Black sheep, pheasants and a herd of bullocks

Day four, Masham to Middleham, 12 Miles approximately.

WALKING along rivers takes you to places where great things happened in days gone by. This trail is no exception as it passes the once great abbey of Jervaulx, then continues on to Richard III’s formidable castle.

Masham was an important market town in the Middle Ages too, and remains active today with its annual September sheep fair. The town is also famous for breweries. Theakston’s was established in 1827, but following a takeover by Scottish and Newcastle, Paul Theakston left and established his own brewery in 1992, the Black Sheep Brewery. The name is significant.

Masham

I wandered down to the River Ure, past St Mary’s Church, and its Saxon Cross, and more preparations for the sheep fair. Finally getting away from the bustle of Masham, I passed a curious shed in a perfect location just up a bank from the river. Autumn was definitely in the air. Vegetation was starting to die off and geese were circling, getting ready to migrate. Their squawking noises filled the air and then they were off, practising their V-shaped formations, like cyclists in a peloton.

It had been raining overnight but there was the promise of sun later.

Clearly we were beginning to enter Wensleydale proper; there were hills in the distance. I was walking along a rise with an impressive view towards an S-shaped bend in the river, and Clifton Castle – although it was no longer a castle. The original 14th Century fortifications had been torn down to build a neo-classical mansion in 1802.

Further on, things started to get a bit ominous as I passed, and could smell, a dead crow fastened to a fence – a warning, but for what and to whom? There were pheasants everywhere.

In the distance, on a rise, I could see some farm buildings with a Union Flag flying and pick-up trucks parked all around. The footpath had been diverted with signs advising me to “follow the way markers”. Unfortunately there were not enough of them and no visible path, so I was never entirely sure if I was on a permitted route or not.

Walking off piste continued for some time and at one point I “fell” into a muddy stream and skirted a large herd of bullocks. They had a massive field to themselves, nearly a third of a mile long, and were clearly enjoying galloping up and down – luckily at some distance from me. I eventually emerged, covered in mud, back on the footpath by some interesting hillocks opposite the Charlcot estate.

Unfortunately my efforts to follow the footpath continued to be frustrated by recently ploughed fields. I traversed Squirrel Bank and eventually arrived at the ancient Kilgram Bridge, the first crossing over the Ure after Masham.

It was most likely built by the monks of Jervaulx in the 12th Century using the foundations of a much older paved crossing built by the Romans. However there is an ancient legend that the bridge was really created by his Satanic Majesty, who promised to build a bridge that would defy the fury of the elements, on condition that the first living creature who passed over should become a sacrifice.

Kilgram Bridge.

But a wily farmer swam the river then whistled for his dog Grim to cross by the bridge. The poor thing unwittingly bounded across and fell victim.

Hence the name Kill Grim, which over time has become Kilgram.

Luckily I didn’t need to cross the bridge and instead followed the road, turning right into the Jervaulx Abbey Estate. I love the way the abbey is managed as a picturesque ruin and garden, first established in the early 18th century.

I also love the way visitors are trusted to put money in honesty boxes to enter, pick up a guide book and park their cars. The previous owners first introduced this form of payment in 1972 and the abbey remains in private hands.

That said, the history of this place is not so tranquil. It was a successful Cistercian Abbey for 400 years until the Dissolution. The last Abbot, Adam Sedbar, took part in the Pilgrimage of Grace, a popular uprising against Henry VIII, and for that he was hanged, drawn and quartered in 1536. The abbey was then seized and used as a source of stone for building. But there is enough left of the walls to get an idea what it must have been like.

Next up was the path along the Ure to Cover Bridge, where I continued along the river as best as I could. I wouldn’t advise anyone to take this route, it is better to use the footpath along the north bank of the River Cover then take one of two paths into Middleham.

I got stuck on a busy main road and spent some time dodging cars, lorries and howling motorbikes. But at last I arrived at the welcome sign for the township of Middleham, twinned, it tells us, with Agincourt.

Then it was uphill through the ancient streets to the forbidding bulk of the castle. The original one was built on a mound just up the hill to the south of the present castle, probably by Alan the Red, a contemporary of William the Conqueror. He was sent north to suppress the rebellion there and in doing so founded Richmond Castle.

The present castle in Middleham was completed by the Neville family in the 13th Century. After the death of Richard Neville, the ‘Kingmaker,’ the castle passed to Richard, Duke of Gloucester, later Richard III. Apparently, he spent quite a lot of time here.

I spent rather less time, but long enough to climb the tower for some wonderful views over the town, across the valley to Leyburn, and west to the Dales proper.

That left just a few minutes for tea and a ginger scone with cream and honey, before catching the last Sunday bus of summer, the 859, back to Masham.

It was packed. So was Masham, with the sheep fair entering its final phase. Animals were being chased back on to trailers; stalls were shutting down.

Autumn had arrived.