The Pennine Way - 24th June 2015 - Edale to Crowden - Stepping Out

Edale

The walk started on a bright and sunny morning much as it had the previous year and we followed the usual rituals of taking photos at the start and after almost a year of planning and anticipating this moment, the walk had begun. The Vale of Edale looked resplendent and unchanged, unlike myself, as my preparation for the walk had been vastly superior to my failed attempt of a year earlier and had involved losing a great deal of body weight, as well as specific training, including carrying heavy rucksacks and running in my local mountains. We set off in high spirits, across fields and following lanes until we reached the foot of the first climb up a steep stone staircase onto the vast peat plateau of Kinder Scout. This we achieved with a minimum of fuss and we enjoyed the views from the plateau's edge as we proceeded towards the downfall, which on this visit was nothing more than a thin trickle of water tumbling into the abyss. 

Bridge at the start of Jacob's Ladder

Climbing Jacob's Ladder

Although I was overjoyed to be on the trail again, it felt that something was wrong. The previous year, I had set off alone on a great adventure, just me and my wits travelling to the Scottish Border, but this time I had company and somehow, it didn't feel right. Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed walking with Alan, I felt as though this time I was cheating, as though being with another walker was somehow 'copping out'. This feeling was of course absurd but it was one that persisted throughout the first half of the walk until Alan's injury. I found I was constantly reminding myself that I was here to experience this great adventure and whenever this thought occurred, I would deliberately stop talking and just observe my surroundings as I walked and attempt to simply 'be', taking in everything around me in an attempt to experience the walk on some other level. I do this when walking alone, I regularly make a conscious effort to stop my internal conversation so that my mind is simply absorbing my surroundings. With a walking partner, this is not always an option. As we descended from the plateau, we passed a group of walkers watching a hovering kestrel and had a brief conversation with them before descending to reach a vast stretch of moorland, whose only real feature was the slab pavement stretching as far as the eye could see. This we gratefully followed as we wondered what this section would have been like without this artificial pathway during really wet conditions. 

Noe Stool, Kinder Scout

Kinder Reservoir

 The vast Kinder plateau we had descended from loomed large to our right and we covered the two or three miles across the moor quickly. We crossed the Snake Pass and clambered through peat groughs and along a small stream, which we had to cross a number of times before we reached the summit of Bleaklow Head. From here we began the long descent to Torside in impressive surroundings as the narrow path skirted the top of the deep valley of Wild Boar Clough and headed towards the reservoirs in the valley below. 

The Kinder Plateau

On Bleaklow Head

  

Descending to Torside

The campsite at Crowden was as I remembered it from the previous year except that the warden had changed from the open, chatty man of the previous year to a reserved, rather guarded woman who did relax a little after we had chatted with her for a while. The shop however was very poorly stocked and Alan struggled to find something to eat, which didn’t do anything for his mood. This was further exacerbated by the midges, which were numerous and caused Alan problems as his reaction to the bites was quite severe. Patrick, came over to speak to us numerous times during the evening. He had been at the campsite at Crowden the night before the start of the walk and was walking from Lands End to John O’Groats for the fourth time in five years. Also present were a couple who seemed intent on keeping themselves to themselves and two guys from the Edale campsite who, as I never discovered their real names, I mentally dubbed ‘Beardy and Bandanna’, they were doing just three days of The Way. After dinner, we sought refuge from the midges by retiring early to our tents, where I fell asleep after listening to music on my MP3 player.

