A LITTLE over a year ago I wrote here of a “horrendous” experience in the North York Moors. Out walking near Kildale, my wife and I found ourselves on a track so churned and rutted by off-road vehicles that, for any other user, it was a danger to life and limb. In fading light it took us around the best part of an hour to negotiate the 500 or so downhill yards to the safety of a byroad.

My wife phoned the national park to complain. Has the track improved – been made passable for walkers, cyclists, horse riders? I can’t say, since I haven’t yet fulfilled a resolution to go back and check. But, since the park authority supposedly is “cracking down” on off-roading I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt. I’ll assume that the track is now in a condition you’d expect in a national park, where ease of access, perhaps especially for those pursuing quiet recreation, is of prime importance.

However, last weekend I was shocked to come across a similarly ruined track. For the first time in years I visited the Lowna end of Farndale. In our family-outing days this was our favourite place to see the famous daffodils. Minus the crowds on the main trail between Low Mill and Church Houses, it offered, around Birch Hagg House, by the river Dove, what we considered the prettiest displays in the valley. I once saw an otter there, years before any comeback of the creature was talked about.

But what a change now. The fields bear signs of neglect, rough ground has advanced and the daffodils are fewer. Capping that decline, heavy use by what tyre marks suggest are scramble bikes, has rendered the riverside path virtually unusable.

I battled along nevertheless, slipping and sliding in thick mud and balancing precariously from ridge to ridge. In mounting fury I determined to write this piece, until I thought: ‘The national park will blame the wet winter.’ Then I thought again: ‘I’ll not buy that. I’ve walked here since the 1950s. I know what a wet winter can bring. This is far, far worse.’

Arriving at Birch Hagg, I was vindicated. A national park notice drew attention to the “wet and muddy” (euphemism) path and suggested an alternative. But the notice was dated March 2013. So this path has been unwalkable for at least three years.

I decided to press on, beyond the alternative. It was just as bad, if not worse – an absolute quagmire. Returning, I chose the alternative. This too was squelchy in places – but natural after the wet winter.

Now, I’ve dug out a news report of the national park’s “crackdown” on off-roaders, a joint effort with the police. A swoop on motorbikers near Great Ayton resulted in one being arrested on suspicion of theft and another being reported for document offences. Seemingly none had been off-roading. But that’s the problem. Some of the rough tracks used by the off-roaders officially are highways. Others, the Lowna track among them, are of uncertain status, marked on maps as “other routes with public access.” Every unmade-up off-road route should be designated a bridleway. Certainly, unless national parks get properly to grips with this, any new visitor who encounters a track like Lowna will not be coming back.