Friday 9th July.      11.5 miles.

We are back at the golf course – dare we park in the President’s space – better not. The road into town leads through the common, the cows have moved to a cooler place. A dog walker tells us that sometimes the cows turn up in the town streets.

Our one point of reference is the Minster, and we are amazed at its size and presence. On a more mundane note, we spot the cream boxes of Hull Telephone Department, a separate entity to BT. We do not do Beverley justice as we slink along side-streets, aiming for the all important bridge across the River Hull.

Time seems to be dragging in the oppressive heat, so we are pleased to come across a café alongside the river. Two no-nonsense mugs of tea revive our flagging spirits.

This necessary crossing of the Hull and a major dyke took us just over one mile from our straight line, probably the most we have deviated on the whole walk. Once the bridge is crossed, a new land opens up – flat drained fields as far as the eye can see. Sir Hugh likened it to the ’empty quarter’. Fields of barley, wheat, rape and linseed. We are soon through Weel where complicated footpaths could have taken us south, but we had an eye to a black hashed line on the map following the Holderness drain. This proves to be an accessible and newly cut embankment, and we are soon at Meaux Bridge where a locked gate has to be negotiated. Something tells me that we weren’t supposed to be in there. It pains me to show the picture of Sir Hugh’s struggle.

The empty quarter.

Cornflower and mustard.

Linseed.

Little roads wander through the Benningholme Estate. The highlight along here was whilst we are sitting on a log, a man appears from the nearby house with offers of iced orange. These are very welcome and we spend time in conversation with him and his neighbour. Once the world has been put to rights we resume our journey to Skirlaugh, taking a field path for the last stretch.

The early C15th Church here takes us by surprise – according to Pevsner, a “gem of the early-perpendicular” style.

A couple more miles on narrow lanes, crossing the Trans Pennine Trail/Cycleway which ends in Hornsea, and we are back at our car at The Blue Bell  pub in Old Ellerby.

It’s been a hot and sweaty day, relieved thankfully by our two unexpected drink stops.

*****