Our Pennine Way journey - backwards.
After 6 months of spending endless hours, days and weeks walking relentlessly - usually around York - I eventually decided, mid-walk on a boiling hot June day, to take the plunge and just go and do the Pennine Way. I've long had ideas about doing so but always remember the pain and hate I have of carrying a bag long distances - but once the idea was out there it ensured I was committed.
Initially, Ana was angry that I'd just decided unilaterally to set myself this challenge but after a short while she came around to the idea - meaning we would end up doing it when she could get time off in what is usually considered the best month for it anyway - September. I, fearing more rage, optimistically/hopefully/manipulatively said that we could do it with just 2 weeks off work so as to make it a plausible idea for her and set about creating a vague and rather difficult itinerary to get it done in that time.
Day 1: Kirk Yetholm - Windy Gyle
Ana began the trip by working until 5am to finish things off before a 7:30am start to our day. We also had the added bonus of somehow buying a multipack of gas cans that didn't fit our stove (good that we tested the night before and Yorkshire Trading being a morning lifesaver!)... then, the long drive up by my Ma to be dropped off at Kirk Yetholm for our afternoon start. Still looking, smelling and feeling slightly fresh and getting excited about our fortunate timing with the Indian summer.
We had known from the outset that this section of the walk was notoriously lacking in any sources of fresh water and had stocked up ahead of time - but it soon became obvious that even this wasn't enough for the two days planned in the heat and sunshine before Byrness. We spotted a small and very beautiful, craggy stream coming down off the Cheviot itself though and took a worthwhile detour to refill - with me taking advantage of the occasion to look as stylish as ever hiding from the midges.
This first day was always going to be a challenging one - and good to get out of the way - but after over 1000m of ascent I left Ana (and my bag!) for 45mins to dash over to the summit of the Cheviot itself. It would have felt wrong to miss out on the highest point of a National Park when I found myself within a couple of miles of it!
We then had a vague plan to camp somewhere up near a spot called Windy Gyle, we knew it was vaguely flat but had no idea really what the ground was like as the sun set and darkness fell... so we ended up plodding as far as we could, only finding endless boggy ground before settling half on a path for the night as the best we could find.
We had planned to be up at 6am what with being on a path, but due to me not getting to sleep until 5am I easily managed to ignore those alarms... but anyway, athough the photos don't necessarily show it, this was just a long boring slog of a moorland day... much less interesting than the northern part of The Cheviots and just one to be glad to see the back of. I managed to add on another 20 minutes of bonus walking thanks to asking Ana to re-attach my sleeping bag to my backpack - before learning never to do that again (a fun retracing of my steps ensued)... We also enjoyed a few mountain huts/refuges - which I wonder why we never seem to get many of below about Cross Fell??? - reading some of the guestbooks and seeing what useful things had been left behind.
It was vaguely interesting to see some of the earthworks from the old Roman forts and lookouts but they could easily be passed by if not looking out for them... so not quite exciting enough to make this day feel worthwhile.
This generally sums up at least the first half of day three, so I'll skip past this part (sunburn, blisters and a long forestry track trudge)... with the exception of a lovely little mile or so detour to Hindhope Linn waterfall.
Rather ridiculously, the access to Hareshaw Linn is only from the south/distant bottom, meaning that it is in no way connected to the Pennine Way from the top, but that didn't stop me dragging Ana somewhat off-piste, over some walls, through some woods and down a rather adventurous slide/scramble into the gorge to save the linear walk up and back later. Needless to say, after a bit of a fall and her legs having completely given up on her for the day, she was not best pleased... However, very little is going to keep me from seeing this beautiful 9m fall. Photos don't really do it justice (do they ever, with waterfalls?) but it really is a beautiful spot under huge overhanging cliffs and we were fortunately late enough in the day to have it all to ourselves! Maybe she'll forgive me for the pain one day...
It was then a joy to get into Bellingham (weirdly pronounced with a soft 'g') where we could top up on some much-needed fresh foods, fruit juice and chocolates. We quickly learned on this walk that it really does pass nowhere near civilisation or even small village shops for long sections and any sign of life and a small Coop is a beautiful thing - especially for something refreshing on these hot days.
Well, that was an unexpectedly sad opening photo but am I glad that I at least saw it before the chopping!