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La Sportiva Ultra Raptors

In 2011, I hiked the UK's Coast to Coast trail, which is a 190 mile route that crosses three National Parks on it's way from the Cumbrian coast to the North Yorkshire coast. Towards the end of the hike, the weather turned and we walked for the last three days in rain, which was often torrential. On the first of these days across the Cleveland Hills, we stopped for a break in a cafe where there were numerous Coast to Coast hikers sheltering from the appalling conditions. As we sat in the steamy atmosphere of the cafe, drying off and enjoying hot drinks and food, I realised that all of us, without exception were soaked to the skin. This was despite the fact that we were all wearing waterproof clothing, mostly Goretex, from various reputable manufacturers, ranging from mid-range brands to the most expensive. It occurred to me then that for all the manufacturers claims that none of the so called 'waterproof' clothing was coping with the amount of water being thrown at it. Sure, some of it was undoubtedly sweat that was building up - this was July after all - and not escaping through the sodden garments but that wouldn't account for the totally saturated base layers and wet trousers under the waterproof over-trousers. It was during these three days that I realised that 'waterproof' is a nebulous term. Despite the manufacturers claims, no garments can keep out water for long if enough is thrown at it for sustained periods. There are many ways that water gets under waterproof gear, through sleeves, necks, over the tops of boots, zips, and also through the outer layer of a waterproof item that is wetting out. Of course, gear manufacturers are keen to talk about the need for proofing their clothing so the water beads up and rolls off allowing the fabric to perform at it's most 'breathable'. This is another term that is bandied about my the manufacturers but again this is a nebulous term. A breathable garment will still get wet inside if the conditions are 'right' and the amount of perspiration overloads the fabric. One of the biggest problems with multi-day hiking in bad weather is wet boots. Boots with a 'waterproof' membrane, once soaked, take an age to dry so you are likely to be putting on damp or wet boots each day unless you are fortunate enough to have access to drying facilities. After I returned from the Coast to Coast walk, I began questioning the accepted 'wisdom' of hiking in full waterproof gear and waterproof hiking boots. I began reading various blogs on the internet and was surprised to discover that many other hikers had come to similar conclusions to myself, particularly with regard to footwear. The days of long distance hikers clomping around in heavy leather, goretex lined boots, are being challenged by a new wave of lightweight hikers who appear to have come to the same conclusion that I had. When walking in the rain just accept that you are going to get wet! 

Based on my experiences on the Coast to Coast and what I had subsequently read, I recently put this theory to the test while hiking the Pennine Way. This 268 mile National Trail is the countries oldest trail and has something of a reputation as being an arduous slog through endless, featureless peat covered bogs where it virtually always rains. This coupled with the fact that fell walking legend, Alfred Wainwright, when writing his guide to the trail had a torrid time with the conditions, only added to this negative reputation, which in my opinion, having now walked it, is totally unwarranted. 

I had decided that for the hike, I would walk in non-waterproof, trail running shoes with fairly thin, quick drying socks. I would also walk in lightweight, quick drying shorts and take no waterproof trousers as I now really do not like walking in long trousers, having walked solely in shorts for a number of years. I had purchased some La Sportiva Ultra Raptors for the Pennine Way, which weigh in at around 340 grams per shoe, meaning I would be lifting far less weight with each footstep than if I had been wearing leather boots. During the walk, the weather was mostly fine to start with but we did have a morning of heavy rain on the fifth day when I got my first chance to try out my theory. My feet were very quickly wet but after the initial 'strangeness' of water filling the shoes I soon got used to it and could see the excess water draining through the top of my La Sportiva Ultra Raptors. The idea is that the rain, though it can easily get in, can also easily drain out and it appeared that this is exactly what was happening. Once the rain stopped, my feet very quickly began to dry out and during the afternoon, which turned dry and sunny, my trails shoes also dried out. This was a revelation as it meant that I was going to finish the day with dry feet and shoes. 

The ultimate test came on the last day of the Pennine Way, a marathon 25 mile yomp across the Cheviot Hills from Byrness to the end of the walk in Kirk Yetholm. Shortly after setting off at 5am, the rain started and continued for most of the 10.25 hours that it took me to finish the hike. It rained heavily virtually all day and my feet were wet almost from the start. I squelched my way through wet peat bogs most of the day and waded through puddles that swamped the paved sections and when I dropped down off of the hills into the valley, my feet and lightweight shorts dried as I hiked along the tarmac into Kirk Yetholm. The Ultra Raptors provided me with 268 miles of quick drying comfort and this method of dealing with walking in rain will now be my default setting. I much preferred simply getting wet and then quickly drying without having to put on wet boots each day or having wet trousers flapping around my legs . At the end of each day on the trail in the campsites, other walkers tended to their blisters while I suffered no such problems. 

