As I came off the tarmac and hit the loose rubble that is the start of Pockstones Moor, a blue sky was flecked with fleecy mini clouds racing westwards away from some ponderous thunder banks lumbering and chuntering around the distant Cleveland Hills. The track over Pockstones leads from the head of the Wash burn Valley across to Wharfedale near the artist’s dream village of Appletreewick.