Today started with another rather uninteresting, warm slog through generic countryside and forestry tracks. We had earlier been told about a wonderful place, Horneystead Farm - 10km in - which had originally been our target camping spot the previous night until falling behind, offering supplies, a place to rest, a shower and even a bed for a nap in return for donations to keep it topped up. Upon reaching this oasis we had a good long chat with Helen, the owner, who it turned out was also about to set off on her first full Pennine Way attempt from Edale a few days later... so certainly someone to look out for crossing paths somewhere near the Malham area if we both made it that far!
The afternoon was then a (slow) race to get to the good viewpoints on Hadrian's Wall before sunset - which was both good having a slightly more exciting target but also somewhat stressful with the worry of not making it in time. As the day wore on I just got increasingly energetic as beautiful views got closer whilst Ana's outlook went in very much the opposite direction - with the wonderful quote, "Your cheery attitude just makes me hate you more.", summing up our eventual arrival on the wall. That said, she allowed me to dash off ahead for the last few miles so at least I could grab some of the photos I'd envisaged!
A very awkward start to the day as we were getting our breakfast and packing up our tent at Winshiels Campsite... Having arrived quite late the night before, tried phoning multiple times and having nobody around we just had to set up anyway. The morning came and, as ever, there were other friendly people chatting to us... but one chap telling us about a reception and breakfast room and asking if we were going to visit (we had, the night before, but nobody there...). It felt a bit off, as he just loitered with seemingly pointless small talk without leaving, but in the end it eventually and awkwardly became obvious that he was the owner and wanted paying - with the implication that we hadn't tried... still a friendly guy but just one of those chats that gets played over and over in your head for the rest of the morning. Anyway, here's Ana's newfound enthusiasm to start the day followed by reality kicking in a short while later...
Next, we proceeded along the wall towards Greenhead and were met by a lovely, enthusiastic old man who, it turns out, goes out for two walks each day just to bump into strangers. He found us and walked the entire way back with us telling us various little bits of information - some straight from the information signs dotted along the wall but most just part of his own knowledge... Either way, that was enough socialising for a week for me...
Once again, I feel that I must reiterate that I recognise the repetetive complaining about the long boring sections of this part of the walk. But the following 6 hours can kind of be summed up with consistently getting behind, consistently being annoyed by having to walk a mile perpendicular to the way you ultimately want to be going and consistently being desperate for some top-ups of water as we were unsure where we could camp and cook in the evening.
Luckily, we came across yet another lovely human! There's a guy (known as RastaRalph on Youtube) who seemingly makes the most of his own little smallholding in the middle of nowhere to not only look after his ducks and hens, but also offer Stella to passers by who come kindly begging for water. We did turn him down for that but he gave us a couple of 2L bottles of Evian... a brief chat with him and it turns out he actually does a BBQ each year for those doing the Spine Race. We then ended by giving up on our Lambley target after having some water supplies to cook - settling in the corner of low-land field, somewhat hidden, for one of the most comfortable and peaceful nights we had on the entire trip.
An early start, for once. Being in a farmer's field also meant giving us a head start and a chance to make up some lost ground. I won't waste much time on this day. We were very excited about getting to Alston for some supplies and, whilst it was surprising to see sections of the River Tyne looking beautiful, this was just a straight-up plod south. A few highlights being meeting a nice chap going in the opposite direction in Slaggyford who gave me the title for this page and Ana having the opportunity to post her down jacket back to Richmond (along with some other horribly mucky clothing not to be unwrapped for 2 weeks). That and my first (desperate times call for desperate measures) 'cheese' for way too many days...
I never expected to have such a bias against the places that I didn't know previously but as the walk went on I was not only pleased to return to more personally well-trodden land for familiarity reasons... but it really is all better south of Cross Fell. The day turned out to be a day of highs and lows in every sense.
I feel like I'm going on about a million mental detours on this day so after a long and confusing chat with Ana whilst writing this I've decided that I'm not one for a narrative and I'd rather use lists:
Early on on the way up the hill we interrupted a grouse shoot. This was just a wonderful moment for me, having been moaning about the posh wa*kers the day before. The lookout on the track asked us if we had a minute, as if to fill in a survey or something, but we said no and continued - quickly realising that we were in the middle of the shoot. It seemed that the only grownup thing to do was take my time, enjoy my right of way and sing loudly at the grouse, with just a small amount of waving wildly. It's an odd joy to watch ridiculously dressed wealthy blokes stood in the middle of a moor, hands on hips as you slowly pass by enjoying your day. The disdain was palpable.
