Blackbeards

For reasons best known to our son Ben, some years ago his music career took him into a leading position in an exciting band called Blackbeard's Tea Party.

Sadly for us, however, our opportunities to hear them playing their riotous brand of folk rock music in a live setting are limited since they have yet to cross the border into Scotland for one of their gigs. Which means, of course, that we must travel south in order to see them perform live. We are grateful for the fact that the north of England is often a preferred area for them to play so the travelling is less than it might have been but even so, we face a lengthy drive into a foreign country (as it often feels) to meet up with them.

The chosen venue on this occasion is Reeth, a tiny village in Swaledale, on the edge of the North Yorkshire National Park, a place that seemed able to offer us some quieter roads on which to cycle plus some energetic walking routes. So rather than make the long drive just for the gig, why not take a short vacation and spend several days there. This, then, is a summary of our trip, or holiday as we like to think of it, which culminated in the Blackbeard's gig.

The process of taking a holiday always takes a certain amount of pre-planning, preparing and modifying lists of things we must not forget for this activity or that possible contingency. If cycling is on the todo list then this involves a whole new set of 'forgetables', any one of which might completely scupper the adventure. We have a cycle rack which clamps on the back of the van and by some mysterious piece of magic this is capable of carrying two bikes without them falling off, despite them being shaken about as we bounce over the many lumps and bumps in the road. Fitting the rack requires a spanner and a key, both of which need to be kept safely to hand should we want to remove the rack on arrival. Also, being electric, each bike has its own key but in addition we like to carry a strong cable lock so we can secure the bikes somewhere if needs be when we are out and about. So this means another key. When the bikes are loaded behind the van we have a waterproof cover for them which itself has a stowage bag for when it is not in use. Then, of course, there are our cycle helmets, gloves, hi-viz jackets and waterproofs for when we are riding, all of which need to be stored conveniently ready for use. We have discovered that once the bike rack is attached we can no longer open the rear door of the van, another point to be considered if there is anything we need to store there. When riding we must also carry enough basic tools to enable us to fix punctures and carry out repairs. What at first thought might seem simple has suddenly become considerably more complex.

None of this puts us off, however. We are experienced travellers and are used to having many things to think of before going away. Our campervan has a fresh water tank, which needs to be filled. Bedding, toothbrushes and washing things must be on board and we must stock up with food, enough for several days at least. Finally, the truth is that we will always forget something; we just have to hope that whatever it is is not essential.

We divided the long drive south into two so we could do some shopping in Glasgow on the way then parked up for our first night at Gretna, just inches away from Scotland's border with England. For the following day we planned a route which avoided main roads (not our favourite places) and as a result we soon found ourselves driving on narrow lanes which snaked across the moors, diving down low every so often in order to cross a river then shooting up steeply again.

The sun shone all the way, the clear air giving us spectacular views until eventually we descended into Reeth and navigated our way onto the campsite where we parked up close by, but not underneath, an apple tree which was clearly shedding its load. We had arrived early enough to go off for a walk so on went the boots and out came the map. After crossing the river Swale on a wobbly footbridge we found the planned return route, a river crossing on stepping stones, to be impassable due to the height of the water so we took to the fields, climbing up high past flocks of sheep to reach a designated cycle route along the valley. This eventually brought us back to Reeth, although the walk proved much longer than we had planned, so a visit to the Buck Inn for a curry and a pint was needed in the evening.

As day two dawned the pheasants wandering around the orchard woke us so we were able to prepare early for the cycling day ahead. Once again the sun shone brightly and having now gained some local experience we decided that we could safely assume that the village of Keld, some distance up the valley, was bound to have a place to eat so we could avoid carrying food with us. In this respect we were correct although the first few miles of 'level' roads turned out to be nothing but. Instead there was a constant series of short ups, each of which required a boost of electric power from our bike motors to surmount, followed by short downs. We were prepared and had been warned about the last section, a very steep rise into the tiny village which hung on the side of the hill. We were soon there and after a decent snack and a chat with some fellow tourists we broke every speed limit on the return journey (bikes can go scarily fast downhill if you don't use the brakes) although our legs were getting pretty wobbly by the time we made it back to camp.

Finally day three, the day of the Blackbeard's gig, arrived. We decided to make this another walking day and chose a circular route towards the ruins of Marrick Abbey. From here the 'Nun's Steps' section suddenly made us realise that our legs were on their third day of exercise and perhaps we might have over-reached ourselves. But after a lunch stop - we had our own food this time - we continued across yet more sheep and cattle-filled fields and made it back in plenty of time to meet up with the band as they were setting up for the gig.

And what a gig! 

The village hall filled to capacity, everyone stomping their feet or leaping about at the front, cheering and clapping madly. The tiny stage forced the band to restrain their usual leaping and jumping performance but this detracted nothing from our enjoyment. We take immense pride in seeing our son playing

and the support from the appreciative audience was just terrific.

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So to summarise. What are our impressions of the North York Moors, an area I was previously totally unfamiliar with?

On first sight the views are quite startling, rolling hills divided up by the dry stone walls, these alone being remarkable pieces of architecture on their own right.

Mature trees are dotted about everywhere in the lower valley, each one forming part of a field boundary, but these trees are all quite old and very seldom did we see the next generation of trees growing. The stone walls contained countless fields of sheep, far more sheep than humans despite the area catering for holidaymakers in large numbers. Then above the valley, the stone walls stopped and the moor began although it was clear that this was managed for a different purpose. The sound of gunfire, shooting, could be heard all through the day and on our last day a muirburn (a Scottish word) was being carried out, smoke drifting right across the valley, blotting out the light. Despite appearances this is not wild country - every inch is managed for one reason or another - and realising this takes away some of the pleasure for me. It is a land managed for the farming of sheep, an animal that leaves a landscape devoid of trees or other wildlife and for me, much of the visual pleasure is diminished by this.