7. Alnwick to Horton-in-Ribblesdale via Bolton Abbey, Yorkshire, 31st May 2011

Exalt that which is low and abase that which is high. A ruin, a ruin, a ruin, I will make it.

Ezekiel 21 v26-27

Photos: https://picasaweb.google.com/101390618614769540246/BoltonAbbey?authkey=Gv1sRgCObP5ZGAzYv1PQ&feat=directlink

0800 Delicious breakfast at the Tower b and b, I would definitely stay here again.  There is a lot more to Alnwick than I am able to see but I must press on.  I cycle back to Alnmouth Station via minor roads because I judge that the main road I travelled last night would be too dangerous.  It takes a bit longer but is less stressful and gives me a bracing ride.

1035 It is a good job I had reserved my bike because there is one chap who cannot get on and was being forced to make alternative plans.  Virgin Trains have yet another arrangement for cycles as I am told to put my bike in a goods area behind the engine.  Unfortunately they do not tell us which end and I get to one end only to be told it was the other so I pelt the length of the platform and get on just before the train leaves!

1135 Lovely sunny day and looks good until the end of the week.  I listen to a group of lads having a lively discussion as to how to get through the barriers at York with only half the requisite no of tickets between them!

1257 A small hiccup - I miss my connection at York thanks to a late arrival – thank you, Sir R Branson.    However, I find there are plenty of connections to Leeds, which will take me to Skipton, about 5 miles from my destination of Bolton Abbey.

1634 I am sitting on the banks of the River Wharfe at Bolton Abbey, a dissolved priory now a beauty spot, reflecting on my journey here and the week so far I think it’s gone remarkably smoothly.  True – there was the dodgy moment outside Skipton when I realised my navigational skills had gone awry and I attempted a scramble down the steep embankment of the A65 to get back on track, but hey – what is a 45 degree slope but a means of getting you from higher point A to lower point B more quickly, even if you are on your backside for most of it?

In choosing my route from Skipton to the Abbey I noticed a minor road called ‘Low Lane’.  As a cyclist, anything with the word ‘low’ in it when on all sides you are surrounded by hills, is extremely attractive and so it turned out ...for a while.  However, I hadn’t taken into account that Low Lane runs into ‘Steep Lane’ and ‘High Lane’!  OK, I made those last names up, but you get the idea.  I suppose it’s only to be expected in the Dales.  The best bit of the ride is the exhilarating two mile descent down a long, straight hill to the village of Bolton Abbey itself.

I came to Bolton Abbey to be impressed and I am.  It is in a lovely position on the Southern edge of the Dales, set down in a hollow by the river which flows wide but shallow on a brownish, pebbly bed at this point.  The Abbey itself is still an impressive building even as a ruin.  Its Gothic window arches and walls are still in place but of course it’s roof is gone, though part of it has been converted into a parish church tacked on to the West end of the nave.  The grounds of the abbey must have been extensive and are now been given over to sheep grazing on the grass and day-trippers performing the same action on 99s from the attendant ice cream van. There is a footbridge across the river but many prefer to use the stepping stones which have been set into the river bed for goodness knows how long and are a non-trivial challenge.  I bottle out of using these because I have absolutely everything in my rucksack which makes me rather unstable – it will be a disaster to fall in.  Instead I amuse myself watching parents egging on their infants, whose legs can barely make the gaps between the first stones, only to have to turn back mid-stream when said infant decides that it isn’t fun any more!

1730 Swallows and swifts dart around me and skim the water for insects.  I am not looking forward to the ride back to Skipton as I know there is that MASSIVE hill to climb...but here goes.

1842 I make it back without too much getting off to push. The evening is a beautiful one and I have a 30 minute train ride to look forward to along the Settle to Carlisle railway to my overnight at Horton-in-Ribblesdale.  No time to browse in Skipton but looks worth investigating if I come this way again.  James Herriott stuff everywhere...did he live here?

1851 The train is following the course of the Ribble upstream.  Small rapids and waterfalls, cows drinking on the bank and the ubiquitous dry stone walls extending their latticework across the landscape add to the bucolic scene.  To the East, green pastures merge with tall, featureless peaks standing behind like a curtain drawn across the day.... The Settle to Carlisle line seems something of an institution, with a ‘friends’ organisation and an ‘old world’ feel to it that seems out of place in today’s commercialised transport world.  I half expect to see ‘Porter, churns and a cat on a seat’  (to misquote Flanders and Swann) at every little station.   Perhaps I should try and start a ‘Friends of the Andover to Basingstoke Line’?  What do you think?

2321 I am relaxing in Horton at the best b and b so far after wrestling with the shower to get water from it.  I get a slice of cake, chocolates, superior fittings, flowers, internet, DVDs, good quality tea and a lovely location.  For the £25 per night that she charges that feels like stealing.   Munching on Tesco sandwiches bought in Skipton I watch an old episode of Inspector Morse and think about tomorrow - when I fulfil a long-held ambition – to descend Gaping Gill!