August 18, 2017: Thixendale to Wintringham
The ruined church at Wharram Percy.
Knowing we had a long day ahead of us (though not the fifteen and a half miles proposed by our tour organizers) Steve had suggested that we could have breakfast as early as 7:00 and this we agreed to. It meant that we were able to make a really early departure, 7:55, on the sixth day of our walk.
We passed the village hall before reaching a chalky track up steep Beamer Hill. Here there were several twists and turns before we dropped down to another grassy dale and up the other side. There now began a mostly level passage as we walked along the edges of North Plantation, with Deep Dale below us. Our goal was the site of a famous deserted medieval village, Wharram Percy, and the path now lead down to its pond – the ruins of St. Martin’s Church outlined in the bright sunshine beyond.
As we neared the site our way forward was assisted by a kissing gate erected on a steep hillside and as I was standing between the entrance and exit gates of this wooden palisade my feet suddenly went out from under me and I fell heavily on my bum – my feet sliding ahead of me under the exit gate. The front of the shin on my left leg got a good scrape from this encounter with gravity but I wasn’t otherwise injured and we had soon found a bench on the grassy slopes adjacent to the church for a bit of a rest.
We saw only one other chap at this fascinating site and after fifteen minutes or so we decided to resume our walk. Gavan had noted that if we continued on a northerly track next to the adjacent stream we would have a less severe climb on our way to a roadway above us and so we took this. It had a few puddles that needed to be dodged but we were soon among houses and had found a bit of tarmac that wound up to the east in order to enter the modern village of Wharram le Street.
A return to the heights also promised a return to a decent signal and we found a low wall next to a hedge in order to sit down and tap away at our phones. I sent off yesterday’s photos and Gavan reconnected with the outside world – where the dominant stories both involved use of an automobile as a battering ram against the innocent, first in Charlottesville, Virginia, where anti-fascists were mowed down by an opponent, and then in Barcelona, where many people were killed in a terrorist attack. Of equal note in the former story there lurked some criticism of the American president, who seemed eager to blame both sides equally. The name of Donald Trump was frequently raised by our Yorkshire hosts; they seems baffled and perturbed – but then so did many Americans.
I got ahead of Gavan as we left Wharram le Street, turning left with the B1248 and waiting for him to catch up when a track headed north as the highway headed northwest. There was a bench here and when Gavan caught up we opened our lunch packs – Steve had even found some pastrami for my sandwich. There was the briefest of showers – not long enough to bother with raingear – and we resumed our northerly trod on another great weather day.
Ever-changing cloudscapes beckon after we leave Wharram le Street.
Our High Street route reached The Peak and dropped down to another paved road, one we would use to climb past a number of farmsteads, including Wood House Farm, as we rose ever higher. Views were wonderful and the gradient not to steep; indeed, after we had reached Wold Barn things leveled off. At one stage a trail through adjacent woodland had been provided; it paralleled our track and while Gavan took it I stuck to the road.
Ahead of us we could see the top of the Settrington Beacon and at one time, assured of a signal in close proximity to this communications facility, we had wondered if this would be a good place to call for a taxi. This was not needed (though I had researched taxi numbers extensively) because it would now be our own landlord who would pick us up and it was obviously far too early to summon him, for it was only 3:30 or so and he did not expect us at our pickup village until 5:00 or so. So we continued through the woodland that hid the famous beacon and began a gradual descent with ripe brambles there for the picking, eventually leaving the shelter to sit on a bench that overlooked the plane below and even offered distant views of our goal for the day, Wintringham.
Gavan and I disagreed on what to do next. He argued that we would have only half an hour to go and that we should use the extra time to attack a fierce hill that towered above the village – rather than face this challenge as our first assignment on the morrow. I argued that it would take much more than half an hour to reach Wintringham and that I would rather face the hill with fresh legs tomorrow. In addition I couldn’t see any convenient alternate point for our landlord to rendezvous with us this afternoon – and Gavan, accepting these arguments at last, stormed off down the hill as I followed more slowly.
The church at Wintringham. Here we waited for a ride to our b&b in East Heslerton.
In fact Wintringham took longer to reach than he had expected. Shortly before we arrived we used my phone to call the farmer at our night’s accommodation in East Heslerton and he said he would be with us in twenty minutes or so. We used Wintringham’s main street (rather than a YWW route that runs behind the town) to reach our rendezvous point, the beautiful parish church. It was 4:45 and we had walked twelve and a half miles. I tried to find a place to sit down among the ivy growing at the roadside here and this is how Dave discovered me as I was floundering around trying to rise from my seated position a few minutes later.
We heard a lot about the woes of farming life and the mild winters experienced hereabouts of late as we sped eastward to East Heslerton and the Manor Farm. Dave helped with our bags as he led us to a nice room where he took our breakfast and lunch orders. At 6:30 his son-in-law (recently married in the redundant church behind the farm) knocked on our door and drove us back to West Heslerton, where our evening meal would be taken at the Dawnay Arms.
This was a very nice meal and we had time for a nightcap as we waited for an 8:15 pickup. You would think that with all this physical effort that I would have no trouble sleeping on this trip but I did often toss and turn – sometimes even taking some Tylenol PM, a remedy that often leaves me groggy for some time on the following morning.
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