Even with all we had eaten for our late-night meal, we woke up ready for our British breakfast. Santo headed down first while I grabbed a shower. We ate in the same room where we had had dinner with another lovely waitress. Both of us ordered the “Mrs. Hall,” which included eggs, black pudding, sausage, ham, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, baked beans, and hash browns. One plate would have been plenty for the two of us!

Since breakfast was served from 8 am to 10 am, and we would need to leave at 7 pm the next morning, I asked the waitress if perhaps they could just leave some cereal and milk out for us. “No one gets here until 7:30,” she said. “But, don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted.” By the end of our breakfast, she came back to let us know that they would bring a fridge into our room with milk and leave some cereals and other things for breakfast. We were loving how the Brits “got things sorted”!

After breakfast, we were ready for our day in the Yorkshire Dales. We wanted to drive down those stone lined lanes that James Herriot drove on his veterinary calls to Yorkshire farmers. Could they really exist? We started at the Visitor Center where our car was parked. We got a map of the Dales, and the guide drew a route for us that would offer the bests views in the time we had. We headed off, grateful that the predicted rain was holding off.

It was not long before we were on James Herriot’s roads. They do indeed exist. In spades. They are all two-way roads, but in many places barely wide enough for one vehicle. Sometimes there were stone walls on both sides, sometimes just one. And the land rolling off far and wide was crisscrossed with stone wall after stone wall. How many man hours would it have taken to build all those walls—and maintain them?  Dotting almost every field were sheep, dozens and dozens, by the end hundreds and hundreds, of sheep. A few cows grazed here and there as well. And now and then, farmhouses and barns in the same stone as the walls. Everything looking unchanged for centuries.

At one point we came to a small village (by small I mean about 5 houses). A car in front of us was getting directions from a local woman minding her young grandson. We, too, were confused about what turn to take at this juncture, so we waited to ask her as well. She was just lovely, and seemed so delighted to share her own delight with the beauty of the Dales with us. She told us about a road to talk that our GPS would not show us but that was spectacular. “Now, the bridge here ahead is washed out on one side, and further along it’s quite steep and winding [what had we just been driving on, we thought]. You’ll go through some cattle grids, but just keep going. It will be worth it. I drive this road all the time, though I don’t tell my mother that I take it,” she said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.

We saw few cars on this amazing road. Everyone we did encounter was courteous, pulling over if they could, waving when we pulled over for them. There was a kind of rhythm to the journey, a natural ebb and flow to each encounter.

As we drove, when it seemed the scenery could not get any more spectacular, we rounded a bend and saw the hills suddenly grew steeper and taller, lined with sheer rock faces. The valleys plunged deeper, and the omnipresent sheep clung to the hillside with amazing grace and dexterity. The walls persisted. Shades of gray, brown, green, and white created a vista that rested the eyes and the soul. We were in love!

Just as the guide had told us, the town of Settle about halfway through our loop journey offered many places where we could stop for lunch. We founded parking at the small train station, a quaint stone building with red doors that looked like a scene in a movie.

We met an elderly gentleman in a tweed coat strolling with a cane. He smiled at us, and Santo asked him if he could recommend a good place to eat in town.

“Well, it depends on what you want to spend,” he said with little laugh.

“About 10 to 15 pounds or so,” Santo answered.

“Well, then, you should go to the Golden Lion. Best place in town.”

“How do we get there?” Santo asked.

“I’m heading that way meself if you want to come along.”

“Wonderful,” we answered, and began walking with him down the street towards the village. The sidewalks were narrow, so Santo walked beside him, chatting, while I tagged along behind. It was only a few minutes and we were at the restaurant and had to leave our newest friend.

We were seated in a bright room on the right side opposite the darker pub to the left. Santo ordered the sea bass recommended by the waiter (he always loves to get our server’s recommendation!) while I got the daily special of a Fish Butty (fried haddock with tartar sauce on a bun with a side of chips). Both were delicious. While we ate, a young window cleaner worked with a ladder and squeegee, making his way around the room. When he got near us, he kindly asked our permission to do the window near us. So young and so sweet. The old ladder he used was perfectly suited to the job—and quite beautiful as well.

After lunch, we completed our circuit back to Grassington. In a short time, we felt we had gotten all we had come to the Dales for. We were anxious to get back home to watch “All Creatures” all over again.

We did a bit of shopping in the village, then back to the Skeldale Suite for a bit of a nap. My bronchitis was still hanging on, but I was ever hopeful for tomorrow. Blessedly, I was able to fall into a deep sleep (something that had been so difficult with my lingering cough). Even more blessedly, Santo postponed our 6 pm dinner reservations to 7 pm so he wouldn’t have to interrupt my blessed sleep. So many blessings!

For our second diner at The Devonshire, I opted for a steak and Santo went for the baby back ribs, listed on the menu as being for the “stout hearted.” Somehow, he managed to finish them all and even helped with my steak!

After diner, we took a stroll through the village. It was wonderful to see so many rainbow flags in the village, and signs for an upcoming “Pride in the Dales” event.

It was our last night on terra firma before boarding the Queen Mary 2. It hardly seemed possible. We had seen so much, experienced so much, met so many wonderful people. Our lives were richer for every encounter and we were feeling grateful and content, with just a hint of bittersweetness that this leg of our journey was almost over.