6.6 miles (10.6 kilometres) in theory, but somehow we managed 10 miles. Probably the frightening number of times we took the unpath and the delightful wander around the mill had something to do with that. April, exceptionally wet. With lovely son, but sadly not lovely sun.
There are apparently a million words in the English language, depending on who you believe, and most of them are words for rain.* This is not surprising. The English are obsessed by weather and talk about it every day, often with complete strangers. Plus we have a lot of rain. Today most of it was along the Dales High Way, specifically the stretch between Dent and Sedbergh.
We are appropriately dressed, at least one of us is, but Goretex not withstanding, the rain seeps into every unzipped crevice, every millimetre of gap and takes pleasure in riding up inside sleeves in the way that water molecules always bring their friends along. One big hydrogen bonded mass gathering. It was raining when we started, it was raining when we finished, and in between it mostly rained.
* This is categorically not true. Fewer than half of them are words for rain. The rest are for other kinds of weather.
Personally I genuinely enjoy walking in the rain, but it’s not great for photographs, nor is it great for phones which have the OS map downloaded. I’m putting this out there at the start to head off the inevitable irritation you will feel at the number of times we went the wrong way. (Absolutely loads. Even by the law of averages you would assume we would take the correct fork half the time, but this would be an overestimate).
We begin again in Dent village and walk the riverside path, which will lead from Barth Bridge up onto Long Moor. But not before some exceedingly muddy diversions across the wrong fields, where confused sheep judge us and tut. I won’t elaborate on this stage of the walk, except to say we discovered a very interesting new type of weighted gate which, flying in the face of conventional field furniture, opens on its horizontal axis like a drawbridge. It was too wet to photograph, you will need to paint a picture with your imagination, I don’t know the proper word for them.
Eventually we are back on the Dales High Way and the sheltered green lane which takes us to the moor, and the fingerpost where we turn left away from Aye Gill Pike. We are already as wet as waterproofs can get, the rain has been teeming, drizzling, spitting and coming down in sheets. There is however one piece of good news, at 957 feet (292 metres) it is all downhill from here.
Which is why twenty minutes later we both wonder why we are suddenly on another slope going upwards, and at this point we realise we have taken the unpath again, or in this case the wrong path. On the other hand, the rain has slowed to a mizzle and we feel blithe and optimistic. We stagger haltingly over sodden hummocks and find ourselves back where we should be, and amazingly the rain stops.
It is absolutely beautiful. Rain always leaves a clarity on the ground behind it that brings colours to life. It also means I can put my hood down and look up from the ground with fresh eyes, perhaps that is why the world looks different after rain. My hooded tunnel vision is replaced with an expansive moorland stage. The moor is lonely and wild, but this time we can see Sedbergh in the distance. We are careful to check the map and keep to the correct path. For about three minutes. We wander back to the correct route again and wind our way around and between hills, stepping over gills.
As we descend Frostrow Fells we realise we have been off the Dales High Way entirely, and by way of punctuating the error, immediately make a spectacularly dumb wrong turn through a swingy gate onto a country road which we don’t realise until we check the map ten minutes later. Still, we enjoyed the lovely lane very much even though it was taking us away from the mill so we walk back up it and through the swingy gate again.
Eventually we come to Farfield Mill, a really lovely heritage centre full of craft studios and, most pertinently, a café. Some of the artworks are sublime, I find myself drawn to the earth colours and organic forms, as well as indulging my usual passion for coveting spalted wooden objects.
It’s a short and idyllic walk from here to Sedbergh, along green country roads and along the River Rawthey. I’ve read that gold can be panned in the rivers here, I brought our gold pans with us but they are back at the cottage. Besides, it is raining again and we need to meet our lift home at Westwood Books. Sedbergh is a book town, lots of second hand and antiquarian book shops, attracting bibliophiles for a day mooching about in caves of tomes for something that has been out of print since the sixties. I just hope that they are used to the sight of two bedraggled and dripping rain dogs. Assuming of course we don’t get lost on the way.*
*we do
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We began at Dent Heritage Centre and followed the Dales High Way over the moor to Farfield Mill. If you want to follow our GPX it is here, although we took several impromptu and unscheduled detours just to keep life interesting.
Walking Away 
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