Yorkshire Wolds Way: Some comments.

Although not the most well known National Trail, the Yorkshire Wolds Way is popular and those who have walked it speak well of this long distance path.

While lacking the drama of more extreme landscapes, the chalk hills of the Wolds have a graceful beauty. Swooping valleys turn this way and that, while the farmed fields of the higher ground open up extensive vistas over the Vales of Pickering and York. As the underlying rock is chalk, seen as white pebbles in the fields, the valleys are dry, without any stream or brook running down them. The rain just sinks into the ground. Villages nestle in valleys, red brick or white painted houses, with ancient churches and old pubs. Mixed woodland occupy some slopes adding variety. When I walked through in early April daffodils and blackthorn blossom brightened my day. Wooden, carved acorns; Sculptures, and strangely shaped benches along the way provide add interest.

Extending from Filey, a town popular with tourists on the Yorkshire coast, to Hessle, on the Humber Estuary it is 126 kilometres (79 miles) long which I walked in six days without too much effort. As a National Trail the waymarking is good, although a map or GPS is needed to avoid problems if you stray from the path or miss a sign. Accommodation is available every night but in places is thinly spread so it is wise to plan ahead. As mainly farmland it is not suitable for wild camping, however there are a few official campsites on the route. Most of the trail is on paths or farm tracks with easy walking although with many ascents and descents. In early April when I walked it could be muddy in places but later in the year the mud should dry out and the crops in the fields turn from green to golden. At 79 miles this is a long distance path that will be within the capabilities of most people.

South Cave to Hessle: E2 Day 75

My last day on the Yorkshire Wolds Way, a day of hills and a muddy, riverside walk to reach the giant Humber Bridge.

I had thought that the hills would disappear today as I approached the River Humber. This was incorrect. I spent the morning climbing up and down the rounded wolds, often in mixed woodland. Many people were out for a stroll, enjoying Easter Sunday and the dry if slightly misty weather. 

Another dale on the Yorkshire Wolds Way. 

Deviating into Welton on the chance of a café I discovered a coffee shop in the Memorial Hall. I enjoyed my coffee and carrot cake sitting outside with a view of the Green Dragon Inn where Dick Turpin, the highwayman, is said to have been captured. A classic English village with an old pub, ancient church, village green and duck pond.

After an empty Scout camp the path went by a large chalk quarry. It was well hidden and I was only alerted to its existence by the informative signs. Glimpses of the Humber Bridge were visible before it was hidden by a final hill. Having crossed the busy A63 dual carriageway at an intersection I reached the flood plain of the wide River Humber. A final flat section through woodland took me to the river itself. Here a problem arose for those who planned the path. Nearby houses had extended their gardens over the river embankment forcing the Yorkshire Wolds Way onto the muddy, tidal foreshore of the river. An alternative route was available for when it was high tide, but having reached this point when the tide was receding, I made my way along the mud beneath the large boulders of the sea defences. Fortunately, the liquid mud overlay more solid gravel but care was needed to avoid slipping or tripping over scattered rocks. I wondered if the owners of the houses above had been wise to occupy the sea defences. With rising waters associated with climate change I could see from marks on the rocks left by high tide that the embankment would soon need to be raised, and who would be responsible for this?

River Humber foreshore where the Wolds Way is forced onto the mud.

In time it was possible to climb up into a park area where a display board described the bronze age remains of wooden boats found in the mud of the river. An outline of such a boats was shown in the grass nearby. 40 feet or more in length they were maybe used to ferry people across the Humber thousands of years before the bridge was built. The park funnelled me onto a good track between the river and, for a Sunday, a surprisingly busy railway line. In front of me the Humber Bridge gradually became closer, its slender construction and the graceful curve of the wires between the thin towers a testament to skill of civil engineers in designing such a light structure. One that has carried countless cars and heavy goods vehicles in the 40 years or so since my now wife agreed to marry me in a restaurant that once stood in its shadow. The restaurant, housed in the old ferry, has now gone, there is still a car park by where it was moored. Between this car park and the road, a new flood barrier has been installed made largely of glass panels. I suppose these look less obtrusive (if more expensive) than a concrete wall. Contemplating such thoughts on a riverside bench I licked a "99" ice cream.

