A Splendid Stroll Through The Kirkham Gorge

Got the 09:48 from Scarborough this morning, to Malton. The train was on time. The other passengers were, or course, the usual bunch of business people and commoners. According to the delightful family across the aisle, Transpennine Express toilets are "the smallest toilets in the world". They've clearly not been on the Caledonian Sleeper. Or to my flat. But if you're trying to fit three people in there at once, what can you reasonably expect?

Took a photo of my self at Malton on arrival, but I looked so terrible I deleted it almost immediately, with the intention of getting another on the way back. My route took me out through the old goods yard - now a housing estate - and on to the riverbank - part of the Centenary Way apparently. My first thought was "what a muddy mess", but in retrospect that was nothing...

Running between the railway and the River Derwent, the path is very flat, very damp, and very windy. And also features cows. I like cows. They're nice. Unless I'm in the field with them, in which case I think they're really scary! Especially when I'm trying to walk quickly away from them, and the field suddenly turns into a swamp! I fear my shoes may never be the same again. Perhaps suede wasn't the best idea.

Cherry Islands, apparently

The Derwent bridge

Huttons Ambo was the next station on the line - "was" being the operative word, having closed to passengers, along with all the other intermediate stations, back in 1930 by the LNER. It's easy to see when you're actually on the train, but from the road it's fairly well hidden, being surrounded by fences, hedges, and the residents' washing lines. 

Does my bum forehead look big in this? (Huttons Ambo)

Random fact: Huttons Ambo served the villages of High Hutton and Low Hutton, the word "Ambo" means "both". Or something.

From Hutton, I had two options - I could either follow the river through the woods, up to the main road, or go up through the village, and across a field to the same point on the main road. I opted for the latter, 'cos I was getting a bit sick of rivers (plus it was shorter). The main road in question is the A64. It has no pavements. It is awful.

Do not walk on the grass verge of the A64, unless you like nettles, brambles, litter and speeding traffic. The A64 is a bastard. However, in it's favour, the A64 leads to Crambeck... 

Crambeck is so  pretty! Considering it's effectively a cul-de-sac off a hideous main road, it's like another world - little cottages, flowers everywhere - even a squirrel! The village street leads steeply down to the railway line and the river. There was never a passenger railway station there - just a coal and goods depot - so I didn't take a picture of myself (it wasn't on the tile map anyway, so would have broken the rules), but I had a good explore. 

Crambeck weighbridge

Crambeck crossing and phonebox

Crambeck became a goods depot, whereas the passenger facilities were at Castle Howard, just a little further along the line - they were kept separate so the gentry arriving to visit the stately home of the same name wouldn't have to deal with "that sort of thing" (I'm sure that's what they would've called it). The station building is now restored as a private residence and a holiday cottage, and looks fantastic considering it's been shut for the past 84 years, but sadly there's no close public access. I got a picture from the gates:

Stupid facial expression. Again. (Castle Howard)

From Castle Howard, it's only three quarters of a mile along the valley to the old station at Kirkham Abbey. The walk winds through woodland, and across fields, and the word "idyllic" doesn't do it justice. The station buildings are now a house, but there's still an operational signalbox, serving the level crossing. If Hornby made a train-set that looked like here, you wouldn't believe it could be real - it's all so perfect!

No comment... (Kirkham Abbey)

Kirkham signalbox

There's the old station and signal-box, overlooking the river, with a quaint old bridge, and the ruined priory (not abbey, despite the station name), and then further up the hill a manor house with a range of Victorian greenhouses and a tiny little pub right at the top. It's one of those places that should only exist in the imagination, but I'm glad it's real :)

After a quick half in the aforementioned tiny little pub - The Stone Trough ; my half-way point - I began to make my way back towards Malton. The scenery reminded me in a strange way of Norfolk - perhaps slightly more undulating, but similar. Walked via Menethorpe (not sure if it counts as a village, or even a hamlet), and Welham (effectively a suburb of the golf course). Got back to Malton with three minutes 'til the next train back to Scarborough, so had enough time to take a less hideous photo of myself on the platform...

Malton - better than the other photo... ;)

5,6,7,8... Whatever happened to Steps?

Behold! The first post to include an actual train journey!

But first - here's a picture of me looking like Mr Potato Head.

As can be seen, I still haven't decided what face to pull on the pictures.