Next up, I'm sure it's a man thing, but another bloke dared to overtake us when we stopped for a drink. This then became a childish instinct to (despite having to be patient and loving for my beautiful female) balance the good partner act versus making clear that I could personally power through and overtake on his breathing stops if I wanted.
This story continues when the mystery man, having been beaten initially, gets ahead over the coming days and turns out to be my namesake after some friendly meetings in Middleton and Tan Hill. Lesson learned: Always fun to compete with strangers. Never make friends.
As much as I am in my element and feel like I can go on forever, uphill, there always comes a time when downhill is needed. The descent from this day wrecked my limbs and was definitely the lowlight of my trip (blisters emerging on my ungainly long, tired limbs) - but Ana loved it and powered on.
She set a target of 6pm to get down to Dufton for tea, unbeknownst to her (or me) it was the beer festival so that was nice timing. This sudden speed that she found was what gave me hope for the rest of the trip that we could really do this and make up some time.
The food in Dufton was lovely, an unexpected bonus for the trip. Ana ordered the corned beef pie (not knowing what 'corned' meant) and it was delicious. I actually like corned beef a lot so it was nice to indoctrinate her before she found out that it was just all the rubbish bits.
Then came the long walk up to High Cup Nick in the dark. It's only about 5 miles but it feels like an age in the dark, feeling very full, and struggling over each loose rock. We eventually got there, and after slightly worrying another woman who was spending the night up there (she thought we were lost, or in trouble, or something along those lines) we found a spot to sleep that wasn't too damp or filled with animal poo.
Day 8: High Cup Nick - Middleton
The alarm went off and Ana needed the loo - and was fortunate, what with knowing there were a couple of other tents up there in the darkness the night before - that outside the tent was a pea soup of fog. Despite never fully understanding the analogy of green peas to grey fog, I was a little pleased as I could snooze without missing any exciting views. That changed suddenly, though, as I first noticed a hint of light on the tent, rushed out... and I'll just leave you with this beautiful set of images as the waves of cloud climbed out of the valley.
It looks like I had all the time in the world, but we still spent most of the time engulfed in fog and I had to be on my toes to capture these whenever it subsided. The guy in some of them was lovely, from Sunderland, and reyt chatty - but I had to keep running away and felt a bit rude, anticipating the ebb and flow as I aimed to get photos of this place that I had dreamt of for a long time. Throughout all of my excitement, Ana remained in the tent avoiding the midges and taking the inner tent down from the inside. Every time I was shouting the cloud came in again and it seemed that she was destined to never witness the beauty unfolding below us...
The rest of the day continued to be a delight throughout. The fact that this was forecast to be the end of the relentless heat mixed with our sudden access to being in the dales (Teesdale counts) meant that we suddenly had no water problems or additional weight to carry. So I'll leave this as a set of four different waterfalls (two of which I got to de-clothe in)...
Anyone who knows me should also know not to spend too much time in interesting geological locations. No wonder Ana was trying to put some distance between us here... but Teesdale is bloody perfect for explaining the history of the Pennines in the most picturesque way possible. Millions of years on plain show in the rocks, thousands of years on show in the shape of the valley, hundreds of years in the meandering river, tens of years of walks on the nice new boards... right down to way too many minutes of my photographs and even fewer seconds of Ana's patience.
I find it a little odd that I had somehow never visited this spot before - but I'm gonna stick my neck out and say that Bleabeck Force is way better than any of the other Teesdale waterfalls.
Photographically I wish I could spend a day there. The various angles and different rapids below the main fall leave you with endless opportunities to create something good. I have no idea how I'd not spotted this before, having been in the area on so many occasions.
Then High Force happens...
And finally, we delayed our arrival in Middleton thanks to Ana's clever idea to make the most of the lovely weather and cook our tea at Low Force. It was also my first swim there, with the waterfalls providing perfect jacuzzis both on the shoulders and feet.
This really was a perfect end to a perfect day.
We knew the breakdown of the warm weather was coming and felt somewhat lucky as these amazing thunderstorms passed by us out to the west as we made our way towards the A66 and the half way point... with the shapely Shacklesborough providing a nice foreground and sense of scale to the view.
But we did end up in the middle of it all eventually... and despite both of us spending many hundreds of pounds, over the years, on expensive waterproofs... we had Temu and their ponchos to thank for our staying relatively dry. Also... HALF WAY!
