Ellerby Loop

Lou has a cracking walk for us. Ellerby Loop.

It’s about ten miles or so, but this recce is a little more than that at over eleven. Lou is tasked with the first walk of the new season, so this recce is important to ensure that all will be safe and expectations are managed.

The weather is swinging from blue skies and sunshine to torrential rain and snow. It’s a typical spring in Yorkshire. We’re dressed to suit, with a gilet on the outside so that we can remove and replace it without exposure to the changing elements.

Ellerby is on the Whitby – Middlesbrough bus route, so technically, we could use public transport with our ‘old farts passes’, however, I expect that we will return drenched to the skin and frozen to the bone, so I drive us there to reduce the extra discomfort of waiting for a bus on our return.

The first half mile gives us an indication of the state of the ground, especially where it has been ploughed or seeded, and within ten minutes, we’re carrying an extra couple of kilogrammes on our feet. As we clear the hedgerow, the track through the next field isn’t clear, so we use the OS maps on the Hiiker App I’ve been using for the last couple of months to home in on the style that will signify the first mile of about four that will be variously ‘flat’ to ‘up’ with the majority of the terrain in the latter category. Just as we get settled into a steady rhythm, we get our first taste of the variable weather that will make the day so ‘interesting’. It’s in the form of what the sailors would refer to as a squall. It’s sudden, extremely windy, very cold and contains a mixture of rain, sleet and snow, and then it’s blue skies and beautiful views. We’re well dressed for it though, and whilst we’re struggling with the incline and what have almost imperceptively transformed from walking boots to 19th-century diver’s boots, instead of lead, we’re dragging soft, clinging clay.

We reach another false summit and have to climb over a style. Normally an easy task, but the clay on our boots and the previous three miles of ‘up’ combine to make the raising of our feet from the board that represents the step on one side of the fence to the same board on the other has to be done with help from our hands. We actually use our hands to lift our feet to gain the elevation to clear the top plank, and it’s at this point that we realise what extra weight we’re carrying as we try to remove some of it with our fingers which mutate from being uncomfortably cold to stiff and unuseable. We won’t make that mistake again and put up with the weight.

During the periods between the fluctuating weather, the sun reheats us, and we’re rewarded with views that make up for any discomfort during the previous squall. It has to be said that the periods between the storms increase throughout the day so the sun has more time to warm us through and we do get to the stage where gilets get a ride on our arm rather than our back.

As we pass Newton Brow Farm and admire the vista that is presented to the lucky farmer. Lou is walking with a spring in her step, and I admire her level of fitness. Neither of us is unfit, but she certainly has the edge on me and all credit to her and the number of major league walks that she does with the local Whitby Walking Group, who stage upwards of ten milers every week and sometimes stretch them to sixteen.

Just after the farm, we meet the tenant farmer who is managing this land and tending to the walls, fences and gates that regulate where the pregnant ewes are allowed to graze and he tells us he’ll be bringing them down to the lee fields for lambing in the next couple of weeks. He’s a cheery soul and lifts our spirits with his upbeat talk and observations of the walkers who use these paths. Few travel the one that we’re on today, and it’s a delight to hear a farmer speak with such generosity towards walkers like us. We ask if there’s anywhere that he’d like us to avoid when the bigger group comes through, and he’s quite happy for us to use any of the paths; “Just close the gates”, and we do.

There’s some more ‘up’ but it’s mitigated with views, and as the weather improves the chance to appreciate them is extended.

We pass over the edge of Newton Mulgrave Moor and look for our track back off again as we pass the trig point. As we start the descent, we pass a dead sheep and it brings home the starkness of life (and death) on the moor. We’re on a bit of a roll down the track towards America House Farm, where the track passes adjacent to the house. It’s not quite through the stockyard but it’s not far off and we’re always a bit uncomfortable walking through stockyards even when we have right of way; however, once again, the farmer is a delight and he and his daughter give us valuable advice about a road closure that we will need to deal with on this recce and the real walk in three weeks as the closure is long term.

The going is good on the track, and we arrive at the closed road in good time. We check out the alternatives over a banana break and decide to carry on along the closed road to see what we can do – if anything.

The gods are good to us today. The road has collapsed due to erosion of the banks of the river, but a detour has been created through a field with only the impediment of a couple of gates. One of them is chained, but there is a substantial ladder fence that we use to access the bridge that will allow us to continue the plan.

Once over the river, we are challenged with some more ‘up’, but the sun is out, and the view across to Staithes and Hinderwell with the angry North Sea as a backdrop is fabulous.

As we turn off the road in Borrowby, we’re met with two beautifully friendly animals with long necks. They’re either alpacas or llamas, and they’re both delighted to see us, and the feeling is entirely mutual. After a brief stroke and a couple of photos, we’re on our way again with smiles on our faces and an extra skip in our step.

We’re still going up, though, and looking back, we stop to enjoy what Paula would refer to as viewgasmic. I love that word, and it’s entirely appropriate on walks in our beautiful county. We’re very lucky people to have this, and we know it.

We pass through Roxby and walk along the road to Manor House Farm, where we sit outside St Nicolas’ Church for our mid-day sandwich in the sunshine.

With a sandwich-fueled energy boost and a downhill section, we make great progress until we enter Roxby Wood where steps have been established using wooden planks to harness the soft mud that the winter leaf fall has transformed into Teflon. We slip and slide our way down to Roxby Beck and over the bridge. The riverbank is a wonderful sight with splashes of colour from tiny clumps of yellow, white and blue as various spring flowers venture their petals above the dull cover of rotting leaves.

On the other bank, we try a lower route to avoid the danger of the greasy track that would lead us to Mines Wood, but after only a hundred metres or so, the way is blocked by fallen trees and vegetation all the way down to the river bank, so we abandon this idea and return to plan ‘A’.

It turns out to be quite a steep and greasy track, and I end up in a bramble bush, mouthing rude words at the barbs that pull at my clothes and I only realise that it got my skin when Lou pointed out the blood on my hands.

We take stock at Ridge Lane, then follow the track over a couple of fields into Mines Wood and down more Teflon steps but without incident.

Mines Wood track is an easy walk and ample reward for all of the hard elements that we encountered across the higher moor. Birds are singing in the trees, and we pass an old tunnel probably used for the transfer of ironstone when the old mines were open. It’s now disused but still open, and whilst there’s a sign indicating that you shouldn’t go in, there’s ample evidence that no one takes any notice of it.

Just before Dalehouse, there’s a bench seat that we utilise for our second sandwich, and the sun gives us another break whilst we eat; it then withdraws the favour as we get up to restart the walk.

The last three miles are ‘up ’- ish, and for two of them, we’re in the forest. Then we top out and leave the wood almost simultaneously. There’s a little bit of confusion regarding which track to use that Lou will revisit before the real walk, but the final mile is back in fields and easy tracks, but our legs are letting us both know they’ve had enough.

It’s about ten miles, hard in places but overall, well worth the effort.

…and the company was wonderful.

Enjoy the snaps.

Love G x