#kildale

So I’m checking the departures board on York station and notice the train that’s taking me to Darlington and the first change, is running late. No probs thinks I until I conduct a few mental gymnastics with arrival times and departure times and finally come to the conclusion that if I go on my designated train, I’m doomed to failure so I hitch a ride on a passing NLER (Richard’s failed enterprise that makes a profit in public hands but fails miserably in the private sector). I’m not meant to be on this train so I’m keeping my head low. I learnt all this subterfuge from a master, the illustrious Peter Fleming.

    We’re well past half way when the guard tells us that the next station is Darlington and we’ll be there in 11 minutes, now I can’t hold my breath for 11 minutes but I’m beginning to feel confident when the carriage door does its Starship Enterprise ‘sssshhh’, and a lady in a uniform steps in. I’ve been rehearsing some bullshit and do a final silent run through when she walks past and ignores us all to deal with a lost bag. 12 minutes later I’m standing on Darlington Station with breathing returning to normal, and waiting for the Saltburn connection. I’m not sure I’d make a good fraudster, they’d see it on my face. 

    The Saltburn train makes an appearance bang on time so no subterfuge necessary. It looks quite old but internally it’s well kitted out and very nearly comfortable. It stops at every station and halt on the way with the guard ensuring folks exit and alight safely and offers assistance without prompting. We stop at Middlesbrough and the guard, once again, offers help regarding the platform for the Whitby train.

Now for the wonderful Esk Valley line – this is ‘a great service’ AND ‘great service’.

We’re all aboard the Whitby ‘express’. It also calls at James Cook Memorial Hospital so Graham, the guard, is on standby yet again to ensure infirm or anyone struggling is taken care of.

As the train begins to move he announces the route and the stops along the way, he mentions the quirks of any of the stations and throws in a few safety instructions too but here’s the twist – he does all this in rhyme! As I look around the coach everyone is smiling.

The tiny, two coach unit is jogging along now and Graham, is checking or selling tickets but, with each one, he adds some pearl of advice, “Be careful when you step out at that one, there’s a bit of a gap” or, “There’s some lovely walks from that station”, all delivered with a smile.

He’s joking with some people buying tickets, there’s a few of them so he’s referring to the roll of tickets winding their way off his machine, “You’ll be able to decorate your house when I’ve finished”, he says, then someone asks for a discount, “Discount, you’ll wanting Green Shield stamps next”,. He’s none stop and wonderfully refreshing. Ok, it’s not going to win any prizes for intellectual humour but it’s first rate fun.

The stations along the way are decorated, some are festooned with knitted lambs, others have pictures of cartoon sheep on ships and all are interconnected by this fabulous line winding its way through countryside that would do justice to any chocolate box or inspire a new Constable.

We stop at Battersby Junction and here’s a tip. If you want to complete the rest of the journey to Whitby pointing forward, make sure you go into Battersby sitting with your back to the front of the train. At this station, the driver walks from the current front to the new front and the train leaves the station the way it came in. As we leave I see a scarecrow sheep with a smile on its face and a pointer indicating the way to Whitby.

We’re heading for Kildale now which is a halt servicing a community of 147 in an area of 5730 acres and it’s here that we pick up the rest of the team. The station itself nestles in a glade surrounded by broad leafed trees with a footbridge usually associated with another platform, but not this one, it leads to the church! There’s also a tiny free car park with toilets looked after by ghosts that are never seen but the facilities are always clean and, more importantly, open.

    The ‘boys’, if I use the term with a touch of irony as Peter’s birthday has just tipped the balance from average age late 60’s to just over 70.

  The rest of the journey is through Postman Pat countryside with lanes and narrow roads linking the stations and halts to villages of 5 or 10 properties and the occasional minor town but all seem to have a pub or tiny shop and sometimes both.

