The proper walking headed through the marketplace and under the impressive castle ruins heading to a bridge over the River Swale. Just over the bridge was the old railway station which has been converted into a mini shopping centre. Avoiding the temptation to browse the group continued along the abandoned railway line before heading off across open countryside.

After passing through woodland and nice meadows the group descended back towards Richmond Bridge where there were impressive views across to the Castle. Continuing along the banks of the Swale the route again left Richmond. Passing a car park the group stopped for lunch utilising a set of cleverly carved toadstool shaped table and chairs, which whilst very clever were pretty useless to eat lunch off. The walk continued up a green lane gradually gaining height. The height gain saw views into the Dales beyond and back over Richmond to the North Yorkshire Moors the other side of the town.

Eventually the route descended back into Richmond and a well-earned drink in the still sunny marketplace. This was a very nice walk organised by David Clear, and he has the GPX details should anyone need them. The walk was just under 12 miles with 1600 foot of ascent. David promised a nice walk, and it did indeed prove to be most canny. Certainly, one to be repeated, thanks to David for leading a superb walk that day.

Suitably refueled we set off over the River Swale and walked along the south bank under Richmond Bridge and past the renovated railway station buildings to where the track swung left and round towards the extensive ruins of Easby Priory.

Here on a large elbow of the Swale in a riverbank clearing is a seated viewing area. As we rounded the corner an enterprising young man engaged us in a conversation from the trailer café conveniently parked there, that clearly suited all three of us.

Armed with a drink or ice cream of choice we sat and enjoyed the view for a moment, reminiscing on the last time we were in Richmond hiding in shop doorways and spending time in the Green Howards museum to avoid the wet.

Then it was time to crack on past the Priory, back into town to the car and make our way to Grinton Lodge for 5pm in order to be able to book everyone in.

After a very satisfying and, you’ll not be surprised to hear, a substantially traditional Grinton special fry up, Dave’s Saturday walk looked to be a pleasant circular effort, straight out of the door, up onto Harkerside Moor and pivoting around Gibbon Hill. A lovely uphill stroll, heading South to Apedale, and taking in some typical moorland scenery, complete with mine workings and shooting butts aplenty. The sun was shining and I was particularly honoured to have as my companion, young George, who told me all about the fascinating origins of oil, where we get it from and what we do with it.

There is an admirable intelligence in that young man and an intellect brewing which will surprise us all, I’m sure. As Mr Goldsmith said- ‘And still they gazed and still the wonder grew, that one small head could carry all he knew’. Hardly surprising really. He has a good pedigree.

The excellent company of Janet and her family made for a thoroughly enjoyable ascent all the way to the resting point at Greets Hill, where George couldn’t resist scaling the cairn for a photo opportunity.

Dave’s plan was a descent from there down to a junction with Apedale named The Sheepfold. From there the walk turned west along Apedale Road to commence the long loop back to Grinton. This route is part of the well-known Herriott Way Walk, a 52-mile, four day, ‘square’ trek in fact, through Wensleydale and Swaledale, some of the loveliest scenery in all the Yorkshire Dales. It used to take in the YHA hostels at Aysgarth, Grinton, Keld and Hawes but Aysgarth and Keld are no more, though alternative accommodation isn’t a problem if you fancy it.

Having done the walk previously in both directions of the clock, I took the decision to risk a charge of being anti-social and to continue straight on down from The Sheepfold and across Bolton Moor, with just a couple of miles more to go to the picturesque, tiny village of Castle Bolton on the edge of Wensleydale.

We all carried on up Apedale until it was time for lunch, and a suitable sheltered sunny spot appeared. Here we were all regaled by George in full flow on a variety of subjects. He had us all in stitches.

Continuing on up to the high point close to High Carl at 555 metres, against the flow of very light (4) mountain bike traffic, the path hangs a right by a ford and some waterfalls. It was on this moorland flank high above Heulaugh and Reeth that the presence of nesting plovers was brought to our attention. At one point we became aware of an electronic-like high pitched beeping which on closer observation turned out to be a pair of golden plovers distracting us as their chick made good its escape deeper into the moor.

Eventually on another high point we began to catch glimpses of the hostel, and with a little gentle encouragement we all accompanied George as he completed his first ten-mile walk. His Grandad would have been so proud, as we all returned to our various accommodations for a well-earned cuppa.

My motive was rather transparent as I intended to finally visit Bolton Castle, the splendid, almost intact, medieval edifice that dominates the village named after it. I’ve never had the time to stop and look it over when I’ve passed by before and I was determined to do it justice that day. And it was not to disappoint.

