Great Ra was to desert us for the first part of our journey today, but his dismissive and aloof antics were soon forgiven as the great god returned to partake in our journey for the rest of the day, providing what was possibly our best weather yet.
As per our set routine, we headed off at about 09:00 to walk right around Blakey Ridge along the road. It’s desolate but at the same time beautiful. Sites of interest on the way included Young Ralph’s Cross. Ok, so it wasn’t directly en route, but a quick jog up the road allowed for a few photos before jogging back to find Mum. There’s a great story associated with this tall, thin cross. A young bloke called Ralph used to act as a guide to the nuns at the local priory, leading them safely across the empty moors. One day whilst out walking, he noticed a hand sticking up out of the snow. Digging to save the poor soul, Ralph found the dead body of a local workman known to him. Unfortunately the man had stopped to rest and had fallen asleep in the snow, just a few miles from the safety of The Lion Inn. So as to prevent any similar outcomes in the future, Ralph erected the cross to help travellers find their way to the inn. There is also a hollow in the top of the cross where rich folk can leave money for their poorer counterparts so that food and shelter may be theirs. However, legend dictates that if you are wealthy and take the money, a horrid ending will be yours as you are engulfed in the mist of the moors to be lost forever!
The next landmark was Fat Betty, a stout white cross that stands just off the road. The head of the cross is an ancient wheelhead, possibly Norman and only one of two found on the North York Moors. Tradition requires travellers to leave and take a snack or sweet. There was nothing there for us to take, but we did leave a revolting Tracker chocolate bar. Just doing our bit……and getting rid of the rubbish food that you often find in packed lunches from B&Bs.
We next turned off in the direction of Fryup and Fryup Dale. I know more than one person who I’m sure was born there. Not looking at any particular Man Investments traders or anything!! Back on the moors, the guaranteed views of the North Sea were not to be ours today with too much haze about, even though the rain had stopped by this stage and the waterproofs were safely back in our packs. There were a couple of lovely little crofts to admire though. They blend in so perfectly with their moorland surrounds.
Soon we were back on the road and heading into Glaisdale. The cute little village was enjoying siesta while we were there, so we sat quietly by the war memorial and ate our lunch. On our way out of town we passed the gate of a property on which was attached a sign advertising the inhabitants skills. The sign read, “Builders and Joiners Funeral Directors”. We couldn’t work out whether the provider of services was multi skilled or whether you get the full treatment before you’re buried. A gentleman drove into the property as we stood laughing. Woops. Mum thought he looked like the living dead anyway, so perhaps he was a full service provider.
We next passed Beggar’s Bridge, a gorgeous stone construction built in 1619. Norbert was feeling adventurous and it was the perfect place for a bungee jump, so two boot laces later, and Norbert’s dream came true. Of course the death defying leap was captured on film. Stay tuned for the pictures!
A lovely walk through the woods by the Esk River lead us to the hamlet of Egton Bridge. There were some super nice houses here and both Mum and I had ours picked out. Opposite sides of the river. The church of St Hadda is well worth a visit. The outside of the building has a row of gorgeous frescoes adorning it and the acoustics inside are perfect for a rendition of certain songs………so I’ve heard. 😉
An old toll road took us the final 1.5 miles into the night’s destination of Grosmont, a village famous for its railway connections. If you like a steam engine, this is the town for you. “Train enthusiast” isn’t a classification that I’ve ever used to describe myself, but who can resist a ride on Hogwart’s Express? Not Mum or me, that’s for sure, and as luck would have it, the old engines made famous in the Harry Potter movies had a timetable that fitted in with ours, so a spontaneous 2.5hr train journey to Pickering and back was enjoyed. A nice, relaxing reward for having walked 14 miles (that’s a huge 31kms!) in 6 hours.
XXX
