The Pennine Way // day 11 // Tan Hill - Middleton-in-Teesdale

The Pennine Way, day 11.
Distance: 27.0km (260.1km), time spent: 9:11.
Weather: Rain, the wet.

Rain and thunder all night, and a comfortable bed, had secured a good nights sleep for me. Then I was dry and warm inside the Tan Hill Inn, located alone in an ocean of moorland. But the fact was, I had to leave that safe home for the rainy onslaught outside its doors. It would be a very wet day, and I would be assaulted from more than one side on this walk. From the windows, I could stare out at that empty wet expanse I would have to cross, no mercy from the Pennine Way there.

There is no escaping the moors and the rain today.

Henry and Ana left before me, I could see them as two small figures heading their way into a large open moorland. For from Tan Till, the route takes you straight into the heart of the Sleightholme Moor. There was no denying it, I was going to get real wet on my feet today. In a way, I probably would have been better off walking barefoot, the surface would have been very soft to walk on.

Sleightholme Moor.

Fortunately, and with a false hope, the rain had stopped when I stepped out of the door from the warmth inside to the chill outside. However, it did not take very long, both in time and distance, for it to start up again. Even without the wet element pouring down from the sky, this would be the most squelchy surface I have met so far on the Pennine Way. I feel that the sounds I am making when I push my feet up and down drowns out the sounds of the rain.

Sleightholme Farm.

Bleak farms and scenery.

Sleightholme Moor is a wide and flat expanse of dark moorland, made even darker by the grey and heavy clouds covering every direction of the horizon. It is with a yearning to go back that I look back at the Tan Hill Inn, getting incrementally smaller as I slowly progresses forward. For the going is slow. Not only because of the peat and bog, but also from finding the route. Over the moor, the route the Pennine Way takes follows white-tipped wooden marker posts. Problem is, there are several of them, not all of them going in the same direction. The creek forcing its way through the heath, Frumming Beck, is then a navigational marker good as any. I cannot imagine a more bleaker place on the Pennine Way.

God's Bridge.

Finally reaching some firm footing, in the form of a gravel track, the route ventures to go a little above the creek and goes past a line of small cubicles used for grouse shooting. It is a long walk on the gravel track, in the same weather, seeing the same denuded scenery around me. Sleightholme Farm is passed by, looking just as soaked and sodden as I must be looking. Further ahead of me I can see Henry and Ana going around a field in a wide circle, avoiding the path. Arriving at the same spot, I understand why, there appear to be a bull standing firm in the middle of the field (and path). I go around in a wide circle.

Henry walking over wet moorland on Dryrigg Moss.

This is the part of the trail where the Pennine Way hits another loop. Only this time there is no funky town to talk about. As an alternative to the main route, going in the uncertain route ahead regarding accommodation, there is a signposted route to Bowes. If there was something drawing my attention thither, it would be the mentioning of a castle in the guidebook, but my thoughts do not send me in that direction. I head for the continuing bleakness on the original path. The loop is closed just after Clove Lodge in Baldersdale.

View back from Cotherstone Moor.

If you do not consider the wet, bleak and dark moorland already passed through after Tan Hill a highlight, there are not that many to speak of on this stage of the Pennine Way. Counting as one might be the huge slab of stone forming a natural bridge over the river Greta, God’s Bridge. It is an impressive piece of rock and whatever is the reason for its name, it is the closest thing to being funky on this stage.

Cloud formations.

The Way crosses a busy road, thankfully under it, through a tunnel with a small creek as floor. Henry and Ana are having a rest at the end of the tunnel, along with the cadets I briefly saw through the torrents of rain and thunder yesterday. Pasture End it is called here, although I could not remember being at the start of it. The houses here feel misplaced in all the emptiness of the surrounding moors.

Hay bales, rain and Blackton Reservoir after Clove Lodge.

Blackton Reservoir.

