Hawes, the capital of Upper Wensleydale, is small enough to be homely. On a recent visit, Ruth Annison updated me about the Wensleydale Railway and a postman reminded me of a chat we had about the obscure little farmstead of Cosh, with which he had family connections.

There was a chirpy "good morning" from every other person who passed. The others simply smiled. And, of course, someone mentioned Kit Calvert, the complete dalesman.

For many years, Kit was Mr Hawes - the fount of local knowledge, saviour of the Wensleydale cheese industry and second-hand bookseller who charged 10p for hardbacks, 5p for other types of books.

Kit died 14 years ago, though he will be remembered as long as the Wensleydale Creamery, over which he presided. It turns out 500g cheeses, each bearing a portrait of Kit as he puts a match to the bowl of a clay pipe.

That picture will confront many a recipient this Christmas of the cheeses that were known as "round pounds."

As I crossed a bridge over the beck, I saw tumbling water and beyond the building that was in Kit's day the creamery. We first met on the bridge in the days when vehicles passed at the rate of one every ten minutes. We used the bridge as a cal-oil (gossiping place).

Kit told me of the scarcity of clay pipes; he had found another source in Northern Ireland. He mentioned the partiality of the old Dales lead-miners for smoking black twist through a "clay." Broken clay pipes are found wherever lead-miners gathered.

At that first encounter, Kit had the company of a lile terrier and he told me about Dolly, a pony he had purchased from a Kirkby Stephen man. Kit intended to use Dolly in a trap or to ride it bare-back and rediscover the spirit of a Dales boyhood.

Astonishingly, on my recent visit to Hawes, I found that Dolly was still alive, aged 40. I greeted her in a field behind Kit's former home, a bungalow now occupied by his daughter Florence Garnett.

Dolly has been a particular favourite of Pauline, her daughter. It was pleasant to watch the pony breakfast on sweet-smelling hay. The air was still but sharp. Dolly had the consolation of a winter coat, now somewhat tattered but nonetheless capable of turning the weather.

A low sun banded the district with yellow light and brought a sparkle to Dolly's eyes. Florence collected some titbits of food. She called Dolly, who soon arrived at the boundary wall to be stroked and fed.

Kit had never put Dolly to regular work. The highlight of the year for man and pony was Hawes Gala, when Kit harnessed her to a trap and drove her through the town. Dolly had a starring role at weddings. And when the BBC was filming for television the stories of James Herriot, Dolly was a non-speaking extra in one of the instalments.

Dolly's saddest but finest hour came on January 8, 1984, when she was harnessed to a cart on which the coffin of Kit Calvert reposed on his last journey, from chapel to cemetery. This had been the special wish of Kit.

Funeral day was raw and only Dolly did not mind a breeze with an edge to it like a scythe blade.

When Pauline, Kit's granddaughter, next took Dolly out for a ride, the pony insisted on following the funeral route. The cemetery gates had been left open. She stood beside the grave of the man who had tended her for so many years.

When I first knew Hawes, I enjoyed chatting with John Oswald Dinsdale, blacksmith, and he told me about the days when his father made foot-plates for cows that were being driven long distances by road.

I was more interested in his recollections of a time when large numbers of ponies were reared on the fells around Upper Wensleydale. At sale time, they were brought, unbroken, unshod, into town.

Shoeing them was "blood for money." John told me that when a pony had been shod, it was as good as broken-in. "A pony was not so easily broken - it was a job that called for a lot of patience. One of the ways was to strap to its back an old pair of trousers, padded with straw."

A blacksmith had to be something of a vet. Docking horse tails and knocking out "wolf" teeth were relatively common.

A "wolf" tooth was pointed and formed in front of a grinder. How was it removed? "By hammer and chisel. And t'hoss wouldn't let thee have a second go if thou made a mess of it first time."

The ponies sold well to people who required a spirited animal to draw a trap or commercial vehicle. Unbroken ponies realised from £10 to £12, although the price sometimes dropped to £8.

Kit's pony was not among the semi-wild ponies of the fells. And throughout her long life, Dolly has had a very good home.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.