Woodland Wander: Bolton Abbey and Strid Wood

Have I mentioned that I love England? It’s not all sunshine and rainbows- although the sunshine and rainbows are awesome (as seen from my window)

but I just love the countryside, I can’t get enough of it and I was determined to not let another Saturday slip away without another days tramping in the woods. 

Most days out are a result of a few hours of internet research to find the best combination of train, bus, timetables, passes and discounts. I confess that my patience was wearing a little thin on this planning spree but I managed it okay.  Since the Saturday am session of conference would be on at 5, I would have to head out early to get back in time. This meant actually setting my alarm and getting up before seven. I took the bus to the rail station and a train to Ilkley. I think I might have been the only person in my car, it was very peaceful. I whipped out my notebook and schemed about EW. After a short wait I caught a bus to the abbey.  I wasn’t sure how many stops there were or where exactly I was supposed to get off and I misjudged. I think that I knew it was wrong as I was doing it because none of the other people who looked like walkers were getting off and the bus driver did give me a bit of a quizzical look. Heaven forbid I should ask. [What do walkers look like? Older women or couples wearing waterproof jackets, daypacks, hiking boots carrying walking sticks with their trousers tucked into their socks.]

Thanks to a road sign we had passed earlier I knew it wasn’t too far and so I just headed down the street in the direction the bus had gone. 

I was surprised to find the car park only a half a mile down the road. Through the car park I found a visitor information centre and a restroom which was sorely needed. The abbey proper was another block away. The ‘village’ of Bolton Abbey consisted of the visitors centre, fancy food shop, rare book shop, and tea room around a triangular ‘round about.’ 

Through an arch in a stone wall I found stairs down to the ‘ruins.’ There was a kite festival on this weekend but I had arrived early and it hadn’t really gotten started and so the activity and face painting boothes sat empty. 

I had looked at the trail maps and decided to walk up the far side of the river, cross over and head back in my three hour window. The river runs through a wooded gorge and the first section of trail was on a ledge and hill above the river. While I’ve conditioned myself to distance walk I’m a wimp when it comes to climbs. I was delighted to find that as I met other walkers on the trail they all wished me ‘good morning.’ This was nice when compared to a smile or nod of acknowledgement or being ignored. I came across two downed trees which at first I thought had some kind of funky fungus growing in them...

 but it was money,

 2p coins to be exact.

The trail wound it’s way through the woods with the river below and moor above. Eventually I came out and down belong the river again.

I saw a bridge which I thought must be the aqueduct half way through the train but which was actually a bridge to the pavilion marking the beginning of the trail. I had meandered for about 45 minutes only to get to the beginning of the trail. I realized that there was no way that I could make it all the way up the gorge and back to the bus in time so I settled for wandering some of the smaller circular routes on the other side of the river. Of course I picked the short, hard, steep one first and that first climb was a workout. Thankfully there was a nice bench at the top where I ate part of my lunch before carrying on.

 Not a bad lunch view.

The gravel trail continued on the ledge of the hill above a wider paved trail near the river. My trail sometimes rolled up and down like a roller coaster and before I could stop myself I found myself running head long down the drop to ride the momentum up to the next rise before plunging in again. No one else was on the trail and my feet pounding and crunching the gravel sounded a bit harsh but man was it fun.

Eventually the trail met up with the lower paved trail and I headed back to the pavilion the through a car park and grassy field to the actual abbey. The back half of the building is a ruin and the front half is still used as an Anglican church.

It’s always fun to wander through old church yards and I found some Whitakers, possibly a family relation? And Waddingtons- I had a companion named Sister Waddington.  During the summer they do Shakespeare in the ruins- how did I miss that??

I made my way back to the village to wait for the bus. I had a bit of time and decided to pop into the rare book shop. It was a proper rare and collectable book shop. 

I walked in and felt as though I was in someone’s home or library. The few rooms were lined with book shelves of old books included the history of the area, even old doomsday books. I was tempted by an old edition of a Georgette Heyer book but resisted.

The bus was late and I was nervous because it only comes every two or three hours and I was determined not to miss it. Apparently it had broken down but eventually arrived and I got back to the station. The shops in the town centre looked super cute and I would be tempted to wander if I had time, and if they weren’t mostly the same shops we have in Leeds. I popped into the Ilkley library to see if they had anything of interest (they charge you to put things on hold here so I always check if I’m in a new town to see if they have anything I want to read.) I took the train back to Leeds, nearly nodding off, then a new bus to Headingley in search of a used book store. It was the best I’ve seen so far but nothing handsome enough to tempt me. There was also nothing at the Headingley library and no cookies at the Headingley Sainsbury’s so I took a second new bus home where I picked up some groceries and arrived home in time to make dinner before conference. I also managed to rack up enough miles today, 7.5 to meet my goal of 1000 miles in Britain!! Woo hoo!

``She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.''
....
``To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ancles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! what could she mean by it? It seems to me to shew an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country town indifference to decorum.''

``It shews an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,'' said Bingley.

``I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,'' observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, ``that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.'' 

``Not at all,'' he replied; ``they were brightened by the exercise.''

P&P Ch 8