Another long and bleak moorland traverse follows. When Henry, Ana and I arrives at the Clove Lodge, we have had our share of trying to escape the peaty wounds, open waterholes, expanding creeks and muddy pits thrown in our way. In the guidebook, Baldersdale is the end of a stage where you might or might not find a place to stay for the night. When we walk soaked and slightly cold up to the farm, we are greeted by a welcoming signboard. There is accommodation to be found here at a bunkhouse provided by the farm, and walkers passing through are also welcomed to take a break inside.

Cadets in rain.

That is something we appreciate in full and venture inside to find a cozy place where we can cook up a cup of coffee each for a small donation. There was supposed to be cake in the refrigerator, but I guess somebody else beat us to it. This is a place I know I would be happy to stay at for the night, with a nice fireplace to sit in front of too. The owners also advertise they can prepare a dinner meal upon request. You have to give credit to the owners of the Clove Lodge farm for this place. Too early to stop, though, it was tempting.

Grassholme Bridge. Henry and Ana crossing over the Grassholme Reservoir.

Rain is intensifying when we leave the place and water is everywhere as the route goes past several reservoirs. We cross paths with the cadets several times, and even though it is raining, I fall behind. Still obsessed with looking around, braving the occasional picture here and there. There is a farm with a known garden open to the public called Hannah's Meadow passed by, but in the soaking I get and that it appear closed, I do not look it out closer. Another nice bridge is crossed, Grassholme Bridge, but there is nothing natural about this one.

Grassholme Reservoir.

Going up towards the Harter Fell, there is a change in the air. The rain slowly abates but leaves the gloomy sky to promise us more. I have caught up again with Henry and Ana, on the slopes going past some empty looking farms and barns. In one of the farms, we find a tuck shop. An evil tongue will probably say that this is something they have put out to extract some extra money from the weary travelers, but I think otherwise. For some hikers, this might be what gets them through the day, actually, and I like to encourage this further. Not really necessary, but I have a can of soda water and pay accordingly in the trust box.

A path through Lunedale. A solitary path through a solitary field leading up to a solitary farm. Henry and Ana approaching the top.

This is the last hill of the day, before the way heads down towards the final respite from the rain in Middleton-in-Teesdale. We talk about what I will do when I have finished the Pennine Way (if I make it). I have a return ticket from Edinburgh, and they inform me that I would be there in the middle of the Fringe Festival. It will be really cool they assure me. I do not doubt that, but I also fear that it will be another shock to the system after returning from so many days without being in the throng of people.

Looking back beneath Harter Fell.

The walk down to Middleton-in-Teesdale is pleasant. There are actually blue dots in the sky above us. As earlier mentioned, they have their place booked for the night, I have not. I follow them to the same place they will stay at, the Belvedere Bed & Breakfast. There is a room for me there too, and it is a wonderful room also. Almost too good I feel, walking into it with all the rain dripping from my clothes and backpack. It is always so strange, that good feeling to take a hot shower, after being out in a shower almost all day.

Approaching Middleton-in-Teesdale in a sudden clearing on the sky.

A slightly quirky town this is, at least when we are visiting it. There seems to be have some sort of a contest going on here, making the place full of strange and weird dolls and installations. It is fun going around looking at them. There is even a knitted shark threaded down upon a streetpole. Humpty Dumpty can be found too, and more.

A knitted squirrel streetpole.

Sometimes simple is good enough. We go for dinner at a small local pizza parlor, Pizza Force. Just a few tables and chairs inside, but it suffices for us. The man serving us asks for our names when ordering, to call out when we should collect the food. I have a difficult name when it comes to travelling abroad, Tarjei, but the man is of the pragmatic type. Looking at my bill I see that he has written ‘man with beige shirt’ on it. I have to give him credit for that, and a big hearty laugh.

Apparently the 1st prize in a contest here in Middleton-in-Teesdale.

This was a wet one, the wettest day since I walked from Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale (is there a connection between the use of 'in' in the name of the places I am going to, the word rain has 'in' in it too?). But for all the rain, I feel fine about the day. I have not paid much heed to my blood blisters lately, except keeping up my routine of cleaning them with antiseptic every morning and evening, they appear fine for the moment. The collapsed bridge in Grinton made the headnews on the TV and is on the front page of newspapers.