Of course, this approach will not be suitable for walking in colder, winter conditions but this could easily be resolved by the addition of short, goretex socks or returning to leather, goretex boots. The Ultra Raptors were a delight to wear being extremely comfortable and lightweight with a sturdy, grippy sole and I liked them so much that when I returned back home, I returned to the outdoor shop where I had purchased them and bought a second pair that I found reduced by 30% in the sales. 

Afterthoughts

The following morning, I made my way through the rain to the local railway station, which was located a little outside of the town. The Carlisle to Settle railway line travels through some of the most spectacular upland countryside in England and I had a long held ambition to travel it. Although this trip would only take in a section of this iconic line, I was looking forward to it very much, so I was hugely disappointed to choose the carriage containing an outrageously drunken Scotsman. This oaf spent the entire journey shouting and swearing loudly and drinking cans of beer while at the same time insulting the English and any walkers entering the carriage at each stop along the way. I mentally detached myself from this disturbance and tried to enjoy the scenery we passed through and as we crossed the Ribblehead Viaduct, which I had last seen through the haze on my walk from Horton in Ribblesdale to Hawes, I could clearly see the Pennine Way as it climbed over the hills in the distance and I found myself wishing I was still there rather than trapped with the drunken idiot at the other end of the carriage. 

Before too long, I arrived in Settle and spent a few hours wandering around the shops, cafes and pubs while awaiting a lift from my uncle. He was coming to collect me from his home in North Wales where I was going to spend the holiday weekend, having not seen him since he had moved there many years earlier. Soon, we were greeting each other in a car park in the centre of town and before long I found myself speeding along motorways to his home where I spent a very pleasant four days being introduced to the highlights of the North Wales scenery, albeit by car. 

Having returned home and spent a few days reflecting, I soon realised that I really shouldn't have undertaken the walk. My health had been adversely affected by the shingles virus and although I wasn't in any pain, my energy levels, and therefore my mood, were both very low. Most of the problems I had encountered along the way I would have dealt with without any great problem had I been in good health. Having 'dumped' most of my camping gear, which to be fair, was quite old, I set about purchasing newer, better quality replacements and began making plans to walk the northern half of the trail. I still cringe at the thought of littering the countryside - one of my pet hates - but my mood at the time was thunderous and all other considerations ended up in the bottom of the hollow with my failing gear. The following year, I did look to see if it was still there with the intention of picking it up and disposing of it properly but of course, it had gone. I hope someone got some use out of it!

The Pennine Way South - Keld to Kirkby Stephen - 22nd May 2014

Swaledale

I awoke to rain. The long promised 'weather' had finally arrived as if to signal the end of my trip along the Pennine Way and I was now faced with a walk to Kirkby Stephen along the Coast to Coast path to enable me to get transport home. Had the bus service still been running, I would have avoided walking in the rain for the duration of the trip. As it was, I left the guesthouse wearing my waterproofs for the first time and hoped that I could remember the way as I had no maps or guidebook for the Coast to Coast route and I was also faced with having to walk it in the reverse direction. As the section to Kirkby Stephen involved some fairly remote moorland, I was keen to make sure that I didn't stray off of the path. As it turned out, apart from one minor aberration, I managed to keep to the path for the whole trip, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I walked without stopping through heavy rain as I squelched through peat bogs, arriving very wet and bedraggled in Kirkby Stephen in a little under 4.5 hours. I walked to the far end of the town to a guesthouse I had used on the Coast to Coast walk in 1998 and was amazed when the door was answered by the same woman. Unfortunately, she had no rooms available but phoned a friend who soon arrived in her car and drove me to her guesthouse a short distance away. After cleaning up, I called home and later made my way into town for a meal in a local pub. My Pennine Way adventure was over for now at least.   