    The communities in this dale are scattered but they’re still close knit and look out for each other. I remember fifty years ago as a fitter with the North Riding County Council working on snowblowers in the depths of winter. I only once had to call upon the hospitality of these lovely people and on the cold snowy day that I did it was warm, generous and without hesitation. The snowblower had water in the diesel and it had frozen and a farmer’s plough had clipped my van when it slid across the icy road realigning the front wheels and rendering it unusable. I was cold and whilst I could have kipped down in the van for the night if I’d left the engine running, it can be risky due to fumes finding their way back into the vehicle as the heat creates channels in the snow that can bleed back into the vehicle. Apart from all that Ken, the tractor driver that had clipped the van was insistent and we made our way back to his cottage where a fire was lying dormant but ready for the opening of the grate. Even though there were no flames the cottage felt warm relative to the ice and snow outside. Within minutes the flames were licking the fire back and the heat was making our faces glow. I don’t remember seeing a TV but there may have been one, it certainly didn’t get turned on if there was and we just talked whilst his wife, who had been busy in the superheated kitchen making something that looked like stew bubbling on an Arga like oven,  made ham sandwiches the size of doorsteps with what looked like home made pickle liberally spread on top of butter so thick that, when you bit into this super-sarnie it left tooth marks through the yellow spread. The astonishing thing is that I didn’t like pickle; however, I loved it that night and have used it to lift a sandwich from very nice to gourmet ever since. To help you anchor the year The Move were going down the charts with “Blackberry Way” and Peter Sarstedt was on the ascent with “Where Do You Go To My Lovely?”

Onwards we go along the beautiful Esk Valley. The stations are all well kept and have buddleia with attendant butterflies; foxgloves, their spikes bowing to the train; numerous border plants in white, blue, red and viviid yellows, the care and pride is obvious but there is no sign of the guerrilla gardeners, just the results of their labours; whoever, you are, we’re all grateful.

    At Glaisdale we learn about the Beggar’s Bridge. At the eastern edge of the village the bridge was built by Thomas Ferris in 1619. Ferris was a poor man who hoped to wed the daughter of a wealthy local squire who really wasn’t that impressed as poor Thomas was exactly that, poor. In order to win her hand with an option on the rest of her, he planned to set sail from Whitby to make his fortune. On the night that he left, the Esk was swollen with rainfall and he was unable to make a last visit to his intended. This part of the story has all the potential for doom; however, he eventually returned from his travels a rich man and, after marrying the squire’s daughter, built Beggar’s Bridge so that no other lovers would be separated as they were. The real twist is that we learn all this on a two carriage train wending its way through the lush valley via an oratory by Graham, our guard, who tells us all about the Beggar’s Bridge but he does it in rhyme.

    The bridge is now grade 2 listed and I’ll tell you all about that in the future.

More walkers embark on the last few stations and they’re welcomed like long lost friends by Graham as he swaps a small amount of cash or the flash of a card in return for a ticket to ride – cue for a song.

We know we’re nearly there as we pass under the majestic 13 arch Larpool Viaduct near Ruswarp. I have a quick look on line and find and few interesting facts. This beautiful structure was built to take a single track line to connect Whitby and Scarborough. It was completed in 1884 and mentioned only 13 years later in Bram Stoker’s book Dracula. Two men fell from the arches as it was being constructed but lived to tell the tale. Its 120 feet high (37m) and three of the piers are deliberately skewed so as not to impede the tidal flow in the Esk. The line was closed as a result of Dr. Beeching’s report in 1965 and became grade 2 listed in 1972 to protect it from the threat of demolition. I’m told that it’s now a wonderful walk and cycle track called the Scarborough to Whitby Rail Trail sometimes referred to as the Cinder Track. I make a mental note to walk it sometime.

    The final bridge as we enter the town is the functional but unimaginatively named New Bridge finished in 1980 and carrying traffic that would have otherwise clogged the town especially when the swing bridge is open.

  Just before we enter Whitby proper we’re treated to a steam training heading the other way, I’m a bit slow on the uptake but manage to get a shot just as we pass, it sets us up for a great visit.

