From Barden Tower the Wharfe falls rapidly over a rocky course, densely wooded on both sides, towards the famous “Strid,” a narrow gorge in the rocky bed, through which the water rushes at a furious speed. The name “Strid” has two derivations given to it. One, in common acceptance, is that it is so called because it is possible at this point to stride over the chasm. The more likely derivation is the Anglo-Saxon “stryth,” or turmoil. The common meaning, however, suggests the tradition that gives romantic interest to the spot. It was here over seven centuries ago, as the story goes, that “the Boy of Egremond,” the heir to the Romillys, perished in the flood while out hunting.
“He sprang in glee, for what cared he
That the river was strong and the rocks were steep?
But the greyhound in the leash hung back,
And checked him in his leap.
The Boy is in the arms of Wharfe,
And strangled by a merciless force;
For never more was young Romilly seen
Till he rose a lifeless corse.”