The Know-It-All Walker and the Great Dales Debate

4th May 2025

If you’ve ever wandered the Yorkshire Dales, you’ll know that the air is filled with the scent of fresh grass, the sound of babbling brooks, and the occasional unsolicited opinion from a passerby. And on this particular day, I was about to receive one in spades.

I was doing what any sensible person would do when staying at Thisledo Holiday Cottage: taking a leisurely walk through the picturesque countryside, admiring the rolling hills, and occasionally pretending I knew which way I was going.

It was then I encountered him — a seasoned walker, dressed head to toe in gear that made me feel like I’d forgotten something… like, say, a map, a compass, and a reasonable amount of self-respect.

“Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?” I said, trying to make small talk as I passed him by on a narrow path.

“Oh, it’s more than just lovely,” he replied, eyes lighting up like I’d just complimented his extensive collection of walking sticks. “This is the kind of weather that truly reveals the heart of the Dales.”

Now, I’m no poet, but I’m pretty sure the “heart of the Dales” involves sheep, dry stone walls, and the occasional cow that looks a bit judgmental.

I smiled politely, which I’m pretty sure he took as an invitation to launch into a monologue on everything he knew about the Dales — and let me tell you, it was everything.

He started with the geology, detailing how the rocks in this part of the Dales were formed over millions of years, and how the sedimentary layers were a testament to ancient seas… I was beginning to wonder if I’d accidentally joined a university lecture.

Then came the flora. “You see that flower?” he asked, pointing dramatically at a humble daisy. “That’s the rare Yorkshire Dales Cow Parsley, often confused with the much more common… erm… parsley.”

I nodded enthusiastically, trying to look engaged, even though I was just thinking about the fact that I hadn’t had a proper meal in three hours and was now considering whether or not to nibble on some of this “rare” greenery.

“And those sheep over there,” he said, squinting at a group of very unbothered sheep in the distance. “Those aren’t just any sheep. No, no. Those are Swaledales, the true masters of the hills. They’ve been bred for their resilience and their ability to withstand the harshest weather conditions.”

At this point, I was seriously considering whether I could just tiptoe away and pretend I’d never met him. But before I could make my escape, he gestured at the hills behind him.

“See those hills?” he said, as if I hadn’t already noticed them. “They were carved by glaciers during the last Ice Age. But, of course, the real history is in the human story. The Dales have been shaped by thousands of years of human habitation, and…”

I zoned out.

Dales history, yes, fascinating, but I need to find some food or I’m going to eat my own rucksack.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of what can only be described as a walking, talking Wikipedia entry, he paused.

“Well, you should really come back next year,” he said, patting me on the shoulder as if I’d been privy to some great revelation. “The Dales are always changing. You won’t want to miss the real beauty in spring, when the actual rare species bloom.”

I nodded. “Of course, I’ll mark it on my calendar.” In truth, I was just planning to mark it on the nearest pub’s dartboard.

With that, the know-it-all walker continued on his merry way, likely off to lecture a group of confused tourists about how the weather is too perfect for this time of year.

And as I walked off in the opposite direction, I couldn’t help but smile. Because while I may not have remembered every geological detail or botanical fact, I did take one thing away from that encounter:

I now know the secret to surviving a walk in the Dales — pack a picnic, and be ready to nod and smile. And if all else fails, just look like you know exactly what you’re doing. Trust me, the Dales will welcome you.