    Whitby station feels familiar probably because of its use in so many TV productions. The North Yorkshire Moors Railway have permission to share the track between their own privately funded and operated service at Grosmont and Whitby Station bringing much appreciated extra revenue to the town and adding further to its popularity.

We have a table booked at Trenchers. It’s always good service and excellent quality although I have never had poor fish and chips in the cafes or restaurants of Whitby and would be reluctant to promote it above the others; however, it is nice but top endish on price. As an aside, I’ve had variable quality stuff served in pubs but that’s another story.

After much banter followed by the delivery of several portions of small and medium cod for the jolly band and a large cod for the birthday boy plus a Trenchers Seafood Salad for me; I ask the waitress if I should top it up with some chips and she smiles, “I wouldn’t if I were you, it’s really quite substantial and if you do need some more I can respond immediately”.  There’s a food induced silence for the next twenty minutes with only an occasional interruption by the Trenchers staff to ask if we’re happy with the fayre.  We leave somewhat full in the stomach and lighter in the pocket into beautiful sunshine for a wander around the harbour area and a few photographs of the controversial Endeavour. Apparently, someone had the temerity to build it using steel instead of wood and it’s not appreciated locally. It looks good to me though and I do look forward to being able to go in to it and spend some time mooching around it’s bowels.

    We spend a wonderful, relaxing couple of hours appreciating the delights of both banks and walk to the end of East Pier, again we chose this walk because we haven’t done it for some considerable time and it affords another view of this wonderful and quirky town. We follow this with an excellent trip up-stream rather than out to sea for no other reason than we hadn’t done it before and I can thoroughly recommend it.

    We pass the Little Yellow Cottage currently festooned in scaffolding and ready for renovation as permissions are granted followed by a close quarter look at a fishing boat being refurbished and our skipper tells us about the eye-watering cost of buying a boat, buying appropriate permits, acquiring quotas and the risks of being at sea. I’ll not be complaining about the cost of a cod and chips again although I may whinge a bit about the proprietors of the cafe marking them up when the people who suffer the real risks get all the physical and financial hassle. I’d recommend this little excursion as it takes in one or two parts of Whitby that you’re unlikely to see from the streets.

      Our plan is to arrive back at the station twenty minutes before boarding time to ensure a seat as this train is timed such that there is an avalanche of people leaving Whitby and the numbers are swollen by youngsters from the local schools going back to their various homes nestled in this beautiful valley. It’s a little bit selfish in fairness as within twenty or so minutes they’ve all disembarked vacating the carriages and affording seats for for those that came late. We feel a little bit guilty!

A word about the youngsters, you’ll find them loud because they’re teenagers but they’re also full of fun, well turned out and, most importantly, they’re impeccably polite. If you have children that ride this train, take a bow, they’re a credit to you.

Peter the birthday boy is reviewing his photos and occasionally stops to show one whilst the train starts, accelerates to twenty or thirty miles per hour then slows and stops at the next stop. It sounds tedious but the scenery is stunning and the slow rate gives us the opportunity to take it in. It does speed up a bit on the longer stretches but we’re still left with the rhythm of Robert Louis Stevenson:- 

Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle, All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And there is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart run away in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

We’re back at Kildale in the blink of an eye, thanks George Renwick, Dave Rider, George Preston, Robin Wright, Tony Wright and Hayden Kirby but mostly thanks to the Birthday-Boy himself, cheers Peter Hymer, hope there are many more.

Back to rambling the Moors and Dales next week. Enjoy the snaps…G..x

  I get a lot of feedback from people who are no longer able to get around so please feel free to share or ‘like’. G..x

So Facepeeps, We’re back at Kildale with every intention of walking to Saltburn. We’ll be meeting a slow worm that I think is a snake and a bit of interesting stuff about Saltburn. The route includes a visit to Captain Cook and a great view of Roseberry from the east whereas most road views are from the other points of the compass but usually include a westerly component.

