Serenity beside the River Wharfe

18.04.2026

Upper Wharfedale was new territory for me. I had visited Grassington and the lower reaches of the River Wharfe before so I was curious to discover as I set out on foot, the stone circle of Yockenthwaite, just over three miles north west of Buckden.

The route follows the Dales Way along the banks of the Wharfe where after a bend in the river it joins a narrow lane. A mile on I arrived at the picturesque village of Hubberholme with it’s twelfth century church and humped back stone bridge. It was a tranquil spot to rest on a bench by the river. I envied the residents here and decided to grab a pint in the George Inn. I was the only customer and the landlady explained the pub was popular with hikers from Holland and had been a favourite haunt of J B Priestley. I crossed the bridge and had a look in St Michael and All Angels Church. On a small table a candle burned for Priestley who’s anonymous grave was somewhere in the churchyard.

From here the Dales Way entres Lanstrothdale and continues along the north bank of the Wharfe all the way to the hamlet of Yockenthwaite, one and a half miles up river. The sound of it’s flow seemed to increase in volume, interspersed with the bleating of new born lambs. At the hamlet I passed another arched stone bridge and continued on through a small wood and out the other side. It suddenly felt wild with a barren open moorland valley opening up ahead. The features of the river had changed with wider eroded limestone banks on either side potted with deep circular rock pools. I was beginning to feel an increasing sense of serenity from the river and half a mile on through a gap in a wall, I glimpsed a flock of sheep with their young lambs occupying a low circle of stones. They casually ambled off as I approached and entred the circle of tightly packed weathered stones. At only seven metres in diameter, the circle has been classified as a Ring Cairn with most of the stones sticking up less than a metre above the grass. One stone on the arc nearest the river bank was conspicuously larger and on the north west side were two outer stones, the remains of a double row. I stood at the centre, closed my eyes and listened to an audio mosaic of the river, the cry of passing crows and nearby lambs. Somewhere behind me a skylark was hovering high above her nest. When I opened my eyes, two of the lambs were watching me from the edge of the circle with their unconcerned mother some way off, head down eating grass.

I do not know how long I sat on one of the more comfortable stones. Time had seemed to slow down and almost stop for a while. A pleasant captivation was taking place and it seemed very necessary to do very little.