Humber Bridge. 

Although there was a stone sculpture by the ice cream seller, with the National Trails acorn, similar to the one in Filey, this was not the end of the Yorkshire Wolds Way. The finish (or start) was at a sign further down river. I made sure to reach it so that I could confidently assert I had walked the complete length of this National Trail when applying for my Silver National Trails certificate (indicating I had walked ten of Britain's National Trails).

Market Weighton to South Cave: E2 Day74

A lovely day of patchy sun among green fields across an undulating landscape. 

My day began trying to find the route of the Yorkshire Wolds Way out of town, there being some confusion with the Hudson Way and Wilberforce Way. The correct route was along the bed of an old railway, built by a company chaired by George Hudson. A sign said he ended up in a debtor's prison accused of falsifying his books. Another sign informed me about St Helen's Well, an ancient spring beside the old railway. People had taken to tying pieces of cloth on a nearby tree maybe for good luck or their health.

For most of the day, the Wolds Way followed paths by fields of young crops and quiet roads. Hills were lower today and the valleys more shallow than during recent days. In some valleys sheep with recently born lambs watched me pass by or munched on the grass. As on previous days hawthorn hedges, bare of leaves, lined the horizon, although they were not an effective barrier, with large gaps between individual bushes. However the songs of numerous birds showed they were appreciated by diverse species.

Neatly trimmed hedges on the skyline, a feature of the area. 

The Wolds Way curves through a valley with lower sides than those earlier days.

On this sunny Easter Saturday many people were out. Runners on their own, couples with dogs, families and larger groups. Some runners moved with graceful ease while others, with perhaps larger girths, panted red faced as they jogged along. Youths walked bare chested in the warmth of the sun, showing their soft, white skin. One lad in a "Stay Wild" tee shirt was sitting on the wayside, his boots off and with obvious blisters. I made some comment and would have offered more encouragement or plasters but he was busy looking at his phone.

As the miles to South Cave on the finger posts slowly reduced, I entered a wooded valley, steeper sided than others today. It began with a steep downhill path. A child coming the other way wanted to know how far to the top it was. Not far I assured him. Further on, looking over a vineyard, I spotted the wide River Humber in the distance, tomorrow's destination and the end of Yorkshire and the Yorkshire Wolds Way. 

The Yorkshire Wolds Way curving down a wooded valley.

I turned off the Wolds Way to enter the village of South Cave, and after visiting the Westend Café (where I seemed the only customer with no dog) I walked up to my hotel. As this was a castle the drive approaching it was rather long. I felt very indulgent as it was an expensive place to stay, I should have spent longer looking at other options. However I also believe in experiencing a range of accommodation and justify such expense by saving money when camping. Anyway, it was not a real Castle, it was probably Victorian. 

My rather indulgent residence for the night.

Fridaythorpe to Market Weighton: E2 Day 73

A sunny day to admire the valleys and views of the Wolds.

Today sunshine blessed the country. The dales looked beautiful with their smooth curves, sides swooping down to curvaceous bottoms before rising up the opposite slope. These valleys, down which no stream or river now flowed, turned right angle corners, one way and then the other, as if wishing to avoid too direct a route or else hide a secret glen. Looking up from the valley base, I saw lines of trees on the skyline. Still lacking leaves their silhouettes guarded the valley, or else hedges stood on the horizon, marking the valleys limits, their tops sharply cut in a neat line. Occasional trees on the slopes cast shadows in the morning sun.

Trees on the skyline.

Entering a valley. 

My path crawled down valleys only to rise up the other side, or else it crossed the farmed, flattened tops of the Wolds giving views across the Vale of York to the Pennine mountains in the far distance. I spotted the cooling towers of the Drax power station 27 kilometres away. It was notable for using pellets of wood to produce power rather than coal, its previous fuel. Provided the trees cut to produce the pellets are replanted, it is almost a carbon neutral technology as the carbon dioxide produced by burning the wood is absorbed by the growth of the new trees. I chatted about such things with a couple out for a day hike, and bemoaned the shrinking of the Athabasca glacier in Canada which we had both visited. It is receding partly because of rising world temperatures associated with increasing amounts of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. There has been progress, as they commented you could once see three or four coal fired power stations from the Wolds. Now only Drax remains, while in the haze to its left I could see a wind farm, producing power from the breeze. 

