Grimwith Reservoir
A good walk for newbies to walking alone, as you are never far from civilization and there’s an option to walk either 4 or 8 miles. Allow 4 to 4.5 hours.
The walk takes you around Grimwith Reservoir near Burnside in the Yorkshire Dales and then over towards Appletreewick and is on good paths and bridleways. There are delightful views throughout, even though the walk involves little climbing.
Parking – drive to Burnsall and then take the B6265 towards Pateley Bridge. After a mile look for a sign to Hebden on the RHS, turn down and park after about 100 yds on the right near Beck House.
Refreshments and toilets at Burnsall and also a lovely café at Hebden in the converted schoolrooms – gluten free cakes to die for. Other than that plenty of walls and ferns ladies!
I always plan my walks ahead and photocopy the area of the OS Explorer map that I need. I mark out the walk and leave a copy for Glenn (hubby) so that if I fail to materialize he’ll know where to send the search party. I know you can get maps on your phone but although I always have my phone on me, I hate looking at it when I’m walking. I walk to escape the trappings of the modern world. I also like being able to read a map and believe it is a skill fast becoming forgotten as people rely more and more on GPS. So armed with the photocopy in a plastic cover (as it can always rain!) and with the full map and a compass in my day sack, I’m ready for off.
I feel excited as I drive towards a walk I haven’t done before and yesterday, with a decent day forecast, I was heading towards Burnsall and feeling like a happy bunny!
Slipping my feet into my walking boots feels like coming home and rucksack on and poles in hand, I’m ready to conquer the world, well a few miles of it anyway!
Up to the main road and straight across onto Hartlington Moor Lane, a rough but good track between those familiar Yorkshire stone walls. A bright day with cotton wool clouds, patches of blue and some heavy grey; with a westerly breeze keeping the temperature around 13 degrees, a typical August day then! Waterproofs in my sack just in case, but soon the fleece was off and tied round my middle as I stretched my legs up the gentle incline, heading towards the reservoir. Soon a red admiral joined me, alighting on mottled stones and dancing across the lane in front of me. Splashes of pink willowherb nestled amongst thistle and nettle on the lane-side and the green hills of the Dales rolled on in every direction.
After a mile or so the reservoir came into view on my right, the water so low that there it only seemed to cover about half the bottom, but still a handful of sailboats were out and with the sun sparkling on the water, it was an arresting sight. Joining the reservoir circular path, I walked past spruce woods, breathing in the crisp smell of pine and hearing the fain coo of a wood-pigeon; and on past boulder strewn beaches that are usually submerged in the deep deep waters of the reservoir.
Across two quaint old fashioned wooden bridges with Blea Beck tumbling down from Grassington Moor, frothing around rocks and boulders and rushing, peaty brown towards the reservoir. In my stride now, passing 2 couples with 2 dogs – except one of the dogs was missing. “Poppy”, “Poppy”, they were yelling and then there was the sound of crashing and panting in the waist high ferns near me and I shouted “I think she’s here!” Sure enough a black spaniel, full of bits of bracken and seeds came bounding out, looking very happy, having had a great adventure in a big tall jungle!
As you walk round the reservoir, interesting looking paths veer off to the left, but none are signposted or indeed showed up on my map, so I stuck to the waterside.
The sails boats sailed, their crew leaning far out over the water and the sun warmed my face and sparkled on the water and my boots crunched the gravel. All was well with the world.
At the bottom (or maybe it’s the top) of the reservoir, is a 400 year old cruck barn with its heather thatch roof restored to its original glory. Evidently all the barns in the Dales used to be like this, with very steep roofs supported by wooden crucks on top of the stone sides, but there are literally a handful left. I stood and wondered who had farmed there in the 1600s when the barn was built, long before there was a reservoir, a wild and hard life maybe.
The last leg of the circuit takes you through tall marsh woundwort, their pink flowers and feathery white soft seeds reminding me of candyfloss at the fair.
Up now to the car park and out to the left picking up a good track across fields to the B6265, past wide eyed sheep who were content to stare as I walked merely feet from them.
