Variations on a Theme of Thomas Tallis

The Yorkshire Wolds is a place I've promised myself to visit for at least the last 4 years. It's not hilly in the classical Lake District sort of way, nor does it profess the open moorland and plateaux of the Peak District or the North York Moors. Instead it is an intimate landscape, open arable farmland and then, out of nowhere, a plummet into folds of land, embracing you into it's bosom, turning you this way and that until you are disoriented and then throwing you up onto pasture so you can gain your bearings again.

And at this time of year this is England at it's best. Springtime in late April and onwards into May. The last of the Blackthorn before the Hawthorn truly takes over. It's not known as the May Flower for nothing! Everything is exuberant and lush, vibrant green, buds wanting to burst. I just love this time of year, full of promise.

There was a bright golden haze on the meadow as I set off from the small car park English Heritage had created. I wandered along the Centenary Way, a minor road at this point, bounded by the acrid yellow of Rapeseed crops, the smell frankly reminding me of the air after someone has sneezed!

Thankfully I was beyond the fields and off the road before very long, through a gate and onto the first chalky path. Beautiful sights of most trees starting to be more in leaf than not, though some were winter skeletons still, so a broad display of life on view.

Emerging further I caught my first view down to Wharram Percy, the much studied medieval village of which a Church now is one of the few remains. But I had decided to leave that until my final destination for fear of not going for a walk otherwise and instead being waylaid by it. So I continued along the top of Deep Dale, cows in the valley following in parallel.

This section of the path followed the Yorkshire Wolds Way as well as the Centenary Way. I followed the branch off to the left at a gap in the hedgerows, just where some large hay bales had been stacked. I sat in the sun behind them to have a quick brew. Hearing a very slow thudding noise I looked up to see a man dressed in shorts and a lightweight rucksack pass by me. Hellos quickly said he was on his way, thud, thud, thudding along at a slow, regular pace. I wasn't long behind him as I'd seen the forecast for later that afternoon; thunder and lightning with a deluge of rain to make up from the thirsty April we've been having.

A little farther I passed two muck heaps, not just steaming but actually smoking, I wondered as a combination of the natural composting process but maybe catalysed by the hot weather we were having. It was supposedly hotter than LA and as dry as Madrid; very unusual for April in England where the grass should be too damp to sit on. I had even decided to wear my Tevas and in the shadows where the dew hadn't dried out, I could feel the wet grass tickling my toes as I walked through it.

There was an incredibly beautiful section as I came upon the top of Court Dale, the vista looking deep down into the valley with the customary steep sides, this one with sheep and their lambs. And then I had "Bright Eyes", the theme to Watership Down, playing in my head as I followed the narrow path, punctuated with rabbit warrens and droppings.

Dropping down into Thixendale I was about fifteen minutes too early for the Cross Keys to open at noon, although two motorcyclists has pulled up and were disrobing in the heat and a party of four walkers were milling around waiting. I carried on into the tiny village, nestled in the middle of the dale, one of the hills covered with hawthorn and wild roses. I walked past the Church, following the scent of two elderly ladies in front of me, and then decided to pop into the village shop.

A surprising half an hour passed very quickly in the shop as Mrs Maude Smith, former proprietor of the Post Office and Warden of the one time YHA in the village (closed 1999) chatted with me about times past, the stories of village folk and requests from other people for her to write down her stories. She got so fed up with people asking that she burned her diaries, putting paid to it (she hoped). And as she said, there were things in her diaries she didn't think anyone should see! Retrieving my Cider flavoured ice lolly from the freezer for the second time I bade her farewell until my return (not long I hope) and went back out into the midday sun.

Mad dog weather it was too! I ate my ice lolly while looking at the information boards outside the Village Hall (in previous lives the School and YHA), eyeballing a steepish chalk path that leaped out at my eyes, bidding me to walk it. I succumbed after allowing a few walkers to pass, not that I saw many, using my poles to help propel me up the path. My hip started to complain again, not in pain as such, more a mechanical popping noise in rhythm with my walking, but I made it to the top (yay), all of 35m climb!

Eating my sandwich overlooking Thixen Dale I started when a loud female voice behind me shouted how quiet it was up here! I was frankly a little annoyed at having my peace shattered, but this party of four was destined to leapfrog the rest of the way with me, no matter what delaying tactics I used to slow my pace. I let them make some progress by staying put, eating a melting Kitkat, scooping up the chocolate with my fingers and having another brew. But only 50 yards on I passed them as I headed towards the beautiful Vessey Hill. It was so pretty I decided to stop to sketch a little, again the heat of the sun almost drying the paint on my brush.

After ten minutes or so they did their leap frog act but I was in mid flow and only noticed the continued voices from them as they debated which way to go (I was off the track a bit, trying to preserve my solitude!). The sun was warm, the birds were singing and it felt like a blissful way to spend a few minutes just having a little snooze...

But! Remembering the weather forecast I decided to continue on after a short while, rejoining the path and along another earthwork, testimony to the very long human influence of these parts, going back a good 5000 years. A family were having a picnic right on the footpath on the other side of a stile; I couldn't imagine why they'd not sat just to the side, but they were cheerful enough as they said hello to me! Then, emerging out of a tiny coppice, the sun reflecting back off the pale chalk land baking both me and the land I tried to keep into the shadows along the broad track that would bring me back to where I had branched off earlier. Looking at the map it seemed as if this track was part of a long roadway at some point in time, indeed there is plenty of evidence of Roman inhabitation in the area.

Just as Wharram Percy came into view my phone (with camera) died but again I met with the loud party of four, easily seen from 500 yards away as they were all clad in white. They were doing what I had done, taking a siesta on the grass. The sun was pretty hot so I could hardly blame them the cool shade in the long, green grass. The herd of cows in the valley below had decided on the same and had flaked out on the ground, chewing the cud in a sun induced lethargy.

Now taking the path towards Wharram Percy at last, I finally rejoined the four, exchanging jolly remarks about our leap frogging. They continued into the Church yard as I took refuge in the mill stream. Ah, to have that blissful water cascade over my sunned feet and legs! I stood for some time just splashing around, enjoying the sounds of the water and the Skylarks in the sky. A feeling of peace descended which was reinforced again as I wandered around the ruined Church. English Heritage have done their usual best at providing a reasonable amount of useful information without over doing it for the layman with plaques dotted around the area and paved and gravelled outlines of how the Church is likely to have developed through it's lifetime. The outlines on the hillside, formed not by English Heritage but by the lives and building of the people who lived there, were quite subtle but interesting to those bothered to have a decent look.

No sign of the threatened thunder of lighting, but time was moving on so I returned up the last incline to my car, parked on it's own when I arrived but now surrounded by others. A pleasant day in an area I'd not visited before, I definitely will return to explore more of this intimate country again.