I didn't have time to get any other pictures at Scarborough station this morning, as I was catching the 10:00 Yorkshire Coast Pullman (I totally made that name up) to Filey. Actually, when I boarded I noticed the train was called "Jane Tomlinson". Not sure who she is, but I'm sure she's very flattered to have a train named after her, even if it was just a Northern Rail 158.

The journey was uneventful, and took a mere 15 minutes or so. I've been travelling this particular stretch on a regular basis for about 20 years, and it's nearly always uneventful - the only two memories of note are the time we were delayed due to an abandoned canoe on the line, and the time we ploughed through a flock of escaped sheep, but I digress...

Filey station: Cleaner than it used to be

Apparently there's some sort of heatwave going on this weekend across the country. Clearly nobody has reminded Yorkshire. It's been cold and misty and damp all day, but I fortified myself with a Bacon, Sausage & Mushroom sandwich from Cooplands (and 5 cheese straws - Nom!) and a cup of tea at Mum's house, before heading off on my way.

The way out of Filey is, honestly, pretty boring, in a pebbledash sort of way, and I didn't even see any llamas through the hedge at the Animal Park. Gutted! However, near Muston crossing, I did manage to get a photo of a train (11:27 from Scarborough, if you're taking notes).

Seriously - what heatwave?

So anyway, Gristhorpe was totally deserted. It was like walking through a film set - or perhaps a closed down version of Beamish. It's actually really pretty (Might start a "Visit Gristhorpe" campaign) - I'm sure if it had a better name people would visit it. I believe it's of Scandinavian origins, meaning "Pig Village". Nice.

The old station (Closed since 1959) is quite a way through the village and out the other side, on a dead-end farm track, and surprisingly still has a manned signalbox, with proper level crossing gates and signals and everything, but still no people. The 'box door was ajar, but I couldn't see where the signalman was - perhaps using his new outside loo? 

Note to self: Use more hairspray...

The station buildings themselves are all still intact, and used as a house, but look a bit creepy. It looks like sort of place a witch might live, or maybe Josef Fritzl, so I didn't loiter for too long, and in any case I still had many miles left to walk, and another station to pose beside. But first, a rural interlude...

Right, I have a confession. This is probably going to sound weird and pervy - and it's not meant to - but I seriously love sheep. Not in a sex way - I'm not from Wales - I just think they're amazing! I like their noses, and their little twiggy legs, and their slightly demented eyes, and their general fat, cuddly squishiness. Sheep are awesome. (Actually, I think the one in the right hand picture wanted to kill me - I was quite relieved there was a fence in the way). 

The walk through Lebberston enabled me to indulge my sheep-admiring, as there was a veritable sea of them, as far as the horizon - or at least 'til the edge of the mist. Big sheep, small sheep, medium sheep. A cacophony of baa-ing!

Cayton station (closed in 1952) was something of a disappointment - it's only visible from the roadside, not from the platform side, so consequently looks like I'm just standing in front of a fairly ordinary house.

Cayton: A bit rubbish

The side facing the railway line is actually quite nice - when I used the line daily to go to college it was still visible, with very nice proportions, with a vaguely classical air to it - but sadly some bell-end the current owners have obscured it with massive fast-growing leylandii. Do these people not realise that God only invented leylandii to hide council houses, not nice buildings??? Bastards!

The only thing in Cayton's favour is that there is one of these visible from a non-trespassy location. I like the old North Eastern Railway's mileposts so much more than any others. I think they have character. This one - denoting (obviously) a quarter-mile point, reminds me of either some sort of prehistoric spear embedded in the ground, or a little man in a pointy hat. 

The whole-mile posts are square, with the number of miles (not just the fraction) and the name of the place they measure the distance from in raised letter at the top. Very sensible and practical. 

The half-mile posts are a bit like the one above, but with two points - one on either side - and look a bit like they've been given a bad centre-parting. 

The three-quarter ones are just awesome - they have three spikes, so they're like some crazy cast-iron disco-flower planted by the tracks. I reckon if mileposts had a party, the three-quarter ones would be the coolest to hang out with, and probably sell you the best drugs too!

So that was the main part of today's task done, all that was left was to head back home, through a dull bit of suburbia, over the new road (when will I stop thinking of it was the new road? It's been there at least five years now!), and past the cheapest, crappiest temporary bus stop I have ever seen in my life. Oh dear...