Detour #181: Dales, Moors and Much More, Yorkshire, UK

A one-day dash across God’s Own Country leaves Nik Berg wanting Yorkshire more.

Up hill and down dale, over the moors to the North Sea coast for fish ‘n’ chips at Whitby, followed by a dip into the Spa town of Scarborough and an artistic pause before breaching the Roman walls of York, that’s the plan. To take in as much of Yorkshire in one west-to-east drive as is achievable in the shortening daylight hours of an English autumn.

It starts before sun up, just over the county line in Kendal, Cumbria, a brilliant base for exploring the Lake District and its many mountain passes, the Pennines or, in this case the white rose of Yorkshire. It’s too misty and dark to see anything but the signs for Kendal Castle as I make my way out on the A684. At this hour there’s no traffic but the headlights on my old Lotus Esprit aren’t able to penetrate the gloom and overnight rain has given a slippery sheen to the road, so it’s a cautious start. I pass under the M6, traffic roaring over my head and the road narrows, twists and climbs until, stretched ahead of me in the rose tint of dawn lies the Yorkshire Dales.

The sign marking entry to this national park depicts a local Swaledale sheep and it’s not long before I encounter a small flock of them soaking up the early morning sun. With the confidence of a set of sturdy horns one young male isn’t giving any ground as he idly wanders up the road. A toot of my own horn does nothing to distract him from his perambulation, so I wait until he finds a suitable spot for breakfast before driving past.

Approaching Garsdale I spot a red telephone box, disused by the looks of it, but adding to the sense of driving back in time. Ignore the satellite dishes and SUVs parked outside the farmhouses and this is still the Yorkshire of James Herriot, and a landscape that I hope will never change.

At Hawes I’m very tempted to take a Detour to the Buttertubs Pass, one of Jeremy Clarkson’s favourite roads and quite the rollercoaster ride. I drove it a couple of years ago in a Caterham Seven and it would be interesting to see how another Colin Chapman car copes with its whoops and drops. Time is of the essence, however, so I press on.

Here the A684 opens up again, following the River Ure in a straighter path as it begins to leave the Dales behind. A short run south on the A1 (M) and the A61 takes me to Thirsk, gateway to the North York Moors. The A170 leads to Sutton Bank, a one in four grind that defeats over 120 vehicles every year as it climbs 160 metres, with a single switchback to ease the climb.

Reaching this high point of the Hambleton Hills it’s now a more-or-less straight shot to the Moors, passing through Kirbymoorside and Pickering where it’s a sharp left onto the A169 toward Whitby. This is the North York Moors at its most dramatic. The road rises and falls as it heads due north, the vast moorland stretching out in every direction – a sea of ochre heather. The imposing pyramid of RAF Fylingdales early warning station sits far back from the road, tracking satellites, space debris and keeping a watchful eye for any hostile activity.

This is potentially the swiftest part of the route so far, but the road to the coast is busy. I hope they’re not all headed for The Magpie Cafe for fish ’n’ chips like me. Hunger makes me bypass the crumbling Abbey which inspired Bram Stoker to bring Dracula to the UK and I manage to find a parking spot down by the harbour. Delicious fresh cod and crispy chips should sustain me for the rest of my trip.

The A171 tracks the North Sea coast south to Scarborough. The outdoor theatre tempts many, but I can’t resist a stop at a rather different entertainment venue. Oliver’s Mount is the oldest still-surviving road race circuit in Britain and, as it’s a public road, I take a leisurely lap.

I keep heading south on the A165 before cutting inland at Bridlington on the A614 and the A166 in search of the spot where David Hockney sat to paint Garrowby Hill. His visualisation is certainly more colourful than the view today, especially as the light is now beginning to fade.

It’s just a few more miles into York where, within its Roman walls, every gate is a bar and every bar is a pub. After driving 200 miles across God’s Own Country I think I deserve a pint.

Words & Photography Nik Berg Twitter | Instagram

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ROADBOOK

CLASS: Cross county

NAME: Yorkshire more

ROUTE: Kendal to York

COUNTRY: UK

DISTANCE: 196 miles

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