When you have a difficult name when travelling abroad...

<< Tan HillHigh Cup Nick >>

The Pennine Way // day 10 // Hardraw - Tan Hill

The Pennine Way, day 10.
Distance: 25.5km (233.1km), time spent: 9:56.
Weather: Almost everything, ascending from sun to thunder.

In hindsight, this was to be the best day on my hike of the Pennine Way, and to think of it that it was going to get ugly. And in a way it was, but in a good Pennine Way. Wanting to get across the Great Shunner Fell before the storm arrived, I was up for an early start, surprising myself when I managed to get out of my sleeping bag at half past four. Despite being only two tents at the campsite, the night had not been entirely quiet. The rabbits saw to that, their nightly activities was of the reproductive kind.

Squirrel jumping from stone to stone at the top of a fence in the morning.

With everything quiet around me, I wrap up the tent and all my belongings and walk down to the small utilitarian buildings of the campsite. There I prepare my breakfast and pack together. My tent is wet, a vanguard of the approaching rain appeared suddenly during the night. I am still trying to wash away the sleepiness in my eyes when I leave the small hamlet of Hardraw, there are no one else around. I am up and about at around a quarter to six in the morning.

View back towards Hawes in the morning, Ten End illuminated in the background to the right.

Up and about is all about Great Shunner Fell on the first part of this Pennine Way stage. In my guidebook, the walk over this renown fell is described as a treadmill in mist, crossing over a broad moorland crest that will be exposed in bad weather. And bad weather, at least according to the good people at Hardraw, is coming. There are little signs of that now, at least when I look in the direction I am going. Weather is surprisingly calm and nice. Ten End is bathed in the warm light from the morning sun, which I have yet to see.

At Bluebell Hill walking towards the lower slopes of Great Shunner Fell.

Peaceful it is, I spot a squirrel running on top of the stone fence I follow upwards. Then the mood gets more somber, as I start to pass by several dead rabbits about. Simon Armitage wrote about the same thing in his book Walking Home, but could not give an explanation of the mystery. I cannot shed any more light on the matter either. The sight brings a dark side to this bright morning, and can maybe sees as an omen of the things to come.

Sunrise over Stags Fell.

Tripping the light fantastic, scenery lighten up by the sunrise.

For the walk upward is lovely. I get the sunrise coming over the bulk of Stags Fell. Gently, the path is slowly undulating upwards on the lower slopes of Great Shunner Fell, providing views of the first of many so-called false crests that I will encounter. A warm light lies over the landscape, there is however a change of tune in the horizon behind me. Rising over the hills of Ten End and Wether Fell are clouds, in a lot darker variation than the ones already present on the sky.

View back towards Wensleydale.

With the sky turning darker behind me, I still walk unscathed towards Great Shunner Fell. There is a headwind and even if I can see the rain approaching behind me, it never reaches me. It is like it is being diverted to both sides of me, but never over me. When the darker clouds meets the brighter sky and clouds, the light becomes surrealistic. The gaps between the colliding clouds creates a lightshow almost worthy of a Jean-Michel Jarre concert.

Great Shunner Fell, there is something ominous behind that name.

It is however not difficult to understand the description in the guidebook that this could be a hard walk in pessimistic weather, although the introduced flagstone paths do have improved the footing upwards. When I finally arrive at the cross-shaped shelter at the top of Great Shunner Fell, I have had a wonderful walk up, but it took its time. With no rain and the only things falling from the sky was the focused rays of sunlight.

Directed sunrays through the clouds over distant moorlands.

Great Shunner Fell is the third highest in the Yorkshire Dales with its 716m. In the distance I can see Cross Fell, the highest point on the Pennine Way, I will be there in a couple of days. There is quite a lot of wind at the top while I am having a break. Quickly approaching is another Pennine hiker. He walks fast, but his backpack is accordingly light, telling me that while he walks his wife drives around in their camper van and picks him up when he has finished the stage of the day.

At the summit of Great Shunner Fell.

