found his way.

Grassington National

I followed a stone track from Yarnbury northeastwards.  A stone wall enclosed the lane on either side and I didn't get that much of a view. I couldn't even see a farmer who scooted past on an ATV, on the other side of the wall. Before reaching the derelict High Barn I turned off on a path that headed south eastwards towards Grassington.  The fields run in long north to south lines around here and the route involved hurdling the walls in order to make progress. It's a bit like jumping the fences in the Grand National. The stiles aren't always visible from afar, but the grassy trail formed by previous walkers, delivers you from one wall to the next. The wall hopping certainly gives the legs a good workout. I dropped into the north side of Grassington and made my way down the main street. It was busy with tourists shuffling between the trinket and cake shops. I felt a bit out of place with my sweaty brow and muddied gaiters. I didn't linger and headed off to Sedber Lane and the path down to Linton Falls. The path is quite narrow with a stone wall either side. I had to breathe in now and again in order to let groups of people pass me, as they came back to Grassington from the waterfalls. Back at the carpark, the couple who I'd met up at the lead mines, were taking their boots off at the car next to mine. We exchanged notes on our walks and we'd more a less done the same walk but in the opposite directions. It's a small world.

'Don't judge a book by its cover' as the saying goes. The walking version of this is 'Don't judge a walk by what it looks like on a map.' This walk had a wonderful  variety of scenery and historic interest that wasn't immediately obvious from the map.