Pennine Way day 6

 Keld

The last day of my Pennine Trip took us up and over Shunner Fell. I say us because today, dad was joining in the walking. 

Starting amongst showers we were fairly sure would continue for the day, we wandered our way out of Hawes and along the road rather than the sodden fields up to Hardraw. There we left the road and started what turned out to be quite a long ascent up the fell. 

It rained, it was foggy, the path was often tricky under foot. And we climbed. The water was everywhere. 

The top eventually peaked through the crowds and we reached the shelter. The clouds parted just enough to show tantalising glimpses of stunning views. There for lunch and then before we set off again. 

Unusually a descent is at least quicker if not easier than the up hill but this was particularly tough, purely because of conditions under foot. The flag stones that made up a lot of the path were slippy or submerged. Occasionally they disappeared into the marsh leaving little tarns to be worked around. 

At the bottom of the fell I called it. No more mud. The last two miles wouldn't be over another fell or into more fields. We were going road all the way. 

This proved quite pleasant. I was delighted to find we were in Swaledale and so saw Swaledale Sheep in Swaledale. I pointed out it was like Gotland on Gotland but I'm not sure dad shared my joy. 

Getting to Keld was a joy. Met by family and whisked off to get dry clothes and hot drinks. 

Pennine Way Day 5

 Hawes

Another day of rambling. A gentle climb with barely a soul to be seen. The sun wasn't out but the rain wasn't either. Just me and the sky larks beautifully alone. 

The navigation was easy and for the most part the path was firm underfoot. 

I turned off my book (Jane Eyre, keeping with the theme) to savour the space and after checking the route pretty much put the phone away. I checked when I was coming off the moor (the route kindly taking me through a bog after 12 miles of dry footed walking) and onto farm land. Then at the bottom of the hill got out my phone to call dad. 

Well, I tried to. 

My phone was not there. Not in my pocket. Not in my bag. Not anywhere. 

Turning around to walk back up the hill I thought of the moment I'd jumped at a grouse flying out of the heather. I'd imagine my phone jumped too. 

I climbed up scanning the ground. I knew when I'd last checked the map so it had to be between here and there - about half a mile away. 

Behold! A little girl running down the hill waving something. Her smiling dad and dog Rupert following behind. They'd found the phone and seen me turn around and thought I may need it. Scarlet admonished me to zip up my pocket in future and we wandered back down the hill together. 

At the bottom I called dad and we met up ready for our walk tomorrow.  

Pennine Way Day 4

 Horton in Ribblesdale

I'm not going to lie to you. Today was a day I was dreading. I was worried about my fitness. I was worried about the climb. I was worried about the weather. I was overall, worried. 

After yesterday I was quite down hearted. I hadn't slept well the night before and although food had been good, it hadn't agreed with me. Then I found the traipsing through fields claggy, muddy and hard. Spending all day listening to the suction sound of freeing your feet is no fun.  Then no shower. And no heat to dry things. I went to bed filled with dread. 

I started my day feeling better. I slept well. I had a good breakfast. So, setting off I felt ok. I had to wait around until the shop opened to get a sandwich then I was off.

I was surprised that I felt ok. Quite good actually. Happily walking along munching at the extra breakfast hash browns I'd sneaked into my bag. Malham cove is really amazing. It's a prehistoric landscape with water worn stones dotting the flat ground surrounded by a wall of limestone stretching up into the sky. Making my way down to it then up and over again I found my path. I felt like the only person in the world. 

The path was easy to follow and vitally - due to the change in geology according to the guidebook - it held under foot. 

I made it to Malham Tarn where I walked for a while with two ultra runners out for a stroll. They loved mud on their runs but were most unimpressed with their [insert technical name here] soles. I stopped for lunch just as the rain started. 

The rain was a feature of the rest of the day. It never quite went away. I made it to the first summit and sheltering by a wall stopped for more lunch. I was quite impressed with myself. Still feeling good and still loving the landscape.  Soaked despite hundreds of pounds of gear - to the bone. 

Descending down from the cloud line and yet still in the rain I didn't stop for long. I was getting cold and decisions needed to be made. This bad weather wasn't filling me with confidence when it came to the much talked about Penn Y Ghent. I knew I could bypass it but, I also knew that would probably take longer. So up I went. The weather was bad, visibility was bad and news flash - my fear of heights is still bad. 

All was going well until I hit scramble number one. I didn't like it. I hated it but I did it. I checked the map, one more and I'd be at the plateau. The one more nearly made me cry. I hate climbing (lose definition) with a rucksack on. My wet legs and 2 layers of trousers didn't allow much movement and the cloud made anything beyond 10m feel like a void. 

To add insult to injury a fell runner popped in past me, gone before I could even notice his route.

But, choices in such situations are limited. Sit down and cry or carry on and whimper. I whimpered and off I went. 

It was a brief whimper and then in the distance through the cloud the glorious sight of a trig point. I may possibly have cried.  I sat down and sent a text - the time was late the signal was good - before crossing the wall. 

