“Yorkshire to Lancashire: A Holidaymaker’s Brave (and Slightly Sheepish) Adventure on the A59”

6th October 2024

So, here I am, in the picturesque town of Skipton, staying in what can only be described as the cosiest holiday cottage known to humankind— called ‘Thisledo’ (which, honestly, feels like an understatement because it more than ‘does’). It’s one of those places that makes you want to throw on a pair of woolly socks, drink endless cups of tea, and just… exist.

But, after a few days of blissful relaxation, pottering around the market, stuffing my face with scones, and pretending I’m a local by saying “aye” far too much, I decided it was time for a bit of adventure. And what better adventure than… venturing into Lancashire?

Yes, you heard me right. I was going to do it. I was going to cross the A59 and see what lay beyond the sacred boundary of Yorkshire.

The Road to Lancashire: AKA The A59 Gauntlet

Armed with a questionable map app, a flask of Yorkshire Tea (you know, just in case), and a sense of impending doom, I set off along the A59. Now, I’ve heard stories about this road. Some say it’s haunted by rogue sheep, others say it’s more of a psychological journey than a physical one. Either way, I was ready—or so I thought.

As I drove, the landscape began to shift. The familiar rolling hills and dry-stone walls of Yorkshire seemed to get… less comforting? The sheep here seemed less engaged in their usual judging—they were more like “You’ve made your choice. Good luck with it.” I could almost hear them snickering as I zoomed past.

Then, like a scene from an old movie, I saw the sign: “Welcome to Lancashire – The Red Rose County.” It felt like crossing into uncharted territory. Should I have packed a lunch? Will they notice I’m a Yorkshire tourist? Should I have memorised a different county motto?

A Brief Encounter with Lancashire’s Finest (Fish and Chips)

My first stop? Fish and chips, of course. It felt like a safe bet. As I stepped into the chippy, the atmosphere was… different. The accents flatter, the air slightly thicker with… dare I say it? Suspicion. The man behind the counter sized me up immediately. “You’re from Yorkshire, aren’t you?” he asked with a grin. I didn’t even need to open my mouth—he just knew.

Not wanting to provoke any Lancashire-Yorkshire tensions, I nodded sheepishly. To my surprise, he laughed, handed over my fish and chips, and said, “Don’t worry, love. We won’t tell anyone. Just make sure you get back before tea time.” Cheeky.

With my (delicious, I have to admit) meal in hand, I hurried back to the car, feeling slightly like a spy who’d just completed a covert mission. It was time to return to the safety of Yorkshire. Preferably before anyone noticed I’d been fraternizing with the locals.

The Return of the Sheep Patrol

Back on the road between Colne and Carleton, heading to Skipton, I could feel the pull of Skipton and its comforting cobblestones. The border was approaching. But just as I thought I was home-free, there they were—sheep. Right in the middle of the road. I swear they must be working for the Yorkshire border patrol, making sure we outsiders don’t bring any strange Lancashire habits back with us.

I waited. The sheep stared. And then, with a casual nod (I swear it nodded), it allowed me to pass, like some sort of fluffy gatekeeper. I took that as a sign that I was welcome back into Yorkshire.

Back at Thisledo, Safe and Sound

Back at the cottage, I threw off my shoes, poured myself a celebratory cup of tea, and sank into the sofa. I had done it. I had ventured into the wilds of Lancashire, eaten their fish and chips, and lived to tell the tale. But I had to admit, as charming as it was over there, there’s something about Yorkshire that just feels… right.

The sheep might be judgmental, the roads might be a bit twisty, and yes, everyone’s constantly talking about tea—but there’s nowhere quite like it. Tomorrow’s adventure? I think I’ll keep it a little closer to home.

For now, though, I’ll just sit back, enjoy the warmth of the fire, and laugh to myself about my daring Lancashire escapade. Would I do it again? Maybe. But definitely not without a proper Yorkshire brew tucked safely in the car.