26th October 2020

 After testing positive for coronavirus, 102 people have died in the UK. There are currently 667 active cases in the Harborough area, an increase of 152 from last week.

Sue and I recently discovered that a long-time friend of ours had been acknowledged by the Queen in recognition of his work with charitable and welfare organisations, as well as his selfless public service. Roger Dunton was awarded an MBE (Member of the Order of the British Empire), a very well-deserved honour and long overdue, in my opinion. When I retired in 2008, I wrote to the High Sheriff of Leicestershire, suggesting that his name be put forward, but at the time, nothing came of it. I met him last week and offered our congratulations. True to form, he was in the middle of delivering medicines to those too infirm to travel to the pharmacy and couldn’t stop for long.

A planned two-and-a-half-hour, leisurely drive to North Yorkshire ended up being extended by a frustrating 40-minute crawl through roadworks at the junction of the M1 and A1. Despite large areas of the country descending into lockdown with restricted movement, this particular section of the road seemed very popular with HGVs delivering ‘essential’ goods to keep the economy buoyant.

The journey north was a showery affair, and upon arrival at the small village of Huby, we had to content ourselves with eating a picnic lunch inside the car, as the nearby grass and benches were too damp for comfort. Optimistic that the rain clouds had moved on towards Lancashire, we opted for wellingtons rather than hiking boots in preparation for the first ramble. It turned out to be a wise choice.

Conveniently, one of the residents of Huby had published a few local walks online to tempt ‘foreigners’ to the area, and Sue chose one of them (Walk No. 3). I had already plotted all the routes onto my GPS and printed an OS version for Sue to follow.

The village of Huby is largely unremarkable from a historical and architectural point of view. Like many places in the ‘over-populated UK,’ it has pockets of irritating new developments springing up everywhere. Our first foray into the North Yorkshire countryside took us through Folly Woods, following a puddle-pocked path that eventually led us across fields via a series of well-used and very muddy farm tracks.

At one such farmstead, we were engaged by a friendly and talkative farmer who insisted on opening a gate that barred our way. He was keen to chat about the horse in an adjacent field, which belonged to his daughter, and curious about where we were headed. As it turned out, he was on the Parish Council and seemed pleased that we were taking part in one of its initiatives.

Like the village, the walk itself held few surprises, but it provided a gentle wind-down from our earlier motorway dash and hopefully a suitable warm-up for more challenging leg-stretchers later in the week. Many of the houses and cottages we passed were still heavily involved in the local rural economy, with little tables or boxes placed at gates and driveways advertising eggs, apples, pears, or kindling wood for sale. One, in particular, caught my eye; it offered chocolate treats, and I couldn’t resist picking up a few oval slabs of the milk variety.

After checking into the nearby Burn Hall Hotel, we relaxed in our room until it was time for dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. Earlier, I had been surprised to find the car park full, and this was further confirmed during dinner when all available tables were occupied. COVID-19 certainly didn’t seem to deter these hardy northerners from enjoying life.

27th October 2020: After testing positive for coronavirus, 102 people have died in the UK. There are 563 active cases in the Harborough area, an increase of 194 from last week.

Disappointingly, rain arrived soon after breakfast and was forecast to linger all day. Undeterred, we togged up in our best wet-weather gear and set off for the start of the day’s ramble in Coxwold.

The village stands on a slight incline, with its rather impressive church, Saint Michael and All Angels, perched at the top of the hill. We parked outside the local pub, the Fauconberg Arms, and embarked on our rigorous trek along a path behind the church.

Throughout the walk, we had hoped to catch glimpses of the Kilburn White Horse, a striking figure cut into the limestone hill above the small village of Kilburn. However, the low cloud base shrouded the surrounding hills, and our attempts to spot it were in vain.

