My 1:25k map of the Northern Yorkshire Dales announces proudly – in the appropriate ROMAN lettering, the presence of Roman altars in a little gill on Gilmonby Moor, just South of Bowes.
Actually, this is in County Durham.
Anyway, the point is, I thought I’d take a look. I also though I’d take the dog.
Could we find any Roman Altars?
Not as such.
What we did find was some very deep heather and some bridleways that end suddenly at the County boundary (there’s a rabbit off, here…)
After not finding the Roman Altars, we plodged up the soggy moor and onto a wide and flat and soppy plain. Here we crossed into North Yorkshire and, with increasingly damp socks and trench paw, we dodderred onto the summit of Cleasby Hill – 511 metres and very flat on the top.
After this we paddled back over the County Boundary, avoiding the border guards and bagged the little drumlin-like lump of Citron Seat.
We were soon back in Bowes, very damp about the feet. Its rough stuff, this, but the sense of space is fantastic, and just the thing for the treatment of agoraphobia and the fear of smelly socks.
It was very cold today – in one of the photo’s you can see Bruno’s breath. Its lucky you can only see it. Don’t tell him I mentioned this, eh?
Bowes, by the way, is a little village set out in the style of a medieval town with a castle at the top of the hill. This was built by somebody called Norman Keep, apparently, and is built inside the ramparts of the Roman Fort Lavatrae (snigger).
There’s also Dotheboys hall in the village, famed by Dave Dickens who wrote about it. I didn’t take a picture of it cos it had gone dark and I was more interested in scoffing my Boost bar.
10 Miles and 1400 feet of uphill through outrageously deep heather and stinking bogs full of freezing black water.
Enjoyable Pennine walking.
I met three backpackers and gave them the weather forecast – an Atlantic storm with force 8/9 gales. They were very grateful and threw socks and bits of peat at me….
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