Day 16

Day 16 Kidstones Pass to Skipton

Last day of pedalling - felt a bit sad, rather than elated.

 There was a definite autumnal nip in the air on the top of the bleak pass which had me rummaging in my panniers for gloves & an extra scarf. Was stopped in my tracks by a sheepdog which had sent its flock straight out of a gateway onto the road in front of me. The dog stood stock still and gave me a puzzled 'What the hell are you doing here?' look as we both waited for his charges to amble, coughing and wheezing past me. Then the farmer came out of the field carrying a bucket of medicine bottles and an evil-looking dispenser which I could only imagine had been down the throat of each of the sheep.

His may have been warm work, but I felt a bit of a wimp to notice that the farmer was not only jacketless, but had his shirt sleeves rolled up & collar open.

It did get warmer as I travelled down the valley &, by Grassington, it felt almost tropical even though many of the trees were beginning to turn shades of red & yellow. When Walter had walked this road, he'd had rain all the way from Kettlewell down to Bolton Abbey. He cut across Blubberhouses Moor to a cottage in the Washburn valley where he was to stay for a while. Right up to that point he walked and camped through atrocious weather - 'fiddling his tune out right to the end'.

My route took me in the opposite direction to Skipton. There was on final long, long hill to Eastby & Embsay. I sat on the stone wall half way up the long drag, drinking coffee, catching my breath and listening to the grouse on the moor. I was sure I could hear echoes of Mr Punch's voice in their call.


It has been one heck of a journey of literal & metaphorical ups and downs, with stunning views, scary traffic and lots of wonderful people.

The 'fiddling out' of my tune consists of putting together a collection of photographs to go with Phil's landscapes for the exhibition at the Skipton Puppet Festival.

Hope you get chance to see them.

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