“Spontaneity is a meticulously prepared art”. (Oscar Wilde)
The last few days I have been itching to get off for a walk. On Tuesday 18 August 2026 I actually managed it
It is some 14 weeks since I returned to North Yorkshire from Portugal and Spain, having spent 35 days walking the height of those two countries: a total of 650 miles.
Once I reached Lisbon, I ended up walking the historic pilgrimage route known as the Camino Portuguese.
I loved it.
And I’ve loved the intervening bit of all those 68 days: albeit my walking distances (apart from the weekly 8-9 miles with my Wayfarers Walking group on a Monday), have been far more modest.
True I did have an abortive attempt in walking all of the Welsh 3000 metre peaks (15 of them), nearly 30 miles and all in 18 continuous hours, with my 2 sons Harry and Jake and their best friend Freddy.
Thankfully, on that trip, I was presented with the opportunity to play the perfect ‘get out of jail card’ when I volunteered to eject from that walk and return for our missing car keys, which we had inadvertently left at the cottage, nearly an hour away.
‘Stopwatch challenges’ and the hills, fells, outdoors, no longer interest me.
I prefer a long walk with an opportunity to enjoy it with as little stress as possible and without trying to ‘beat that clock.’
Each to their own I guess.
Having grafted hard in the heat of the hottest UK summer of my life, I reached a point where I now wanted some time out: all with the blessing of my ‘Red Hot Date’ (❤️) Nicky Moorman.
My ‘graft?’
Amongst other heavy duty jobs like tree felling, repointing this patio, with a traditional limestone pointing mortar.
I guess that was a ‘Camino of sorts!’ It was certainly as long and as bruising, in its own way.
And my fingers tips are suffering.
“Split flipping fingers “ are a frequent complaint.
I guess there are safety reasons for the handling warnings for lime based products.
This was a seriously big project undertaken in seriously big heat.
I sizzled on that patio and in Northern England we are not used to sizzling!
So the plan to walk ‘The Dodd Hill Way’ to Windermere, in the English Lake District, was formed.
Of course there is no ‘Dodd Hill Way’.
We just happen to live in a house called Dodd Hill and that house is only 12 miles from Ilkley in West Yorkshire, where the famous Dales Way officially starts.
It is an 80 mile long footpath (approximately 120 km) that traverses the iconic Yorkshire Dales and the eastern fringes of the English Lake District.
I’ve walked the Dales Way before.
That was with Jake, in August 2020, just after the end of Lockdown 1 and just as the world started to break free from the shackles of the Coronavirus pandemic that blighted our worlds!
It rained a lot on that walk.
We nearly lost both of our tents during a terrific storm, whilst pitched just 2 miles from the Ribblehead viaduct.
Crumbs! That was just 6 years ago!
It seems another lifetime now.
6 years ago?
UNBELIEVABLE!
I loved that walk.
To try it again, but this time from my own front door step, seemed like fun!
So, a little after 09.00 this Tuesday morning in mid August, I shouldered my rucsac and set off for Kettlewell: some 18 miles away.
It was a grey and cool morning.
I shivered as I walked up our lane.
But the sight of that beautiful moorland heather warmed me.
I looked back at the wood behind our property.
Going back was tempting!
The air was fresh: the oppressive heat of recent weeks had gone and overnight we had been treated to that rarest of summer experiences: RAIN! Drizzle all day on Monday and heavy rain all night.
The grass seemed to weep with joy and the cows basked in their damp wonderland.
The cows were in the fields.
These aren’t just any cow.
The Nidderdale cow can be an animal to fear: they have a habit of galloping towards you at high speed before veering off, matador style, at the last moment.
It is very disconcerting and has certainly freaked some of our friends.
Today, these ‘ferocious’ cows were hardly that!
They simply chewed their cud and ignored me completely!
Familiar local points of interest were gobbled up as I approached the trig point at High Crag, our nearest high point at some 350 metres.
The colours were stunning!
Please note the images are ‘as taken!’ I don’t believe in touching up photos.
I want to see the image the photographer saw.
