On many occasions, especially on Sundays the family unit will walk west along bike route 65 till it turns south at a paved road. That’s about a four mike hike out. When george walks us it seems much further. This particular summer Sunday, Bet and I planned to walk to Beningbrough Hall and Gardens. With our sights set we took off walking on a well traveled bike/people path through pasture lands and flood control plains. All this lies within four minutes of our Westgate apartment. As we walked, I would sneeze four or five times every 50 yards or so. I forgot to take the ‘what you ma call it drugs!’ to prevent such things. The walk was very pleasing after these sneezing fits subsided. We encountered a couple of dozen bike riders every mile or so. All of the cyclists were headed towards York. There must have been some sort of rally going on. Our foot path ended about five miles out where it dead ended into what we’ll call ‘The Overton/Shipton Road’.
The world, as I know it, where people "stuck on stupid" steal the directional signs. We first started left, then we talked to some parked motorists who sent us in the opposite direction. We walked down a one lane country road to Shipton and the A19 highway. Wrong, so we made our retreat. “ It’s useless to ask a motorist directions to walk somewhere. Chances are they only know how to get to places by car. " Go figure.
The farm road eventually led us to the very small village of Overton. It comprised a one lane road with a spread of English cottages, no more than a couple of dozen of them dotting each side of the road. They appeared to be well kept and manicured. Some had past links to the Church of England, with related names of Vicarage or Parsonage. Many had 8 o 10 foot high hedges that bordered their properties with beautiful gates and or gatehouses. This was a place that got your imagination running. As we continued to walk the lane, we came upon a sign directing us off the lane towards the river. After all we were suppose to be on a river path. The sign proclaimed "Public Path" this way ====>. Obediently following directions we found ourselves in a sea of some farmer's crop. Now we know we're in a death spiral. Help us!Hey, there in the distance, we seek reassurance from three people standing in the middle of some fields. We all seem happy to see each other. At least they knew where they were. They had lost there puppy dog (name?). So we exchange cell numbers and headed off in somewhat the wrong direction. But as luck would have it, Bet found this scruffy little Australian Sheep dog of maybe 12 years. Cute as he could be lying top side down behind a big metal farm gate which blocked his escape. Yep there he was tired and panting away. As modern technology would have it, we're soon all reunited and happy to see each other.
They offer to drive us to Beningbrough Gardens but no we must complete our quest. Boy was that dumb. Basically, we walked the next four miles through head high weeds across farmland that parallels the river Ouse. At one point we find ourselves walking with about a couple of dozen. The only person we encountered was a fisherman who advised to keep walking towards a stand of hardwood trees further down the river.
We may be the only people this century who has walked from York to Beningbrough Hall and Gardens and saw this sign.
The manor house and the heritage gardens were great. Our fatigue took a little of the shine away from the visit to the gardens. We hiked about 50minutes to the "local pub" in Newton-on-the-Ouse where we called our favorite taxi for the after our "pint" trip back to Westgate . . . .
see ya,
j'bu