The second half of the day was a little interesting. Once again I managed to piss Ana off on many fronts... Throughout the whole walk we had my regular car playlists to play on my old, less battery-intensive phone and I/we could sing along as we went whilst trying not to be obnoxious to any other people we came across (although at least if we interrupted someone's peace, it would be with actual music, not just the noise that the young people like these days). This was one of those times where my legs felt great, my soul felt filled with very wet joy and I felt the need to belt out some Robbie Williams, amongst other things. But never forget...
"Your cheery attitude just makes me hate you more."
We plodded on, soaked to the bone and harrassed by midges like you've never seen before... into the thunder to meet my Ma and Mark at Tan Hill with some all important top ups and a sewing kit for me to fix my bag. The end result of all this, and the moral of the story, is that if you slowly wear down your partner through sheer drudgery and dampness then they just might decide to pay for a nice warm room at the highest pub in the country rather than trying to put a tent up whilst trying to avoid being struck by lightning.
Just the sort of view you like to see when you open the curtains...
After a lovely, comfortable night in Tan Hill we were soon up and back out heading into what was always going to be one of my favourite days... the water may not be so lovely when filling my boots but at least it ensured all of the waterfalls were going to be looking good this morning! As we headed out across the moor towards Keld, the skies started breaking and we were even treated to some sunshine by the time we reached Swaledale proper. We popped down for a quick stop off at East Gill Force on our past before something exciting (for me) happened...
Having never used walking poles before and only buying some cheap ones (£5 each!) a week or so before setting off I was absolutely amazed what a difference they make for this kind of adventure. What I really hadn't expected, though, is how confident they'd make me feel in places that would usually make me nervous due to the height - it's great having something to steady yourself and anchor you when you start getting a bit dizzy! So with a new found optimism I took another detour to one of the most popular waterfalls - that I had somehow never, ever managed to get along to before due to the awful, thin, slanted, high up path - Kisdon Force! Not only that, but since my last attempt the path has actually crumbled away (not great) but this has led to a new track/slide heading straight down rather than perilously along the hillside which has been further improved by some wonderful person fixing a rope down it! Finally a place I always wanted to get to is achievable by me!!! A quite unexpected bonus and a massive personal highlight of the entire trip.
Next up, the seemingly pointless loop around Kisdon Hill before a short lunch break in Thwaite for a delicious Tan Hill packed lunch sandwich (beef, cheese and chutney - the guy was a bit surprised when he offered me those options and I said "all of them") before heading out of Swaledale up Great Shunner Fell - one of our highest points on the trip. I always love the views of the valley from the walk up here but the summit is always very bland... made even more so as the weather began to turn and we ended up engulfed in the cloud and drizzle again.
Overall, for the next 3 days we were incredibly lucky with the weather as the same band of rain sat diagonally across the country moving up and down over us precisely during the night to leave us almost exactly the daylight hours in general dryness - even perfected to within roughly the 15 miles or so we walked each day to make all the difference. On this occasion, it started just as we were reaching Hawes so we popped into the pub for some tea whilst figuring out where to sleep. We had obviously had Hawes pencilled in from the start as one of the bigger places to stock up and get ourselves sorted - but how crazy that the both supermarkets close as early as 6pm every day?!? - and, not only that, but the Caravan Club campsite wasn't taking tents. So after some cheesy chips we went up through the increasingly heavy rain to our backup campsite in Gayle where we arrived, tried phoning, looked like burglars with our headtorches creeping around the farm and in the end just pitching quietly in the corner of their field where we could see some campervans.
Right on time, as we snuck away from our damp corner of the field/garden/campsite that we had found ourselves in, the rain stopped once again and we were left with what was expected to be a rather dull day both in terms of weather and route. But first... a breakfast trip back into town was in order!.. A taste of every cheese in the cheese room followed by a big cheese scone, large slab of Wensleydale and Chutney, with the Wensleydale & ginger cheesecake for Ana.
It was also market day and Ana was in need of some fresh socks... I had been listening to the very old stall owner chatting to the customers in front of us about his walking group which they had called 'Lust of the Summer Whine' because of their tendencies to moan around the countryside whilst perving on all the nice young ladies they see in tight tops. Needless to say, I was impressed with the name and said as much when it was our turn... at which point he made some wonderful pervy old man sounds and comments to Ana (in a friendly way) that, I was amazed to witness, she took well... and in the spirit of fun in which they were intended (unusual for her, with this sort of thing but a lovely relief for me!). I only found out a day or so later that she had understood absolutely none of what he was saying because of his strong accent and had just smiled along out of politeness. Bah.