Straight across the road ( you could go right here and back to your car if you just want to walk 4 miles) the path leads on and into more fields, with the jagged outline of Burhill Ridge on your left and some rocky outcrops just begging to be climbed nearer to hand. Worth a scramble to sit on the top and dangle your legs whilst you eat a sandwich!
The path joins New Road (a tarmacked road) for about a hundred yards or so and then leaves the road to the right on a clearly marked bridleway, signposted to Hartlington. Now you’re on farmed land with sheep a plenty and gorgeous brown cows chewing. Beautiful views of Barden Fell and Burnsall and Thorpe Fell surround you, in fact you can see for miles. Way over to the wind turbines beyond Burnley left and far beyond Malham over to your right. A good place to sit and write a poem, whilst I had a coffee and my other sandwich. Soft grass for my cushion and a stone wall for my back – heaven! Here's the poem:
Now
Now to the boulders and the straight stone walls
The sharp escarpment and the wind-bent tree,
The peat stained waterfalls of coffee and cream
where the bracken curls and the heather clings.
Wide skies hold the promise of anything
from cotton—cloud Summer to
sharp showery Spring,
Patches of blue midst rolling grey
A ‘fleece on, fleece off’ kinda day.
Now from the bracken to the sheep-neat grass
The rusted gate and the farmland track,
Down past the hall on the old stone path
where my footsteps rouse the ghosts of the past.
And the sun breaks through
And I walk alone,
but never lonely
In the beauty of these Dales.
Dropping down past farm buildings, sounds drifting up the valley from Burnsall where there was a Bank Holiday weekend sports day event in progress.
Down and down, past Hartlington Hall, a beautiful old hall nestling in woodland and eventually to the tiny road in the valley bottom where I realised as I turned right, past picture post-card cottages, that I would now need to climb all the way back up the valley side to my car! Still, I’d done little climbing during the whole walk and so pushed on past converted barns and cottages and farms. I wondered if their occupants woke up every day and looked at the views and wondered how they ever got to be so lucky.
A rider on an amazing grey trotted past with a cheery hello and a tractor had me climbing into the nettles as it missed me by about 6 inches but I made it back to the car unscathed and filled with the joys of living.
Four and a half hours of breathing in the beauty of the Dales does that for you.
A good walk for newbies to walking alone, as you are never far from civilization and there’s an option to walk either 4 or 8 miles. Allow 4 to 4.5 hours.
The walk takes you around Grimwith Reservoir near Burnside in the Yorkshire Dales and then over towards Appletreewick and is on good paths and bridleways. There are delightful views throughout, even though the walk involves little climbing.
Parking – drive to Burnsall and then take the B6265 towards Pateley Bridge. After a mile look for a sign to Hebden on the RHS, turn down and park after about 100 yds on the right near Beck House.
Refreshments and toilets at Burnsall and also a lovely café at Hebden in the converted schoolrooms – gluten free cakes to die for. Other than that plenty of walls and ferns ladies!
I always plan my walks ahead and photocopy the area of the OS Explorer map that I need. I mark out the walk and leave a copy for Glenn (hubby) so that if I fail to materialize he’ll know where to send the search party. I know you can get maps on your phone but although I always have my phone on me, I hate looking at it when I’m walking. I walk to escape the trappings of the modern world. I also like being able to read a map and believe it is a skill fast becoming forgotten as people rely more and more on GPS. So armed with the photocopy in a plastic cover (as it can always rain!) and with the full map and a compass in my day sack, I’m ready for off.
I feel excited as I drive towards a walk I haven’t done before and yesterday, with a decent day forecast, I was heading towards Burnsall and feeling like a happy bunny!
Slipping my feet into my walking boots feels like coming home and rucksack on and poles in hand, I’m ready to conquer the world, well a few miles of it anyway!
Up to the main road and straight across onto Hartlington Moor Lane, a rough but good track between those familiar Yorkshire stone walls. A bright day with cotton wool clouds, patches of blue and some heavy grey; with a westerly breeze keeping the temperature around 13 degrees, a typical August day then! Waterproofs in my sack just in case, but soon the fleece was off and tied round my middle as I stretched my legs up the gentle incline, heading towards the reservoir. Soon a red admiral joined me, alighting on mottled stones and dancing across the lane in front of me. Splashes of pink willowherb nestled amongst thistle and nettle on the lane-side and the green hills of the Dales rolled on in every direction.
