The Yorkshire Dales, for me, is such a wonderful part of the UK and maybe it's the memories I have attached to it, but it's one of the very few things that can bring a tear to my eye.
Me. A great big hairy 17 stone, front row, rugby boy.
There's one place in particular that I go, (I won't say where exactly) but it's a lovely tiny little village. There's nothing really there: a waterfall hidden by an old Water mill, a pub, a tuck shop and a quaint little village green set at the bottom of a shallow natural valley with various walks scattered through it. I guess I love it up there as it's somewhere that my mum loved and where she's laid to rest, and the feelings of that place I'm expressing here, for me, suit a lot of the Yorkshire Dales.
Even when I'm sat in meetings, stressing out with deadlines approaching I can think back to that place and the calming effect on me it has is wonderful.
Every time I go back there I get a sense of peace and calm. All my troubles seem to loosen as I drive up the M1 A1 and by the time I get to my favourite spot, they've been washed away.
As a place It's so quiet, and the locals there are lovely, it's just a beautiful corner of the world.
My mum's buried under a tree on top of the valley over looking the village and so every time I'm back, I take the same old path, in front of the waterfall, up and over the river feeding it, and up onto the worn out footpath across the fields, until it leads me up to the top of the valley.
The view we left her with is breathtaking. You can overlook the small, almost forgotten village in the base of the valley, and see for miles, even on the dull days. Even the occasional gust of wind isn't a nuisance.
My love of this place started when I was tiny, and my earliest memories are of the family spending weekends up there in rented cottages, eating and drinking well, singing and laughing as one big clan. Even the sadness of losing my mum is somehow lessened knowing she's forever there and I can always see her when I return.
Even happier memories of subsequent visits only deepen my affinity with the Yorkshire Dales:
Being forced off the road and subsequently surrounded by an endless herd of sheep
My older brother introducing a 10 year old me to a local bitter. (I liked it!)
As a man, returning there with my brother and our dad for a weekend of food, beer and walks.
Introducing my brother's two daughters, my wonderful nieces to the same place and watching their love of the Yorkshire Dales (and beer!) grow.
The last of these, I'm counting as a point for Sustainability by the way!
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