THE DALES WAY

DAY TWO
Chevin End to Appletreewick
(17.5 miles)

With the prospect of another scorching day ahead of us, we took an early breakfast and set off as quickly as we were able.   Even at 9 o'clock in the morning the heat of the sun was intense.

We were soon passing through Menston, stopping only to cast off more clothing and to take photos of the pretty church.   We also had a longer-than-expected stop at the far edge of town, having to take off rucksacks to man-handle them as best we could through a miniscule kissing gate.  Quite a barrier for two hikers fully laden with big packs and a full english !

Beyond Menston the terrain changed very quickly. Until now the walk had been mostly flat, walking along the River Wharfe or in very close proximity, but this section was more elevated and exposed as we climbed up onto Ilkley Moor.   It was only a short excursion, though, and as soon as we hit the Cow and Calf rocks we began to descend into the town.

Although already hot-and-bothered by the time we reached Ilkley, we were nonetheless quite taken by the town - bustle, but in a nice way.    We purchased lunch at the bakery - sarnies, a bag of crisps and Yorkshire curd tart for pudding - then headed down to the river and the official starting point, Old Ilkley Bridge.

After yet more 'official' photos, this time at the commemorative seat, we headed out of Ilkley along the River Wharfe.   A brief excursion found us walking through buttercup-filled meadows and then by the golf club, but we we were soon re-aquainted with the river.

One point of particular interest was the village of Smithy Greaves which was a modern reconstruction of an old mill village. It was quite eerie to be walking down streets lined with obviously new houses and cottages that had been built and laid out in the style of a bygone age.

Approaching Lobwood House we were distracted by the long queue of cars (mostly filled with foul-mouthed pubescents) and took a wrong turning just after the Friends House.   Instead of heading down to cross the minor road-cum-car park, we somehow managed to head up through woodland, eventually reaching a dead-end at a disusewd railway line.  We were obviously not the first to have done so, as there was an obvious track to follow, and it was evident that several others before us had tried a number of different routes to progress.  We decided to retrace our steps rather than blunder on - this was already a relatively long day, and we didn't want to make it even longer (especially in this heat)!.

Soon after our 'diversion' we entered the Bolton Abbey estate, and immediately started to encounter people. It started with a small number of hardy walkers, then lovestruck couples walking hand-in-hand, but rapidly the numbers increased until it was difficult to pick a path of safe passage through picnic blankets and lobster-red bodies.   As if the crowds themselves were not bad enough, from half a mile before the Abbey to what seemed like a couple of miles beyond was a constant choking smoke emanating from thousands of so-called portable barbeques.

A good distance beyond the Abbey and we could relax a little, walking along a broad, flat hardcore path beside and above the river.  Even then there were isolated groups of people splashing about in the river or shouting at their kids, shouting at their dogs,or shouting at their partners.   Don't you just love a ramble in the countryside to get a bit of peace and solitude ...

During the day, several icecream opportunities had presented themselves, but timing - and our reticence to stand in long queues - had so far thwarted us. Eventually, on reaching Barden Bridge, just beyond the Abbey estate boundary, and when we had given up all hope of frozen dairy products, we came upon a van - with no queue.   Chocolate flavour was all that was left - but icecream beggars can't be choosers!

We were desperately hot and tired by the time we reached Appletreewick.   It had been a long day, and the heat, combined with the crowds, had taken it's toll. From the riverside, we could see our B&B:  A beacon in white, promising untold shade and gallon-upon-gallon of ice-cold lemonade.   We headed toward it, following a farm track, but were devastated to encounter a sign:  'No unauthorised access'.   Now, obviously, we would never dream of ignoring such a sign, and would never condone trespass ... even if our guidebook stated quite clearly that the land owner had given permissive access (of course, two days in we had already established that said guidebook was almost ten years out of date, and nothing could be taken-as-read) ... so suffice to say that we reached the New Inn much quicker than we might have under other, less trying, circumstances.