In which Sid and Doris take a walk in the Dales and then drive down the A1 for three hours.
Burnsall is a small village in the Yorkshire Dales National Park and the Dale in question is the Wharfe. From our window seat at breakfast we can see pheasant shooters getting ready to go out, carrying guns from the gun safes in their rooms here. They are dressed in green tweed and checked Viyella shirts. The huntress is sporting breeches and a Cornbrook cap. There are four Range Rovers. The local pro wears blue and deferentially drives a Ford Ranger pick-up. There are worlds that don’t intersect with ours.
It is NAR, and Sid and Doris have time for a walk before starting the final drive home.
This is sheep country.
Over the stone bridge we go (rebuilt in 1883 after the great floods), through a narrow squeeze to climb up above the river under the suspicious gaze of the locals. This feels like the human equivalent of the locks on a canal – the landscape is only engineered for people of a certain size.
The walk drops back to cross at a narrow-gauge suspension bridge and into the village with its two churches. One is ex-Catholic CofE and the other Methodist. We make a note to do more walking in the Dales. Sid quietly considers the Pennine Way which threads its way between the 19th century industrial towns on the way from Edale to Kirk Yetholm which is just into Scotland. It passes the ‘walk you can see on a globe’ test. You would want to be lucky with the weather. Walking on wet peat is the devil.
Back in the Mini our route home delightfully passes through the Nidderdale Area of Natural Beauty, further improved with the addition of the Strange Domes of Mystery. It is a small shame we do not go through Blubberhouses, but we can give them a name check. We go round posh Harrogate and then to the A1. This is a kind road, not too busy and we can tuck in behind plenty of lorries trundling along at 60 mph.
After a while the ringing in the ears gets too much and we pull into a real truck-stop diner. They are unconcerned our train weight is less than 32 tonnes, we park with the vans, indeed we could have parked under some of them. Tea and chips please, we order, slightly too loudly.
We read the truckers press, very impressed with the torque of the new Scanias. We are marking out the diners on this road for future use.
And so with quiet persistence home. We find that our drive is home to a Lemon Popsicle 911 Carrera Touring and an Audi A3 Cabriolet. Teal has been fantastic, no beat missed so we do not take up the Porsche swap our neighbour offers.