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As far as waterfalls go, England is an underachiever. There is no Niagara (which is why the American one so impressed the early trappers and colonists) and there is no Victoria or Angel falls. There isn't even anything that matches up to Huang Guo Su in China, another waterfall-challenged country. We don't know what the Vikings thought about High Force, England's highest; maybe they were temporarily impressed. A century or so after raping and pillaging their way through northern England they got to tiny Iceland, which has several more impressive falls.

Three Tessdale Tourists

But, we digress, because even if humble, we like High Force, which might have been called Teesfather, since the Tees River could be said to start in its foam. Geographers don't agree, for they call the lazy stream — really it is small — above the falls a river. But we know better. For Jan, High Force is part of her childhood and as such is loved. (She grew up in Darlington, the first major town on the Tees (going down stream) or the last (going upstream). For Gerry, it was the site of one of the first, maybe the first outings that he made with the Bates Clan and he had immediately liked it for the poetic minature it is.

But that was many years ago. So this fall when we were talking with Jan's college buddies where we might go and High Force came up, we all readily agreed that it was time for a return. None of us had been there in far too long.

Margaret and Dennis picked us up in the late morning of a wonderfully sunny and warm day and we drove directly to the falls at High Force. There we strolled down to the foot of the falls and found a warm place in the sun and shared a most delicious canteloupe melon that Gerry had brought. We climbed up to the top of the falls and then wandered up the river some and enjoyed the warm sunshine. Then it was back to the car and a nearby picnic table for a picnic lunch.

Upper Teesdale Farm Country

After lunch we took a nice leisurely walk through a bit of English countryside near the falls. It was time for the local farmers to go through their fields and turn the drying hay; the days were too long and the weather too good to believe it, but winter was coming.

From High Force we drove on up the Tees valley to Cow Green Reservoir and after admiring it walked along the edge of the reservoir to the gulley called Cauldron Snout. The walk was so pleasant that it lasted almost until dark. Unfortunately we had forgotten that the days were still quite long and were surprised to find that we were so late driving back that the pub at Piercebridge where Jan had her heart set on eating had already stopped serving food. Disappointed, we gave the Martin's a quick look at the remains of the Roman Bridge, and then hightailed it back to Lucknow Street for a cup of tea/coffee and ice-cream cake in lieu of dinner before seeing them off home to York.