The Pennine Way // day 8 // Pen-y-Ghent

The Pennine Way, day 8.
Distance: 13.8km (183.1km), time spent: 4:13.
Weather: Overcast, light rain.

At last I got to the point where I took heed of the advice that I had got. That is not to say that I spent the day staying still, I have just put the Pennine Way on hold until tomorrow. I still went out for a walk. Having booked a room yesterday evening, I could leave my backpack at the hotel, they would bring it to my room when it was ready.

A creek passed by from Horton in Ribblesdale up towards Bracken Bottom.

At breakfast I get stung at the back of my neck by a ghost wasp, I could not see or hear any wasp (or insect), but I was definitely stung by something.

Sheep on the hills with Ribblesdale visible beneath the clouds.

I must say that I did toy around with the idea to do the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge this day, but this was supposed to be a rest day. For a short moment I also regret the decision to take a zero day, but that is usual, I always feel that. What I am going to do is make a return visit to that mysterious hill above, I will do the Yorkshire One Peak Challenge.

Interesting geology on the way.

The path up to the smallest of the three Yorkshire peaks.

Pen-y-Ghent, that name conjures up some images of mythical and fairytale beings. It does not sound anything like English, more like something from a fantasy book. Like a place Tolkien can conjure up, a place where woodwoses lurks about. In fact, the name originates from the Cumbric language. Most common is the interpretation that its name translates to 'Hill on the border', as pen means something like head or top, and y is the definite article (the). Ghent is the uncertainty. It was not just the name that I loved, I also loved the view of the hill from the South.

Fog in the valley (Ribblesdale) behind.

The Hill on the border.

To get up to Pen-y-Ghent I take the path going up from Bracken Bottom, this is the path that I would have taken yesterday if I had decided to go straight down to Horton in Ribblesdale. In hindsight, I am glad that I choose not to. Not because the walk up again is not nice, for that it is. A short stroll through woods next to a creek, before the familiar views of rolling hillsides appear. Separating the various fields from each other are the usual stone fences, going in criss-cross against the landscape. Beyond is Pen-y-Ghent appearing in and out of view, at the mercy of the rolling clouds above.

Pen-y-Ghent.

It is slightly embarassing to admit that one of the reasons why I wanted to return, was that I so wanted to take a good photo of that South-facing hillside. You could question that decision, as the weather forecast was of the negative kind, but it has not started to rain yet. Not that it is a clear sky above. I could not have timed my arrival at the foot any better. Standing at the same place as I did yesterday looking up towards the top of the hill, then obscured by clouds, blue colours appear in the clouds above. They are only there for a brief moment, but it is enough, I have had my moment.

Fountains Fell on the other side of the valley.

The path left behind, on the climb up towards Pen-y-Ghent.

Climbing up now is totally different, there are no clouds blocking my way or view. I can see Fountains Fell clearly on the other side of the valley, and the path I am leaving behind me on the way up. Stairs of stone in winding turns upwards helps the climb up, but are they made by unseen mythical creatures or by man? So strangely different the landscapes are when they are shrouded in mist and not.

Fence at the top with Plover Hill behind.

At the top, the fence is bent in a s-shape, with benches on each side, providing shelter from the wind both ways. I also find a small gathering of people at the top. Even under the low hanging clouds, the view is great.

Crossed stone fences on Plover Hill.

A man I passed by on the way up, asked if I would go over to Plover Hill too. That was not on my plan, but since he asked, I wonder if there are anything worthy to see there. It is not. Only a wet, soggy and sometimes boggy path leading down from Pen-y-Ghent and then up to the more indistinct moorland at the top of Plover Hill. I could maybe see some of the landscape I will be walking through on the continuation of the Pennine Way tomorrow, but there was not really anything to see that I had not seen before.

At Plover Hill looking back at Pen-y-Ghent.

The s-shaped shelter on top of Pen-y-Ghent.

There are however a lot more to see on the long and winding descent towards Horton in Ribblesdale. And far more than yesterday. Now the holes in the ground that riddles the area around Pen-y-Ghent are visible, among them Hunt Pot and Hull Pot. With the millstone grit top above me, I go visit the Hull Pot. This is the largest natural hole in England, so do not fall down into it. It is about 18m deep. Hull Pot Beck usually makes the plunge into the pot, but now it runs dry. Walking towards it, you do not see until the hole suddenly opens up in the ground. It is really cool, glad that I got to see it.

View from Pen-y-Ghent, with Ingleborough in the background. If you look closely you can also see Hull Pot.

