In the footsteps of York's 'Railway King' - a Derwent walk

Day 4: Stamford Bridge to Kirkham

Saturday May 23, 2020

12 Miles

I was looking forward to this stretch of the river, arguably the most picturesque section.

As the Derwent wends its way northwards it leaves the flood plains and heads into a beautiful valley between the Howardian Hills and Yorkshire Wolds, known to geologists as Kirkham Gorge.

This is the gap through which the post-glacial lake in the Vale of Pickering drained after the ice melted. The land rises slightly and becomes more undulating, necessitating the building of locks when the river was made navigable in the eighteenth century.

Strong winds of up to 52 mph were forecast with, hopefully, little flashes of sun between the clouds.

I left Stamford Bridge along the towpath around the old mill and onwards along the east bank of the river. I passed a field of bullocks, thankfully more interested in their breakfast than me, and a field of horses.

These came bounding over, which I didn’t mind at all. By the river I caught a blue flash that could only have been a kingfisher. Two lambs escaped from their field and skipped along in front of me, making little jumps.

Luckily their way ahead became blocked by a stile and they were able to squeeze back through the fence to their mothers. Passing through a small wood full of garlic, now in flower, I was sheltered from the wind but could hear it bending and creaking the trees above, shutting out the sound of birdsong.

At Buttercrambe

Horses near Buttercrambe

Next stop was Buttercrambe. I love the name. It evokes a certain bucolic Englishness, together with cows, milkmaids and churns of butter. The area by the river is a delightful dingly dell with a watermill where the river divides to form a millrace, and further on the old lock, now derelict. On an island in the middle is a large field called The Holms, presently carpeted with buttercups. The only thing missing was the sun.

After Buttercrambe I followed a minor road for about a mile to the village of Scrayingham. On my left, across the other bank of the river, rose the estate of Aldby Park, once the home of King Edwin of the Northumbrians. Edwin was able to marry Ethelberg in the year 626 on condition that he converted to Christianity. Scrayingham looked like it hadn’t changed for centuries, apart from some of the older houses being replaced by new. At the end of the village is the church of St Peter and St Paul.

Buttercrambe Mill

Taking in the views at Buttercrambe

Scrayingham church

This church has recently been discovered to date from the 7th to 8th century. Some of its stones are even thought to be of Roman origin, probably taken from the Roman road from Stamford Bridge to Malton that is thought to have passed nearby. The church is also famous for being the place where the body of George Hudson, the Railway King, was laid to rest in 1871. The grave, just to the left of the main entrance, has recently been restored.

Not one to court controversy, I would just like to point out that, while travelling through York, I passed the statue of George Leeman, Hudson’s great rival and nemesis, just outside the railway station. Wouldn’t it be great if York honoured the man who actually put York on the map, perhaps with a statue in the same place? Hudson was born in a tiny cottage in the village of Howsham, where we’re heading next.

Arriving at Howsham

Howsham Bridge

The walk to Howsham took me around a great bend in the river, through a place called the Rush, where Whitecart Beck winds down the Wolds cutting a small gorge on its way. Then the impressive Howsham Bridge came into view. This bridge was built in the late 18th century. One of its arches carried the towpath and, next to the path, you can still see the original iron roller, grooved from a century of contact with towing-lines.

From the bridge I took a half-mile detour up the road to the village to see if I could find George Hudson’s birthplace. I did find a Hudson’s Cottage but one source cites Middle Cottage as the actual place of his birth. Never mind, it was worth ascending the hill just to see the church, a magnificent ‘George Street’ example of the gothic revival style, completed in 1860.

Because of Covid-19, the interior was out of bounds but I understand the stone ‘marquetry’ is well worth seeing. Nearby I spotted an unusual stone column with an orb on top. Its inscription read that it had been put up to commemorate the ‘supreme sacrifice made by John Midgley in the Great War 1914-1918’. The column was apparently an old field roller. The memorial even has a mention on my Ordnance Survey map. Unfortunately there was no information available as to what the hero had done to make his sacrifice.

At Howsham

Howsham Church

Back down the hill I took another worthwhile detour to visit Howsham Mill. Derelict until recently, the mill has been sympathetically restored and the whole area redeveloped by the Renewable Heritage Trust. It is also an area used by naturists, although I didn’t see any today. It was a bit on the cold side. Two Archimedes screws provide power and you can view the old lock gates and weir.

Following the west bank of the river I had hoped to get a glimpse of Howsham Hall, but trees obscured any decent view. It is said that the owners of the hall suffered a curse after Sir William Bamburgh used the stone from Kirkham Priory, just upriver, to rebuild the hall around 1612. The land was stolen from the priory after the dissolution of the monasteries. Apparently all male heirs would perish without issue. According to Wikipedia this has indeed come true. From 1956 to 2007 the Hall became a catholic boys school. Perhaps this will release the curse? It is now leased as a wedding venue.

On to Kirkham

Swan at Kirkham

My walk then took me to one of my favourite places, a wide expanse of grassy meadow with the York to Scarborough railway on one side, and Howsham Woods on the other. The river curves gracefully around to the northwest into Kirkham gorge. There were swans on the river and all around were wild flowers. Other walkers became more evident as I got closer to Kirkham. A family approached who told me there was a ‘troll’ under a footbridge ahead. This turned out to be the case. One of their boys was crouching under the bridge. I was suitably scared.

As I got to the far end of Oak Cliff Woods the sound of rushing water from the weir became louder, then the ruins of Kirkham Priory came into view on the opposite bank.

Its car park was packed with cars. I had planned to walk on to Malton, but it was starting to drizzle a bit and I felt tired. My wife Barbara kindly agreed to collect me as trains no longer stop at Kirkham station.

NOTE: When public transport is available again you can take the Number 10 bus from York to Stamford Bridge and return from Whitwell on the Hill, half a mile from Kirkham, on the Coastliner 843.