The Pennine Way South - Hawes to Keld - 21st May 2014

Meadow near Hardraw

I'm not a big fan of guesthouses that have a communal breakfast table rather than individual tables for each room. This isn't because I'm particularly unsociable but because you are forced to eat with whomsoever happens to be staying at the guesthouse at the time. Mostly, this is no problem, because the vast majority of people are friendly and sociable but there is always the odd person who just doesn't want to play the game and this was one of those mornings when I drew the short straw. I was sat with two walkers, one of whom was reasonably chatty but his friend was one of those people you wish you hadn't met. He wasn't directly unpleasant but just sat answering questions with a single word and had unfriendly aura that just made me uncomfortable. I ate breakfast quickly, paid my bill and was relieved to be outside in the fresh morning air on another beautiful day. 

River Ure

After a brief walk around the centre of Hawes, I headed out across the River Ure and through meadows carpeted with yellow flowers towards Hardraw, where the main attraction is the Green Dragon pub with it's Hardraw Force waterfall in the 'back garden'. This is a popular attraction that the pub owners charge to visit but as it was early morning and I have an aversion to paying to enjoy natural landscape features, I passed the pub without slowing my pace. Having spurned the 'opportunity' of paying to see the waterfall, I followed a walled lane and began the long five mile climb to the summit of Great Shunner Fell. 

Great Shunner Fell

I had expected this to be a hard climb but in the event, it wasn't, just a fairly long, steady plod with ever widening views back to Wensleydale. As I climbed higher, I could see the Buttertubs Pass over to my right, which from here appeared as nothing more than a loose thread dangling from an item of clothing, reduced as it was to insignificance in the surrounding vast expanse of moorland. This illusion was occasionally shattered by the appearance of a minute vehicle struggling up the impossible gradient. Soon, I became aware of a long, whaleback protuberance on the horizon ahead and realised that this was the summit of Great Shunner Fell, not what I was expecting at all. Towards the right of this frankly unimpressive 'lump' in the surrounding moorland, I could make out what appeared to be the stone wind shelter on the summit and it wasn't long before I had reached it and removed my pack and took advantage of the convenient seat in the shelter. What the summit lacked in aesthetic appeal, it more than made up for in the view from it's top. I had a virtual 360 degree panorama including Fountains Fell and Pen y Ghent, which I had climbed over two days earlier. 

Approaching Swaledale

To the north I could clearly see the brilliant white 'golf ball' of the radar tracking station on Great Dun Fell, which I now would not reach until I returned to complete the walk. After a short rest break, I followed the path from the summit in the direction of Keld and stopped for a while to chat to a very friendly man who was checking out the route for a forthcoming cancer charity walk. He had come from the Tan Hill Inn, which was clearly visible in the distance and after chatting to him for a while I discovered that he had passed Neil in Keld, who had left Hawes earlier than me as he was planning to walk further. 

I myself was stopping at Keld, a place I knew quite well having stayed there before on two previous occasions while doing the Coast to Coast walk. The village is a tiny, remote outpost at the head of Swaledale and as the Pennine Way and the Coast to Coast both pass through, is something of a crossroads. In past years, finding somewhere to sleep and eat could present a problem because of the limited accommodation. This is still an issue but there is at least a small hotel in what used to be the Youth Hostel, so a beer and a meal is now available in the village. I also noticed that the campsite that I and my friend Alan had stayed at in 2011 has now entered the 'glamping' market with three large 'yurts' where tents used to be pitched and also a 'luxury' bunkhouse in what was a basic barn for campers to eat in the when the weather was wet. As I bade the friendly walker 'goodbye' and continued descending, the sun broke through the cloud and magnificent views opened out of Upper Swaledale. 

Upper Swaledale

I descended to the village of Thwaite with a mixture of joy at the scene unfolding in front of me and sadness knowing that my time on the Pennine Way was drawing to a close, at least for now. I had decided to finish at Keld and catch a small local bus that ran twice a day to the town of Richmond, where I would then check out the transport options for returning south. Thwaite was quickly left behind and I climbed from meadows to Kisdon House and then followed an uncomfortable, stone strewed path while trying to enjoy the fantastic view of the River Swale as it made it's way through the narrow, winding valley below. 

