There is much more to Hawes and the gorgeous Wensleydale valley in the Yorkshire Dales than Wallace & Gromit’s favourite accompaniment for crackers. But if there’s one thing you can’t not do if you find yourself in the area, it is sampling the cheese. The crumbly deliciousness of Wensleydale cheese has achieved global fame thanks to the popularity of the eccentric amateur engineer and his stoic beagle.
The crime fighting duo and cheese aficionados of the Aardman films enjoy Wensleydale above all other cheese, which was fortunate for the Wensleydale Creamery in Hawes. When the Wallace & Gromit short film A Close Shave aired on the BBC in 1995, the creamery had been on the verge of bankruptcy. Its revival started after a management buyout and its association with the film boosted sales.
The loss of this quintessentially northern cheese maker would have been a tragedy. Not only because I greatly enjoy it, but centuries of cheese making tradition would have been lost. It’s a history that dates back to 1150. Shockingly, it was the arrival of (speak it quietly) French monks in Wensleydale who founded Jervaulx Abbey and started the 800 year-long love affair with cheese in this part of the Yorkshire Dales.
Long after the monks had been banished, the traditions they began continued to flourish in the sweeping valleys of Wensleydale and neighbouring Swaledale. Each farm made its own butter and cheese, and each had their own mark stamped into their produce. My mother told me about how when visiting with her parents as a child, farmers’ wives sold cheese wrapped in muslin by the roadside.
Today, the methods of production are modern and less demanding – have you ever tried to churn milk into something resembling butter or cheese? Visiting the Wensleydale Creamery you can take a tour before sampling the cheese. We skipped the educational part and went straight for the good stuff: a tasty Welsh Rarebit made with Wensleydale washed down with a cup of tea from the fictional Yorkshire Tea plantations.
We picked up some choice items – cheese, mostly – from the farm shop, and then exited through a gift shop stuffed full of Wallace & Gromit merchandise. Hawes is the main market town of this region and it sits slightly above the valley floor. The views across the valley, where the River Ure meanders through pastures perfect for raising dairy cows, to the northern fells are glorious.
I could see the big lump of Great Shunner Fell, over which I was planning to hike to visit the pretty Swaledale village of Thwaite. First though, Hawes was waiting to be explored. Set in the heart of the beautiful Yorkshire Dales National Park, the village is a pretty place and buzzes with life. If you come on a Tuesday, be prepared for the hustle and bustle of the local farming community descending on the auction mart.
A walk down the main street confirmed two things: Hawes has good independent shops and at least four decent-looking pubs (in Britain, both are markers of the strength of the local economy). By British standards, Hawes isn’t that old. The Doomsday Book of 1086 didn’t record a settlement here, and it wasn’t until 1307 that written records of Hawes appear for the first time.
Along the high street there were narrow lanes leading into pretty yards. Up a steep track I came to St. Margaret’s Church. The mid-19th century Anglican church replaced a 15th century chapel, but this being the north there are a number of non-conformist chapels: Quaker, Wesleyan, Presbyterian and Glasite. These isolated rural areas were the perfect breeding spots for Dissenter sects.
I stopped at Hawes Falls. Here, Gayle Beck, a tributary of the River Ure, cascades over rocks and under the arch of a bridge on its way through town. This pleasant scene can be transformed by heavy rainfall into a raging torrent – the area’s weather and limestone geography have bequeathed it several photogenic waterfalls. In the charming Elijah Allen & Son store I stocked up for my walk and set off into the hills.
