Distance: 23.5km (169.3km), time spent: 7:46.
Weather: Overcast, then rain, rain, rain.
Finally I was to heed the advice of the apothecary. Yesterday I decided to go for a zero day here in Malham and since the youth hostel was fully booked for today, I had booked a room at the Miresfield Farm B&B. To fill up the day, I thought I would only go for short and easy walks around the area. It was supposed to rain a lot, but it was not the wet weather that formed the decision to wait a day, it was my feet.
Malham Cove.
Then I look out of the window in the morning, forgetting all about my plan.
The winding irregular stone stairs leading up to the top of Malham Cove.
Outside there was no rain, in fact, it looked lighter than yesterday. And my stubborn reluctance towards not walking came in play, never the wiser I decided to go. Going down to Miresfield, I apologized and cancelled my booking and then went to The Old Barn Café for breakfast. I was late on the way. Walking through the village, I pass by Clarissa coming from the opposite direction. I had not seen her since the morning in Ickornshaw, and was not sure if I would meet her again. She would probably be finished with her walk here in Malham. Unfortunately, she is busy talking to someone on the phone, so I just wave and then we do not see each other again.
Molars, limestone pavement and a view back towards Malham and the Pennine Way.
I now know what I will see as I walk the path already trod. In the distance the stunning cliff of Malham Cove is coming closer for every step, I do not mind seeing the place a second time and so close to the first time either. How it must have looked like when the water was flowing over the top of the cliffs, forming then the highest single drop waterfall in England, the cliff rises about 70m above ground. Only for a short time though. Fun fact, Malham Cove was used as one of the locations in the Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows (part 1) movie, but Harry and Hermione is not here when I return to the site.
Ing Scar.
Leading up to the limestone pavement at the top are about 400 irregular steps made of stone. I am pretty sure that the scenery here can steal many hours from a curious soul, the shape of the stones are truly fascinating, Mother Nature is maybe the greatest artist of them all. My inner voice is telling me that my Pennine Way hike now has begun for real, I have come to the section of the trail that is the biggest reason for doing it.
Malham Tarn.
Northern side of Malham Tarn.
Breaking free from the grip Malham Cove is holding onto you, I look towards another scar in the landscape. Far from as spectacular as Gordale Scar, but still wonderful is the Ing Scar. The Pennine Way leaves the cove through that scar and at the place where the smaller cliffs are at its most narrowest I feel the first drops of rain on my skin. The weather forecast was right and I was wrong. I can still turn back, but that is not my style. I put on my rain coat and then it drips even more.
Wooden stork figure.
Above the Ing Scar, the Pennine Way heads through a flat moorland towards the Malham Tarn. Only that I take the wrong turn out of the scar, with the help of a signpost I get back on the path again, but it is actually not until later that I found out that I had taken the wrong turn. Just before Malham Turn the rain arrives in force. The words 'very wet' is written all over the landscape. At Water Sinks the water of Malham Tarn does exactly that, it sinks into the ground. Then everybody thinks it is the same water that appear out of the base of Malham Cove. Pouring fluorescent dye into the sink told a different story, at Aire Head the water suddenly got a different colour. The water flowing from Malham Cove did not care. Strangely enough given the limestone of the area, those two water sources never cross or seep into each other.
An empty landscape is revealed after Malham Tarn, in the distance is Fountains Fell.
There are no colours around the tarn now, even the green grass are subdued by the grey and chilly weather. The forest on the North side provides a mild form for shelter from the rain, but the information shelter behind Malham Tarn House provides better. Placed next to the path at regular intervals are wooden figurines of animals, a rabbit, a stork, a fish, an owl and more. From Malham Tarn the trail crosses over a low hillcrest, which reveals a large open landscape beyond.
A wet road.
The weather is cold, wet and miserable, but the fact is that I am loving it. It is like a never-ending battle against the elements and I am winning. At the price of my own comfort, at the price of having to walk with all my clothes wet. The view of my world is harsh, a tormented moorland that I walk through, alone. The few farms I pass by, looks drenched in the rain and I wonder again what makes people move to these desolate and far away places. They do not look like safe havens now, with all the ground wet and muddy, more like outposts. Beyond them lies the wild and barren heath, where I am heading.
Looking back from the moorland towards Fountains Fell.
Ahead of me lies Fountains Fell, like a fell foreboding menace. The path meanders its way up, more like a creek than a path. A bleak landscape, discoloured by the weather, as if the rain is washing away the colours. And in the far distance, I can see the lonesome road that I crossed earlier continue on its way. The last hope of return back leaving? Slowly I gain ground, as mist seeps downwards to greet me.
A bleak and tormented landscape.
Approaching fog on Fountains Fell.