In the elevation profile of the trail, Great Shunner Profile can nearly be seen as a steep prominent peak rising tall to the sky, but as with statistics you need to read the captions carefully. It is all downhill from the top to the hamlet of Thwaite, but it is a mild descent to speak of. The other hiker stops up for some snack and offer me a surplus sandwich, which I gladly accepts. On the sky, Jean-Michel Jarre continues his lasershow. Or is it Pink Floyd, after all they were British. The great gig in the sky. Accompanying me on the way down are green rolling fields, with stone fences crossing over them in indefinite patterns and examples of the characteristic Yorkshire Dales barn.

Swaledale underneath a magical light.

The other hiker is quickly outpacing me on the rest of the way down. Thwaite is reached, a pleasant little village, but I am there too early to take advantage of any of the services provided. I was hoping to get a cup of coffee. The village lies suitable located between the two climbs on the stage between Hawes and Keld. I take the wrong way out of Thwaite, following the main road instead of a small road in the midst of the village.

The great gig in the sky.

Descent from Great Shunner Fell.

Whereas the Pennine Way over Great Shunner Fell was a walk over a broad expanse, the climb over Kisdon is more like a ridgewalk. There is blue sky above me when I climb up the grassy path. Starting out on the same time from Thwaite was a walking group, but they quickly lag behind. Before the Pennine Way heads round the western side of Kisdon, there are nice views back towards Thwaite with Great Shunner Fell behind.

Approaching Thwaite.

Leaving Swaledale, the path goes above a deep curved valley, never approaching the top of Kisdon itself. Instead it positions itself on the side, so that you can look down at the valleybottom with its river flowing through. Abandonded farms lies scattered around. Leaving the valley are small or bigger scars, with Buzzard Scar the most prominent, where a flowing creek forms several small waterfalls on the way down. A superb walk, but the surface is on the other hand uneven to walk on.

The unusual rare selfie, next to a Pennine Way wooden signpost in Thwaite.

Thwaite (on the wrong way out of the village).

It is when you come down to the scattered village of Keld that you will cross path with the hikers on the Coast To Coast trail. Given this, Keld can be busy with hikers and walkers, but I see no one else but the usual daywalkers when I arrive. It is lunchtime and I see fit to try out some new English cuisine at the Park Lodge Farm. Never in my mind would I have thought of making toast with spaghetti and cheese on top. It tastes strange, but is filling in the same strange way. The other group that left Thwaite arrives, having taken another route over Kisdon. Sitting not far away from me I can hear a familiar language, there are other Norwegians here.

On the slopes of Kisdon looking back towards Thwaite and Great Shunner Fell behind.

Forgetting all about the ugly weather, which I believe to have passed without notion, I set about exploring the surroundings of Keld. The village itself, although scattered and charming, is quickly done with. More time, however, is needed for the many waterfalls in the area. Here you will find the Catrake Force, Kisdon Force, Wain Wath Force and the East Gill Force. All the time in the world I do not have, so I make a less determined effort to see Catrake Force, but take my time visiting Kisdon Force.

The Pennine Way going below the top of Kisdon.

Timewise and walkwise, it is better to visit Kisdon Force on the approach to Keld, unless you plan to stay in Keld and have time after arriving. For me, that means I have to walk a little bit back on the Pennine Way, the reason why I did not visit it on the approach was simple. I was hungry. A nice little forest path takes you down to the river, the Swale. Kisdon Force lies in a beautiful setting surrounded by trees and consists of two waterfalls not far from each other.

Buzzard Scar.

Seeing that I have spent a lot of time in Keld, I have to return to the Pennine Way for the final leg of today. Back at Keld, the trail crosses the river on a bridge and passes by East Gill Force on the way up. This is also a wonderful little waterfall. Overconfident and happy to have escaped the bad weather, I walk up through the trees and arrives in the familiar open ground again. Then I take a look behind me.

Kisdon Force, one of several scenic waterfalls around Keld.

It came in the end, with a vengeance, a big black monster. Chasing me across the moors, by dark rumbles from above. Behind Kisdon, the sky is dark and now there is no escaping it. There is no question of if, but when. I set up my pace as dark clouds rolls in over me. Somehow it is quite fitting for the scene that awaits me. The dark moorland below the just as fittingly named Black Moor.