Soon, Keld came into view and I made my way to the hotel in the village where I purchased a pint of Black Sheep bitter and enquired about the buses from the barman who informed me that there was no longer any service in the village. Due to the lack of people using it, the service had been terminated the month before so I would now be forced to review my plans once more. For the time being, I wasn't worried though and I took my beer outside into the sunshine and had a friendly conversation with three people also enjoying their drinks in the sun. 



Later, I crossed the road and checked into my room at the Butt House guesthouse and that evening, had another communal meal with numerous friendly and chatty people, who it transpired were from America and Tasmania, making me the only English person in the room. The meal was in stark contrast to how I had started the day and after an interesting conversation and some great food, I retired to my room fairly early as usual to contemplate my options for the following day.   

The Pennine Way South - Horton in Ribblesdale to Hawes - 20th May 2014

Heading across the moors to the Cam High Road

The previous evening, after checking in at the Crown Hotel, I had left my room and returned downstairs where I encountered a familiar face who greeted me as I entered the bar. After a moments confusion, I suddenly realised that I had sat close to the person who now introduced himself to me as Neil, days earlier in the Bay Horse pub in Cowling. Although we hadn't spoken at the time, I remembered him because he was also alone and I had wondered at the time if he was a walker. We both ordered a pint and sat at one of the tables in the bar and it turned out that Neil was walking part of the Pennine Way. We sat and chatted for some time and I discovered that he was from Gateshead in the north-east, which from his fantastic accent was not really a surprise. We spent the rest of a convivial evening dining and drinking together in the bar before I decided that I had had enough and retired to my room fairly early. 

The Cam High Road

In the morning, as I paid my bill in the bar, Neil was there and we set off together in the direction of Hawes where we both had rooms booked for the night. Although, according to the guidebook, this leg of the walk was a fourteen mile stretch, because the route followed wide, walled tracks across the moors, it felt shorter and easier than the previous days 'yomp' over Fountains Fell and Pen-y-Ghent. This was partly because it only involved one ascent but it was also because it was a long, gradual climb that was easy underfoot. The weather conditions, although fine, were very 'hazy' and it was difficult to make out much detail in the surrounding landscape. Having said this, the walking was excellent and Neil and myself soon found ourselves high above Horton. As we neared the summit of Jackdaw Hill, my mobile phone suddenly burst into life and I bade a temporary farewell to Neil as I took advantage of the signal to reply to messages. 

A hazy Snaizeholme Valley

Keeping in contact with my wife and family had been one of the frustrations of the walk, particularly in Horton, where there was virtually no signal. I had been advised by the barman in the hotel to try standing on the bridge over the river across from the hotel but this had not worked. Thankfully, there was a public phone in the village and I had used this to 'report in' and let my wife know that I was okay. After sending my messages, I continued in pursuit of Neil who by now was out of sight. The Pennine Way joined the Dales Way for a short distance and I was slightly disappointed that the view from here to the Ribblehead Viaduct, which should have been superb, was less than impressive in the strangely murky conditions. It was along this section, known as the Cam High Road, where I caught up with Neil and we walked together for the rest of the days section to Hawes. 

Entering Hawes

The walking was quite easy as we followed the walled West Cam Road over Dodd Fell and enjoyed occasionally excellent views into the impressive Snaizeholme Valley when the haze cleared a little. It wasn't too much longer before we were in the streets of Hawes, an attractive, busy little town and we headed for the nearest pub and sat outside enjoying a pint in the sun, which had now put in an appearance. Later, after we had checked into our respective guest houses, we met up for a meal in another pub in the town centre before retiring fairly early once again.

Hawes street scene

The Pennine Way South - Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale - May 19th 2014

Malham Cove

Despite my sudden release from the failures of my camping equipment and the reduction in weight caused by the 'burial ceremony', I now had a new set of problems. Without the tent, I knew that my budget would not extend to using guesthouses for the whole route and this, coupled with the knowledge that a bank holiday was looming meant that I was forced to re-evaluate my plans. Many guesthouses in the UK are unwilling to take bookings of less than two nights at weekends and with the approaching weekend being a holiday weekend, this would mean that most, if not all in the Yorkshire Dales National Park would require bookings of three days minimum, and this was always assuming that they had a room free anyway. I knew that Bowes was around the halfway point so I decided that if I could get there before the bank holiday, I would end my trip there and return at a later date to complete the northern half of the walk. I turned these thoughts over in my mind as I walked out of Malham towards Malham Cove and decided that despite the disappointment of not finishing the walk, this was now probably the best option. The weather was still fine, the rain that had long been forecast still had not materialised and I began the steep climb up the path alongside the impressive limestone cliffs of the cove. 