Beautiful dusky pink heather carpeted my approach.
Controlled burning had taken place last year but signs of new growth abounded.
Mercifully, we have had no serious wild fires near us.
Sadly though, that has been a different experience to people living in our old stomping ground of the Midlands.
The paths in these parts are sketchy: often over grown, inaccessible or ‘requisitioned’ by some farmers who don’t really want or welcome walkers on their land.
Often there is no path!
The heather was so deep that it had engulfed the path,
My shoes were soon damp from the overnight rain.
I decided on 2 occasions to take one of my famed short cuts.
To my cost!
My feet got even wetter and the trail was chest high in bracken and shin high heather revealed its feisty side with its shin-scratching beauty.
Heather?
I had forgotten that August is ‘Heather Season.’
Stunning!
I also remembered that I know a few Heathers: they all have lovely personalities just like their moorland namesake.
After High Crag and my foot drenching short cuts, it was Tip’s Waterfall, (Tip is our border collie: my daughter and son-in-law’s actually) and this beauty spot, lying less than 1 mile from our house, is his favourite.
I passed beautiful and traditional Nidderdale ‘longhouses’.
And Gilbeck Farm: a property high up on the moors.
We looked at it in 2020.
It was way too isolated for us.
The stiles hereabouts are a unique size. Even tall, skinny walkers like me, find them a squeeze.
At 11.14, having missed my ‘gratitude time of 11.11’ I was reminded once again that we live in a superbly beautiful area.
The head wind was ferocious, but I was suitably boosted when a road cyclist tried to overtake me going up the hill from Pateley Bridge.
Even though I walked, I very nearly overtook him!
Then it was onto Coldstone Cut, an eye catching viewpoint created by the local limestone quarry of that name.
If planning officers had enjoyed access to drones at the time it was constructed, we may never have had the visual spectacular that now exists.
The design is a bit racy though, especially for the more conservative majority who live in the rural expanse that is Nidderdale.
That designer was ‘ballsy’ for sure!😜
I’ve walked up to the Cut many times. It’s a beautiful place and great for children.
https://share.google/czfkFc7vOGnDfjYk8
From there it was a stop off at our friends Paul and Debbie’s house in Greenhow for a cuppa.
They both came to my local talk a few weeks ago, all about my Camino walks across Spain and Portugal from the last 9 years.
It turned out that Paul had walked the Camino Frances in May of this year.
It’s a small ‘Camino world’ out there.
Their sunflowers, positioned next to the iconic Camino waymaker sign, provided me with poignant memories.
Debbie reminded me that Nicky and I had bought the sunflowers 3 weeks ago when we went there for dinner.
Greenhow has a reputation for being cold: a reputation now carrying a sunflowerery certificate of authenticity!
I had walked my most recent Camino to support my youngest sister’s family as they tried to come to terms with the tragic loss of Hannah, the 5th child of 7, and Liz and Dave’s youngest daughter.
‘Les Histoires d’Hannah’ is their newly established charity and the sunflower is its symbol.🌻
Just last week, Hannah’s 3 brothers cycled 1400km in 7 days to raise over €6000 for this charity, which provides a free book for local schoolchildren starting school for the first time.
The title of their challenge?
.Project Sunflower!’
Life: it always seems to come.
‘MAGNIFIQUE’ – as we like to say in France!😜
I visited the small graveyard, across the road from Paul and Debbie’s house.
The entrance canopy and gate was made by the famous Yorkshire joiner known as ‘The Mouseman’.
His famous hand carved mouse could be seen on one of the beams to the right of the central pillar.
https://www.robertthompsons.co.uk/
I walked fast as Nicky had agreed to meet me for another ‘Red Hot Date’ (❤️) at the world famous Stump Cross Caverns, for lunch.
Briefly after retirement, as I struggled to adjust to significant bereavement, retirement, relocation and renovation, I had worked there.
So had Jake, whilst studying geology at university.
It is a brilliant local attraction where visitors can explore a vast underground labyrinth of caves and interconnecting tunnels.