Keld.

At first there are only rumbles to be heard, no flashes of lightning and no heavy drops of water. I walk fast, wrapping my rain coat tightly around me, expecting the onslaught to begin any minute, but it does wait. An exhilarating feeling. Then the equally dark heath of Stonesdale Moor appear, leaving behind the few scattered stone barns I have passed by. A dark moorland in an ever darkening world. About twenty minutes before I arrive at the Tan Hill Inn, the rain finally starts pouring down.

On the way towards Stonesdale Moor and Tan Hill, chased by thunder.

Those twenty minutes are enough, I get soaked, but then the feeling of arriving at the highest pub in Britain is equally great. Inside it is warm with logs burning in the fireplace, people are sitting and looking out at the rain and thunder outside. The lightning finally arrives too, delivering another kind of lightshow on the sky. I have just got a bed in the bunkhouse, but it is a nice one. If I should complain about anything, it would be that the shower was cold.

Yorkshire stone barns and an approaching storm.

Seemingly it is a 'dramatic' afternoon. The rain causes flooding in a nearby village, Grinton, destroying a stone bridge and injuring a biker. Standing at the bar are two bikers, they are soaked and had droven over the bridge just before it collapsed. The water had reached them to their waists, fortunately for them they were driving motorbikes with high exhaust pipes. Paying for their beers, they are fishing out wet banknotes out of their pockets. The hostess has to dry them with a hairdryer, laughing in the process.

Stonesdale Bridge. Although I hoped to escape most of the rain gathering up behind me, I still had to walk down to this lovely little bridge and waterfall.

In weather like this, it feels great to sit inside a warm room and look out at the misery outside. There are a couple of breaks in the weather, and I venture out to take a look. Outside is a man looking expectantly towards the moors. There is a group of young cadets out on a drill and they are now braving this weather over the Stonesdale Moor. Later, I can see a small group of bedraggled figures coming through the torrents.

Warm inside the Tan Hill Inn.

Tan Hill Inn claims to be the highest inn in Britain, at 530m, and was the reason why I wanted to go here. Ana and Henry also walked here today and I spend the evening together with them. They live in London and work as math teachers. Each year, they try out new trails in England. In this weather, you need a solid meal, so I go for the Tan Hill classic Yorkshire pudding (sausage ring served on a bed of creamy mashed potatoes with freshly steamed vegetables in a giant Yorkshire pudding. Gravy pan on the side.).

Tan Hill Inn, the highest pub in Britain.

Earlier it was Jean-Michel Jarre and Pink Floyd, now it is Thor that holds a concert in the sky. He is less sophisticated, but it makes for a great evening when you are safe and sound inside. A wonderful day on the Pennine Way.

<< HardrawMiddleton-in-Teesdale >>

The Pennine Way // day 9 // Horton in Ribblesdale - Hardraw

The Pennine Way, day 9.
Distance: 24.5km (207.6km), time spent: 8:55.
Weather: Light rain and misty, then increasingly sunny and warm.

Morning rises, it is the ninth day on the Pennine Way and the weather outside my window is grey and miserable. Yesterday someone told me that it was going to be nice weather today, so I hope this is just the weather going through a serious case of morning grumpyness. Now all the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challengers has left the village and soon I will leave it too, and then I guess the village will return to its normal quiet self. At least until next weekend.

The Pennine Way leaving Horton in Ribblesdale on a gentle path between stone fences and next to lonesome barns, heading up into a landscape consisting of rolling hills and mild moorland.

While I am still quite downcast of the prospect of yet another misty and rainy day, I soon discover how atmospheric the world here appear in it. I also discover that there is another hotel here too, The Crown Hotel. Leaving Horton in Ribblesdale gently, the Pennine Way heads towards the hills on a path similar to the one going down from Pen-y-Ghent. Guarding the hikers from sheep are long stone fences on both sides, the rolling green fields and meadows are riddled with tiny white dots moving around. Old barns of stone stands lonesome in the middle of the fields. The valley below is ebbing in and out of view.