Next up, the long straight climb up and out of Wensleydale and down into Ribblesdale via Cam High Road. It's never the most exciting but I always love the view towards and shape of Ingleborough from up here... and at least these views stick with you for the entire walk to Horton!
Now very much in amongst the limestone scenery, it was a pleasure to stumble across some impressive spots that I'd not visited before, what with being somewhat between more well-known locations and a bit out of the way. My favourite being the Calf Holes... where a good sized waterfall tumbles into the ground. We followed this up with a final detour of the day right on the edge of Horton with another waterfall marked on the map... but upon sliding down to where it should be only found a slight cave and some rapids - still nice but would probably have rather just skipped that extra bit of work!
Horton made a lovely change from our previous night - another campsite but this time with tables to sit at, time before the rain hit to cook and facilities (yay for showers!) that we actually knew the location of. We even had time for a quick pub visit to warm up but left somewhat disappointed as they had no signal, nowhere to charge phones and no cheesy chips (to the point where some silly cow sat nearby smirked and said something when Ana dared to ask). Pricks. Anyway, back to the campsite, it was also a lovely surprise for Rishi to seemingly turn up to greet us too.
Any day in and around Pen-y-ghent is always going to be a pretty decent day - and after one of our comfiest (but coldest) night's sleep we had a beautiful, warm day in store heading over to end the day in yet more loveliness. One frustration, that I only found out about many days later and I'm not sure how I missed, is that I somehow didn't see one of the best northern lights displays in years! I even had a 3am toilet trip where I stood for a few minutes looking up at the stars - clearer than any night we had in the famously dark Northumberland parts of the trip - and yet didn't notice a thing.
Anyway, off we went and, before the final steep section up to the summit, Ana wanted a rest and snack... so I went off on another (short) detour to have a look at Hunt Pot. It's only just by the path but on the opposite side to Hull Pot so somehow I'd never visited, always heading off that way in the hope of seeing it with the water flowing, but this time I figured I'd have a look. As it turns out, it's a very worthwhile place in its own right and I had a lovely 20 minutes being a brave boy, kicking down the cobwebs blocking the entrance and shimmying down to do some unplanned caving...
As mentioned with the air clarity the previous night, the views from the top of Pen-y-ghent were as clear as I've ever seen. Along with pretty much every other hill in the Dales, there were the Lakes, Pendle Hill and - rather satisfyingly - a view back to where we had come from 4 days earlier, with Cross Fell and the North Pennines visible through the gap beyond Wildboar Fell.
Next up, another new one for me, Fountain's Fell! It has always seemed like a little bit of a dull hill to climb in comparison to other spots in this area so it was kind of nice to get the opportunity to have an explore this time. Upon reaching the top, I left Ana with the bags again to dash across the top to find the summit cairn and tick it off my list officially - I'll still never understand (just like with the Cheviot) why people plot these official routes and don't find it within themselves to include every highest point along the way.
As with Pen-y-ghent, the 360 views were endless and from the top only this time it included all of the 3 Peaks framed perfectly against each other too. As much as I was impressed with the capabilities of my phone on this non-camera trip it is certainly frustrating to lack the telephoto abilities needed for this view. I've already got it on my calendar, with reminders, to get myself back up here in a month or so to have a proper attempt at this panorama with a longer focal length, to try to bring Ingleborough and Whernside to the fore a little more alongside the dominant Pen-y-ghent, and hopefully a bit of evening side light. In the meantime, here's what I could do for now...
Finally, after enjoying myself a little bit too much - having a properly lovely, happy day - and really not making much progress as a result, we got over towards Malham as it got dark and the weather started to get a bit miserable ahead of the next night's rain.
I know it's also a beautiful place but you've all seen plenty of Malham before - although it was nice to show Ana Watlowes Dry Valley and try to force her to imagine how spectacular it would have been that day 7 years ago when it reflooded.