We took a short break from our damp tramping at an enchanting ‘honesty café’ just outside the village of Husthwaite, set next to an abandoned railway line in the old Station Master’s house. Sheltering from a light drizzle, we sat inside and made ourselves coffee. A selection of biscuits, cakes, sweets, and crisps was available, with payment made by placing the correct money into a tin. What a lovely idea, we thought, an opinion clearly shared by other walkers who had left thank-you notes on a small notice board inside.

Despite the persistent showers closing in around us, the route offered plenty of variety to keep us engaged. Voles, rabbits, hawks, ducks, geese, partridges, and pheasants all seemed equally surprised to see us emerge from the mist they thought they had to themselves. Abandoned watermills and farmsteads provided brief topics of conversation as we passed by, our eyes still scanning the distant haze for that elusive white horse.

Returning to Coxwold, we opted for refreshing drinks in the very snug lounge of the Fauconberg Arms. Resisting the temptation to settle in for the afternoon, we made our way next to Saint Michael and All Saints Church before driving the short distance to Byland Abbey. We had spotted a signpost in the village centre and decided it would be an interesting diversion. Neither of us had heard of this Cistercian Abbey, founded in 1135, which was ruined during the dissolution of the monasteries.

By November 1538, the Abbey had already been ruined during the time of the dissolution, but the remains are still awe-inspiring. The size and affluence of the original Abbey must have been truly staggering. We were so glad we took a chance and decided to visit.

With heavy rain falling, we set the SatNav for the Kilburn White Horse, determined to catch a glimpse of this elusive feature, despite the landscape being completely blanketed in mist. The 20-minute drive along Oldstead Road through the valley was spectacular. It was one of the most enjoyable drives I’ve had since following the Pendle Witch Trail a few years ago. Arriving at a small car park beneath the horse, we were surprised to see a few other cars parked there. The rain was pouring down, and a gale was blowing as we began the lung-busting climb up the steps through the cloud cover. From our parking spot, we could already make out the legs of the horse; this creature was massive!

As we climbed higher, more parts of the horse came into view, but the weather, proximity, and the steep terrain prevented us from seeing the entire figure. At the very top, we leaned into the gale, squinting through the sheets of rain that were whipping horizontally. All we could see were slabs of greyish gravel, with thick mist swirling by, randomly obscuring our vision. What were we doing here?

Scattered around the gravelly edges of the horse’s back and head, and within its grassy eye, were small plaques marking the scattering of ashes, some adorned with fresh flowers. I thought, weather permitting, what a beautiful resting place for the dead. Having lived a life in view of this white horse, what a wonderful tribute it must be for loved ones, knowing they can be remembered every time someone gazes upon the creature on the hillside.

On our descent, we passed a mother and father, struggling upward with a young child in tow. The man tightly gripped a small brown cardboard box, while the woman held a bunch of flowers, such a poignant sight. Moments later, as we reached my little Fiesta, the rain stopped, the wind subsided, and the sun peeked through the clouds. Perhaps the recently departed and the soon-to-be scattered had some influence “upstairs,” or maybe that was just wishful thinking?

We decided to dine at the 16th-century New Inn in Huby, now a Cantonese restaurant and bar. The meal was excellent and quite authentic. During our conversation with the owner, we learned that she was born in Vietnam to Chinese parents.

28th October 2020: After testing positive for coronavirus, 310 have died in the UK. There are 522 active cases in the Harborough area, down 9 from last week. The good news is that infections in Harborough are on the decline, even as the situation worsens in other parts of the country.

Today was dry. After breakfast, I called the York Bird of Prey Centre, established in 2011 and located in the walled garden behind the hotel. We booked a half-day falconry experience and hawk walk for later that morning. We were the first to enter the site when it opened. After being handed a blue rubber glove for our left hands, we were introduced to our falconer, Colin. Fortunately, we were the only ones booked for the “Experience” that day; other visitors were there for the flying displays and exhibits.

We were surprised by the size of the centre and the variety of birds of prey they had on display. During the first part of our “Experience,” we toured the cages and were allowed to hold some of the birds. Some could be stroked, while others had the potential to be a bit more dangerous; losing a finger or two was a real risk with them!