Fountains Fell got its name from its old ownership by the old Fountains Abbey, but there are no religious icons, crosses or chapels found at its top. No monks wandering lost in the thick fog at the top, with their hoods covered. In this scenery, it is easy to imagine things. Instead, what you find at the top of the fell could prove just as dreadful. Used for coal mining and flagstone quarrying, the moorland top of Fountains Fell are haunted by old open mineshafts. A surreal landscape it is said, but in the mist I can only see a couple of meters ahead of me, and barely so. There are only a very few remnants of the mines that I can see, appearing like twisted structures, then disappearing again. I do not venture off the path, nor to visit the two cairns at the top, just barely visible from the trail.
A landscape revealed when descending from Fountains Fell.
From Fountains Fell the Pennine Way seeks the bottom of a remote valley before it heads up towards another famous name on the Way, the Pen-y-Ghent. Descending, I emerge out of the dense clouds to a world revealed. I brave taking out my camera, but I know that most of the pictures will have a smudged appearance. Most notable in the view, with the exception of Pen-y-Ghent itself, are the concentric circles that I see in the fields below. I wonder what those are.
Rainscar in the rain.
Walking at the bottom of the valley, I begin to feel my victory is turning to defeat. Where I before was keeping myself warm, I am now getting cold. I begin pondering if I should go straight down to Horton in Ribblesdale and instead returning back tomorrow to finish the stage from Malham. Like I have said earlier, I have postponed taking a rest day. Two lonesome farms are passed by, Rainscar and Dale Head. However, as I approach the lowest of the famous Three Peaks of Yorkshire, I shoulder aside my thoughts and misgivings. The South facing side of the hill is beckoning, as I knew it would, I had seen pictures of it and looked forward to seeing the same view.
Fountains Fell.
Like Fountains Fell, the top of Pen-y-Ghent is covered by clouds. A fence leads the way up towards the lime- and gritstone layers of the hill, but the only the lower part is discernible beneath the clouds. People are appearing out of the mist, the first ones I have seen since I walked next to the shores of Malham Tarn (with the exception of a farmer in a tractor after Rainscar). They look wet and tired, mildly bedraggled, as they climb down with care. Steep, the path disappears up into the fog. From the top nothing is visible, only the flagstone path bearing further into the fog, I might as well be walking on a flat and featureless plain. Pen-y-Ghent means something like ‘hill on the border’, but the border of what?
Pen-y-Ghent.
More tired people are at the top, but at the same time they wear that unmistakably glow, they all appear satisfied with themselves. Now only the walk down towards Horton in Ribblesdale remains, still a mere five kilometers away. It is a lovely walk down, even in the rain. A long and winding path appears out from the clouds below. Then the Pennine Way makes a left turn and follows an undulating path lined with stone fences on both sides. I walk quite quickly now, not paying too much attention to the landscape around, but enough to get in the good bits. I have decided to finally go through with my rest day plan tomorrow, but of course, I will not be entirely resting.
Walkers descending from Pen-y-Ghent.
Down in Horton in Ribblesdale, the first thing I notice is that the so-called famous Pen-y-Ghent café is closed. Then that the campsite is completely fully packed with tents and people. That matters little as I have no intention to camp tonight. Then the first B&B has a sign saying it is fully booked. What is happening? I know that it is Saturday and that it probably would be a lot of people here, but this many I had not dreamt of. Then I go through the doors of the Golden Lion Hotel.
Steep descent, or ascent...
If any of the people inside the pub had seen me then, they would have seen a very wet hiker standing with his mouth wide open. The pub is crammed, from floor to ceiling (now I know why I met no one until the Ghent, they are all here). No rooms left, but I manage to get the last available bed in the bunkhouse. I am happy and the heat inside the pub has already began to thaw me up.
Flagstone path in the mist at the top of Pen-y-Ghent.
A bunkhouse is a bunkhouse, but I am grateful to get a hot shower, being able to hang up my dripping clothes and change into dry clothes. It will be a good smell inside that room tonight. Talking to some others in the room, I learn the mysterious reason of the large crowd here. I have never heard of it, but then again, I am not from England either. This area is known for the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge, where you are to climb all the three so-called giants of Yorkshire, Pen-y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough within a given timeframe. Within 12 hours you have to cover about 38.6km and around 1585m of ascent. Mostly all the people gathered here are challengers. Must be a sight to behold, especially given the weather.
Waterfall in the limestone next to the Pennine Way.
Cannot argue that the beer tastes especially good this afternoon. I had even managed to find a place to sit down at. Outside the hotel, they announced that they had carvery there this afternoon and evening, and everyone at the bar are ordering it. I have no idea what carvery is, but the only proper way to find out what it is, is to order it myself. I receive a yellow marker, which I hand over in the dining room. Then I get a huge plate of food in return, consisting of several kinds of meat, yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, gravy and vegetables. I hope I get more carvery later on my hike, it was great, especially after this day.
Descent to Horton in Ribblesdale.
This was a day proving that even if the weather is an adversary, it can be a wonderful day out. You just have to buckle up and deal with it. I had a great walk and a great evening, but tomorrow I have made a solemn promise to myself that I will take a zero day. I will only go for a short walk....
Carvery dinner at The Golden Lion Hotel.
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