WHARFEDALE
Otley is the first place we come to in the long and beautiful valley of
the Wharfe. It is a busy little town where printing machinery is
manufactured and worsted mills appear to thrive. Immediately to the
south rises the steep ridge known as the Chevin. It answers the same
purpose as Leyburn Shawl in giving a great view over the dale; the
elevation of over 900 feet, being much greater than the Shawl, of course
commands a far more extensive panorama, and thus, in clear weather, York
Minster appears on the eastern horizon and the Ingleton Fells on the
west.
Farnley Hall, on the north side of the Wharfe, is an Elizabethan house
dating from 1581, and it is still further of interest on account of
Turner’s frequent visits, covering a great number of years, and for the
very fine collection of his paintings preserved there. The oak-panelling
and coeval furniture are particularly good, and among the historical
relics there is a remarkable memento of Marston Moor in the sword that
Cromwell carried during the battle.
A few miles higher up the dale stands the big ‘hydropathic,’ and the
station of Ben Rhydding. The name sounds very Scottish, and the man who
started the establishment came from beyond the Border. He found that the
site he had selected was marked in the Ordnance maps as a ‘bean
rhydding,’ or fallow land, so he decided to drop the ‘a’ in ‘bean,’ and
in that way get a good Scottish flavour into the name, and now its
origin is being quite forgotten. Only a short distance beyond is the
considerable town of Ilkley, where hotels and vast hydropathic
establishments flourish exceedingly, and villas are constantly adding to
the size of the place, which had a population of only 500 half a century
ago. Ilkley has an old well-house, where the water’s purity is its chief
attraction. The church contains a thirteenth-century effigy of Sir
Andrew de Middleton, and also three pre-Norman crosses without arms. On
the heights to the south of Ilkley is Rumbles Moor, and from the Cow and
Calf rocks there is a very fine view. Ilkley is particularly well
situated for walks up the dales and over the moors, as a glance at the
map at the end of this volume will show.
About six miles still further up Wharfedale Bolton Abbey stands by a
bend of the beautiful river. The ruins are most picturesquely placed on
ground slightly raised above the banks of the Wharfe. Of the domestic
buildings practically nothing remains, while the choir of the church,
the central tower, and north transepts are roofless and extremely
beautiful ruins. The nave is roofed in, and is used as a church at the
present time, and it is probable that services have been held in the
building practically without any interruption for 700 years. Hiding the
Early English west end is the lower half of a fine Perpendicular tower,
commenced by Richard Moone, the last Prior. Followers of Ruskin speak of
this as a disfigurement, and I imagine that they also despise the tower
of Fountains Abbey because it belongs to the same period. The taste
displayed in the architecture and decoration of Brantwood does not
encourage me to accept Ruskin’s pronouncements on the latest phase of
Gothic development, and I need only point to the splendid western towers
of Beverley Minster in support of my intense admiration for the dispised
Perpendicular style.
The great east window of the choir has lost its tracery, and the
Decorated windows at the sides are in the same vacant state, with the
exception of the one that appears in the illustration given here. It is
blocked up to half its height, like those on the north side, but the
flamboyant tracery of the head is perfect and very graceful. Lower down
there is some late-Norman interlaced arcading resting on carved corbels.
There is something singularly attractive in the views of the woods that
overhang the river when we see them framed by the great stone arches and
fluted piers. We can hear the rich notes of a blackbird, and the gentle
rush of the river where it washes the stony beach close at hand, and
there is present that wonderful silence that broods over ruined
monasteries.
From the abbey we can take our way by various beautiful paths to the
exceedingly rich scenery of Bolton woods. Some of the reaches of the
Wharfe through this deep and heavily-timbered part of its course are
really enchanting, and not even the knowledge that excursion parties
frequently traverse the paths can rob the views of their charm. It is
always possible, by taking a little trouble, to choose occasions for
seeing these
[Illustration: BOLTON ABBEY, WHARFEDALE
FROM under the arches of the central tower one is looking out over the
course of the river Wharfe. The abbey was founded in the twelfth century
for monks of the Order of St. Augustine.]
beautiful but very popular places when they are unspoiled by the sights
and sounds of holiday-makers, and in the autumn, when the woods have an
almost undreamed-of brilliance, the walks and drives are generally left
to the birds and the rabbits. At the Strid the river, except in
flood-times, is confined to a deep channel through the rocks, in places
scarcely more than a yard in width. It is one of those spots that
accumulate stories and legends of the individuals who have lost their
lives, or saved them, by endeavouring to leap the narrow channel. That
several people have been drowned here is painfully true, for the
temptation to try the seemingly easy but very risky jump is more than
many can resist.
Higher up, the river is crossed by the three arches of Barden Bridge, a
fine old structure bearing the inscription: ‘This bridge was repayred at
the charge of the whole West R ... 1676.’ To the south of the bridge
stands the picturesque Tudor house called Barden Tower, which was at one
time a keeper’s lodge in the manorial forest of Wharfedale. It was
enlarged by the tenth Lord Clifford--the ‘Shepherd Lord’ whose strange
life-story is mentioned in the next chapter in connection with
Skipton--but having become ruinous, it was repaired in 1658 by that
indefatigable restorer of the family castles, the Lady Anne Clifford.
At this point there is a road across the moors to Pateley Bridge, in
Nidderdale, and if we wish to explore that valley, which is now
partially filled with a lake formed by the damming of the Nidd for
Bradford’s water-supply, we must leave the Wharfe at Barden. If we keep
to the more beautiful dale we go on through the pretty village of
Burnsall to Grassington, where a branch railway has recently made its
appearance from Skipton.
The dale from this point appears more and more wild, and the fells
become gaunt and bare, with scars often fringing the heights on either
side. We keep to the east side of the river, and soon after having a
good view up Littondale, a beautiful branch valley, we come to
Kettlewell. This tidy and cheerful village stands at the foot of Great
Whernside, one of the twin fells that we saw overlooking the head of
Coverdale when we were at Middleham. Its comfortable little inns make
Kettlewell a very fine centre for rambles in the wild dales that run up
towards the head of Wharfedale.
Buckden is a small village situated at the
[Illustration: HUBBERHOLME CHURCH
IS one of the quaintest in Yorkshire. It has Norman features, but dates
chiefly from the thirteenth century. The situation on the banks of the
Wharfe in Langstrothdale Chase is most beautiful.]
junction of the road from Aysgarth, and it has the beautiful scenery of
Langstrothdale Chase stretching away to the west. About a mile higher up
the dale we come to the curious old church of Hubberholme standing close
to the river, and forming a most attractive picture in conjunction with
the bridge and the masses of trees just beyond. At Raisgill we leave the
road, which, if continued, would take us over the moors by Dodd Fell,
and then down to Hawes. The track goes across Horse Head Moor, and it is
so very slightly marked on the bent that we only follow it with
difficulty. It is steep in places, for in a short distance it climbs up
to nearly 2,000 feet. The tawny hollows in the fell-sides, and the utter
wildness spread all around, are more impressive when we are right away
from anything that can even be called a path. The sheep just remind us
of the civilization that endeavours to make what use it can of these
desolate places, and when none are in sight we are left alone with the
sky and the heaving brown hills.
When we reach the highest point before the rapid descent into Littondale
we have another great view, with Pen-y-ghent close at hand and Fountains
Fell more to the south. At the bottom of the dale flows the Skirfare,
and we follow it past the gray old village of Litton down to Arncliffe,
where there is a nice inn by such a pleasant green that we are tempted
to stay there rather than hurry on to Skipton.
SKIPTON, MALHAM AND GORDALE