Limestone pavement, Malham Cove

Malham Cove

Once on top, I crossed the equally impressive limestone pavement as I made my way to the edge and peered over the dizzying drop to the path below. It was at this point that I became aware of a birdwatcher on the opposite side of the cove sitting with a tripod and a very long telephoto lens and as I stood loooking in his direction, I saw what I took to be a peregrine falcon plummet out of the sky in an incredibly fast dive before pulling up at the last minute and disappearing into a crevice in the cliffs. It was clear that the 'twitcher' was watching the falcons aerobatic displays but he seemed to be unhappy with my presence as I could feel him staring at me constantly while I took in the views from the top of the cove. Reminding myself that I had as much right as him to be there, I took plenty of photos before turning round and heading off along the narrow, rocky defile of Watlowes Valley. 

Watlowes

My guide book describe the day as ' a sensational day's walk' and so it proved. Soon, I was skirting around the attractive Malham Tarn before heading off on a long haul up to the summit of Fountain's Fell. This, as the book suggested, was 'real' walking country and I had the whole place to myself for the climb to the summit, which I reached and then stopped to stare in admiration at the superb view of Pen-y-Ghent, one of the Yorkshire Three Peaks and the next objective on the walk. Unencumbered by the pack, I was making quick progress and as I descended, I passed two walkers, the first 'real' walkers I had seen all morning but I soon had the place to myself again. I knew this was set to change once I reached Pen-y-Ghent but for now I revelled in the solitude and the fantastic scenery. Leaving the road along valley floor, I headed off on a track towards the now imposing summit of Pen y Ghent, that now I was down on the floor of the valley, had taken on almost 'Himalayan' proportions. I decided I would have a break before the start of the climb to the summit at the point where an alternative path branched off to Horton in Ribblesdale, thereby avoiding the climb to the summit. Much as the thought of arriving at my destination without the effort involved in the climb appealed, I had no intention of taking the easy option, despite having climbed Pen y Ghent before. 

Pen y Ghent

As I sat in the shelter of a dry stone wall at the path junction for a breather, I smiled as I recalled that previous ascent many years before. Myself and a friend had driven from the south of England and started walking from Horton along this alternative path to start the climb to the summit. As it had been quite a long drive, we both had a sudden need to relieve ourselves but the countryside provided no cover so, after checking that there was no-one around, both took the advantage of the solitude and relieved ourselves by the side of the path. We were therefore a little embarrassed to discover as we climbed up to the path junction where I now sat that there was a group of people sheltering by the wall who judging by the grins on their faces as we approached had 'enjoyed' a grandstand view. Oh well, when you've got to go etc..... After a short break reminiscing, I shouldered my now lightweight pack and began to climb. Although steep, the climb did indeed take me 'only fifteen minutes of panting' as my guidebook suggested. Once on the summit, I enjoyed stunning views and had a short conversation with a walker enquiring about the virtues of walking with two poles. I gave him my thoughts on the subject and then jogged down the steep grassy path that ran parallel to the far more difficult looking rocky 'main path' using the poles to almost 'vault' down the hill. As the path levelled out somewhat, I slowed down and enjoyed a leisurely stroll into Horton in Ribblesdale. 

Heading into Horton in Ribblesdale

As I arrived at the road in the village and marvelled at my good fortune with the weather, I felt spots of rain fall on my head. Amazed at the coincidence, I looked up to see a large black cloud overhead and jogged through the village to my hotel just as the heavens opened. These were the first spots of rain that I had experienced on the walk so far and proved to be the last on the Pennine Way.