Coxwold, we came here for the cakes from the prize-winning Village Store, but they were spoken for and the bow-tied shopkeeper wouldn't take a bribe. The walk was more than consolation.

A long-time lovely village this, the unicorns of feudal lord on the houses. Though the pub was shut there is Shandy Hall where on the walls it reads: "Here dwelt Laurence Sterne many years... here he wrote Tristram Shandy and the Sentimental Journey".

Our journey opened out with a white gate to pastures, shaded ridge and furrow and sight of Kilburn's White Horse from an aspect that flatters its awkward shape. So far rather nice, sunshine on and sunshine off, a spinney or a line of trees, the leaves still left intense. Stubble fields, escarpment high behind, and fallen ash erupting cramp balls of black fungi.

Easy walking on smooth lovely land, the camber of low hills, various daisies in flower, a sequence of neat bridges over becks or drainage ditches, the vegetation still green before the hammer of the frost.

Pond Bay, site of 60 hectares of 12th-century bream ponds. An ash wood by a stream. Good signposts, and then from half a mile away the sight of the high remnants of the Cistercian abbey. Then Pond Bay number two.

The Abbey Inn was open, the abbey, arches and all, was closed.

Rougher pastures now, tufted grass, a studding of some scrub, an owl box that reminds - the best news of the week - eagle owls in Yorkshire, 6ft wingspans, fantastic, unless you are a Pekinese tight in talons, torn by beak.

From a low high point, only 250ft, we stopped to look around, down to a flatness of sheep pastures and winter water, the White Horse again, and a bonus, framed in a dip in the hills the high ground 20 miles across the Vale of York, the Dales.

No eagle owl, but a big raptor that flew in exhilarating low, dead-level, horizontal glides. And, nearer, a pair of little kestrels lifted, hovered at 30ft and dived. Hares ran near the Grange.

We moved out of the National Park, hedges interesting and with field maple. Mostly there is not a building in sight, though a barn with pond, and a farm, not the prettiest, with a slurry slurping yard.

A sign proclaims "Howardian Hills AONB", and true, beautiful, and the acceleration of a very quiet back-to-nowhere road brought Acorn Hill with oaks, one with straw bales disrespectfully close, and views to Byland Abbey and again the White Horse. A flagpole flew the Yorkshire Rose near Foxfoot Farm.

We felt lucky, pleased, and there was more, Newburgh Priory and, around the corner, a lake with swans, coots and ducks and, up the road, a further sight of the house.

The last half-mile of pavement was good, yew hedge, weekend tearooms and the Coxwold Pottery, especially if you fancy slipwork fish.

Click here to view a map of the walk

Updated: 16:10 Friday, November 18, 2005