York Yomping
A day out in York. I was here to do another parkrun beginning with a “Y”, but that’s tomorrow. Today, I wasn’t sprinting around a parkrun course or trying to wedge the car into a space the size of a shoebox. Today was for geocaching.
I drove up the M1 and A64 in a couple of hours and parked up at the Holiday Inn by the racecourse – my home for 2 nights. I arrived at 12:30, because leaving home any earlier wouldn’t feel like a holiday when I’ve been working all week.
York is a city where history oozes out of every stone — sometimes literally — so it felt like a good place for a long wander. No plan, no route, no strategy. Just me, my GPS, and the vague hope that I wouldn’t bleed on anything important. (Spoiler: I did bleed. But not on anything historically significant. Unless you count my own coat as historically significant. More of that later.)
Racecourse Ramblings
First stop: an easy cache on the back of a sign at the racecourse. A gentle warm‑up, the caching equivalent of stretching your hamstrings before a marathon. The racecourse itself sits just south of the city centre, a big green sweep of space that makes you wonder why every city doesn’t have one. Quite a lot do, I guess. York’s has massive stands on the east side. I was on the west.
From there I headed towards a set of Adventure Labs along a street called The Chalfonts. A pleasant enough stroll, and the sort of suburban calm that makes you forget York is usually heaving with tourists. Not York’s most desirable address, I think. But the name made me giggle in a Cockney Rhyming Slang way. “Oooh me Chalfonts. They’re hanging like a bunch of grapes.”
Hob Moor & The Finger Incident
Next up was another cache on the edge of the racecourse, and then a wander into Hob Moor, one of York’s ancient commons. It’s a lovely open space… unless you’re me, in which case it’s a lovely open space where you manage to injure yourself on something entirely mundane. I caught my finger on a container buried in the bole of a tree. Or maybe there was a thorn in there. Cause unclear — but there was blood. Enough to make me mutter “oh for ****’s sake” in earshot of a passing cyclist. Anyway, 6 caches found on the loop. The damage was done at the last one.
I carried on through a playground and past some bowling greens, where a café appeared like a minor miracle. I grabbed a takeaway drink and asked if they had a plaster. They did. My finger was saved. My dignity less so.
Acomb Ambling
Plastered up, I continued west into Acomb. Let’s be honest: it’s not the prettiest part of York. It’s not even the second‑prettiest. But it does have a decent Lab series, including a bonus that required one of those 3D‑printed maze contraptions. The sort where you twist and tilt and swear and wonder whether the CO is a genius or a sadist. Probably both. It took me about 10 minutes, because inside the 3D maze puzzle was, oh, a second 3D maze puzzle.
Still, I got it in the end. Patience is a virtue. Or at least a requirement. It’s also a card game. And a song by Take That. But I digress.
Not long after I finished the bonus here it started to rain. It was a “biblical” kind of rain, coming down like stair rods. It’s a good job I took a waterproof coat with me. And maybe the rain washed some of the blood off the coat following the earlier incident.
Onto the Walls
From Acomb I made my way back towards the centre, joining the city walls at Micklegate Bar — historically the main western gateway into York and the traditional entrance for monarchs. In York, the gates are apparently all called “Bars”, although this one is called “Gate” too. It’s a chunky medieval structure with reused Roman masonry in the lower arch and 14th‑century upper storeys, and it once displayed the severed heads of traitors for added civic ambience. Nice.
I headed anticlockwise along the walls, crossing the River Ouse at Skeldergate Bridge and enjoying the elevated views. York’s walls are brilliant for caching: lots of history, lots of height, and lots of opportunities to look like you’re admiring the scenery while actually squinting at your phone. Seriously though – there’s a set of trads and at least four sets of Adventure Labs that take you all the way around.
Clifford’s Tower & The Middle Bit
Eventually I reached Clifford’s Tower, the largest surviving part of York Castle and a site with a long, occasionally grim history — from the Harrying of the North to the 1190 pogrom, all the way to a fire in 1684. These days it’s more about panoramic views and storytelling platforms than medieval misery, but the mound still feels imposing. It’s also about tourists. There’s a massive car park behind it, and it seems like the tower is a station on everybody’s bus tour or walking tour of city highlights.
From here I dipped back into the middle of the city for a few more caches before returning to the walls and following them towards the station. By “back into the middle of the city” I mean the area enclosed by the walls on the west side of the river. York was busy, but not unbearable. The walls were breezy, but not freezing. And my finger was still attached, which felt like a win. It hurt a bit though.
The Long Walk Home
From the station I walked all the way back to the hotel, legs beginning to file formal complaints. By the time I reached the Holiday Inn I’d clocked up around 18 km and 59 finds — a very respectable afternoon’s work.
Dinner and beer followed. Possibly too much of both. Tomorrow’s parkrun might be slower than usual, but that’s a problem for Future Kevin.
