They have several ‘houses’ around the country, like big country houses in superb locations. These are the ships. They fill them with people all of at least bus pass age, then bring in the crew. The usual chefs, managers and serving staff but additionally a volunteer crew who are charged with leading these ‘passengers’ on a variety of walks in the neighbourhood.

We joined the ‘ship’ in North Yorkshire for a weekend of walking and talking. Trained it up there, all quite straightforward, then the taxi from the station in Skipton, a town known for the invention of the skip, or is that just a rumour. It seemed like the taxi driver took his inspiration from Stirling Moss, a name from the past whose driving was a tad speedy. Remember the phrase: “Who do you think you are? Stirling Moss?” Much liked by police officers stopping you for over enthusiastic driving. I wonder if Stirling was ever asked and was able to say “Yes”.

The forecast was a little mixed, Saturday ok, Sunday not. Sunday forecast the edge of storm Ashley and a good deal of rain.

These guided walking holidays are a good way to try and keep fit and to meet people, I make sure I’m in the ‘easy walk’ group that has the time to take breath and talk as well as walk. We already met some of our futurej walking companions in the speedy taxi from the station. An intrepid woman from Australia travelling alone with a suitcase almost as big as herself, and David the retired Chemistry teacher who took a great photo of my other half getting her feet wet on the Sunday. He and she choosing to do the less than easy routes, where I assume effort limits chat.

Loads of other ‘passengers’ arrived on board and it was then a matter of understanding house rules. The good ship would not run well without passengers and crew understanding what happens when and who with. Apart from looking to have a couple of days of good walking in stunning countryside, we were to be wined and dined too. There were a lot of people in residence, some on the same plan as us and others doing a longer foot way walk , as well as a group only there for the dancing. Dance classes! I run a mile at the very thought of it, or to be more accurate I shuffle away walking at a steady pace muttering to myself. Strictly not for me.

Some people there were planning their own walks, guiding themselves. One gentleman, Andrew a charming retired bank manager ( from the times when bank managers could be charming and available to talk to ) was planning to walk by himself. He was pretty confident that he would not get lost as he’d been on similar holidays over a 150 times. That’s a lot of walking.

One gets the usual conversation either at the dinner table or on the walk, where one finds oneself talking walking. Politics is best avoided as is Brexit, though the odd comment here and there elicits looks as if to say the direction is veering. Rather like the look you get on a walk when you suspect that you might just be going the wrong way, that shared look where the eyes look from side to side seeking verification or agreement. You might say “Are we sure?” Which acknowledges a problem but does not put the blame on the esteemed leader. In reality our walk was hardly going to put anyone in any peril, apart from wet feet. We were never lost at sea. listening to other people’s life stories in a small way is always interesting, and of course finding out where they had come from to get on board. Some had driven for hours to get there, one couple had come from Sweden, as well as the one from Oz, who was coming to the end of a stay over here, some of it to research family and some of it to get some walks in. Almost all were friendly, apart from one chap sitting next to me at dinner who uttered just the odd word to me once he’d finished his puzzle book. He was more interested in his Guinness than me. Takes all sorts, one might say. It’s not what I thought, but I’m being diplomatic.

We had a brilliant first day once the ‘murk’ had evaporated. Although wet underfoot the walking was great and the views spectacular. The autumn light lit the fields and hills like a floodlight showing off the fine growth of moss on the miles of dry stone walls. Dry stone walls? I think not, these walls have hardly ever been dry.

Talk was easy and we all went at a reasonable pace, this dictated by the slowest walker, but there was no obvious slow walker,the back marker changing all the time. I had strict instructions from HQ not to dawdle with my photography. HQ standing for “Her who Questions ( my sanity) “ we covered the usual ground of history via talk of rhyming slang, I never knew that Scapa Flow, the huge body of water in the Orkneys where the German Fleet was scuppered by the German Navy at the end of World War 1, was the origin of the slang expression: scarper, meaning to go. Scapa Flow: Go! Thanks Rod. I swapped his Scapa for my Git. A git being the useless small cat of metal left after making a musket ball. Something I learned recently after learning about the Siege of Gloucester in the English Civil War of 1600. No one wants to be thought of as a useless git Rodney.

Day 2 was wet to say the least, but no-one jumped ship and we set off in the rain. Loads of it. Small streams coming down the hillsides became gushing. The following gives a rough idea.

And here is the other half waking through a smallish stream, she’s not that tall so knees were likely to get wet. Photographed by David the retired Chemistry teacher, who no doubt followed and got his knees wet too.

The sun came out later and the day ended on the hillside with gusty winds and the leaves trying their best to hang on to the trees.