Travel: Yorkshire's Finest

Is there such a thing as a spinster any more? These days, surely, there are just independent older ladies enjoying their vintage years with matinée theatre trips and luxury M&S mash for one. But in Tudor times things were less jolly for unmarried women of a certain age. Unless you were well-off, you could expect to be thrown on to the midden heap of life, with no home, no food, no DVD box sets of early Sex and the City — unless the local nobility stepped in.

In this respect the spinsters of Skipton, North Yorkshire, were luckier than most, for they had at their disposal one of the most extraordinary buildings in England: a circular almshouse built by Margaret, Countess of Cumberland in 1593. It still stands today, at the end of a narrow, sunken slate pathway just off the A59, but rather than the deserving poor, it houses holidaymakers who want a cottage with its own chapel in the middle. The spinsters of Beamsley were expected to be pious and God-fearing at all times, so much so that the almshouse was designed in such a way that it was pretty much impossible to move from one room to another without passing through the chapel, dry lips murmuring thanks to the Holy Father. Even after renovation by The Landmark Trust, it is still equipped with Bibles, silver plate and pews, and the contradiction never ceases to surprise, going from the snug living room with its cosy wood-burning stove, or the homely little kitchen, directly into an austere Tudor chapel, cold as old stone.

When they weren’t praying, one hopes the spinsters of Beamsley enjoyed the local scenery, for Yorkshire is God’s Own Country, and just behind the almshouse fields scored by dry-stone walls roll into infinity. On our first morning the ground was damp but the sun was shining, so we yomped all the way to Bolton Abbey, a couple of miles away. The ruin was described as ‘the most beautiful spot in all the world’ by John Ruskin, who knew a thing or two about beauty. It is like a postcard, the soft grey stone of the abbey against the green, rain-soaked grass and the smooth-surfaced lake. Nearby is the newly dolled-up Cavendish Pavilion café where we had meringues and hot chocolate in front of an open fire, before a woodland walk alongside the River Wharfe, which was a bit like a BBC drama trailer, all mossy and ferny and damp, with little fairies hiding among the hellebores.

If the spinsters ever got peckish, they probably took themselves over to Skipton, because here the finest pork pies in Christendom can be found. Pies of all denominations are big news in this part of the world, and the many butchers seem determined to outdo one another with their pie-themed window displays and assertions that their award-winning pies really are the best. After a comparative taste test, we decided that Drake & Macefield’s pies won our award — flaky, buttery pastry with tender, spicy pink flesh. I ate three before retiring to the Vestry Rooms in the Holy Trinity Church next to the well-preserved Norman castle for toasted crumpets (pork pie floating in a tepid sea of mushy peas was also on the menu) with the OAPs of Skipton — the woman working on the till was literally 90.

But Yorkshire is not all pies and piety. Nearby Malham is a small village that boasts three geological wonders: Malham Cove, Malham Tarn and Gordale Scar. The Cove is a vast limestone amphitheatre, at the base of which is a pretty, rocky stream frequented by dragonflies. We sat by an old, twisted tree and watched daring climbers scale the overhanging rocks. Then it was on to the Tarn, a glacial lake reached along boardwalks through a forest bog. It had begun to snow as we walked, but fortunately one of my companions had brought a stainless-steel camping Kelly Kettle, so we were able to have hot tea. We decided not to visit Gordale Scar, not because it was snowing, but because we wanted a reason to come back to this blessed bit of Yorkshire — not least for the pies.

Beamsley Hospital has three bedrooms (and a chapel) and costs from £439 for a three-night stay (landmarktrust.org.uk)