Looking back down at Horton in Ribblesdale.

Walking on a landscape that essentially consists of limestone, it is not surprising to know that there are a lot of caves around, both hidden and out in the open. In fact, if you carry a rope with you (or a ladder, more cumbersome), you can actually visit some of these caves. Today's walk pass by several of these, making for an interesting notion. I mostly get excited by what I see rising up from the ground, but there really are a lot of interesting things going down into the ground too. The first cave I pass by is the Sell Gill Holes. If you do not think about it, it only looks like a hole in the ground that the Sell Gill Beck falls down into, but if I have understood it correctly, you can actually climb down into it and find a cave. Mind you that the entrance here will be wet (there is supposed to be a dry entrance too though), and always be careful.

Ribblesdale. Rolling green fields, sheep and forgotten stone barns.

Gentle rolling hills and open moorlands is supposed to be the theme of the day. In other words, quite familiar, but at the same time I was not sure what to expect from this day. As the trail slowly progresses upwards, the clouds takes up more and more space. Around me are empty spaces of scenery. Seemingly empty of people too, until a group of other hikers suddenly appears out of the mist, walking relatively fast. Another set of challengers, not difficult to understand their pace, they have a timeframe to catch.

Disappearing in mist.

A forest appear in view, but sadly enough, the Pennine Way does not enter it. Larger forests feels like anomalies here in England, it is a rare sight to behold. The trail skirts around it from Birkwith Moor. Near a farm house, the Pennine Bridleway comes in from the East and with it two other Pennine Wayfarers. The first ones I see for some time now. Having taken a wrong turn, they had ended up on the bridleway instead. They are also carrying with them bad news regarding the weather, the forecast for the next days are close to abysmal. I will be in need of my rain coat for sure.

Gentle moorland hills.

The next cave is bigger than the previous one, Calf Holes. And more dramatic in appearance too, with waters pouring down into the hole on all sides almost. Something tells me that I do not want to fall down into the hole, but this cave is actually one that novices use for practice. Although it do involves the need for a rope or ladder and the spelunker needs to endure a flat-out crawl to come through it.

Water from the creek pouring down into the hole at Calf Holes.

There are not any true wilderness in England, but the open landscapes the Pennine Way takes you through sometimes makes it easy to imagine it to be. Only broken by the occasional scattered and lonesome farm, seen in the distance or lying next to the trail, like the forlorn looking farm before arriving at Ling Gill. This is a narrow gorge filled with trees, so dense that I can barely see that it is a gorge. Flowing into the gorge is a beck that I crosses over on a lovely old stone bridge. It is a similar setting to that at the foot of Jacobs Ladder, only that the path I walk on afterwards is not as steep.

Farm at Ling Gill.

Rising softly, the path goes up to Cam End where it joins what was once a Roman road, called Cam High Road. Signs on the sky indicates that the clouds also wants to seek higher grounds. The three Yorkshire Peaks are suddenly more prominent in the various horizons, Pen-y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough. Almost between Whernside and Ingleborough lies the Ribblehead Viaduct. Situated on the Settle-Carlisle railway line it is quite a historical viaduct, as its construction was started back in 1869. The viaduct was finished in 1874 and two years later the railway line was operational. By then the construction had cost the life of over 100 men (of a total workforce consisting of about 2300 men). It is 400m long and 32m tall at its highest point.

Ling Gill, a peaceful setting underneath the grey sky.

Walking not far from each other, me and the other couple on the Way, advances towards Kidhow on an easy gradient. Now below and to the right of us lies the Cam Woodlands, the forest the Pennine Way skirts around. Trees are clearly being cut from the forest. Cutting through the clouds are the sun, the warm light is welcome. Pen-y-Ghent can be seen in all its length from here. Almost at the top at Kidhow, we walk through the gates to Camm Farm, but the farm itself is nowhere to be seen. More notably are the solitary and remote farms seen in the distance, I wonder how life must be at them when the weather here is at its most hard and bleakest.

