Osmotherley to Swainby via Near Moor and Stoney Ridge

After a bit of a pause through December, we’ve managed to get a few walks in, although I missed last week due to the Tenerife Tour.

This lovely walk involves the use of our old-farts-passes as we leave our cars at Swainby and take the 0934 to Osmotherley. It’s bang on time, and the bonus is that our driver has a sound system playing some 1960s and 1970s classic rock, and we travel through Ingleby and along the A19 to the soundtrack of Elton John and heavy rock; we like Hodgson’s buses!

The bus drops us at the crossroads in Ossy, and we’re off like the children we were seventy years ago.

Ossy was always the target of the “run out”, but when we were kids, the number of people with cars was very limited, so, in my case, it would only be by invitation if someone else was going. As we got older, during the summer break, we went there a time or two on our bikes, and homemade sandwiches supplemented by water from Cod Beck would accompany those outings. I remember a lot of blue skies and sunshine like there is today, but all those years ago, it was warm, and there would be daisies and buttercups tempting the sheep that grazed unhindered near the reservoir.

Our trail takes us down to Cote Gill past the youth hostel, looking well refurbished and with lights on, so we assume it’s in use. Our trail takes us up into the woods above the beck, where there is some harvesting going on, and we stop to watch the specialist machinery ripping the branches off the trunks of the unfortunate trees that have had the misfortune to be mature enough and in the right (wrong) stand.

Our track is parallel to the reservoir, which is now not used for the supply of fresh water. The Hambleton area is now serviced by the Thornton Stewart reservoir in the Pennines.

Cod Beck was discovered to be high in the wonderfully named cryptosporidium (which sounds like a digital currency) and became a public recreation area, whilst the water is only released during periods of drought to maintain the wildlife in Cod Beck.

According to Wiki, “Cod Beck Reservoir is open to the public for walking and enjoyment of the dog countryside, but campfires, camping, illegal raves, fishing and swimming are prohibited for public safety.” So, you read it here, “No illegal raves”; it looks like the legal ones might prove popular, though!

It’s hard to believe all the stuff about the water quality on a beautiful day like today with the blue sky reflected in the icy water, and I settle back into my childhood thoughts with some wonderful mental nudges from George R.

We walk over the new bridge and take the path along the edge of the beck. A dog has been gambolling in the water, and his fur now contains a gallon of liquid that has taken on the smell of fur and other doggy odours that other canines find so attractive. He does what all dogs are programmed to do and gets as close to his owner as possible before shaking the musk in fine droplets. Ironically, they create beautiful mini rainbows in the sun before raining down on the surrounding grass but not before saturating the dancing owner who is trying to move away from the sudden squall whilst shouting good-natured but meaningful commands at the delighted dog who’s continuing the deluge with a furious wagging of his tail. It’s a lovely sight and one that I miss from my days with dogs. All a dog ever wants to do is be your friend and love you, and I’m so envious of this little display, but in a good way, it brings a smile and great memories.

This stretch of water is called Sheepwash. I’ve never seen sheep being washed here, but maybe that’s something from centuries ago, as the track that runs through a water splash and bridge is referred to as the Drovers Road, where stock would be driven to the lucrative markets in the south and they’d have to pass over or through this stream getting quite a wash especially when in flood.

The road turns left and disappears over the hill, and we step through a gap and onto the track that will take us up over Near Moor. It’s a steep incline, and halfway up, we take a break and look back at the bridge and grass areas that we would play on. We’d drop sticks into the water at the bridge, then run along the fast-flowing stream, shouting encouragement at the sticks until they reached a tree that had a bough that overlooked the water and was a good finishing tape for us to gauge who had won and argue about it for some time afterwards. Then, we’d repeat the process with new bits of wood or twigs. Sometimes, they would get stuck, so we would run into the stream to free them, knowing that our every move was being monitored by the other participants to ensure that freeing the stick would not include throwing it downstream and gaining an airborne advantage. The water was always icy cold even in the middle of summer, and our ankles would hurt with the thermal shock but at least it had the advantageous effect of dulling the pain of the tiny pebbles that were pushing into the soles of our feet. It would be another ten years before we understood the principle of force over surface area, but we were experiencing it then in all its painful glory. Perhaps it was a taster for when I too had kids, and I made the mistake of walking into their bedroom without slippers when they’d been playing with Lego!

We carry on up Near Moor under a beautiful blue sky and a helpful cool wind where we stop for a banana break and appreciate the scenery and the wonderful companionship of friends. From this wonderful point, the gamekeeper’s hut towards Snilesworth is clearly visible in the pristine atmosphere of this beautiful day.

Bananas demolished and plenty of liquid taken, and we’re on our way towards Stony Ridge where we start the welcome descent through Clain Wood along the forestry track but not before we have to deal with a locked gate.

It’s at the top of what we affectionately refer to as “Cardiac Hill” there is a gate, and the landowner has taken to chaining and locking it. It’s not put us off, of course, but it is a hindrance that a bunch of seventy-odd-year-olds can do without. We do some five-bar-gate-scaling and swear a lot and we pause for breath on the other side. There’s a lot of moorland and barring ramblers from using it riles me with a vengeance but it is what it is and we deal with it.

Shepherds Hill into Swainby is littered with wonderful winter bloom and whilst the snowdrops are the star of the show and act as a flag for winter, the aconites are the pointers to the start of spring. The yellow blooms act as the amber on traffic lights saying, “Get ready for spring, it’ll be here shortly”. I love them both, along with winter jasmine and gorse; all of them bring me joy when days are short and nights unbelievably long.

The walk into Swainby is done with a spring in the step and the thought of a bacon sandwich at the village hall. A full English can be had for a fiver and it would be wrong of me to betray the confidence by mentioning names!

Wonderful walk with dear friends and a lot of banter.

Enjoy the snaps.

Love G x

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Trail recorded on HiiKER App. Recommended. (*Not sponsored)