Dorothy’s Stone

Turkey Nab, near Ingleby Greenhow, is one of the steepest “road” climbs in Cleveland. The loose stony track that winds up it is not for the faint-hearted. Any driver attempting the ascent needs both patience and a steady nerve, for there is little room between the track and the sheer drop of the Nab’s edge.

To the left, immense boulders hang on as if by chance, each weighing several tons, each looking as though a touch might send it crashing into the valley. Below lies the flat sweep of Cleveland; in the distance rise Captain Cook’s monument, Roseberry Topping, and the Cleveland Hills.

The track is marked on the O.S. 1:25000 map with the familiar green dots that signify “Other routes with public access,” which makes it a magnet for four-wheel drive and motorcycle enthusiasts. I have seen convoys of them battling their way up in winter, passengers incongruously dressed as if for a summer picnic. Today, descending the hill, I met only one motorcyclist, who cut his engine politely as I passed. A small gesture, but enough to restore my faith in humanity. Usually they roar past with no thought for those on foot.

Years ago, long before I began this blog, I was running up Turkey Nab when I stopped, more out of exhaustion than curiosity, by the first of these boulders. A frail old man was standing there. He told me the stone was called Dorothy’s Stone. I assume now it was named after someone he had loved, perhaps his wife, but at the time I did not ask. I wish that I had.