Looking towards Ingleborough and the Ribblehead Viaduct.

From Kidhow the Pennine Way brings me on a wonderful ridgewalk, going underneath the slopes of Dodd Fell towards Ten End. On the sky above, the clouds are broken up by patches of blue sky. In the valley below, the landscape is broken up by long line of stone fences. It is a patchwork of fields, with intricate structures indicating either sheepfolds or remains of old farm buildings. A flat stone next to a gate provides the perfect lunch spot.

Light is appearing when walking upwards towards Kidhow on the Cam High Road.

This has so far been a day that has drifted by in an extremely atmospheric and nice (Pennine) way. A surprisingly good day, even with the rather bleak weather uptil now. And although the scenery has been moorland, the path has been solid underfoot, even with the rain. Wet, but still solid. The scenery has changed both in view and surface from the earliest days on the Pennine Way.

On the lovely ridgewalk below Dodd Fell towards Ten End.

At Ten End the clouds are dispersing. So is the path. It leaves the firm track and heads up into the rolling hill, only that there are two paths. The signpost could be pointing to both of them, I take my pick of the one that looks most trodden, then discover that they joins together later. The path down towards Hawes is more featureless, although the ending point is clear enough. I am here talking about the path itself, not the view. Which is quite charming. Across the valley lies Great Shunner Fell, which will be the main attraction tomorrow.

Above Snaizeholme.

I feel warm again when I am down in Hawes, which appear to be a busy place. This is the usual ending point of this stage, and is where the two other hikers leaves the trail for the night. I find them at a local café and get to know their names, Henry and Ana. They have booked everything in advance, accommodation that is, which is one way to do it, but will not leave them much room for changes if anything should come up underway. I only stop for a beer in the now surprisingly warm weather, to buy some more provisions and withdraw some money. The first ATM rejects my card, but the second one is in a better mood towards me.

Descent towards Hawes.

Instead of Hawes, I had the tiny hamlet of Hardraw in mind, it would shorten the walking tomorrow a little. Arriving there after a short, but pleasant, stroll in the now sunny weather, I get an update on the grim news of earlier today. In the typical accent of the British, the warnings resonates between the locals when I ask about the weather for tomorrow. 'It is going to get nasty' one says. 'Yeah, it is going to get ugly' another responds. Whereas the first just repeats the same words, "yeah, it is going to get nasty". I take the point. When will it then be ugly I ask. From morning on they say, from nine o'clock and outwards.

English countryside with Great Shunner Fell behind.

I become unsure of what to do with this night. Carrying a tent heavy with water after a night of rain (if the rain should arrive earlier) is not funny, but it is not that what really bothers me. It is still that dislike of staying at campsites. They have rooms at The Green Dragon Inn, where I am at now.

Hawes, or the approach to the small town.

Eventually I decide to camp. There is no one at the campsite here, only one other tent, a huge one belonging to the people driving here in their big van. No one at the café managing the campsite either, a note tells me to leave the fee for camping in a given place. What there is a lot of at the campsite however, are rabbits. They are everywhere. I pitch my tent, get a shower and gets into my evening clothes. Then I go to visit the local attraction.

Mailbox adornments in Hawes.

Hardraw Force is with its 30m the highest single-drop waterfall in England, above ground. However, it is located on private land, so you have to pay an entrance fee to see it. As I arrive back at The Green Dragon Inn, the people who manages the entrance drives away. I was just too late. A local man tells me that I can just jump the gate, but looking at it I do not feel comfortable doing that, even if I should leave behind the entrance fee outside the café.

Hawes with Ten End behind.

I just return to the inn and settle in for dinner (pie with chips, peas and gravy) and some beers. It is a cozy inn though, looking a little bit out of time this too. Kind of the ones you read about in fantasy novels, it is not hard to see the inspiration some authors may have had at some places here in England. In the end, I head back to the campsite. Still just mine and the other tent there, we have a lot of space to share, along with the rabbits. Tomorrow it is going to get ugly.

Inside the cozy Green Dragon Inn in Hardraw.

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