When the morning flying display began, Sue and I were chosen to participate. We became landing platforms for a selection of birds, which flew from their roosts to our gloved hands for small titbits of meat. The largest and heaviest of these was a golden eagle. It was incredible to see the birds up close, and a real privilege to be trusted by such powerful creatures. Although we may have just been part of their feeding routine, the experience felt truly special.

A particularly amusing moment came courtesy of a very cute kookaburra. After a remarkable flying display over and around the audience, he was given a dead chick, which he refused to let go of. His instinct to eat and survive kicked in, and despite the chick being swung through the air quite violently, he kept a firm grip with his beak. Eventually, he was taken back to his cage, still clutching his prize.

After the display, Colin collected Kaiser, one of several Harris Hawks at the centre. The four of us set off for the next hour, wandering through the woods and meadow surrounding the hotel. Kaiser would fly from our leather-gloved arms to perches in the nearby trees, then return for small slabs of meat scraped onto our thumbs. It was certainly one of the best walks we’ve ever been on. The hawk displayed such trust by continually returning to us, despite the freedom that was so easily attainable. It was incredibly humbling.

Returning to the centre, we spent some time wandering among the cages that had caught our attention earlier, reading information boards on habitats and conservation until the afternoon show began. As before, we became landing platforms for a variety of birds, the largest being the Chilean Blue Eagle.

Afterwards, we decided to stick to our plan of afternoon cream tea at the hotel. Our instincts for a sweet treat kicked in, and we left the display as the smaller birds were being flown. What a fabulous day we had. The staff were incredibly friendly, knowledgeable, and passionate about the birds, who were all well looked after.

While enjoying our cream tea in one of the hotel’s lounges, we struck up a conversation with another couple who were thankfully socially distanced at a nearby table. As we chatted, we learned they were from Fleetwood. They seemed unconcerned about the town being in Tier 3 Lockdown, openly admitting they were flouting the lockdown rules:

• People should avoid travelling outside the ‘very high’ area they are in, or entering a ‘very high’ area, except for essential reasons such as work, education, caring responsibilities, or transit.
• People should avoid staying overnight in another part of the UK if they are residents in a ‘very high’ area, or avoid staying overnight in a ‘very high’ area if they are from elsewhere.

It doesn’t take many people with a similar attitude to negate the efforts of those who are genuinely trying to end this pandemic! We made our exit.

We wrapped up the afternoon with a drive to Huby and a short circular walk from the village, which conveniently passed through the cemetery. Along the way, we passed one of the many ‘boxes’ selling local produce, and from one, we bought two large bags of delicious walnuts. The walk was a quick two-and-a-half-mile stroll, completed in just over an hour. As we drove back to the hotel, the sun was setting, marking the end of another enjoyable day.

29th October 2020: Our walk today began at Kirkham Priory, nestled in the beautiful Derwent Valley. The thirty-minute drive was met with steady rain, which unfortunately continued throughout the day.

After crossing the River Derwent via the ancient, narrow stone bridge, we started our ramble by ascending a steep incline through dense woodland. The only community we passed through was the small but picturesque village of Crambe. Its name comes from the Anglo-Saxon word “crumb,” meaning “a bend in the river.”

The first half of our route took us mostly through undulating fields, with distant views obscured by the dreary weather and constant light rain. As we descended through one field, I turned around to find myself surrounded by a dozen or more sheep. They had mistaken me for the farmer and were baaing loudly, expecting food. I couldn’t help but smile at the quizzical looks on their faces as Sue and I stepped over a stile, leaving them behind, hungry and confused. E by gum, that were a right laf!

