To the Vale of Lune and Cautley Spout

Nine years had passed since I'd last seen my Friend in the North, Jill. And when I say North, I mean North: the woman who for many years lived up the road from me in the Cotswolds has long been based in County Durham. 

But since we were holidaying a mere 67.7 miles away in Lancaster - or to be precise, Dolphinholme - it would be easy to rendezvous half way, with Sedbergh, which somehow manages to be in the Yorkshire Dales and Cumbria simultaneously, the agreed meeting point. First, though, a quick visit to St Gregory's Church at Marthwaite in the Vale of Lune, which has connections with the Arts and Crafts Movement. 

Not the most prepossessing of buildings - although instantly familiar to someone like me, who was raised Methodist - St Gregory's was built in the 1860s as a Mission Chapel for the navvies building the London and North Western Railway, and so it didn't have to be fancy. This doesn't mean it wasn't fitted out with care and an eye for detail following its refurbishment in the 1900s,  the wooden fittings and furniture being supplied by the prestigious firm of Waring & Gillow of Lancaster. 

William Holman Hunt's 'The Light of the World'

It's the stained glass windows, though, that are the real glory here. Installed when the church was enlarged in the 1900s, they were designed by Frederick George Simon and, for the most part, feature local rivers, hills, trees, plants and wildlife.

The church also contains three beautiful windows designed by Morris & Co.

Justice

Fortitude

Peace

It was time to be getting on, however, our destination the National Trust-owned Cross Keys Temperance Inn at Cautley on the other side of Sedbergh. 

A temperance pub? Why yes, the story being that alcohol ceased to be sold there quite abruptly, following a raucous night in 1902 when a drunken customer by the name of Buck was being helped home by the then landlord. Buck fell down the bank of the River Rawthey, only for the landlord, while trying to get him back on his feet, to fall right in and drown. The pub was subsequently sold, the liquor licence removed, and that was that. 

I didn't mind, I was driving. And our Friday pie and peas were washed down quite nicely by tea and ginger beer. 

Since, having met up with Jill and her partner Paul, there were three dogs in our party and an actual, real-life and quite noisy children's party going on inside, we were more than happy to sit out in the back garden overlooking the Howgill Fells, which were very beautiful indeed. 

No, you can't herd them, Cwtch.

For our walk, we crossed a very placid-looking River Rawthey via a rather grand new footbridge, and made our way up the track towards the cascade up ahead of us, which has the rather wonderful name of Cautley Spout. 

The views were lovely, but I was struck by how dry and crackly the vegetation was, even in areas where rushes and sphagnum moss were growing that you would expect to be boggy.

Paul remarked that a dry summer such as this one probably wasn't the best time to go gallivanting after waterfalls, but the Spout was pretty all the same, even if on other occasions, it's a lot more dramatic. 

Sadly, the inn was closed by the time we got back, otherwise we might have felt entitled to some cake after our walk, but nothing could spoil a lovely day in this beautiful part of the North. 

Ee, but it were grand!