Good enough to do it again!
A lovely circular walk that takes in all the best that the Dales have to offer, starting in the pretty little village of Arncliffe.
About 9 miles
Allow 4 hours
Park in front of the Falcon Inn, Arncliffe BD23 5QE
Note – There are long stretches with no phone signal and most if it really is away from all civilisation, so if you’re not an experienced walker, probably best to walk with at least one other person.
I first did this walk on a day where the weather forecast said rain expected at 2.30pm, however, it arrived at noon, so I spent most of the walk trudging through heavy rain, head down. Four days later, as I sat at my desk in the office at home, there was a power cut and I had no email, no mobile, no house phone etc., so after an hour, doing what I could, I gave in to the message the Universe was sending me and packed my rucksack!
Parking up at Arncliffe, I booted up and set off past couples eating pub lunches on the tables and benches outside the Falcon Inn. It was warm and sunny and felt just exactly how a Spring day should feel!
As I walked along the lane to the right of the Falcon, the craggy grey escarpments so typical of this part of the Dales, rose up towards the blue skies, whilst, at my feet, the lush green of new grass was dotted with the bright yellows of dandelions and celandines. Turning right through the gate signposted Malham 6.5 miles, I was soon climbing out of the valley. This steep little climb had me puffing and panting as I was carrying extra weight in my back pack. I was trying out new summer walking boots, so I’d packed my old ones just in case – I didn’t want to be contending with blisters a good few miles into my walk.
Turning to take a breather, I marveled as I always do at the glory of the Dales. Stone cottages huddled around a village green, dry stone walls ran up and down the valley sides, a stream sparked below and hills stretched for miles in every direction. Only ten minutes into my walk and already the sounds were purely of nature; a bee buzzing, birds rejoicing and the stream gurgling far below. With a smile on my face, I turned back to the climb.
Through a gate and up, following the valley side, I could see the flat limestone tops of Highfold in the distance and I knew that on the other side, lay Malham tarn and over the next ridge, Settle. Just a few short weeks ago, I’d been looking back from the far side of Malham tarn to where I was now walking.
The path followed the valley side for a couple of miles, passing stone escarpments like sentries standing to attention and when I looked carefully, I could see all sorts of natural sculptures. In the middle of all the sentries was the face of a smiling woman – honest!
Eventually, the path winds left away from the valley and passes through Dew Bottoms under Great Clowder and Parsons Pulpit. Limestone outcrops are ever present, weird and wonderfully shaped like the pieces of a giant’s chess set, tossed in anger when the game was lost. Up and over a wall-stile and I was really out on my own now, just me and the moors in the middle of God’s county. Not a sound but my heart-beat going ‘Da Dum, Da Dum’ which brought on a lovey little reverie about Patrick Swayze and the dance-training scene in Dirty Dancing, (fellas – you may not quite get this!).
Rounding the base of a small incline on the left of the path, I could see trees ahead. ‘Aha,’ I thought, ‘Civilisation.’ Trees usually being a sign of a farm or smallholding. But I had been fooled. As I approached, I could see that no-one had lived here for at least 50 years. The porch leaned dangerously, the roofs have slipped their slates, the barns were empty. The yard, between the farmhouse, the cottage and the barn, which once would have been cobbled, was a mass of nettles, the windows were boarded and the doors were padlocked. I settled myself on an old cornerstone to eat my lunch, wondering how many farmworkers had eaten their lunch (of baggins, as they used to call it,) in the same spot.
Happy and relaxed, I strode on along the old rutted track, imagining times gone by and farm children, running out to greet their dad as the farm cart rumbled home from the market in Settle.
Soon the track winds left to a gate through which you can see trees and this time they are not fooling you! Here is Middle House Farm, aptly named, as this is about the middle point of the walk.
I stopped at the gate and had a good look ahead of me. I was looking for a five-barred gate straight ahead, about a hundred yards beyond and across the farm lane. Beyond that about 45 degrees across a field there is a tall stile next to a gate, that’s where I was heading. Looking at the field beyond the tall stile I could make out 3 vague paths. Because I’d walked this walk 4 days previously and met the farmer’s son which was very lucky (!) I knew I needed to take the left path, but once in the field, this is difficult to see. From the higher vantage point of the gate I was leaning on, I could see the path and I knew that it lines up with a point at the far side of the field where a dry stone wall running left to right, is joined by another straight wall coming over a small hill. I fixed that image in my mind and set off down the slope and over a stile to the farm track.
Through the said gate and over said high stile (but there is a gate next to it) and towards the point where the walls join. (Do not rise up the hill on your left.) It took me about 20 mins to reach the far wall, where I picked up a clear wide path and turned left onto it.
This lovely path slowly climbs and eventually meets a wall where you go through a gate and see the path continuing like a green ribbon along the back side of Great Chowder. Across the valley is the hulk of Hawswick Clowder - according to the English dictionary, Clowder means a group of cats but I couldn’t quite see the connection!
Far and away the moors rolled beyond Conistone Moor to the North Yorkshire Moors under a hazy sky – perfect. Time for a coffee and a cream egg!