As castles go, it is mostly as it was built in the 1300’s. Slighted somewhat in conflicts of the past so as not to be of further military use, it remains a marvellous example of what we all believe a castle should look like. The towers are in place, the massive, fortified gateway impressively illustrating how difficult it would have been to gain admittance without a cordial invite, and plenty of arrow slits and murder holes to deal swiftly with anybody who managed to force a way in under arms.

After a leisurely pot of tea and accompanying buttered scone in the welcoming cafeteria, I wandered at leisure from base to battlements, with each floor becoming more interesting than the one below. A bearded, hairy enthusiast, dressed like Henry the Eight’s minder, told me all I needed to know about a sword and where to stick it, rather too gruesomely as it happens. (I think he just worked there but he looked like he’d been around for quite some time) They’ve done a good job returning the rooms on the upper floors to what they believe they may have looked like over the centuries. Tapestries and wall hangings on plastered and painted walls are a far cry from the usual bare stone walls found in less intact old ruins. Big fireplaces must have eaten enormous amounts of wood to heat up such large rooms but by all accounts, the great and the good were kept warm and comfortable.
Nothing new there then.

One of the country’s most well-travelled and best accommodated guests, albeit involuntarily, was of course, Mary Queen of Scots and she was in residence here for six months in 1568.For a prisoner she was remarkably well catered for. She took over the owner’s apartments, which you can see, and had a retinue of 50 people to look after her needs. Just the usual cooks, grooms, embroiderers, dressers, apothecary, physician and surgeon, not forgetting of course, her personal hairdresser.

Apparently, as she knew she would be moved around a lot, she liked to travel light. I had the origin of the term ‘garderobe’ explained to me in some detail. What we now take to be the name of a very simple medieval castle toilet, was given its title because expensive clothing was hung in the smallest room to be exposed to the very pungent aroma of ammonia emanating from all that had accumulated at the foot of the castle walls, and now rising continually up the primitive open plumbing. They believed the smell killed moths and fleas or at least persuaded them to go munch on the clothes of some unfortunate peasant outside the castle. This early forerunner of the mothball was done to ‘guard the robe’.
Simples!

A wander around the grounds revealed a lovely, small but interesting medieval era garden with a maze, a herb garden, some outdoor vines, rose bushes and a flower meadow. I was unfortunately one day too early to catch the Falconry display.

All in all, my sort of an afternoon and well worth the visit.

That left a five mile walk back to Grinton but the weather and the lovely bright light of sunny early evening was on my side and retracing my steps back up to Bolton Moor and Greets Hill, I took the steady walk down to the gates of Grinton Hostel on what was a rewarding two-hour amble.

I was back just in time to join the tea and cake set sitting outside, taking in the fading warmth of a falling sun before a wash and brush up prior to the well-earned, deserved meal and a Guinness or three, awaiting at The Bridge Inn.

A lovely opportunity, taken at last, to visit somewhere I may not be seeing again and a day well spent.

Finding our way out of Reeth and back across the Arkle Beck, no one fancied the stepping stones, so we used the bridge. From here we walked under Fremington Edge to Castle with its house and farm and continued to the Slel Gill ford with its new footbridge close by. Last time the previous bridge was still lying on its side on the next major curve of the beck where the storm flood of 2019 had flung it.

This time we did not go up to Booze, sticking instead to the marshy land closer to the beck. As well as planting many trees on the steep slopes of the Edge, a number of new scrapes have been made together with beaver-like twig dams and other water retaining walls in an attempt to slow and ease the torrents of water that can be shed from this landscape.

Much discussion and identifying of the numerous plants and flowering bushes in this boggy area took place with Simon and Stu. Mr Caulton correctly identifying pentaglottis sempervirens will not surprise you.

Eventually with a little right and left among the houses as you approach the bridge over the beck in Langthwaite the open door of the Red Lion Inn appeared.

The walk headed down to the River Swale and crossed what is known as the Swing Bridge. The original swing bridge was washed away in floods and is now rebuilt as a mini suspension footbridge. Continuing along the river side on boardwalks there was a lovely set of stepping stones to explore before heading into Healaugh. The walk then headed up hill steeply on a minor road before a path broke off to ascend Reeth Low Moor which is just under 1600 feet in height. On the ascent there were Lapwings and Oyster Catchers galore. At times the group had to be careful as there were Lapwing chicks on the path, and they were very well camouflaged This peak had been recommended by David Clear and he promised really good 360-degree views. Again, the promised views were delivered in spades with expansive views in every direction.
The route descended occasionally using the coast-to-coast footpath into Reeth. Inevitably there was a further visit to the ice cream shop and the acquisition of some nice plastic tubs for Marcus and his pet maggots.