We’ve done this route before but usually in two outings. It’s bit of a haul to start with a 500 foot ascent in about a mile (160m in less than 2km). The day is beautiful with wall to wall blue skies and the odd fluffy cumulus to represent traditional summer.  The early part of the track is, in fact, a road. It winds its way up the rear of Captain Cook so to speak and approaches the monument from the east through Mill Bank Wood. I need a couple of stops on this one to catch my breath but regain some of my stamina as the track levels out and I find the final steps rather easier than the initial haul.

The monument to Captain Cook is not a statue, it’s not a statue. It is quite impressive and the views are quite spectacular. The easier approach is from the North and there is a car park at the bottom on Dykes Lane. I would encourage you to take a walk from here, you’ll not be disappointed and it’s not difficult.

We all know what we’re taught at school about Captain James Cook from Marton who sailed from Whitby and the plaque has the following inscription:

***In memory of the celebrated circumnavigator Captain James Cook F.R.S. A man of nautical knowledge inferior to none, in zeal prudence and energy, superior to most. Regardless of danger he opened an intercourse with the Friendly Isles and other parts of the Southern Hemisphere. He was born at Marton Oct. 27th 1728 and massacred at Owythee Feb. 14th 1779 to the inexpressible grief of his countrymen. While the art of navigation shall be cultivated among men, whilst the spirit of enterprise, commerce and philanthropy shall animate the sons of Britain, while it shall be deemed the honour of a Christian Nation to spread civilisation and the blessings of the Christian faith among pagan and savage tribes, so long will the name of Captain Cook stand out amongst the most celebrated and most admired benefactors of the human race.***

There may be island people of the southern hemisphere who have different views but his achievements are self-evident, not sure about beating the shit out of people that didn’t share his beliefs or the ‘inexpressible grief of his countrymen’ though.

Off we go again, this time down the path that you will ascend should you take my advice regarding the walk from the car park. Roseberry is in the distance in true Matterhorn profile and illustrates why it’s called the Yorkshire Matterhorn.

To our left is Ayton Banks Mines which has been disused since 1929 and quite badly flooded now but still sending out ore stained water from its drainage levels. After a long descent and swift ascent, we’re on Great Ayton Moor and follow the dry stone wall that guides us to the dog-leg right angled corner with Roseberry on our left and the open moor which is our new direction on our right.

If you walk this route be careful at this point; the Cleveland Way is really well signposted and you will only need a map should you get lost but there are two or three places of slight ambiguity and this is one of them. The easy way to indicate the right route is to identify the wrong one so here goes. The wrong route is along the dry stone wall, you need to take the track across the moor.

We travers Newton Moor, Hutton Moor and Black Nab, Hutton Village is on our left and Guisborough beyond that. We also get our first view of the sea complete with windmills and estuary.

The track becomes Forestry Commission access road and clings to the ridge occasionally through woods and then with huge views towards Eston Nab, Eston Moor and Wilton Wood.

As we emerge from Guisborough Wood Louise shouts a warning to watch our feet and I look down to see what I think is a grass snake. It’s about 12 to 15 inches (300mm) long and when it sees us it freezes for a few seconds during which time we’re all trying to get photographs of it. Louise identifies it as a slow worm and promptly tells us the difference between that and a smooth snake. We’re just thrilled and excited at such a find. After a few more seconds it winds its way into the grass and clover disappearing almost immediately as its camouflage takes effect at the path edge.

We’re making our way through more woods towards the edge of Charltons when we see another slow worm; I’m 66 now and never seen one in my life, now I’ve seen two in 10 minutes.

It’s time for lunch so we select a lovely dappled glade with a handy pile of tree trunks set in such a way that they make ideal seats and we slip out of our boots to let our feet breath.

The glade is idyllic, it shades us from the sun which can be seen lighting up the dust and pollen in artistic rays that shine through the cover of leaves still growing stronger in the late spring. The branches, twigs and leaves kill the breeze to gentle wafts that induce beautiful smells of earth, ferns and garlic. It’s a great place to eat!

