A Diary from the Dales - Part 3

Saturday and our original - albeit rather loose - plan was to get the bus into Leeds. I’d never been apart from a fleeting stop at Elland Road many moons ago and wanted to have a look around. The fact that we could get a bus direct from Ripon helped too and with it passing through Harrogate on the way it might have made for a nice journey.

We learnt though, through the wonder of social media that fellow caravanner - ‘Caravan Larry’ - real name Phil was staying on the Moors and a meet up was arranged for after lunch. Originally we were going to hook up in York but Phil wanted to head over our way which was fine by us. We were going to spend the morning ‘mopping up’ the bits of Ripon that we still wanted to see.

First on the list was the Workhouse Museum - set, funnily enough in an old workhouse. We’d parked up, handed over the very reasonable two quid for a days parking and were just crossing the road to the museum  when who should appear but Caravan Larry himself with Mrs Larry and three little Larry’s.

Introductions made we headed into the museum and spent a pleasant hour and half or so wandering around. It served as a stark reminder of how tough life must have been if you were poor or fell on hard times in the early 1800’s.

It was universally agreed that lunch was next on the agenda and a newly discovered Wetherspoons duly obliged in Ripon’s Market Square. of course the chance to carry out a little more ‘research’ was too good to miss.

We had a great time with the Larry’s but it was soon time for us to part ways. Hopefully we will see them at a Twittercamp real soon. For those that like to cook in their caravan - or anywhere really - you should take a look at Phil’s website  - In My Caravan Kitchen - for recipes and some truly scrumptious looking meals - all prepared and cooked in the ‘van.

The Workhouse Museum is actually one of three - and a combined ticket gives you access all three - the second of which was the Courthouse Museum which we called into on the way back to the car. You get the chance to sit on the magistrates bench - and don a wig, act as a witness or even the defendant. Information boards give you the history of the courthouse - in action as a Magistrates court until 1998 - and some of the sentences handed down - many of which were deportation to Australia.

Sunday - and with forecasted to be appalling - and not even shopping to fall back on thanks to it being Easter - we decided to stay put. After a late start, Trev indulged in a bit of housework - or should that be ‘van work - while I sat in the dinette in front of the laptop and bashed one out. A blog that is. In fact several. As well as the main blog, there’s my Ale Archive where I keep a log of all the different beers I’ve tried. There was some catching up to do there as well thanks to the extensive er, research during Twittercamp. In the end quite a productive day. And the forecasters got it right too.

Monday and our last full day in Ripon in particular and North Yorkshire in general. We completed the Ripon  trilogy by visiting the Prison & Police  Museum. Much of the displays and artefacts are contained within the cells themselves. There’s opportunities for kids and kids at heart to dress up and as you will see there is even an chance for you to get your leg over - a motorbike that is. Mind you with my repaired lace up leathers back in service that was easier said than done! Worth and hour or so of your time and easily reached from the market square.

With grocery shopping duties completed after a sneaky lunchtime pint and toastie we retreated to the comfort of Patsy as the weather once again turned sour.

Tuesday and time to head south a bit for our next stop in the Peak District, near the village of Longnor a little south of Buxton. With an expected journey time of a couple of hours or so, and not being able to get on our pitch until 2pm there was no rush to leave, so for once we weren’t up at silly o’clock getting packed up.

We really enjoyed our stay in Ripon - a great little site in a great little city. Access from the main roads was easy which made getting out to explore easy too. The sites facilities were immaculate and the laundrette was very reasonably priced at two quid a load and just a pound for the dryer. Ditto the WiFi at just eight quid for the week with no data limit and up to two devices at once. TV reception was good and mobile reception was ok - no problems on Three but Vodafone was a bit weak at times.

I drove the first part of the journey south and it’s fair to say I got the easier, if less, well, interesting half of the journey. Trev took over a little before we turned off from the M1 and all was good until we got through Bakewell, when the roads shrank considerably. Think single lanes with occasional passing places and steep twisting bends and tight hair pins and you’ll get an idea. A delight if there’s none of the boys in blue about with their Kodak’s and you can be sure nothing’s coming the other way - not so much fun with a tonne and a half on the back and trying to dodge pot holes to boot. It seemed to go forever and Trev must have changed gears more times than Lewis Hamilton. At last though the the signs came in to view as we passed through the village and knew we weren't far away. The turning to the site itself appeared from nowhere and necessitated a sharp left hand turn up a rather steep slope. Sadly Patsy’s tyres weren't the only part of her anatomy that came into contact with the tarmac and her rear right hand corner came out a little worse for wear with the black plastic being split in a couple of places and the end of the awning rail twisted underneath. Annoying but one of those things. We’ve since removed the twisted section of rail and taped up the plastic and it already looks a lot better. The metal skirt that runs down the side was unscathed and there appears to be no damage elsewhere. I’ll look to get it sorted at some point and maybe even have a go myself but there’s no rush.

Having got sited and thirst quenched with a cuppa we made a brief excursion up the road to Buxton to get our bearings and scour the supermarket for the stuff we’d forgot yesterday!

So, Part 3 done and dusted. Stand by for a good look around Buxton, a journey through the dales and a visit to the city of steel…..

A Diary from the Dales - Part 1

With another Twittercamp over, it was time for us to head north again - as we have done for the last couple of years - as our school’s Easter holidays continued.

