Meandering through the land of Nidd

NUN MONKTON has more than its fair share of claims to fame for such a small place.

The village church has a magnificent stained glass window by Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris which is claimed to be the best in North Yorkshire; its priory starred in A Touch of Frost and the pub won infamy as a watering hole for Canadian airmen during the Second World War.

But for Bob Adams, Nun Monkton is where the Ouse and Nidd meet; the beginning of a journey to discover more about a river that has fascinated him for years.

"People ask why the Nidd? Well I have always been attracted to the word Nidd for some unexplained reason," says Bob. "It invokes in me something very old, or spooky, maybe something out of Lord of The Rings. It implies something medieval with serfs and maidens wearing hoods. All right it does to me but that’s just me."

The journey took a great deal of planning and thought - 20 minutes to be precise. Bob conceived the idea on a whim and left the following day.

"I was inspired by reading about great expeditions in Tibet and the Himalayas," he says. "So I decided to do one of my own, nearer home. In fact very near home, because the expedition left from my front door."

The river rises in Nidderdale on the slopes of Great Whernside before flowing east through Pateley Bridge, Knaresborough and ultimately to its confluence with the Ouse at Nun Monkton.

But with Monkton just a couple of miles from home, Bob decided to traverse the route in reverse. This is how he got on.

Day One Poppleton to Cattal (Tockwith) Approx 11 miles

Having conceived the idea the day before, I seized the moment (Carpe Diem) and left on Tuesday afternoon at 1440, slightly delayed by a morning’s work and a last minute phone call.

I was debating whether to do the walk without consulting a map, but decided against this as I would miss out on sites of interest and might get shot at by irate farmers for not using footpaths.

In fact fate decided for me as I actually forgot to bring my maps and had to navigate by iphone map which only showed my position and the meanderings of the river - nothing else.

The first stretch was along the Ouse. There was a path and some lovely horses outside the old Red House School. I understand the school closed in 2001 when pupil numbers depleted to seventeen.

The house was built around 1600 by the Royalist Slingsby family, one of whom was executed for taking part in a plot to restore the monarchy. It is also famous for being one of the sets of the Darling Buds of May, filmed in the early 70s. I bet you didn’t know that. I didn’t. It is now an equestrian centre, caravan site and B&B.

I passed what seems to be a water intake and pumping station and got my first glimpse of Beningborough Hall across the Ouse through the trees.

I then reached the place where the Nidd flows into the Ouse and got my first glimpse of the start of my quest. It is a truly beautiful place with huge trees and high banks, a popular place for boats to moor in the summer. I must admit though it took me some time to locate the Nidd which looks just like a stream at its confluence.

I guess it must be very deep, though, as higher up it has cut gorges and dales out of the landscape. Across the Nidd is Nun Monkton and almost like an omen a heron skimmed down the Nidd and right across to the north bank of the Ouse.

I set off past some mobile homes; it was a very peaceful setting, although there was a sign about the perils of leaving your dog off its lead which appeared to be surrounded by bullet holes.

This was a bit ominous as I was entering unknown country without a map. I had no plans to worry sheep but I worried that merely walking on private land might be enough to provoke some. As you are reading this you will have gathered that I survived.

The first village I passed through and, as it turned out, the last on today’s walk, was Moor Monkton. Both Moor and Nun Monkton are situated at the end of country lanes that terminate in the villages so they are very quiet. Moor Monkton specialises in beautiful well clipped lawns and flower beds. Puts mine to shame.

I came to the end of the village and couldn’t get out. This is where the lack of map was going to be a problem. The footpath sign pointed into people’s gardens. I entered a few and felt I would be arrested at any minute. I even knocked on a door, to no avail. I set off down the road ready to make a huge detour. Then on my right I saw another sign, footpath. Saved.

The next bit was trying to find ways through fields of sheep and lambs while looking for stiles. They soon ran out but I picked up the river again and followed it. I passed a barren area consisting of acres of dried mud, a result of the winter floods.

Ahead of me was a field full of bullocks, all with little horns. As I approached they became excited. Not afraid of me but more that they were waiting for me.

Not wanting a lonely death trampled by bovines I tried to find a way past. But there was no way past.

Eventually I realised that an irate farmer was better than a bullock so I headed for a large farm. The farm turned out to be on the A59, Harrogate road. Walking through without being accosted, I saw the footpath sign pointing back the way I had come. I crossed the road through a smallholding full of clucking hens, hissing geese and wooly llamas.

A friendly gentleman directed me through on an alternative route. He said he was trying to divert walkers as the footpath went through a field of rheas. I asked him what they were and he said they were birds, the height of a man.

‘Like Ostriches?’

‘Yes.’

And aggressive, because they were mating.

I was very pleased to meet the man. He diverted me through a picturesque caravan field which contained what appeared to be a grotto, a pond and an old rusty lorry. I later read that a rhea was on the loose in the south and that they were capable of disembowelling a man with one kick of their huge legs.

I then followed a track until a sign said, private road. So I struck off across arable fields in search of the Nidd and walked for miles along hedges - and I apologise for verging into the Celtic language here - that were 'nidd' with hawthorn blossom.

Looking at the map later I realised I was very near Marston Moor, site of the great civil war battle of 1644. Following the now low sun, presumably west, I found the Nidd and crashed my way through dead plants and nettles for ages. Then, wow, a path and it followed the river. Now, although this was an advantage, it meant I was running out of time, as the path followed every meander of the river and there were loads of those.

This was becoming a power walk. I felt like I was travelling in the same direction but the sun moved periodically from my left to my right. Passing New Farm, Thistleford Ings and Skewkirk Hall I came to a tall building next to the first weir, Mill Farm. With the sun getting very low I crossed Tockwith Ness.

I then had to make a decision. My wife had phoned. It was 1930 and I realised I would be lucky to catch the 2022 from Cattal station that was still miles away.

She agreed to drive to Cattal bridge to pick me up. Unfortunately I realised it would take me over an hour to get there, so I decided to head for Tockwith and left the river at a footpath sign. My iphone map showed the village.

And so after five hours of walking I finally arrived at Tockwith while Barbara got lost en route ending up at the nearby industrial estate with a malfunctioning mobile phone.

We finally met up and I was glad to get home in one piece.

PS Unfortunately the lack of a map on my first day resulted in my missing the Lost Village of Wilstrop. This is situated just near to where the A59 passes over the Nidd. Very little remains so it was not surprising I missed it. The theory is that the villagers were probably forced out by the local landowner by the mid fifteenth century to make way for sheep grazing. The ‘village’ still elects a Parish Councillor.