The Royal Hotel: The start and the end of this walk

(In which Tim babbles about a 5 mile circular walk in Kirkby Lonsdale. Strays from this literary path, takes wrong turns, reverses himself, tries to elevate the experience, fails, makes poor jokes and maybe, maybe, perhaps, provides the casual viewer with some advice. But, probably not.)

Hiking repeats itself, first as disappointment and embarrassment and then as elation and smugness. Marx nearly got it right. So close but I think I’ve adapted his words well. It’s what the old boils-on-the-arse freeloader would have wanted. Or, whatever. Yeah.

I have a rule when discovering a new hike for the first time; like sex, it’s better alone. Er, what Tim? Is that right? Okay… Maybe what I meant to say is that, in order to get knowledgable about a hiking route (and sex), then it’s best to explore alone first. Because, well, so you know what you’re doing, right?

No Tim. The analogy is still crap and pretty embarrassing. Take the shame and move on.

Kirkby Walk Anyone?

Anyway. I ‘discovered’ Kirkby Lonsdale last year. Put it on the map, in fact. Or at least my sat nav. Stayed at the Royal Hotel in the centre of town with my father and my eldest daughter. Looked up a walk. But ignored the first rule of new hikes as set out above (you know, do it yourself first). So I went on it with family members striding confidently into the countryside. Of course I fucked it up royally. Ended up playing dodge- -the-country-traffic on a busy road game. Fun times.

But the world likes a trier so, sans famille, I went back a couple of weeks ago. Autumn had become spring and right replaced wrong. Did the walk again. But I got it right this time. It is a lovely walk and I’d recommend it if you can follow my crap map and instructions below.

I then had myself a night out in Kirkby. Some pints drunk some interactions with locals. Got into adventures. When Tim rolls, he rocks hard (and talks about himself in the third person).

The Route Map

The Route (approx.)

From the Royal Hotel, up and out of Kirkby, into the countryside, down a country lane to Whittington, down to the Lune River and follow it back to Kirkby & the old Devil’s Bridge. Have a pint.

Tell Us About Kirkby Lonsdale, Tim

Where is Kirkby Lonsdale? Is it Lancashire? Yorkshire? The Lake District? Westmoreland? Somewhere Up North? All of these probably. The locals didn’t seem too sure themselves. Let’s go with a picturesque cross-road between many beautiful parts of the country. The market town itself is a venerable gem; stone built 18/19th century buildings, more pubs than you can shake a shepherd’s crook at, artisan shops. There’s even a brewery with a pub which brews it’s own decent beer. The Royal Hotel - my abode of choice - sits right in the centre on the market square. The sort of solid establishment where you know a good breakfast with decent sausages awaits in the morning. The hotel boasts a bar / restaurant but there’s also a library / reading room with leather armchairs, open fire, newspapers. More. About. That. Room. Later. (1)

Kirkby has been rumoured to have the most perfect view in all of England - Ruskin’s View. It’s behind St Mary’s church in case you wish to gaze upon the vista yourself. Hills, river bends, farms, woods. Not much changed much since Turner painted it. Me? It’s beautiful but not the best. (2)

As a frequent visitor to the Lake District, the topography around KL (as I shall now call it) has much more of the green, rolling hills vibe than it’s northern neighbour. Very ‘The Shire’ without Bilbo. Maybe hobbits. Pretty without being spectacular. Look at the pictures below to get a flavour.

The Walk - crap instructions. Sorry

Facing the Royal Hotel, go up the road to the right. Keep following it up the hill (New Rd / Biggins Rd). Take the left hand fork and pass a school on your left. Leads to the A65 out of the town. Cross and follow the smaller road upwards with houses on either side. When you get to the end of the houses there’s a pathway to the left which leads narrowly down the hill alongside - or in - a pebbly stream which comes out eventually after 10 mins or so at some farm buildings. Cross fields to the right skirting a hill and using a couple of styles. The path is clearly embedded in the grass heading right and up. You come out by a house. There’s a lane leading left (Hosticle Lane). Follow this down to Whittington. Turn left down Church Street and pass the church (pictured above) then when the road meets Main Street turn right. Walk out of the village. On the left - at the last buildings - there is a small road / pathway that leads to the River Lune after 15 mins or so. Turn left at the river and follow it back to Kirkby over some styles but never going far from the water. A Kirkby, cross the road, then a park and follow the pathway along the river again. (Devil’s Bridge side trip.) Steep but short walk up from the Lune to Kirkby. Have a pint. Maybe some chips. Bath / shower. Change of clothes. Out for the night.

Should I collect these into a book?

The Evening

And so to the evening. I thought I’d pop into a couple of Kirkby pubs. Taste the local bitter. I was carrying my laptop around like some Southern nobhead; someone who wants to write about life rather than experience it. An observer, not a full participant. Well, that plan got derailed! Usual story. Unusual story. Tales to tell. But not here. Sorry. What happens in Kirkby, stays in Kirkby! (3)

But perhaps, make your own journey? (See my other walks)

Footnotes:

0) Who does Footnotes on a blog? Me. That’s who.

1) Or possibly not. A gentleman never tells. Me on the other hand! No; the fog of discretion and too many well poured Cumbrian ales allows me to draw a tatty veil over the end to this particular evening.

2) The real best view in England? Easy; the panorama one is faced when descending from the moors on Edenfield Road and, suddenly, the whole of Rochdale comes into view below you. Especially at night. Ruskin missed this, Turner never painted it, but Rochdale and England never looked so magnificent.

3) Me being me, my life is more salacious and vibrant in retrospect (see Madonna / Princess Di story for proof)