On the 20th of August the Mini demanded it's first service. At some 23,000 miles we were wondering when it was due. Its computer calculates when the car needs a service, regular high speed motorway use obviously requires fewer services. Long gone are the days of 10k services it seems.
As the Mini service shop is in Harrogate, we decided that the three of us would spend the day "doing" Harrogate. We started with a short upper deck bus ride from the garage into town centre and then a walk to Jakes cafe for a coffee and cake to energise. http://www.jakeanthony.co.uk/find_us . Re-fuelled, we headed off to Valley Gardens via a retro/vintage fashion shop I get dragged into every visit to Harrogate where two of the three of us could still be browsing if one of the three of us didn't eventually let out a big sigh, sat in a corner, looking bored and sad.
Valley Gardens http://www.harrogate.gov.uk/immediacy-3359 is the public garden attached to Harlow Carr, the very special National Trust gardens which we have still yet to visit.
Harrogate is a spa town and you will see in the photos attached there are square lids through the grounds where some of the 40+ different springs would bubble up if they were not tapped off. It is a unique area because some of the spring waters are sulphurous, some mineral and some pure, all different but within meters of each other...... Valley Gardens used to be known as Bogs Field which gives you an idea of how much it has been changed towards acceptable fashionability.
Harrogate owes it's existence to these springs as in the 1800's people came from miles for the therapeutic, mainly laxative effects of the spas (Yes, really. The better off folk of the time ate rich sweet foods, little veg or fibre and by all accounts were a bunch of stuck-up middle classes in more ways than one). Being a classy destination with an effective solution, a popular and fashionable elite tourist town rapidly developed. Harrogate is now much more an international conference city but I am sure I have explained Harrogate in these pages before.
Following an enjoyable dawdle back into town we headed down into the Monpellier quarter where fine fashion, blues bars, cafe's and galleries abound. After an endless look through a goth inspired fashion shop called Rose Velvet where we bought ourselves a slinky black top, we found a lunch special offer at a wonderful restaurant almost next door and had a truly sumptuous meal. http://www.vanzellerrestaurants.co.uk/. Before waddling back to get the bus for to the mini garage and then home.
On the next Saturday, while Gail was working, Noeline suggested a walk to Spofforth Castle. It is a three mile walk to the castle Pub and another half to the Castle. The day was fine and the path reasonably dry so we set off. The route follows the old railway line under bridges and through woods and fields. The sun managed to shine and the walk was a real pleasure with a bit of blackberry picking, confused discussion as to what crops were growing in various fields and some wildflower noticing. Simple pub grub at the Castle Inn and a leisurely slightly downhill return walk home capped off the adventure, or more correctly, a nice long stroll in the countryside.
Sunday was organised by Gail, a visit to the Wetherby racetrack to wander the 200 or so stalls of the annual antique show and then a short drive to Marton-cum-Grafton for another fine meal and a pint at Morrisey Fox http://www.morrisseyfox.co.uk/. A lovely relaxed, interesting and rewarding day, and even better, nothing was purchased at the antique fair.
We have been wanting to get back to Tan Hill on a fine day and as luck would have it the forecast for the 25th was just that. Tan Hill is high in the Moors, so high it boasts the highest Pub in England, which is in itself a charming place. We headed north from Wetherby and were rewarded with continuous spectacular scenery, the high region is so often shrouded in mist the views are muted but we enjoyed a fantastic day of distant sights and many ooows and aahhs..We did stop off at Tan Hill pub for for a cuppa.
As you can see from the photo, despite it being mid-summer the fire is burning in the hearth and coats and warm toddies are the order of the day.
The drive south towards home takes us through landscapes that range from stark, windswept heather-laden hills to lush verdant green valleys spotted with sheep and lined by stone fences and barns. It is a spectacular drive and even better, it is punctuated by a wonderful little town called Reeth (described before) where we stopped for lunch and another walk through beautiful Yorkshire scenery.
I hope these photos do justice to the colour of the heather which was in full flush and was a dazzling delight when the passing sun breaks and blushes brightness into it's carpet of flowers. While we have been this way a few times before, this day, the distant views and the brightness of the day have burned in delightful memories.
A couple of days later, recovered from past exertions, Noeline took me up on an offer to walk from Wetherby to Collingham, along the banks of the Wharf River towards a lunch at a fine local Itallian restaurant. Noeline had sampled the fare at it's sister restaurant in Leeds so the reward for the walk was well anticipated. This river walk is a favourite of Gail's and mine, a bit tricky, slippy and at points a little bit of a climb, but it is a wonderful wooded stroll via fields usually filled with lambs or rabbits depending on the time of year. While this time there was no animal life we did enjoy the stroll, skoffed down a magnificent pasta meal and headed off home only to be captured in a heavy and persistent wet spell. It was decided a warm bus trip would be preferable to a wet walk and we took shelter in a nearby school bike stand under a willow tree for an hour before the bus came with a sorry driver who apologised for his lateness. Still, it was a nice day out and it remains one of my favourite walks from home.
That leaves but one long weekend to re-live for August and it was a doozie, have a look at the next blog entry which will conclude the story of a rather special August in Yorkshire.