Wednesday, 27 March 2013

The Gallery ... Walks

I'm joining in with The Gallery this week and the theme is Walks so I would like to share one particular walk with you. A walk that WILL go down in family folklore. Even now, two years later, just the mention of That Walk is enough to reduce us all to shuddering, giggling wrecks.

And it had all started so well ......

The Plot.
Holidaying in Whitby, a family of six take the summer steam train to Goathland where, they have heard tell, there is Mallyan Spout, the tallest waterfall on the North York Moors and an apparently impressive sight. SOMEONE, though of course no-one will admit to it now, suggests that they pop along and have a look ....


At no point did anyone mention that to get to Mallyan Spout, you have to traverse humps, bumps, stumps and rocks. Lots and lots of slippery rocks.


There was a certain amount of squealing and an inappropriate amount of swearing, but I did apologise afterwards. A long time afterwards. Though Mallyan Spout was indeed impressive...

Mallyan spout waterfall North Yorkshire Moors

...and quite beautiful. 

But we had to find our way back to the village of Goathland via an entirely different route because there was no way on this planet or any others that anyone was going to get me back on any slippery rocks. I have *dignified look* an excessive fear of falling ever since falling down a mountain when I was 15. Yes, really. Ok, it was a ski-slope, was covered in snow and I stopped before I hit the trees at the bottom but, you know, still wasn't nice.

Just getting to the bottom of the waterfall had taken every single atom of sweat, concentration and taut nerve I possessed. Unfortunately, as it proved.

So we took another route back to the village following yet another helpful footpath sign.


Which was all well and good. To start with. I didn't ask myself about how we were going to get out of the deep valley where the Mallyan Spout was. Maybe I should have. Turns out I don't like steep hills either, even ones so steep they cut steps into them.

From not even the very top looking
 down to the bottom *jibbers*
Cajoled, coaxed, and at some points dragged, up the sheer cliff by The Boy, then aged five. (What? I'm not proud), we eventually arrived back in Goathland.

NOT in time for our train though There was consternation and a hurried consulting of timetables. There was a decision made. It wasn't popular. Grosmont, where we needed to catch the train to Whitby (remember Whitby, we were on holiday in Whitby) was roughly four miles away. Obviously we decided to walk it.


Goathland to Grosmont walk

There were puddles. Really rather large puddles.


And there were abandoned trains


And cows

Still looking at the cows

And gates to practice the Countryside Code on.

And, eventually, we arrived at Grosmont JUST in time to see the last steam train back to Whitby puff out of the station. From a hill.

You see that plume of smoke? That's our train that is.

So we did what all good families do at such a time. We went to the pub and waited for the boring old diesel instead.

This is my entry to The Gallery


Please go check out everyone else's entries.


  1. Heh heh oh the family walk that turns into a trek! I bet you all talk about it and laugh now even if not so much at the time ;)

  2. I can see this being a story that will be told for many years and definitely at Christmas when all the family is together!

  3. What a fantastic if not a little extreme looking walk! Xx


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