Richmond is on the northeastern periphery of Swale Dale. Yorkshire Dales, the James Herriot country, is famous for its open spaces and gentle slopes criss-crossed by streams and rivers. The way to Richmond is via Darlington, the destination of the Stockton-Darlington line, the world's first passenger railway. The bus journey from Darlingon to Richmond is a 35-minute delight, as the road meanders through the best in the English countryside. The undulating green of the grass is suddenly broken by the large bright yellow squares of the mustard fields. Vast open grassy meadows, dotted with sheep and tiny frisky lambs, and a sprinkling of bluebells and buttercups. The furry air-borne seeds of the dandelions flutter in the light cool breeze. And amongst this almost unreal combination of stillness and frenzy stand the simple stone farmhouses, solid in their structure and intent.

The city centre of Richmond is marked by an obelisk in the Market Square which marks the place where a cross stood in the medieval times. The city slopes downwards towards the River Swale with the Richmond Castle perched high on the crags overlooking the river. Having just missed the market held every Saturday, we walked along cobbled streets lined with 18th century Georgian buildings. One such "Georgian House," a quaint white-washed cottage built in 1736, now housed an up-market hair saloon. The Travel Information Centre, a British institution par excellence, was quick to provide us with a rough route map of the recommended walk from Richmond to Easby Abbey, a twelfth century monastery on the banks of the River Swale

Richmond's French connections date back to the 11th-century Norman invasion. Willliam the Conqueror awarded Alan "The Red" of Brittany land in Yorkshire for his part in the invasion. He built the castle in 1071 as a defence against "the natives." The Normans settled to the North of the Castle in the part which was formerly known as "Frankesgate" and in its present incarnation is called Frenchgate. The Easby Abbey, founded by the Premonstratensian order originating in the North of France, was built some 50 years later. Subsequently, during the Napoleonic wars, Richmond became a busy military centre. When the regular army was away, corps of supplementary militia and volunteer soldiers were often stationed in Richmond to prevent an invasion.

We began our walk at Frenchgate turning into Lombards Wynd and on to the old path to Easby Abbey along the east bank of the River Swale. The two-mile long walk from Richmond to the abbey leads through the woods with fast-flowing water on one side and sweet-smelling bushes on the other. The walk has an interesting legend attached to it; at the end of the 18th century, some soldiers discovered the end of a tunnel under the castle and being too large to get into it, they made a young drummer boy crawl into the passage. He was instructed to continue along the passage drumming while the soldiers followed the sound above the ground. They followed it away from the castle towards Frenchgate and onwards along the bank of the Swale in the direction of Easby Abbey. The drumming stopped half a mile short of Easby Abbey and the drummer boy was never heard again. A carved stone marks the spot where he was last heard. Much of the ruins of the abbey are in good condition and one can easily distinguish the various designated areas with the help of the accompanying map. We sat in the sun in what had been the nave of the abbey church admiring the very Norman, very Romanesque window of the chancel. Behind us, a French family was precariously perched on the broken steps waiting for the "click" of their self-timed camera. Besides them an English family was enjoying a rather boisterous game of football. On one side, a young man would stare into the blue skies before scribbling anxiously in his notebook.

We entered St. Agatha's church besides the abbey more out of a sense of duty rather than any desire to see the inside of yet another church. The interior revealed a history dating from the 8th century. The small unassuming church boasts of an Anglo-Saxon cross dating from the 790s. The original is on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London but a plaster cast lets you wonder at the beautiful interlaced designs typical of the era. The walls are covered with 13th century frescoes which in their simplicity offer the perfect balance to the intricate carvings of the cross and the blazing colours of the stained glass windows.

The last stretch of the walk back followed an old railway track into the town. The line was discontinued in 1970 after serving the town for nearly a hundred years. The old railway station has been transformed into a fitness centre with a swimming pool and a gymnasium. The track reached the Batts, the grassy banks below the town, swarming with picnic crowd. Children, teenagers, parents, dogs had all taken to the water. Some sat on the edges enjoying the small but spectacular Swale falls while the more adventurous, using tiny rocks and stones as footholds, found their way to the middle of the falls.

There they stood in the white frothy water inspiring others to follow suit. Little children, in between vigorous licks of their fast-melting ice creams, threw stones into the water for their dogs to fetch. Even the dishwater tea from the kiosks did not taste half as bad when sipped watching the golden specks of the last rays of light on the water in a rhythmic frenzy of their own.

A short stretch of the road around the Castle with magnificent views of the falls below and the moors and dales beyond, brought us back to the market place. We sat waiting for the bus with a golden Honda for company.