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Melmerby Moor lies at about the 1200 foot level, it’s a slope of land that’s a good 500 feet above the village of West Witton in Wensleydale in the Dales. We’d driven up from the valley to the moor, passed a few walkers doing it the hard way on the steep winding back road, so were we lazy? No, there’s a fair bit of up and down on this circuit and after a few miles you’ll find yourself by a trig point at 1700 feet.

But that’s for later. To start with there's a ‘green lane’ gradually downhill across the middle of the moor. By ‘green lane’ I mean one of those green dot routes marked on modern maps that are an acknowledgement of an old road cum track. Certainly it’s not verdant as in the usual image of such lanes, there's heather that’s about it, no trees, no shrubs.

What you do get are super views of Wensleydale and of Coverdale the next valley south.

At the bottom of Melmerby Moor the route levels where it meets the highest valley side pastures of Coverdale and there is a sound stone track that is just the thing for the mile of climbing required for the 600 foot ascent of Penhill.

What did we come across? Regarding creatures, little wheatears that are one of nature’s star migrants and over from Africa and tiny speckled butterflies. As for water, a pond, a stream that is called Mill Race and another water course draining Penhill that’s a deep and ugly gash. And not forgetting the grouse, grouse butts and gamekeeper constructions of various sorts including little towers. These towers are new to me, are a couple of feet high, drystone constructed with the penultimate course a layer of turf that is framed in stone so to hold a heap of granules.

We were wondering what it would be like crossing the moor on the top because the last time we were hereabouts, in 2005 viewing this boggy patch from the other side, there seemed no obvious way. Now our track continued right across, so that was easy.

And then a springy path runs along the edge providing views into Wensleydale, its sequence of villages and Bolton Castle. Weather was gathering, darkening the dale deep to the west.

Now the trig point, one in rustic style not concrete. Then it’s worth taking a little diversion for the pivotal view of the junction of the valleys seen from a peculiar pile of stones.

Then down, not the more popular descent, done that, but a hugging of a dry stone wall all the way the mile back. This makes for very easy navigation and a rather different feel. The curlews came in on their airliner true and musical glides, the flocks of lapwings did their fancy turns, we’d hardly had to break stride with no stiles and one gate all day.