More on the Dales

SEE THE PREVIOUS TWO POSTS BEFORE READING THIS (otherwise a lot of what I'm talking about won't make sense)

So as Allison said, we decided to retreat into the countryside this past weekend. As much as it is nice to live in this city for certain amenities such as cheap food, convenience, and connectedness, we are both certainly more countryfolk at heart. Both of us (well, at least me) needed a bit of a retreat so we could slow down for a while and get out of the hustle and bustle of the city (I'm really tired of trying to fall asleep -- and fall back asleep -- while drunk people are running around screaming at all hours of the night, among other things). This trip was kind of a last minute thing brought about by our receiving our Youth Hostel Association Membership cards and hostel booklet on Wednesday. And it was amazing.

Allison mentioned the wind on Saturday, but I feel like this needs to be emphasized more. The wind was ridiculous...it felt like there was an oncoming hurricane. As Allison said, Richmond Castle tower was closed, unfortunately, due to these unusually high winds. The English Heritage people were literally scared people would get blown out of the tower. So we decided to take a walk to the nearby Easby Abbey instead. On this walk we were originally on a small path next to a bubbling stream, but found our way barred at one point by a very very recently half-felled tree...so we felt a bit unsafe and moved to a wider path with less trees overhead. That being said, while we were walking under trees that day we were almost always slightly bracing for impact (luckily it never came).

SIDE NOTE: I really enjoy walking around ruined historical sites. I like to imagine all of the people who have walked where I am walking over hundreds, sometimes thousands, of years. The history over here is utterly amazing. Just thinking that when monks originally lived in the Easby abbey nobody in Europe had any concept whatsoever of the continent I call home...I just think about how much their world-view must have been different than mine.

Back to the wind and to our Grinton journey:

By the time we reached Grinton, we were hoping the wind would have died down. No such luck. So we basically were stuck in the hostel Saturday night, but it was nice to just read and relax in front of a fire while other people cooked a delicious dinner. (Side note: I really really enjoyed this place and, in an ideal world, would go back there every weekend). As Allison noted, we were in separate, gender-divided accommodation for our first night there. On Sunday night we basically had the whole place to ourselves, so we were able to get our own room that night.

Sunday morning we got up, had a breakfast and started off onto the Dales. The Yorkshire Dales are everything you read about in books about the English countryside and everything you think of when you think of the rolling farming hills of England. There isn't really an equivalent in the US. The scenery was fantastic and the solitude was therapeutic. We saw only a few other groups of hikers for most of the day (more when we got down off the Dales into the valley path).

On the dales we felt alone and at peace. Our only company for most of the day was a multitude of sheep, rabbits and grouse (most of which were alive, though a surprisingly large number were also, unfortunately dead -- the rabbits and grouse that is, not the sheep). I can't recall any time in the US where I had been that closely surrounded by wildlife. Sometimes I'd jump because a grouse would suddenly and noisily take off from a bush just inches from me. The rabbits, and their bodily rejections, were everywhere. Sheep roamed the hillsides as if they owned them. And all around, the countryside was dotted with stone walls, stone farm houses, and the occasional tiny village. It was almost magical, and certainly rejuvenating at the least.

After a long day on the Dales, during the latter part of which we again got rained on (lesson: It's England, bring a raincoat dummies) we were happy to stumble across the village of Reeth, which contained, among other things, a nice tea shop (which we enjoyed) and a handful of inn-restaurants. One of these inn-restaurants was serving up the elusive and amazing Theakston's Old Peculier (my favorite beer, which they unfortunately stopped importing to the US last year). So it was a wonderful end to a quite wonderful day.

We managed to get back on Monday morning in time for class (though it was an early morning and we're ready for bed early tonight). We hiked the 1/2 mile down from Grinton Lodge, took the bus from Grinton to Richmond, and a bus from Richmond to Darlington, and a train from Darlington to Newcastle, with a loaf of sweet bread for breakfast along the way. And now we're back in Newcastle. Enjoy the pictures of the Dales (one of which, by the way, is of a young boy from a brochure at the youth hostel who looks remarkably like I did about 18 years ago).