As we finish our lunch we readjust clothing and boots for the next ascent which is a bit of challenge around an old quarry just the other side of the road into Charltons. I stop several times on this stretch and I know that the others needed a break too. It’s also an ideal opportunity to take in the surrounding and we all make a few photographs on the way up.

At the top we walk adjacent to a corn field but then we’re delighted by a proper meadow of buttercups, proper grass and clover just about to flower. This triggers memories of childhood, playing cowboys and indians in the meadows around Castle Hills where I grew up. Between the first day and last days of our holidays we’d be encouraged to be out. Being back for meals on time was a must and we all had the same bed time so being back before the watershed, usually 7 o’clock, was not negotiable and because it applied to all of us there was no reason not to be home. During the intervening times we would run, walk, crawl and wriggle our way through the meadows like this one but the grass seemed to be much longer and in those days it probably was. The grass is cut sooner these days for silage, 50 or 60 years ago it was left for cutting as hay so it was left another month or so. If this is a child’s view looked at through mists of time then please put me right it’s just a memory now.

What I do remember was the fact that we rarely wore more than pants and baseball boots, that would be our uniform for the summer. If there was a cooler day then we might have a ’T’ shirt but I don’t remember much of that. If we weren’t playing cowboys and indians it would be hide and seek or swinging over the beck on a rope (described in another post). Occasionally we’d borrow some potatoes from a farmers field, light a fire and roast them. I can almost taste the carbon of the burnt skin as I think these things as we climb a shallow ascent towards Airy Hill Lane leading to Skelton.

Walking through Skelton we meet Peter Appleton, Chairman of the Local History Society and he tells us a little bit about the area as we walk. Every time we walk this area we meet friendly folk who are enthusiastic to share their knowledge, help us on our way or give advice on the bus we need. East Cleveland People, you’re great.

On the final leg now and we enter the Valley Gardens of Saltburn. This is a great place in its own right. It’s rammed with trees of every type and you get to see some lovely waterfalls, a great bridge over the river and a majestic viaduct with eleven arches, now a listed building.

We’ve been under the viaduct many times on different walks and it still has the same impression; it’s magnificent.

We emerge from the Valley Gardens rather unexpectedly at the top and assume that the Cleveland Way is also meant to inject some money into the areas that it visits and the town centre would seem appropriate. Saltburn-by-the-Sea is a Quaker town perhaps not founded by the Pease family but certainly developed by them. In 1856, the hamlet consisted of the Ship Inn and a row of houses, occupied by farmers and fishermen. As it was developed by the Quakers there was a reluctance to add public houses so the only way to access alcohol was via the hotels and private clubs. Believe it or not, the first new public house The Victoria, was built was in 1982.

Apparently, the reason for developing this smugglers town in the first place was on the back of this vision…

“In 1858, while walking along the coast path towards Old Saltburn to visit his brother Joseph in Marske, Henry Pease saw a prophetic vision of a town arising on the cliff and the quiet, unfrequented and sheltered glen turned into a lovely garden.”

…yeah, so what did they say about public houses?

We arrive near the top of the lift and George Preston is there to take us back to Kildale for our vehicles. George is a star and has already supported us on the Clay Bank sector. Thanks George, your help is much appreciated. We do make sure he’s well ‘fish n chipped’ before we leave!

This sector is quite long and has its fair share of ‘ups’. George returns Peter and I to Kildale for our cars and I make a B-line for Scaling Dam and some wonderful friends of the Pilgrim who are putting us up for the night on their farm.

Barbara and Andy are wonderful hosts and show us around the farm with all the modern techniques interspersed with traditional methods, it’s fascinating. A couple of beers and wine later with excellent conversation, we’re then ‘lasagned’ with pasta and ready for bed and the new day.

A great but exhausting day.

Enjoy the snaps…G..x

Feel free to share but written permission must be obtained for commercial use.

We gather at the car park where we left the ‘Way’ last night and produce the usual crop of photos. They are essential as far as I’m concerned as they are the reminders of what happened and when & who we were with. They become the basis for wonderful reminiscences five days, weeks, months, years or even decades hence so please take every opportunity to record your adventures as we’re doing on all our walks and fun times!