To add a final flourish to the story of the day... we had our tea and I went to wash up in the small, covered sink area of the campsite with my headtorch... only to be scared shitless by a massive spider emerging next to the pots I'd just dumped down. After the panic I went out and down to the other end and another sink to man up and get on with it but as soon as I switched the tap on, a load of air and flappy sensations/sounds occurred around the back of my neck and hood. It felt like it took me a second or two to realise that this was not a cold, breezy result of me just turning a tap on and turned around to find a bat rattling its way down the shed trying to escape.
Upon getting back to the tent I told Ana I had a "bat shit crazy Halloween style shed of horrors" story for her (those words exactly), but before I could get any of it out she was harassing me and forcing me to sit still... not letting me speak... not wanting me to make a mess everywhere... because it turned out the bat really had shat on my shoulder. Despite my sudden amusement at my unintended pun, it did somewhat ruin the surprise of my story that I'd been excited about.
Another perfectly timed clearance of the rain to start the day was somewhat ruined by the fact that it had managed to sneak in and puddle our porch - and my bag in particular was soaked through. I'd planned ahead a little bit and everything inside that needed to be was wrapped in carrier bags but it was always going to be a little bit damp, heavy and uncomfortable to deal with for the day.
In principle, this day was a relatively straightforward if somewhat uninteresting one with our chance to visit another Co-op in Gargrave pencilled in as the something to look forward to. It was a pleasant walk by Malham Beck/the River Aire and then a lot of farmland... although highlights included the Leeds & Liverpool canal, Ana's face upon realising she was so close to the end of the walk and some lovely food at the pub in Gargrave (along with being allowed to charge batteries!).
There was a brief spell in the walk that we felt very much at one with nature... and it's probably best that you have sound for the video just to make sense of the title... she was just admiring their udders... not to worry!
And then a little bit of moorland and some completely new places for me to end the day. You'll probably guess why I took a photo of the mast but it took me a good mile or so of walking before the two disparate parts of it (the globes and the shaft) came together on the hillside in such a picturesque way. We arrived at the confusingly named village(s) of Cowling/Ickornshaw just after dark but were a wee bit concerned that, once again, the campsite had closed. This time though, we got through on the phone from outside the house and the lovely lady came to let us in... she not only let us off a few quid as we'd run out of cash but also offered to take my battery in to recharge fully for the night. Overall, a quick, straight to the point, productive, pleasant day with some nice people at the end of it.
We thought we'd topped up on everything in Gargrave and spent 15 minutes sat next to a cash machine, but, as pointed out the night before... we were suddenly short of cash. Today's plan had to be adapted to include a trip to Hebden Bridge which was great for me as I finally got to explore Hardcastle Crags but really not so great for finding somewhere to sleep... Anyhow, the day started off (and generally remained) rather murky with brief patches of light giving us small glimpses into the valleys... it seems these parts of West Yorkshire are destined to remain a mystery to me.
Ana then did very well to notice, emerging from the murk on the moorland, a friendly face from day 3... Helen from the farm near Bellingham! We thought we might have passed her by the day before based on our guesswork of timings but it was a lovely surprise to have a quick chat again...
Next up, just to add a few more surprises to the day, we started noticing that lots of the signposts were in both English and Chinese which seemed a wee bit odd until I realised we actually were going to pass by the Wuthering Heights house. I knew we were in the area and had been telling Ana why it was called Bronte country but had no idea we actually went past the main attraction.
Then it was all downhill from here to Hebden Bridge - first towards the reservoirs and then, rather than keep to the official route, following the stream down all the way to town. A couple of things we noticed, which we both checked and thought a little odd, is that the bridges criss crossing the stream on the OS maps don't match real life at all - so we ended up stuck on the wrong bank of the river at the main viewpoint of the crags themselves. There are also a number of felled trees that are, seemingly, used as formal crossing points (although not on maps)... but they looked way too slippy and wet to even attempt to take any kinda risk, even for Ana... so a great, natural idea but I can't see who would ever use them unless going for a dip anyway!
Now, having skipped past our intended camping spot for the day for this detour, we were somewhat reluctant to have to double back on ourselves and climb back up the hill for the night - but as with Hawes, it seems some of the bigger towns on this trip still have absolutely bugger all camping facilities. Combine this with the fact that this area could hardly ever be called countryside as one town/village endlessly merges into the next; it seemed unlikely we'd find anywhere 'wild' for a sleep. After much googling, we did eventually find a campsite up and out of town that we weren't sure still existed, but at least to the south so vaguely in the direction we wanted - and then were happily reassured it was a great campsite by a nosey passer-by who had been listening in. A half-hour walk up later and we could certainly see why this guy liked the views from up there - plus it had a full barn of facilities and space to eat!