Over the style the weather whipped up off the valley. The wind went up my nose. There was no stopping for more lunch. I was wet and stopping made me cold. I ate some wine gums and began a speedy descent. 

The visibility was rotten. Down to five metres.  Round the pot the weather was brutal. Sideways rain and breath taking wind. I have to say, I really was loving life. 

One hour later and I reached the village. The pub is welcoming. Real fire, rooms from the 80s (optimistic guess there, it's like staying with an elderly relative in 1985). There's a nice warm bath with a thoughtfully provided jug to wash your hair. 

Food is just what I need and the dining room is filled with Three Peaks and Pennine Way walkers. 

This is absolutely my best day so far. 

Pennine Way Day 3

Malham

Today was in theory an easy 10 miles. It was beautiful walking, through fields towards the dales. I spent a lot of it imagining how enjoyable it would be if I had anywhere to put my feet. 

There were plenty of sheep to chat to including some new born lambs. I stopped at the marvellous Gargrave tea room and had a cuppa. 

The 10 miles turned into 12 and a half. I was on route all the way (although I did deviate 100 yards to the co-op) so my only explanation is that I've spent two and a half miles wandering around unsuccessfully trying to avoid bogs, marshes and mud. 

Arriving at the youth hostel and being told they have no heating or hot water was most unwelcome. 

I write this to you in my thermals, in my bed, glad the freezing weather forecast (it's gone up to a mild 6 degrees now) prompted me to bring a warm coat.  

Pennine Way Day 2

 Elslack

Well, damp under foot has a whole new meaning. 

It's rained quite a bit lately including most of today - I've spent most of the day avoiding sinking. My feet were wet but as long as they were above ground level I was happy. 

The walk over the moor pleased me, I day dreamed along, listening to my book and trying to keep vaguely to the path. The farm fields were more of a challenge. I realised eventually that this approach wasn't going to get me to the hotel this side of night fall. 

For the last few miles I decided to follow the road, adding distance but doubling my speed. 

Maybe the dawdling helped because I got to the hotel feeling quite ok. 

Pennine Way Day 1

 Stanbury

The first day is always a toughy. Then I further complicated matters by climbing the very steep hill between Hebden Bridge and Heptonstall. I couldn't resist a visit to see the grave yard and call in on Sylvia Plath. I've visited the graves of many of my literary heros and I can't imagine Sylvia would be impressed by hers.  She's one of those writers you have to encounter at a certain time in your life to really love.  So much legendary passion shouldn't be symbolised by a field of biros and faded flowers.  But still, nice to say hello. 

After that there was a lot of fields to traipse through before I picked up the route proper. 

Up onto the moors and I was slightly worried by the very slow progress I was making until I realised the clocks had change but my watch hadn't. 

Onwards and upwards. Over boggy moor tops made manageable by a flag stone path. A couple of stops for food - that's why day one is tough, it takes me a while to remember that one must eat. 

The last moor took me to Top Withens, the legendary inspiration for Wuthering Heights. They've repointed it since our sixth form trip and I feel it's lost a bit of its romance. I went full immersion with the audio book and got there just as Catherine launched into 'I am Heathcliff,'.  So sat and listened to that imagining Emily walking the moors gathering inspiration. 

The last little part of my day took me off route again to the pub I'm staying in, legend has it that Bonny Prince Charlie sheltered here and was protected by the silence of the locals. It's also haunted. I'll report on that tomorrow. 

Pennine Way Day 0

 Hebden Bridge

I'm having a little adventure this Easter, a walk along part of The Pennine Way. 

Step one on this journey was of course to get to the start. 

At Waverley I stood staring at the departure boards. A choice of two trains and the grim inevitability that no matter which I picked, the thing was sure to be delayed. I plumped for the East Coast, purely because it left a bit earlier. Not too busy, got a double seat and all was good. 

Within rolling distance of Newcastle we stopped - some sort of problem with the points. A short delay. When we got into the station itself we stopped as expected and didn't set off again for an hour. The passengers from another train merged with us, my luxurious double seat gone. I put away my knitting. 

We got into Darlington and most of the town boarded the train. By now it wasn't standing room only, it was standing room optimistic. I really needed the loo but, no hope. 

At York everyone seemed to get off. Folk everywhere taking deep breaths of fresh air as they tumbled out of the train.

I had my priorities, I joined the long queue for the loo. 

After that the Blackpool train (connection missed, and a cancelled train notwithstanding) was a joy. Double seat all the way, facing the right direction for most of it.  The donkey (knitting) got ears. 

I arrived into a sunny Hebden Bridge and had a quick mooch round the town, complete with its on brand colourful characters. 

 

I went to drop off my bag then queued in the pub (neat and orderly line, we've got very civilised since you know when) and ordered pie and chips. You have no idea how delighted I was to be served a gooey pie, home cooked chips, proper mushy peas and gravy.