Cruising down to Kildwick gives marvellous views to both sides of Airedale, with villages of millgrit stone against a backdrop of hedged fields, clumps of trees and higher moorland.
This part of the journey is constantly interrupted by swing bridges.
They don't take as long to get through as a lock, unless (as occasionally happens) they are very stiff or tend to stick at some point.
By Bridge 183 is a memorial to some Polish airmen who were flying a Vickers Wellington bomber here during World War II when a wing strut failed, the wing fell off and and the aircraft crashed, with the death of all on board. The memorial is clearly still cared for by someone.
Completely oblivious to such events, by the bridge where Farnhill borders Kildwick, was this large duck, with two unseasonal and very small ducklings sheltering beneath and refusing to come out for the photo.
So this is the view from our window where we've tied up just past Kildwick. Just a few more nights at this level before we start the descent towards Leeds. We've been getting itchy feet, but we'll still be a little sorry to leave this wonderful part of the country.
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