I have a few friends from work who like the outdoors, we go on small dog walks and generally get together about once every two months (if we’re lucky) and take Alfie out for a leg stretch. We have a ‘What’s App’ chat group where we basically chat about anything and take the piss every chance we get too.
During one of these chats my friend Shiv stated she had never been up Roseberry Topping, which is situated in the hills in North Yorkshire, or Cleveland if you want. So, we decided to meet up and have a walk up the tiny hill.
Seeing as we all work shifts finding a date would be hard but managed to find a day we were all off, and would you believe it, the weather was even nice to us.
I’ve blogged about Roseberry before but it’s always nice to revisit and share different experiences. We all meet at ours and drive down the A19 and head for the hills. In the lovely little village of Great Ayton a quick left turn up Dikes Lane and before we knew it we were at the car park putting our boots on. We started walking up the path which heads north up onto the heather and the awesome views that stretch across for miles and miles.
We walked next the dry-stone wall which is an easy way of knowing you’re going in the right direction as it keeps with you the whole way. Once we all got our breath back it was time to start taking the micky out of each other. As anyone who knows
and does the work we do, getting the piss ripped out of you is a sign of affection. With a mixture of food chat and light hearted insults, the junction in the wall where we turned left was up on us before we knew it. From here you can see the path up Roseberry, which to be fair looks quite steep from this distance, but at least the drop down to the start of the path gave us a chance to build up the enough steam to march to the top which we did quite quick.
The night before, Kel had knocked up some Millionaire Shortbread and Lemon Drizzle Cake for the top after our sarnies, well to be honest, she had only made the Shortbread but she was guilt tripped into making the Lemon Drizzle by Lou so she knocked one up just for her. The top was busy and we settled down to stuff our faces and take in the view.
The top is covered in graffiti, or rather ‘etchings’ with ‘art’ stretching back to 1881 which, I can quite imagine the Victorians spending the day on the top taking in the view of the mines and the smog. After half an hour of munching and being robbed of any remaining lemon Cake by Lou we made our way down the way we came.
The journey back was filled with the workings of a ‘She Wee’ and the appearance of a football on the route which wasn’t there on the way in. Lou couldn’t get her head round the shape and the ‘fittings’ of the female urination equipment. Kel didn’t make the conversation any better by saying the last time she used it, “It squirted out the back!” And the football, well that’s still a mystery, although if it was a youngster who brought it with him and left it there to collect after he’d summited Roseberry, Alfie didn’t help by hiding it in the heather.
Towards the end of the route the talk turned to a conversation that is well ploughed during any of these walks: my accent! I’ve lived in the north-east for nearly 20 years now and have known people for the best apart of that, but my accent is still a source of amusement. I don’t mind to be fair and find it funny!
Back at the cars the talk turned to the pub and where to go, we found a nice little place in the village where of all places we started talking to a chap from Easington who had been in Yorkshire for 30 years.