Not long ago, one of my blog friends, Jacquie, did a post (here) about a walk she'd followed on a visit to the Yorkshire Dales, inspired by one I'd posted on my blog. By sweet coincidence, the walk she'd written about the day before (here), which was quite local to me, encouraged me to visit Micklethwaite again. So here's my walk, with thanks to Jacquie for the inspiration!
I started on the towpath of the Leeds-Liverpool Canal just above Bingley Five Rise Locks. There's a marina and boatyard so always lots of narrowboats moored on this stretch. See the sleeping swan?....
Well, the swan was guarding its partner on her nest, built right beside the towpath next to someone's garden wall! You'd think they could have found a more tranquil site than this busy area!
A little further on, I had to scoot quickly across the swing bridge crossing the canal, as a boat was coming. (If you time it wrong, you can wait for a quite a while as the boaters struggle with the mechanisms to move the bridges.) The attractive canalside house is for sale, should you fancy it - so long as you have the patience to wait for boats passing, at the bridge at the end of your drive!
Just beyond the bridge, my route turned right to follow Morton Beck, along a pretty little stream-side footpath through lush drifts of wild garlic.
Ahead, through the trees, you can just see old mill buildings, now converted into homes sitting picturesquely alongside the old mill pond.
A rabbit froze - assuming, I guess, that I wasn't likely to spot him if he stayed still. Well, I did spot him - and I shot him, ha! But only with my camera.
The beck tumbles over a few little waterfalls. I like walking along and hearing splashing water.
Beyond the mill pond, my route climbed away from the stream, along an old trackway connecting the villages of East Morton and Micklethwaite. It's most likely a packhorse route, left over from the days when people transported their goods by horse to the market in Bingley or Bradford.
The views open up as you get higher, looking across the Aire Valley. The rather bedraggled horse was a Shetland pony or similar, quite small and quite unconcerned by me and my camera.