After a mile or so the reservoir came into view on my right, the water so low that there it only seemed to cover about half the bottom, but still a handful of sailboats were out and with the sun sparkling on the water, it was an arresting sight. Joining the reservoir circular path, I walked past spruce woods, breathing in the crisp smell of pine and hearing the fain coo of a wood-pigeon; and on past boulder strewn beaches that are usually submerged in the deep deep waters of the reservoir.
Across two quaint old fashioned wooden bridges with Blea Beck tumbling down from Grassington Moor, frothing around rocks and boulders and rushing, peaty brown towards the reservoir. In my stride now, passing 2 couples with 2 dogs – except one of the dogs was missing. “Poppy”, “Poppy”, they were yelling and then there was the sound of crashing and panting in the waist high ferns near me and I shouted “I think she’s here!” Sure enough a black spaniel, full of bits of bracken and seeds came bounding out, looking very happy, having had a great adventure in a big tall jungle!
As you walk round the reservoir, interesting looking paths veer off to the left, but none are signposted or indeed showed up on my map, so I stuck to the waterside.
The sails boats sailed, their crew leaning far out over the water and the sun warmed my face and sparkled on the water and my boots crunched the gravel. All was well with the world.
At the bottom (or maybe it’s the top) of the reservoir, is a 400 year old cruck barn with its heather thatch roof restored to its original glory. Evidently all the barns in the Dales used to be like this, with very steep roofs supported by wooden crucks on top of the stone sides, but there are literally a handful left. I stood and wondered who had farmed there in the 1600s when the barn was built, long before there was a reservoir, a wild and hard life maybe.
The last leg of the circuit takes you through tall marsh woundwort, their pink flowers and feathery white soft seeds reminding me of candyfloss at the fair.
Up now to the car park and out to the left picking up a good track across fields to the B6265, past wide eyed sheep who were content to stare as I walked merely feet from them.
Straight across the road ( you could go right here and back to your car if you just want to walk 4 miles) the path leads on and into more fields, with the jagged outline of Burhill Ridge on your left and some rocky outcrops just begging to be climbed nearer to hand. Worth a scramble to sit on the top and dangle your legs whilst you eat a sandwich!
The path joins New Road (a tarmacked road) for about a hundred yards or so and then leaves the road to the right on a clearly marked bridleway, signposted to Hartlington. Now you’re on farmed land with sheep a plenty and gorgeous brown cows chewing. Beautiful views of Barden Fell and Burnsall and Thorpe Fell surround you, in fact you can see for miles. Way over to the wind turbines beyond Burnley left and far beyond Malham over to your right. A good place to sit and write a poem, whilst I had a coffee and my other sandwich. Soft grass for my cushion and a stone wall for my back – heaven! Here's the poem:
Now
Now to the boulders and the straight stone walls
The sharp escarpment and the wind-bent tree,
The peat stained waterfalls of coffee and cream
where the bracken curls and the heather clings.
Wide skies hold the promise of anything
from cotton—cloud Summer to
sharp showery Spring,
Patches of blue midst rolling grey
A ‘fleece on, fleece off’ kinda day.
Now from the bracken to the sheep-neat grass
The rusted gate and the farmland track,
Down past the hall on the old stone path
where my footsteps rouse the ghosts of the past.
And the sun breaks through
And I walk alone,
but never lonely
In the beauty of these Dales.
Dropping down past farm buildings, sounds drifting up the valley from Burnsall where there was a Bank Holiday weekend sports day event in progress.
Down and down, past Hartlington Hall, a beautiful old hall nestling in woodland and eventually to the tiny road in the valley bottom where I realised as I turned right, past picture post-card cottages, that I would now need to climb all the way back up the valley side to my car! Still, I’d done little climbing during the whole walk and so pushed on past converted barns and cottages and farms. I wondered if their occupants woke up every day and looked at the views and wondered how they ever got to be so lucky.
A rider on an amazing grey trotted past with a cheery hello and a tractor had me climbing into the nettles as it missed me by about 6 inches but I made it back to the car unscathed and filled with the joys of living.
Four and a half hours of breathing in the beauty of the Dales does that for you.