Clay Bank to Kildale is not difficult but the first twenty minutes is. We ascend six hundred feet in less than a quarter of a mile but once at the top of Car Ridge there isn’t too much climb or descent. The moors do undulate but that makes them interesting, so does the fact that you can see for miles especially when the wind blows away the haze as it does today.

The highest point is Urra Moor at 1490 feet above sea-level (454 metres) and is beautiful. The Cleveland Way arcs across it to Bloworth Crossing where the tracks divide, one even further across the moor towards The Lion Inn at Blakey another follows the old railway track to Farndale in one direction and Incline Top in the other. We’re turning left here and its’s time for a banana break and pee.

From here we’re on a wide obvious track that follows the profile of the Moors in both horizontal and vertical plane. To our left is the wonderful sight of the vales and looking back we can see the Broughton Road although Clay Bank, our starting point, is now obscured by the promontories of Urra Moor.

Up here there are curlews, and peewits swooping about and trying to attract our attention as we get too close to their nests for their comfort. Above us is the continuous chirping of skylarks and I try to teach the others how to catch a glimpse of them by staring into the sky and relaxing eye muscles until there is no focal point; usually, but not always, this results in an identification of movement and your eyes naturally lock onto the moving object. It may be a crow, seagull or kestrel but, if you’re lucky it’ll be the skylark as it flits around the heavens, you’ll find it easier to spot in the future and I have no idea why?

There’s a minor incline as we approach the practically named “Tidy Brown Hill” and bear right to cross Battersby Moor where we settle down to lunch with a view. We’re next to a shooting butt overlooking Battersby Crag. Below us is Battersby Junction. Originally, (1858) it was called Ingleby Junction when the Ingleby Mining Company linked their private line to the North Yorkshire and Cleveland Railway. In 1878 it was renamed Battersby Junction to avoid confusion with the nearby Ingleby Station. Despite being located along single track routes, Battersby became a major hub with extensive marshalling sidings and three-road engine shed with turntable. There was also two terraces with 30 cottages to house the workforce and others.

Originally, (1858) it was called Ingleby Junction when the Ingleby Mining Company linked their private line to the North Yorkshire and Cleveland Railway. In 1878 it was renamed Battersby Junction to avoid confusion with the nearby Ingleby Station. Despite being located along single track routes, Battersby became a major hub with extensive marshalling sidings and three-road engine shed with turntable. There was also two terraces with 30 cottages to house the workforce and others.

In its heyday it had three platforms together with two water towers to service the steamers but in  1954 the direct line to the west of Battersby was closed and it is now almost unique in that trains reverse into it and then move forward out. There are still 4 services per day and there are about 1500 passengers per year that use it and that figure seems constant over the last five years.

We finish our sandwiches and brace ourselves for the final hour or so to Kildale largely on tarmac and offering tremendous views of the ridges that had been to our left as we’d walked. It’s a good feeling when you see the distance as a real three ‘D’ geographic view like this, very satisfying.

There was a fair amount of anticipation for a scone, cake or sticky bun at the Glebe Cottage Tea Room in Kildale. Their Facebook Page, Tripadvisor and other internet resources all showed that it was open but we arrive to find a sign in the window saying it wouldn’t be open until the end the month. I appreciate that some pages on the web are out of their control but it’s really not a big deal to keep your Facebook page up to date. We were at the end of our walk so we just took our cars and went elsewhere anyone planning a walk that includes this as a refreshment stop in the middle of their walk might want to take their own food and drinks just in case.

It is 1335 now and the train from Kildale station leaves at 1425 so not much of a wait for those on the train taking the delightful Esk Valley line home; what a treat!

This leg is just over 10 miles (16km) and apart from the first half hour, is easy and very rewarding.

Enjoy the snaps…G..x

Feel free to share but written permission must be obtained for commercial use.