There are plenty places to park for free in Danby. I stuck myself on the grass outside the Methodist Church and headed up the road and left by the Duke of Wellington on the road to Castleton. This can soon be left to get to Castleton by the Esk Valley Walk through the woods. I went through Castleton and down Ashfield Road to take the footpath right by Brookfield Farm. This went on a bit of a loop to bypass the farm, through a field with alpacas in it. It then headed alongside a river bank through a field where I met a mare acting rather protectively towards her lovely white foal. (Yes, I know you’re not supposed to call horses “white”. So sue me.) There are a couple of other ways to get to this point from Castleton by going up to High Castleton and taking paths off to the left. Maybe those ways are nicer. This way wasn’t horrible.
From here it’s about a mile across fields to reach Burtree Lane. One field was full of cows but they placidly ignored me the way I like them to. By the time I reached Burtree Lane I was reproaching my folly in not carrying suncream as arms were starting to burn. I had no choice but to finish the walk – in blazing sunshine – wearing my waterproof top, the only thing I was carrying with sleeves. Here I kept with the Esk Valley walk down a track past four farms, West Green Farm, Plum Tree Farm, West Cliff Farm, Blackmires Farm, to meet another road at Stormy Hill. I went left here and downhill past an old chapel and a rather smashed up phonebox to a junction where I went left at first to take a peek at Botton Village where there was a shop I thought might sell me some sun cream. The shop was shut. The coffee shop was shut. I didn’t linger but went back to the junction and along the road north to pick up the access track to East Cliff Farm.
From here it is a steep pull up onto Danby Rigg, the only real climb of the day. Towards the top the path became boggy and overgrown with ferns and not all that pleasant. But I was soon on Danby Rigg itself where the walking is heavenly. I headed north, past the trig point, then down into Ainsworth and back to where I started. It had been a lovely day on a July Saturday doing what has to be a rather obvious circuit from a village right at the heart of the national park, yet in the ten miles I walked I met just one other party of three people. Maybe the lure of the Wimbledon women’s final had kept folk at home to watch Serena Williams beating Garbiñe Muguruza .
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