The owners, Lisa, fiancée Nick and son Ollie have transformed it.
They are lovely people who always treat their staff exceptionally well.
https://share.google/4s8Bwq75HhhiBgcHv
The car park was rammed! I’ve never seen it so busy.
The caverns featured in an episode of Channel 5’s ‘The Hotel Inspector’ in 2024.
https://share.google/TxX1FAPgFufhsxfTd
https://www.channel5.com/the-hotel-inspector/season-18/episode-3
It is well worth a watch.
(Just ‘long click’ the attached link to do so.)
After a delicious panini sandwich with Nicky, it was time for me to hit the wilderness fells that border Stump Cross.
Over 17 kilometres of beautiful but inhospitable moorland lay beyond the reservoir.
I circuited Grimwith Reservoir on the northern shore.
2 windsurfers whistled across the lake providing spectacular carve gyb turns every 50 seconds or so.
I used to windsurf: maybe it’s time to go back to that brilliant sport!
Then I struck north, choosing to short cut 2 more paths. This time with total success.
I passed strange animal dwellings.
Pigs: I guessed.
Wrong!
These were for pheasants!
Pheasant shooting is big business locally. Shooters will pay up to £800 a day to shoot on the moors.
It’s really not my thing. And I definitely feel a lot of sympathy for the pheasants, who are sadly, not the brightest of birds!
I tried to remember the plot behind Roald Dahl’s ‘Danny, the champion of the world’.
Something to do with pheasants getting smashed on whisky!🥃
Hardly relevant to my own journey.
Coincidentally though, I am currently reading a much more relevant book to my circumstances:
‘THE UNLIKELY PILGRIMAGE of
HAROLD FRY’.
This excellent book charts the fictional journey of a retiree as he walks from Devon to Berwick on Tweed.
Sounds familiar?
Retirees walking stupidly long distances?
I have no idea what you are thinking about.😜
After a long walk up the moorland track on Bycliffe Hill, Great Whernside (703 feet) came into view.
Jake and I had wild camped there a month ago as we prepared for the Welsh 3000 Challenge, with a 36 km walk around Nidderdale.
That was the coldest night of my life.
In the spirit of travelling light in the middle of a summer heatwave, I had camped minus a sleeping bag, on Great Whernside.
It was raining and freezing!
Never again!
Such a schoolboy error!
Always carry a sleeping bag MM!
The chimney and mine workings that are dotted across this area, known as Mossdale, were in full view.
Beautiful.
Mining in that landscape and climate must have been so brutal for our Victorian ancestors!
They were tough in those days.
The limestone pavements of the Dales came into focus as the track started to descend towards Kettlewell.
A patchwork of dry stone walls was visible on all compass points.
Kilnsey Crag in all its glory!
Wow!
‘Gods own County’ is rightly named.
8 hours and 21 miles after leaving my own doorstep I walked into Kettlewell camp site.
Within 10 minutes I had the most perfect erection!
My tent stretched and taut, should have won all tent pitching prizes.
Sadly there were none.
After a shower in the best camp site showers I have ever experienced, with lovely, hot and continuous water and no silly on off push for a water button, I sauntered down to the pub, to write this Day 1 of 3, blog.
With suitable refreshment of course.
I hope you enjoy it.
Thanks for the read.
Please feel free to share it should you wish.
Martin x
Ps Massive thanks to my great university friend Sarah, who has agreed to edit out all my typos!
She’s very confident that she has!
Feel free to let me know if you see one!
All the sane, ‘Eds Creds’ go to Sarah for sure! 👌
My lovely uni friend Jane sent me the attached moniker! Surely there is no resemblance…….. is there?🫣
Martin Moorman is a 61 year old retired Headteacher who lives with his wife Nicky, daughter Rosie and her family in North Yorkshire, UK.
Happily married for 36 years, Martin and Nicky have 3 grown up children, Rosie, Harry and Jake, all happily married too. In his spare time Martin loves walking, photography, football, renovating, cooking and talking rubbish to anyone who will listen!
Martin Moorman 