After half a mile or so, the path follows the remains of a wall on your right and as the wall ends you go through a gate Here, there seems to be a path going off at a right angle alongside a wall. Don’t turn right, go straight on and the path you need begins to emerge again and after 5 minutes walking, it starts to drop down. Soon I was passing a sign to Arncliffe Cote and picking my way carefully down a steep little path. A good test for the new boots which are intended for the West Highland Way in a few weeks.
The rest of the walk was down and down, looking across to the swell of Hawswick Common on the other side of Littondale and beyond to the higher ridge of Langcliffe – a climb for another day. Four days ago, this had been a wet and dreary slog, now it was just wonderful. Huge lung-fulls of fresh air, birds chorusing, the late afternoon sun turning everything gold and warming my shoulders. The quiet was so quiet it was loud and I felt huge and yet knew I was just a dot on the landscape. Nature is a healer and I so needed to heal. It was only 8 weeks since my Mum had died after 5 awful years battling dementia and grief seemed like a big hole I kept falling in to. But up in the hills, even when a few tears fell, the wind soon dried them and even the sheep seemed to be saying ‘there, there’ as they looked at me and bleated. It’s hard to feel sad for long in the midst of such beauty. Eventually, I saw the green caravans of Littondale Caravan and Leisure park below me and soon I was in the farmyard of Arncliffe Cote Farm, where an exuberant black Labrador insisting on giving me his chewed up old slipper, several times! Across to my right, a rabbit was making its way carefully across the beck, hopping leisurely from stone to stone – amazing.
I walked down the farm lane to the road, between trees laden with pink blossom and past nodding bluebells; spring flowers scenting the evening air. At the road, I turned right for about 150 yards and just past the entrance to Littondale Caravan park I turned left onto a single track road which leads down to the river. At the river I took a left before the bridge, picking up the sign for Arncliffe 1.5 miles. This seemed a long 1.5 miles, probably because I took a call from my son and ended up missing a gate and walking round 2 large fields several times! However, it was a lovely end to the walk, watching the sparkling clear water of River Skirfare splash around boulders and meander under the old oaks and horse chestnuts and soon I was walking past the old reading rooms onto the village green and back to the car. A little late to enjoy a cool cider outside the pub unfortunately; the daisies on the green were closing up for the evening and the midges were already nibbling, so the boots and poles went back into the boot and I set off along the valley back towards Grassington and Skipton and home.
A super walk, done twice in the space of 4 days and the new boots were fine!
A lovely circular walk that takes in all the best that the Dales have to offer, starting in the pretty little village of Arncliffe.
About 9 miles
Allow 4 hours
Park in front of the Falcon Inn, Arncliffe BD23 5QE
Note – There are long stretches with no phone signal and most if it really is away from all civilisation, so if you’re not an experienced walker, probably best to walk with at least one other person.
I first did this walk on a day where the weather forecast said rain expected at 2.30pm, however, it arrived at noon, so I spent most of the walk trudging through heavy rain, head down. Four days later, as I sat at my desk in the office at home, there was a power cut and I had no email, no mobile, no house phone etc., so after an hour, doing what I could, I gave in to the message the Universe was sending me and packed my rucksack!
Parking up at Arncliffe, I booted up and set off past couples eating pub lunches on the tables and benches outside the Falcon Inn. It was warm and sunny and felt just exactly how a Spring day should feel!
As I walked along the lane to the right of the Falcon, the craggy grey escarpments so typical of this part of the Dales, rose up towards the blue skies, whilst, at my feet, the lush green of new grass was dotted with the bright yellows of dandelions and celandines. Turning right through the gate signposted Malham 6.5 miles, I was soon climbing out of the valley. This steep little climb had me puffing and panting as I was carrying extra weight in my back pack. I was trying out new summer walking boots, so I’d packed my old ones just in case – I didn’t want to be contending with blisters a good few miles into my walk.
Turning to take a breather, I marveled as I always do at the glory of the Dales. Stone cottages huddled around a village green, dry stone walls ran up and down the valley sides, a stream sparked below and hills stretched for miles in every direction. Only ten minutes into my walk and already the sounds were purely of nature; a bee buzzing, birds rejoicing and the stream gurgling far below. With a smile on my face, I turned back to the climb.
Through a gate and up, following the valley side, I could see the flat limestone tops of Highfold in the distance and I knew that on the other side, lay Malham tarn and over the next ridge, Settle. Just a few short weeks ago, I’d been looking back from the far side of Malham tarn to where I was now walking.
The path followed the valley side for a couple of miles, passing stone escarpments like sentries standing to attention and when I looked carefully, I could see all sorts of natural sculptures. In the middle of all the sentries was the face of a smiling woman – honest!