There really isn't much to be said for this stretch of the walk... I'm sure it's lovely but we largely just had a very efficient, relatively flat straight line walk through the cloud for the entire day. It was somewhat interesting to see the M62 and cross the landmark bridge but other than that there really wasn't much... so here's a dump of all the pictures:
Whilst walking near Stoodley Pike on the morning, a guy walked quickly past us who we both identified as David Baddiel (independently of each other, Ana knew what I was about to say and confirmed it before I'd even asked if she had seen). This was followed up by the next two walkers we saw too, who also reckoned that we were right - so obviously I took to Twitter to see if I could ask him and confirm it. Sadly, as you can see below, he had not been walking in West Yorkshire that morning... but happily, as you can also see below, I did end up talking to David Baddiel that morning. So I'll take that as a wee success!
When we arrived at Standedge we were greeted by a hen party in a so-called 'party house' where we thought the pub and campsite would be (apparently now repurposed)... but did find a number to call and a guy came running out from nearby to show us around the still-open campsite behind. He was a local sounding bloke who asked us where we were from, to which I replied that I was from Richmond but Ana was from a little further afield... to which he said "I can see...". Fearing, as can be the case, Ana's anti-brown labelling rage would make itself known I was pleased that she kept calm and just told him that she was from Chile. But the next part really tickled me... with him responding, "Ah! I have one myself!.. I'm married to a Mexican!". After all of the wonderful small talk, he was also kind enough/took pity on us and gave us a 50% discount - which was amazing when we realised how nice the unlimited showers were and how warm the inside space was!
Thanks to the bland nature of this walk, we covered our planned 16 miles in no time at all that day and it was quite lovely to have time to relax and cook in daylight and enjoy the showers too. I was so, so immensely impressed by the improvements in Ana's fitness over the previous fortnight that, having gone from getting over a day behind schedule and her nearly quitting, barely stumbling over the line in the first few days to a consistent good pace now, I just had to record the moment with her massively unexpected dynamism at the end of a day. I now realise that she took this as a bit patronising when I made the Facebook post about that, but to go from absolutely no walking/training to this physical specimen was a proper achievement, in my opinion, so I just felt that I should point it out again... plus, as will be seen from the next day, this changed the complexion of our walk entirely!
Having made such good progress the day before and got to sleep at a reasonable time, we started relatively early from Standedge in the hope of avoiding the evening's rain and were flying across the moorland towards the reservoirs above Marsden (probably faster than half of the hundreds of people doing a race in the opposite direction at the time). We soon made it up to Saddleworth Moor and enjoyed a lovely cheeseburger whilst it was still the morning!
Next up was another new bit for me with finally visiting the third highest hill in the Peak, Black Hill. There's a very good reason that I've not been up there before as it is just a big, barren blob of unshapely bog and moorland... but at least it's another thing to tick off my list. It did, admittedly have a lovely stream on the way up and I immediately recognised the somewhat perilous Laddow Rocks on the way down the other side from the many photos I'd seen back in my Peak days.
The main highlight though, was our timings as we reached the top and looked onward towards the supposed end of our day's walk and Bleaklow beyond. Ana only has herself to blame for this, after repeatedly demonstrating her newfound speed and fitness, but I started to get my hopes up with a slightly more audacious idea. Tentatively, at first, I suggested the idea that we could maybe just continue and instead of resisting, she allowed me to go on and get carried away. She set us goals for the rest of the day that as long as we reached them on time, we could keep going. So, by 2pm, at our supposed end point... guess what happened?..
This was exciting to me for a multitude of reasons: 1) We would complete our trip in exactly the hopeful/optimistically misleading/manipulative amount of time I'd initially said and planned. 2) I would get to finally complete the Peak 3 Peaks walk in a single day! 3) This would be an impressive turnaround from being behind to banging out a 50km final day to finish, my 2nd longest ever day walk. 4) This would smash Ana's record length for a walk and would hopefully make her proud of herself too.
As can be expected, I was filled with joy, excitement and energy at the opportunity to not only complete the walk but also complete even more goals than I ever anticipated at the beginning, probably annoyingly so again, so I apologised at the outset to avoid any misunderstandings in my optimism/patronising help/happiness. Everything was still pretty plain sailing over Bleaklow but we could see, approaching Kinder Scout, that the rain was very much coming. I always love how imposing Kinder looks from this angle, and the dark skies over the steep final climb just made it look even better. But once up and making our away towards Kinder Downfall the weather and darkness became wayyy more interesting.
