From Askrigg there is a road that climbs up from the end of the little
street at a gradient that looks like 1 in 4, but it is really less
formidable. Considering its steepness the surface is quite good, but
that is due to the industry of a certain road-mender with whom I once
had the privilege to talk when, hot and breathless, I paused to enjoy
the great expanse that lay to the south. He was a fine Saxon type, with
a sunburnt face and equally brown arms. Road-making had been his ideal
when he was a mere boy, and since he had obtained his desire he told me
that he couldn't be happier if he were the King of England. The
picturesque road where we leave him, breaking every large stone he can
find, goes on across a belt of brown moor, and then drops down between
gaunt scars that only just leave space for the winding track to pass
through. It afterwards descends rapidly by the side of a gill, and thus
enters Swaledale.
There is a beautiful walk from Askrigg to Mill Gill Force. The distance
is scarcely more than half a mile across sloping pastures and through
the curious stiles that appear in the stone walls.
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