This boundary stone on Great Ayton Moor stands on its highest point as though it has nothing better to do than provide a focus to anyone passing by. A glance at the O.S. map shows this top lies on a junction of a Public Bridleway between Gribdale and Hutton, plus two Public Footpaths approaching from the west, one along the parish boundary and the other from the old farmstead at Summerhill. None of these routes is obvious on the ground. The map says they are there, so that is that.
I often wonder how these phantom paths, and they are not that unusual, found their way onto the map in the first place. The O.S. obtains its information from the Definitive Map of Public Rights of Way across England and Wales, a noble legal record born of the National Parks and Access to the Countryside Act of 1949. Parliament waved its wand, county councils were told to produce a map, and everyone pretended it would be straightforward.
The councils, being rather occupied with everything else under the sun, turned to Parish Councils to supply the raw material. These bodies were meant to know their own backyards, complete with forgotten lanes, half-remembered tracks and ancient trods that existed mainly in the minds of elderly residents who preferred their memories unsullied by fact. The parishes were asked to apply the test of “reasonable allegation” of subsistence. In theory this meant that if a path probably existed, or might have existed, or perhaps existed in the days when one could send a letter by horse, then it should be placed on the draft map.
In practice, the parish contributions ranged from helpful to mischievous. Some parishes dutifully interviewed old inhabitants, sifted through mouldering records and paced the fields until the crows grew bored. Others displayed rather more enthusiasm for omission than inclusion. Local interests, private anxieties and the odd landowner whispering sweet nothings about peace and quiet could lead to genuine public rights of way being quietly swept under the nearest carpet. Perhaps even, dare I say, money changed hands. The resulting tapestry of evidence was, let us say, more artistic than accurate.
This patchwork then became the draft map, which was opened to objections, quibbles and spirited accusations before it congealed into the legal Definitive Map. That map still rules today with all the charm of a judge who has misplaced his spectacles. Unsurprisingly, disagreements over missing or misrecorded paths continue. Anyone who believes a path was wrongly excluded, or that a right of way has sprouted since those post-war days, must undertake the arduous pilgrimage of applying for a Definitive Map Modification Order. The process is celebrated for its complexity, presumably to ensure that only the genuinely determined, the mildly obsessive or the terminally patient ever attempt it.
Source: The Parish Council’s Unsung Role in Mapping Our Public Rights of Way. 21 Nov 2025. https://www.prowexplorer.com/blog/the-parish-councils-unsung-role-in-mapping-our-public-rights-of-way
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