Anyhow!.. Peak 3 Peaks complete!...
After the Downfall, the weather was horrendous by any standard... gales, torrential rain and thick fog. I have to admit it was on the borderline between exciting and scary but I had a rare hour or so of impressing both myself and the female by my endless familiarity with Kinder Scout. The visibility was down to about a foot, as the headtorches did nothing but light the fog in front of our faces, so it was very much a case of looking carefully in the darkness at each individual step and taking an age to get across the tops. What amazed me most was that every so often I'd see an individual rock that I recognised by the path or get a vague sense of being in the wrong direction and 3 times, within metres of losing our way, I had recognised it... stopped us and corrected us. Who needs a compass when you've got a weird sense of direction in your head anyway!
We eventually, with just the odd stumble, made it to the relative clarity of Jacob's Ladder - which still took an age to descend because the visibility didn't improve until we reached the packhorse bridge at the bottom - and decided to take the road back to Edale for a bit of speed at the end. It's amazing how much energy I get when the end is in sight, whereas Ana's poor limbs seem to go the other way... but there we have it... FINISHED!
424km in 16 days, with a final day of 50km.
Our feet (mine in particular) were absolutely buggered and had turned into a slimy, wet, bloody mush by this point - something I only really noticed once I got to sit down and relax for an hour or two. The ordeal wasn't quite over just yet anyway, as despite how proud we were, we soon found out that the pub (and village) was filled with ultramarathon runners from a race that day. Not only making them even hardier souls than us, but they had also filled up the campsite! Ana was a bit worried about this, but they were nice enough and had the great idea of just sneaking in alongside them too - so we had a bonus free night to finish up. The final downside was that I learnt a lesson... never trust those cheap, flimsy new green Co-op bags with waterproofing things. I admit I had got a bit lax with keeping my bag dry as it was the final day and who cared... I figured the carrier bags would do their usual job on the important things, but my sleeping bag had got sodden during that walk so I spent a chilly final night under our travel towel instead.
Day 17: Edale - York
We woke up to a lovely morning, once again, after a few damp hours of sleep and headed straight off to the Penny Pot Cafe for breakfast before the train home and a well earnt/much needed bath.
Appendix.
The title of this, 'A Walk Towards Edale', came from some great words of advice from the guy we bumped into in Slaggyford... that it's always premature to say you're doing the Pennine Way until you've completed it. A sprained ankle can happen at any time!
'Si se la puede, con ganas!' in English means 'If you can do it, with enthusiasm/gusto!' - Ana used to have this phrase to shout back between themselves in Tae Kwon Do, so we repurposed it for when she was feeling lesserly enthusiastic.
Ana has a massive fear/dislike of, as she calls them, 'midgets'. For which I just love the imagery as she's waving wildly trying to scare the midgets, complaining at the midgets biting her ankles or even trying to kill a load of midgets in the tent.
At Tan Hill we just so happened to sit down at a table next to two guys, one of whom lives just a few doors down from Ana in York... small world!
If anyone finds some blue and white swimming shorts just north of the A66, I'd love them back - I lost them whilst pegged to my bag after our swim the day before.
And who designed camping spoons with such a low melting point? Ana thought it was my fault at first, as usual with what she calls my "little axe hands" (I'm sure it makes more sense in Spanish), but it's always satisfying when it's her turn to mix and the same thing happens to her. Lovely new ladle at least!
Also fun to remind her of our last camping trip when my little axe hands 'carelessly' tore her sleeping bag bag and she was angry (absolutely fuming) for no less than 3 hours. She did the same to mine this time. I've never been happier at something breaking.
Credits
Myself, obviously, for spending a bloody age writing this and making us go in the first place. Ana, obviously, for being Ana and coming with me. My Ma and Mark for taking us up to Kirk Yetholm and bringing us extra stuff at Tan Hill. The rest of my family for tolerating me and the horrible version of myself for a few years and somehow getting me through to the point of managing to do all of this again (and Ana again too). All of the lovely people who gave some money towards Edale MRT. All the friendly people who gave us water, spare gas, advice on places to stop along the way and all that...
And now... what else but to plan the next one!