Gotta love the Yorkshire Dales. Problem is, everybody else in the North does especially when the sun's out. This place can get packed as evidenced by the size of the car park that could serve Leeds-Bradford Airport.
It's mostly overflow and if you're here for any amount of time, that'll be £5 to get bogged down in a field, then?
Foregoing, just for once, the prohibitively priced parking, you can walk around Grassington in 10 minutes if pricey, northern knick-knacks aren't your thing.
There is, however, a watery diversion to extend the time not to mention a traditional, Yorkshire tasting that will leave you, quite frankly, fuming.
Small enough to walk around, for sure, it's a day-tripper's delight meaning most of what's on sale is stuff you don't really need.
Five pubs and a tiny might just about warrant a night or two here but just south of £7 for a couple of cappuccinos? That's just taking the hiss.
Still, it's handy for a cashpoint and a swig of pop to erase that bitter taste before venturing into open country.
Cosy café with a small area of outdoor seating. The cappuccinos are a bit steep but it's a good spot to gawp at toffs unpacking for their week in a 'Holiday Cottage'.
It's an ideal spot if you're found of a stroll, there are walks out in all directions and at some point, on your way, you'll no doubt bump into the River Wharfe. This impressive 60-mile long watercourse cuts just south of the village where it all goes a bit crackers near Linton.
The spanned falls are particularly impressive after a deluge i.e. most days and these chaps put paid to any hopes of paddling down the entirety of the Wharfe on a nice one.
A footbridge takes you over to Linton and the place name derives from the crops of flax that were once cultivated in the fertile soils nearby. There's historical significance in that the first recorded use of the phrase 'Can I use your flax machine?' was noted here.
That's a joke, of course, but the local flax, or linseed, industry also gave Yorkshire an advantage in the early days of cricket as their bats were always the best turned out. That's another joke, of course, because if it were true then Sir, as he's known round here, would still be banging on about it.
Oh! Hang on. He is.
Churches don't come much older than this one and an admittedly unknown bit dates from the 12th century. It ain't going nowhere soon, neither, ™s can't touch this site as it was Grade II listed in 1954.
There's an option here for a moderate six-or-so-miler to Burnsall and back but the graveyard is, literally, a dead end. If you fancy it, you'll need to backtrack and take a left at the farm where the only flax now is directed at yourself for some, quite frankly, feeble navigating.
If you don't fancy it, it's back to Grassington for a decorative wall hanging that you don't really need.
Meanwhile, back in Grassington, there's a confession to be made about having been just a little bit down on the place due to an even earlier beverage-related incident.
It used to be said in this house 'You'll never get a bad cup of tea in Yorkshire.' That was until, that's right, a bad cup of tea here in Yorkshire in 1999.
The place shall remain nameless, although it is in the picture, but a recycled teabag and merely hot water in a silver pot for one? Quite frankly, unforgivable.