The final leg of our trek took us along the east bank of the River Derwent. The rain from yesterday and today had turned the trail into a treacherous hazard, and the constant worry of slipping into the river was ever-present. With our eyes fixed on the ground in search of a firm footing, there was little time to appreciate the remarkable riverside vista around us. However, we did manage to pause for a brief moment to admire the prominent 16th-century Howsham Hall and its expansive grounds. Currently on the market, it seems like a bit of a bargain at just over £4 million.

Afterwards, with the rain still falling, the track became increasingly unpleasant as we neared the Priory. Upon reaching the bridge, we were grateful to be standing on solid medieval stone once more. We lingered briefly, peering through the gloom at the priory ruins, but the inviting warmth of the Stone Trough Inn, perched on the hillside above, proved too much to resist. We quickly made our way inside, where we found refuge with drinks and a dry seat.

Upon returning to the hotel, we had originally planned another walk around the nearby village of Huby, but feeling bedraggled and wet, we decided instead to enjoy the warmth of our accommodation and treat ourselves to a sumptuous early evening meal.

30th October 2020: There was no rain today. The forty-minute drive to Helmsley was dry and pleasant. Our destination was the impressive ruins of one of England’s most powerful Cistercian monasteries, Rievaulx Abbey. We planned to follow the same route that the Medieval monks walked from the Abbey to Helmsley.

We left my Fiesta in the car park serving both the 900-year-old medieval fortress, Helmsley Castle, and the starting point of the Rievaulx Trail. We set off, joined by several other socially distanced parties. This is a well-trodden path, so my GPS was mostly redundant, but it still bleeped reassuringly at each twist and turn to confirm we were on track. The path offered stunning views of the castle and the dale until we descended steeply through a series of woods, each one named individually, and resplendent in their bright autumn colours.

Arriving at the Abbey, situated at the head of the dale, we paused for chocolate and ginger beer in the cafe, seated at a table that offered magnificent views of the historical structure.

Thirst quenched and photos taken, we completed our circuit by returning to Helmsley through the pretty sunken valley of Beck Dale. Today, it is mainly used for pheasant shooting, and we passed a shooting party heading back to their Range Rovers, dogs in tow. Throughout the dale, hundreds of squawking, scattering birds roamed blissfully unaware that their days were numbered.

Back in Helmsley, we spent a couple of hours exploring the streets of this charming Yorkshire town, visited the Friday open-air market, and ventured into Duncombe Park, which overlooks the castle.

As dusk descended, we returned to the Burn Hotel and enjoyed our evening meal at Jaipur Spice, the ‘winner of the Best Curry House in Yorkshire and Humberside’ at the Bangladeshi Catering Awards, located just outside Easingwold.

31st October 2020: After testing positive for coronavirus, 326 have died in the UK. There are 415 active cases in the Harborough area, down 186 from last week.

On a foul and miserable day, we checked out of the hotel and began our drive back to Harborough through torrential rain, whipped up by 50mph gusts of wind. It was an unpleasant journey, made worse by a strategic detour to avoid a 45-minute delay on the M1 due to an accident at the notorious Catthorpe Intersection. To top off an already frustrating day, it was announced in the evening that a second national lockdown would be imposed across England from midnight on Thursday. All nonessential shops, restaurants, pubs, and leisure facilities would close for at least four weeks. This means Jamie and Ruth’s trip to Sweden next week will not happen, and neither will my visit to Holmfirth and Norah Batty’s Cottage with friends.

I suppose another lockdown was inevitable. It takes common sense and cooperation to defeat this virus, yet we have created a society that tolerates differing points of view, even those that are counterproductive to the greater good. The nation is split into factions that cannot see beyond their individualism and the right to tread their own path. The Welsh have a ‘Firewall’, the Scots a ‘Route Map’, Northern Ireland has ‘Restrictions’, and England has ‘Three Tiers’, each with slightly different criteria, politically designed to express their distinctiveness. In reality, it is simply confusing and encourages non-compliance.

When will our politicians understand?

It can be done: on Saturday, it was Taiwan’s 202nd consecutive day without a single locally transmitted case.