Eventually, the path winds left away from the valley and passes through Dew Bottoms under Great Clowder and Parsons Pulpit. Limestone outcrops are ever present, weird and wonderfully shaped like the pieces of a giant’s chess set, tossed in anger when the game was lost. Up and over a wall-stile and I was really out on my own now, just me and the moors in the middle of God’s county. Not a sound but my heart-beat going ‘Da Dum, Da Dum’ which brought on a lovey little reverie about Patrick Swayze and the dance-training scene in Dirty Dancing, (fellas – you may not quite get this!).
Rounding the base of a small incline on the left of the path, I could see trees ahead. ‘Aha,’ I thought, ‘Civilisation.’ Trees usually being a sign of a farm or smallholding. But I had been fooled. As I approached, I could see that no-one had lived here for at least 50 years. The porch leaned dangerously, the roofs have slipped their slates, the barns were empty. The yard, between the farmhouse, the cottage and the barn, which once would have been cobbled, was a mass of nettles, the windows were boarded and the doors were padlocked. I settled myself on an old cornerstone to eat my lunch, wondering how many farmworkers had eaten their lunch (of baggins, as they used to call it,) in the same spot.
Happy and relaxed, I strode on along the old rutted track, imagining times gone by and farm children, running out to greet their dad as the farm cart rumbled home from the market in Settle.
Soon the track winds left to a gate through which you can see trees and this time they are not fooling you! Here is Middle House Farm, aptly named, as this is about the middle point of the walk.
I stopped at the gate and had a good look ahead of me. I was looking for a five-barred gate straight ahead, about a hundred yards beyond and across the farm lane. Beyond that about 45 degrees across a field there is a tall stile next to a gate, that’s where I was heading. Looking at the field beyond the tall stile I could make out 3 vague paths. Because I’d walked this walk 4 days previously and met the farmer’s son which was very lucky (!) I knew I needed to take the left path, but once in the field, this is difficult to see. From the higher vantage point of the gate I was leaning on, I could see the path and I knew that it lines up with a point at the far side of the field where a dry stone wall running left to right, is joined by another straight wall coming over a small hill. I fixed that image in my mind and set off down the slope and over a stile to the farm track.
Through the said gate and over said high stile (but there is a gate next to it) and towards the point where the walls join. (Do not rise up the hill on your left.) It took me about 20 mins to reach the far wall, where I picked up a clear wide path and turned left onto it.
This lovely path slowly climbs and eventually meets a wall where you go through a gate and see the path continuing like a green ribbon along the back side of Great Chowder. Across the valley is the hulk of Hawswick Clowder - according to the English dictionary, Clowder means a group of cats but I couldn’t quite see the connection!
Far and away the moors rolled beyond Conistone Moor to the North Yorkshire Moors under a hazy sky – perfect. Time for a coffee and a cream egg!
After half a mile or so, the path follows the remains of a wall on your right and as the wall ends you go through a gate Here, there seems to be a path going off at a right angle alongside a wall. Don’t turn right, go straight on and the path you need begins to emerge again and after 5 minutes walking, it starts to drop down. Soon I was passing a sign to Arncliffe Cote and picking my way carefully down a steep little path. A good test for the new boots which are intended for the West Highland Way in a few weeks.
The rest of the walk was down and down, looking across to the swell of Hawswick Common on the other side of Littondale and beyond to the higher ridge of Langcliffe – a climb for another day. Four days ago, this had been a wet and dreary slog, now it was just wonderful. Huge lung-fulls of fresh air, birds chorusing, the late afternoon sun turning everything gold and warming my shoulders. The quiet was so quiet it was loud and I felt huge and yet knew I was just a dot on the landscape. Nature is a healer and I so needed to heal. It was only 8 weeks since my Mum had died after 5 awful years battling dementia and grief seemed like a big hole I kept falling in to. But up in the hills, even when a few tears fell, the wind soon dried them and even the sheep seemed to be saying ‘there, there’ as they looked at me and bleated. It’s hard to feel sad for long in the midst of such beauty. Eventually, I saw the green caravans of Littondale Caravan and Leisure park below me and soon I was in the farmyard of Arncliffe Cote Farm, where an exuberant black Labrador insisting on giving me his chewed up old slipper, several times! Across to my right, a rabbit was making its way carefully across the beck, hopping leisurely from stone to stone – amazing.
I walked down the farm lane to the road, between trees laden with pink blossom and past nodding bluebells; spring flowers scenting the evening air. At the road, I turned right for about 150 yards and just past the entrance to Littondale Caravan park I turned left onto a single track road which leads down to the river. At the river I took a left before the bridge, picking up the sign for Arncliffe 1.5 miles. This seemed a long 1.5 miles, probably because I took a call from my son and ended up missing a gate and walking round 2 large fields several times! However, it was a lovely end to the walk, watching the sparkling clear water of River Skirfare splash around boulders and meander under the old oaks and horse chestnuts and soon I was walking past the old reading rooms onto the village green and back to the car. A little late to enjoy a cool cider outside the pub unfortunately; the daisies on the green were closing up for the evening and the midges were already nibbling, so the boots and poles went back into the boot and I set off along the valley back towards Grassington and Skipton and home.
A super walk, done twice in the space of 4 days and the new boots were fine!