Millington village as seen from the Wolds Way, nestled in a valley with the Vale of York in the distance. 

Despite the large cultivated fields, there were wild flowers by the hedges and trackside; a line of purple dead nettle, a scattering of yellow celandine. Although doubtless a deliberate planting, clumps of daffodils appeared in random places. A red kite turned on the wind while pheasants shrieked at my approach and skylarks sang their endless song above a patch of ground.

There were a number of curious benches like this one with phrases written on them. Normal benches were also in greater abundance than on most trails.

Many people and their dogs were about today, maybe as it was both good weather and Good Friday. For the latter reason the church was open in the village of Londesborough, so I looked inside. The vicar in his long black robe offered a sheet of prayers appropriate to the day on which Jesus died, but I chose to pray in my own way in the quiet of the ancient church for the health and happiness of my family. A notice in the street nearby told how the village had ancient roots. Most villages in the area seem to have these informative signs speaking of Roman origins, an appearance in the Doomsday book, the historic church and the influence of the Manor house.

After Londesborough the path splits for a stretch. I chose the alternative that led to Market Weighton, the small town where I had booked accommodation for the night. On this last stretch I was on flatter, clay rich farmland, having lost the glories of the Wolds. The streets of Market Weighton were lined with red brick houses, and small shops. I was especially pleased to find a café open offering coffee, cake and pottery painting. The pottery painting will have to wait for another time!

My bedroom for the night has half height panelling and a large ensuite bathroom with some antique plumbing including a high level cistern above the toilet with a chain to pull (reminding me of my childhood). Despite the age of the taps and pipes everything except the bidet seemed to work. As the hotel did not offer food, the receptionist-cum-barmaid suggested a nearby restaurant for dinner. Although fully booked they squeezed me in late as the place was winding down. I should have checked the menu first as it was an expensive place to eat, but the scallops with curried parsnip sauce were really good and the dressing with the artichoke tart had just the right acidity.

Wolds Way Camping to Fridaythorpe: E2 Day 72

A wet night and start to the day, the weather improving later as I walked through empty valleys.

Last night the sound of raindrops on my flysheet mingled with a continuous "whir" from some machinery on the farm, although the cows had become quiet. Rain continued this morning as I packed up as a grey light reluctantly announced a new day. By 6:30 am I was on my way, as were worms and slugs, taking advantage of the wetness to cross paths and roads in front of me.

Appearing out of the rain a kilometre or so down the trail, a group of white figures emerged. An art work made more sinister by the surrounding mist, and because the figures were hiding swords behind their backs. At the same location there was an avenue of wooden staves leading to a small lake. Inspired by iron age chalk figures and burial mounds it would have been less effective in bright sunshine. Several sculptures grace the Yorkshire Wolds Way adding an extra layer of interest to the trail.

Mysterious figures.

Descending a steep slope through woods to Wintringham I surprised a black labrador and its owner who had not expected anyone to be out so early. By the village a sign said the historic church was open, so I diverted to have a look. However I was disappointed that the door would not budge. Maybe it opened later in the day or else the door was very stiff. Crossing open fields and areas of mixed woodland, visibility in the rain and mist was initially poor. After hitting my face the rain was managing to roll down my neck and wet the front of my "base layer" as well as entering where my arms exited my waterproof jacket.  Thankfully on reaching the next village of Wharram le Street the rain had stopped so I could eat a Yorkie bar I had saved without getting even more damp.

Not far beyond lay the abandoned medieval village of Wharram Percy. Although a street of houses have been excavated, the only sign of these are mounds in the grass. There were two exceptions, the ruins of a church and a much later 19th century farm building. 

Roofless remains of the church at medieval village of Wharram Percy.

Leaving this ancient site by an old mill pond, I met a few people walking the Yorkshire Wolds Way. They were heading towards Filey, as were the two girls I met yesterday, and two men at the campsite in the evening. It seems that was the more popular direction to walk the path, I was travelling against the flow.