This time though we weren’t going as far, deciding this year to give Northumberland a miss and heading instead for North Yorkshire in general and the city of Ripon in particular to a campsite on it’s western extremities. This was a part of the UK we had barely set foot in before so were very much looking forward to it.

The run up itself was pretty straightforward - with the vast majority of the journey being straight up the A1, although a one car ‘pile-up’ at the A14 junction and the inevitable road closure meant us heading south first and joining the A1 further down.

I’d punched in Ripon on the sat-nav app and with our diversion we were looking at a couple of hundred miles or so. Trev took the wheel for the first stint, stopping after a couple of hours to replenish our tug Rosie’s dwindling reserves and to swap driving duties.

The earliest arrival time at the site was 2:00pm and with it being so small I didn’t want to risk arriving early and causing problems, so soon after we turned off the A1 we paused to ring and check. Fine, no problem, the warden said, our pitch was ready and waiting.

I checked the route on a map prior to setting off and it looked a straightforward trundle along a road to the south of the city, so was a bit surprised when the sat-nav steered us around the market square, but even more surprised when, on passing the town hall, the app announced proudly that we had ‘reached our destination’. Great.

And then it dawned. I’d not bothered to put the site location into the sat-nav, just ‘Ripon’. Pillock. Fortunately a large vacant loading bay gave us a chance to sort ourselves out and we were checking in just a few minutes later.

The complex is largely given over to holiday homes in the form of static caravans. There are two seasonal pitches and just seven hardstanding pitches for tourers, all with mains electric, water and waste hook up. Which would have been great if our fresh water hose was not sitting in our garage nearly 300 miles away. Doh. Leaving something behind is becoming a habit. One of these days we’ll turn up on site and wonder where the caravan is.

Having set up, a foray to the nearest supermarket was as far as we ventured to stock up on grub for the next few days, along with a selection of locally brews for my seemingly never ending ‘research’ project.

The facilities are worth a mention at this site - they are fantastic. Clearly very new and immaculately clean, the shower cubicles are spacious although the push button fixed temperature showers can’t be cheated with the usual the awning peg/ladder combo. There’s also a laundrette with iron and pot wash area - all immaculate.

Wednesday and after a nice lie in, we decided to stay local, travelling no further than the car park by Ripon’s Cathedral. Extremely reasonably priced - for someone who lives in the south east anyway - at just £2.00 all day.

The Cathedral was the main focus of our interest looking stout and extremely substantial from the outside, somewhat of an illusion as it is not as tall as many.

The original cathedral dates back to Saxon times - some 1300 years ago - but all that remains of that is the spooky little crypt. One can only wonder how many have passed through over the years, whether for prayers, or as visitors like us.

It’s well worth a visit - basic entry is free all though you encouraged to leave a donation which seems reasonable. A couple of quid buys you a permit to take photo’s and a guide at three pounds helps you make the most of your visit.

 

At the front of the cathedral a narrow road led into the market square. Trev had spotted a tailoring repairs and alterations shop which I was on the look out for since the zip in a pair of my leathers gave up the ghost last week. Two pairs of heavy leather jeans may be excessive in a caravan, but I like to alternate - anything that is stretched to it’s limit across my substantial backside and thighs deserves a day off, if only to retain it’s shape. Anyway, I had them in the car just in case and they promised they’d have ‘em done by the weekend. Superb.

We spent another couple of hours strolling around the city. The centre is not big and under grey skies didn’t look it’s best but pleasant enough and clearly very functional with plenty of folks going about their daily business. Like many places we have visited, it would look so much better devoid of cars.

Keen to press on with my extensive research project, we called in at a pub for a couple before heading back. Timothy Taylor brew one of my favourite ales - Landlord - and this was available but I took the chance to sample another couple of their ales instead - Bolt Maker and Ram Tam. Both tasted divine and will appear on my Ale Archive. Eventually!

Thursday, and it was time for our tug Rosie to take the strain, although mercifully for her, without the caravan on her back as we made our first foray into the Yorkshire Dales.

First up was Richmond - a Georgian market town passing overlooking the River Swale and recommended to us by a friend on Facebook. Perched on the edge of the dales it is a real gem of a town, it boasts - apparently - the largest cobbled market place in England and the town’s name is the most duplicated in the UK with over 50 Richmond's found world wide.

Whilst the castle was closed, there was a lovely walk around it’s perimeter giving fantastic views down to the river below.

Clearly they breed ‘em tough up here - they need to. The sight of several old dears making short work of Richmond's’ steeply sloping paths against a strong icy wind was impressive.

Next up was Reeth - another recommendation and further into the dales. Another real picture postcard of a place but the rain, which had been threatening had now appeared, so we didn’t stop, but pressed on.

We were heading towards Tan Hill, a high point in the Dales and home to a pub that can boast to be the highest in the British Isles at 1,732 feet above sea level. We remembered seeing this on some TV programme a while ago and I’d made a note on my phone, but had, predictably completely forgotten about it.

The weather got worse and worse as we climbed - driving rain and howling winds gave a stern reminder of how bleak - as well as beautiful - the dales can be. On a better day the drive would have been really fun, however the sight of the pub standing against the stark landscape was a welcome one. Of course there was no point coming all this way just to have a look….

That’s all for now, look out for the second part of our adventures in the beautiful Yorkshire Dales coming soon.