Into the Dales
Walking upstream along the River Wharfe in the footsteps of Iron Age settlers and an 18th century murderer.
The duck bobbed serenely past, apparently content to let the hurrying waters of the River Wharfe whisk it downstream towards Ilkley. As for G and I, we would soon be heading in the opposite direction: from Burnsall to Kettlewell on the latest stage of our family walk along the Dales Way.
First, we had to wait with the dog while J concluded the complex logistics that come with a one-way walk in a land of sparse public transport. She had dropped the car at Grassington because the village had a couple of bus connections each day with both Burnsall and Kettlewell. So at the end of the day’s walk, if all went well, we wouldn’t be stranded and would be able to retrieve the car.
While G and I waited, we entertained ourselves with some more bird watching – swifts were swooping and darting over the river – and chatting to passing dog walkers. I was just contemplating whether the Red Lion hotel was serving breakfast when a small bus pulled up and J stepped off. No second breakfast of the day for me; it was time to get going.