Keld comfort

A chap wearing the sort of half-mittens once favoured by Old Man Steptoe ponders the influence of the full moon upon his waning fortunes. None waits for the 9.15 to Keld.

Probably it says "Keld" on the front because "Back of Beyond" is a bit too much to fit onto a departure screen. Strictly it should be "Keld, or thereabouts".

Brian Hamer brings the service 30 in precisely to time. Until nine years ago he drove buses in central London, can still hardly believe his change of direction.

"It's like being on holiday and they pay me for it every week," he says. "I knew I wanted to get away from the rat race but I didn't think I'd get as far away as Keld."

Now, however, the future of the twice-a-day service to Swaledale's furthest extremity - and that of several other rural bus services - is threatened by Arriva's decision to close its Richmond depot, where 35 men work.

Routes between Darlington and Northallerton and Ripon and between Richmond and Barnard Castle, as well as others in Swaledale, are affected. Keld comfort, the county council is talking to other operators in a bid to avoid the end of the road.

Headed "Closure of Richmond depot", a notice on the No. 30 claims that, despite cost cutting measures, the depot's revenue still doesn't even cover expenses. Services will be withdrawn on March 4.

"Withdrawn" is one of those weasel words which look harmless but which hide a nasty bite. They used to withdraw steam engines; three days later they were in the breakers' yard. The withdrawal method isn't to be trusted.

The bus also has notices about not eating, drinking, smoking, spitting - more shalt nots than the Ten Commandments - and something about "knowing your bus ticket".

A little more surprisingly, there's a poster which says "Thinking about having sex? No condom? No Thnx" - what, not even on the back seat of the service 30? - and another, written entirely in text language, about not feeling pressured to have sex.

Luke Casey, when he was a bit bairn on The Northern Echo, once wrote an entire column on the notices lining a Stockton double decker. In those days, however, a text was something you studied in O-level English and sex was something that amoebas got up to in biology.

So off we head westward, the dale unhurriedly about its business, the river in no greater rush, a woolly hatted chap on a tricycle setting a suitable pace.

The song about nothing could be finer than to be Carolina in the morning wanders incorrigibly to mind. For Carolina read Swaledale; it's a lovely January day and a regional "day rover" ticket is just £5, a remarkable bargain.

Up past Downholme road ends, past Reeth fire station (of incandescent memory), through Low Row, where the Punch Bowl is again on the market and onto Gunnerside, where Florence Bland - half single to Muker - becomes the outward journey's sole passenger.

She'll miss the bus terribly. "It's a very sore point, it would be an absolute disaster. I was horrified when I heard what was happening and I'm writing to William Hague, our MP.

"The silly thing is that the Government talks about reducing emissions and this is the best way to keep cars off the road. They talk about free bus travel for pensioners, but the way they're going there'll be no buses left to travel on.

"We have no shop at Gunnerside any more, no post office. What are we supposed to do if we don't even have a bus?"

Keld is a hamlet, stone built and half-hidden, best remembered hereabouts for a lovely old United Reformed chapel and for a pub called the Cat and Fiddle, of elastic hours and uncertain reputation.

It was bought in the 1950s by a local Methodist preacher who closed it that night, forever stopping its tap.

The service 30 goes on to Tan Hill road end, arriving at 10.24. It's a mile and three-quarters to England's highest pub, three-quarters of a mile to West Stonesdale, ten miles to Kirkby Stephen. Integrated transport, you can catch a train from Kirkby Stephen.

Brian Hamer, a thoroughly nice man, marvels (as always he does) at the view, recalls that he might at that hour have been describing slow circles around Piccadilly Circus, says that the Richmond drivers were as surprised as anyone at the closure announcement.

"We always assumed that the depot was breaking even, maybe making a small profit."

Even in winter, says Brian, there are usually one or two passengers. "These services are a lifeline up here, especially for older people. It would be an awful blow to lose them."

The return is no more eventful. None waits in Thwaite, no succour in Muker. In Gunnerside's crooked main street there's a brief moment of excitement when an elderly chap's standing near the bus stop, but he's only - actually and metaphorically - getting his pipe.

The service 30 continues to run on empty.

Finally back in Reeth we're joined by Richard Good, bed and breakfast owner, former district councillor and recent chairman of the local business association. He worked in Leeds, moved 14 years ago to the B&B in Arkengarthdale - the line about the Good life exceedingly familiar - but no longer drives for eyesight reasons. "It's not the best place to be if you can't drive a car," he concedes.

Richard's a regular. "The bus service is absolutely vital. Maybe not a lot of people use it, but it's terribly important to those who do.

"We had a meeting with the county council before Christmas and were assured that the rural services are very important to them as well. It would be a crying shame to lose them."

We're back in Richmond at 11.39, Brian Hamer out again six minutes later with the bus as far as Gunnerside. "You never get tired of it," he says, a transport of delight.