Thixendale was the next village, the one street of houses nestling in a valley, hills rising each side. From there a road sign stated that Fridaythorpe, where I was spending the night, was three miles away. I was a little annoyed that the Wolds Way was taking a longer route. However it was for good reason as the path took me through some beautiful "dales". Green, dry valleys with swooping straw coloured  sides and rounded shoulders, their curves teased me as to what might be around the corner.

Thixendale village. 

Typical dry valley in the Wolds, look carefully and there are the spirals of an artwork on the valley floor.

I reached Fridaythorpe, with its duck pond, architectural bus shelter and ancient church, in time for a coffee and panini at the (motor) bikers cafe. Bikers related stuff hung on the walls. Then I set up my tent on a small area of grass by a pond and some glamping cabins. The nearby pub had a sign proclaiming it a steakhouse and I anticipated a good meal. My hopes were dashed, the pub was closed for some indefinite period, it was tuna and pita bread for me.

Ganton to Wolds Way Camping: E2 Day 71

 A short day walking in very wet weather.

After a hearty breakfast, which I ate while admiring the garden of the Bed & Breakfast and the Vale of Pickering beyond, I began my walk, following the main road for the few kilometres back to Ganton. The rain began shortly after I started and did not stop. Not heavy, but continuous, it did little to improve my journey. 

As the distance I planned to walk today was relatively short, I did not hurry, turning off the road towards Ganton church. In front of the building was a "Garden of Reflection", as the centre piece was a pond, I thought this maybe a play on words. Marsh Marigolds around the edge in bright, yellow flower brightened up the dull day and it looked like there would be a good display of irises later in the year. Surrounded by gravestones with fading inscriptions the church itself was locked. Leaving the village of white painted, red tiled houses I continued on the Yorkshire Wolds Way. The owner of the Bed & Breakfast at Willerby said to look out for the white pheasants, a colouration I had not known possible for these birds. Although I saw lots of pheasants they were all of the normal colours, maybe a few were a whitish brown but no pure white ones. A farmer on a Quad bike stopped to say hello, I thought afterwards I should have asked him.

Although the path does not enter Sherburn, it passes close so I detoured into the village. My reward was a coffee and large chocolate flapjack sitting out of the rain in the general store. I felt guilty for not buying a healthy sandwich. After Sherburn the path climbed up the escarpment through fields and copses of trees, looking stark and bare in the mist and rain. On a fine day there would have been extensive views over the Vale of Pickering, the low ground between the Wolds and the Cleveland hills, but today the visibility through the falling rain was poor. Two other people were walking the Yorkshire Wolds Way, I met them as they walked towards me through the rain, somehow it felt better not being the only person on the trail.

Misty views.

Not sure of the purpose of the rabbit warning.

After a section of daffodil lined woodland I turned off to the Wolds Way campsite. As the person in charge was busy with calving cows I had a little trouble paying. Fortunately the lady cleaning the toilet block was helpful. Unfortunately the recent mowing of the field, combined with the wet weather, meant her work was soon undone as clumps of cut grass were brought in on peoples' footwear.

Now I am sitting listening to the rain beating down on my tent's flysheet and the bellowing of cows, at a wide variety of pitches, presumably in the throws of labour in the nearby farm buildings.

Filey to Ganton: E2 Day 70

A sunny day and a huge contrast to the recent coastal walking as I climb over the rounded hills of the Wolds.

It was one of those day when a high pressure weather system gave constant sunshine and a cloudless blue sky, the horizon blurred with haze. Such weather was also responsible for a cold night, my tent's flysheet was stiff with frost this morning. A super day to start the Yorkshire Wolds Way.

The Wolds were rounded hills, either green with grass or young crops or brown having just been ploughed. Although the soil was often more white than brown with the numerous fragments of chalk in the soil. For chalk is the underlying rock that gives the Wolds its character. Permeable so that water sinks into the ground rather than forming streams so that the valleys are "dry" with no streams or surface water. The chalk in this area must be fairly hard to be visible, scattered in the fields, further south you see only fragments of flint, harder siliceous material which form nodules in the chalk rock, rarely pieces of chalk. Nevertheless, the chalk is still too soft to form outcrops of rock but instead allowed the landscape to form gentle shapes of smooth curves. On the steeper slopes, and sometimes as a wind break, there are trees, bare of leaves at this time of year (early April). Although the fields are large, the path follows hawthorn hedges at times. 

