Van-ventures of the long weekend kind

 A combination of weather, work and every day commitments have firmly kept us off the hills for anything more than day trips or walking from home. Last week we suddenly realised that we had a couple of days free (during the bank holiday weekend) and a promise of half decent weather by those meteorological folk who can enthusiastically wax lyrically about atrocious weather fronts - they seem to love their jobs...

Any hoo - early Saturday morning we hastily packed the van with the bare essentials, food - tick, bedding - tick, warm stuff - tick, camera - tick, Moss' paraphernalia - tick tick tick. Then we headed to a new to us place - Alston in Cumbria and promptly fell in love with it.

Our first night was at the highest point of the area at a place frequented by motorcycles, bikers and vanlifers. At 1903ft it has the most gloriously airy and light feel to it, however when the weather is wild - it would not be a place I'd want to stay. 

Originally a large carpark for a popular café (now long gone with several failed attempts at replacing it) the views are sublime. And, if a constant and steady stream of visiting bikes is not your thing, by early evening, they'd all gone. And it was quiet - just us and three other vans and miles and miles and miles of hills, views and sky.

When we first arrived, we took Moss for a pootle over the fells, although grouse shooting moors as long as you kept your dog on a lead and stayed on the paths and tracks you can walk. We first checked out the rather stately cairn then trekked up to the trig point where once again the views took our breath away.

The next morning we went down into the village of Alston for a wander around and discovered to our delight that their steam train was up and running and put on a puffing good show for us. 

Alston is full of old quirky buildings, cobbled streets and charm, sadly we suspect that a sizable chunk of the housing were either second homes or holiday lets like so many of these 'desirable' holiday locations tend to have.

Even the gloriously pompous old bank (a Martins Bank) appeared to be apartments - hopefully for residents rather than holidaying folk - locals need affordable housing too.

I won't overwhelm you with any more photos, as I did take .. one or two .. LOADS ..! 

Right, I better stop waffling, I have work to get on with, have been waiting for a break in the weather before I can start and by the looks of things - it is now or never!

Speak soon x

Castles, rainbows, fairies and boars

We often find that the first night in the van after a longish break isn't always the best of sleeps for us - but I think a combination of already being tired, lots of fresh air and plenty of miles that we both slept for about ten hours straight - unheard of! But most welcome indeed.

We awoke with little slips of light sneaking below the window shields - tiny slivers of sunlight inviting us to wake up. Himself is very good, he gets up first, puts the kettle on and while it is rumbling away, takes Moss out for a quick pre-breakfast piddle and back for her biscuits just in time before the kettle starts to whistle a piercing shriek. I on the other hand stay snugged up in bed until the steaming mug of tea is handed my way - bliss. This Sunday was no different and as I slurped my tea, I took a cellphone picture of Moss chomping on her breakfast.

We'd promised ourselves that after breakfast we'd return to Leyburn for a proper look at the Campbell's shop, plus a couple of others which had been closed. We popped into several interesting places and came away with some lovely gifts for upcoming birthdays. 

However we soon became 'hill starved' and returned to the van, sorted out lunch and walking nibbles then set off. Our start this time was Redmire - a small hamlet with a now volunteer run and owned railway station. We crossed the rusty tracks down into a bumbling clutch of cottages, small fields filled with friendly sheep, kids toys and the odd escaped hen (they should be penned due to Avian flu). Our path took us along an ancient track, sunken deep below the hedges, filled with mossy stones, violets and daffodils and ivy-clad trees.

There were glimpses of Bolton Castle through the gaps. The castle has such a presence and seems to be visible from most of the valley, a lot of which is part of the castle's lands and unusually is still in private ownership rather than a trust and seems to have a vibrant and active summer of activities.

One of the little villages we bumbled through had an amazing tribute to those lost to covid - a small stained glass sign hanging up unassumingly - so touching.

A little further along (after we'd picked out way through a recently muck-spread field - urgh) we approached a rather interesting place - a typically quirky English sort of thing ... (and all I could think of was of Aril from Gnat Bottomed Towers! 

It was a rather imposing stone gate post complete with gargoyles at either point - one a crowned head atop what looks like a white rose of Yorkshire and on the other was a boar with magnificent gold tusks! What tickled us was the blue plaque above the metal door handle resplendent with boar, peacock, salmon and lions. Brilliant!

We also came across an ancient village cross with some rather mediaeval faces carved into the stone while the steps up to it were festooned with painted stones - most of them being cats!

Not far from the village cross was a very pretty cottage and garden and their wall was decorated with fairy doors and plenty of evidence of elf activity!

Our path took us up on to the side of the valley as we headed round towards the castle through newly constructed wetlands. Naturally boggy areas had been sympathetically landscaped to capture water and create habitats. Although it was very fresh, birds were already using and investigating the ponds. We saw coots, mallards, curlew, dunlin (we think) pootling near or around the site and as we sat with a mug of tea and a certain type of chocolate egg we watched buzzards over head and rabbits all 'twitter-pated' in the fields.

From this point the view ahead as we walked was the castle - oddly it seemed bigger from far away and as we approached it seemed less imposing although still large. 

The final stretch was along a disused railway pockmarked with many many rabbit warren holes - so so many!

Back at the van (eight miles later) Moss had something to eat and put herself 'to bed' in the cab while we took our boots off and agreed it was another really good day. 

Shame weekends are only two days...

Do dogs dream in wolf?

There is something primeval, satisfyingly delicious watching the sun go down after a warm and sultry day. To feel the heat from the sinking sun, still warm enough to leave a fieriness glow on my face.

Then as the colours soften and the air cools, a light and sweetly scented breeze drifts lifting tendrils of hair tickling my nose. Moss feels the change too. While the sun is high, she explores, sniffing invisible stories, following secret smells, then as the sky darkens, she becomes still, more alert and watchful. Her already intense eyes become even more so - her ears more erect and she scans the horizon acutely. She lies near my feet and appears to change from relaxed 'on-holiday-dog' to heightened vigilant sentinel.

I find that at dusk the air changes - in scent, in taste and in temperature - and I, a fairly simple human can feel this shift reasonably easily. For a dog with a gazillion times better sensory system and a snoot long and sensitive - this change must be loud and clear and harken back to primitive times.

A time when dogs were wolves. Does Moss dream in wolf? Or does she dream of chasing balls in to the sea and chomping on bone shaped biscuits.....