Most of the path was straight today, periodically making right angle turns. It went straight up hills then straight down them, rather than bending into the contours. Fortunately, the tracks are not too muddy, whether because of the chalk soil, the lack of rain for a few days or the limited number of walkers. Although a National Trail, the Yorkshire Wolds Way is less popular than many others, although the people who have walked it speak well of it. Today I met no-one beyond a dog walker near Filey.

Path crossing a dry valley. 

A shame as the skylarks were belting out their songs above me and I spotted a hare chasing another around a field. I assumed it a male (maybe a mad March hare a little late) chasing a female. He evidently did not understand that "no means no". The female outpaced him and the male was forced to give up. It was only then he noticed me, and hopped off.

The only other sight of note today was an RAF radar station surrounded by a high fence and lights. I saw no radar dome only a large aerial that looked more like a mobile phone mast. 

Stopping to look at the view.

The views were good, especially later in the day across the broad valley to the north (the "Vale of Pickering"). However as I could see Scarborough in the distance it felt as if I was making little progress. 

If they had answered their phone I might have stayed at the pub in the small village of Ganton. Not receiving an answer I booked into a Bed & Breakfast at Willerby, a village a few kilometres off the Wolds Way. As I had time I walked to Ganton then turned back on myself, following the busy road in an easterly direction to Willerby. Fortunately there was a pavement or cycle path all the way, as the heavy vehicles were passing at speed.

Scarborough to Filey: E2 Day 69

A sunny day through holiday towns, by beaches and on cliff top paths.

I began by climbing up to Scarborough Castle ruins. Dating from the 12th century the castle has a prominent, and for medieval warfare, an easily defensible position. Turner, the artist, was inspired by the romantic ruins, making several watercolours of them. Unfortunately the portcullis was down when I reached its gates, and not due to open until later in the day, so I continued on my way down to Scarborough's small harbour. Around the promenade that bordered the beach, the streets were full of ice cream stalls, fish and chip shops, gift shops and amusement arcades fighting for the tourists' money. For the visitor looking for something more adventurous fishing expeditions and speedboat rides were on offer ("speed, beauty and power" the advert claimed). Scarborough has long been a tourist town, especially with the arrival of the railway in the 19th century. I saw an advert for a donkey ride beneath the massive Victorian Grand Hotel, but no donkeys, a pity as this would have fitted the image of an old British holiday resort along with the old funicular railway carrying people up and down the cliff.

Scarborough, the Grand Hotel is to the left.

The curve of sand was a long one and I followed it to its rocky end on the Cleveland Way. A detour was advised at high tide at the end of the beach but the tide was well out as I walked by. The next few miles were somewhat up and down with steps to assist in places. I was walking on some wooded slopes as well as beside fields and caravan parks. At one point a man on a bicycle stopped to point out the remains of a trawler that had been wrecked on the rocks. Only its boiler was visible and only now it was low tide. Cayton beach spread out beside me for a while, another long expanse of sand.

Path approaching Cayton beach.

People on the beach as seen from the cliff top path.

As I hiked the final miles of cliff top, Scarborough was intermittently visible behind me, getting progressively smaller. The town could still be seen from Filey Brigg, a sliver of land poking out into the sea, blessed with drifts of daffodils on one side. Filey Brigg also marked the end of the Cleveland Way and the start of the Yorkshire Wolds Way, the next part of the E2, which will take me inland tomorrow. A stone sculpture with the National Trails Acorn marked the beginning and end of these trails.

Like Scarborough, Filey was another tourist town, with a long curving promenade, sandy beach, fast food, ice cream and gift shops. On the south side of town I thought the Crescent Gardens looked particularly attractive, with beds of hyacinths, backed by a terrace of grand, white Victorian houses.

Filey.

As the weather is fine and to save a few pounds I am camping tonight. A lonely tent, most people preferring the comfort of motorhomes and caravans.