The rest of the walk down goes past what I already saw yesterday, but at least I can take my time studying the surrounding scenery now. It does not rain and I am not soaking wet and cold. I have company by Kevin from Blackpool. We part company at the Pen-y-Ghent Café, which still is closed. Before returning to the hotel, I stop for a short snack and coffee at a local café.

Looking back up at the Ghentle Giant.

All is quiet at the Golden Lion Hotel, a far cry from yesterday. My room is ready and my backpack is waiting for me inside when I enter, it has probably rested more than I have today. One thing that I love about hotel rooms in England is that they always have a water cooker. Having finished my walk, taken a shower and got into my dro clothes, it is time to do some proper resting. I sit down in the bed, while I prepare hot tea or coffee.

Hull Pot with Hull Pot Beck running dry.

Hull Pot and Pen-y-Ghent.

The forecast was for wet weather, but it had not rained anything when I did my hike over Pen-y-Ghent. That was good, but I had a little hope that it would come pouring down when I was finished walking. Somehow it is relaxing sitting inside, good and dry, while watching it rain outside. Only a light rain materializes.

Walking down next to Horton Scar.

In the evening I venture out of my room and down to the pub for dinner. I eat a chicken curry with rice, which is quite good. Then I sit down with a couple of beers to rest. It is peacefully quiet in the bar now, just a very few other guests. It is fitting in a way. A group of young people arrives at the bar, having made an attempt at the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge. They look tired, but still happy.

In Horton in Ribblesdale.

Finally in the late evening, it begins to pour down. Tomorrow I will be out walking on the Pennine Way again, that will be good. A great day actually. A candidate for one of the best zero days that I have ever had.

Interior of the Golden Lion Hotel.

<< Horton in RibblesdaleHardraw >>

The Pennine Way // day 7 // Malham - Horton in Ribblesdale

The Pennine Way, day 7.
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.

<< Janet's Foss, Gordale Scar, Malham CovePen-y-Ghent >>

The Pennine Way // day 6 // Janet's Foss, Gordale Scar, Malham Cove

The Pennine Way, day 6.
Distance: 8.6km (145.8km), time spent: 4:11.
Weather: Overcast, minor raindrops towards the end.

Malham and its surrounding area is a magnet to walkers and so it is not a surprise that my first encounter with the village is exactly that. Lots of them walking around, either finished, starting or having a break from a walk. In the interest of my own foot, I too should take a break from my walk, but I am uncureable. On the other hand, is not it so that a rest day is mostly a day where you are emancipated from the burden of your backpack?

At the start of my afternoon adventure, on fields towards Janet's Foss after Aire Head.

So at a small café I buy myself some food for lunch to carry with me and then I disregard totally the advice I got from the apothecary. I go for a walk around Malham. As a compensation, I have planned to take a zero day tomorrow.

Through Wedber Woods towards Janet's Foss.

Not carrying your backpack makes you feel lighter, more like flying, it puts a heavier load on your mental restrains then. I have to hold back as not to walk too fast. Easy to spot where I am going, it will be in the direction others are going to and coming from. At first, a little way back on the Pennine Way, to Aire Head.

Janet's Foss.

It is also surprisingly how quickly the landscape changed to the more interesting, as if the exciting upcoming scenery are suddenly spreading. The walk up towards Janet's Foss are instantly more scsenic than the days leading up to here. The name of the waterfall is of Scandinavian origins, not Janet or the source of the waterfall itself, but the name. Foss means waterfall in Scandinavian countries.

A scar in the landscape approaching.

Whatever the origins of the name are, it is crowded here. People are standing in line to jump from a stone beneath the waterfall, waiting to be taken pictures of. Next to the pond there is also a small cave, Janet's Cave. This is where it is believed that a fairy queen lived in. The name of the fairy queen? Janet. It is a very nice place, but the crowd makes me move on. In hindsight, do not miss out on the tree stumps on the way to the foss that have become the home of hundreds of pennies, like I did.

Gordale Scar.

Not exactly knowing what to expect, but the view of it from afar tickled my curiosity. Gordale Scar is absolutely what the name implies. It is a scar cutting through the landscape, and it is formidable. The only scar in the view (pun intended) is the placement of a campsite directly in front of the entrance, what a ruiner. Walking into a narrow gorge, the limestone walls on each side are converging in on each other. It feels strange seeing this after all the walking across gentle flowing hills and bleak moorland.

A curved valley.

The limestone cliffs are layered, the valley winds in a narrowing curve inwards. Around the corner there are several climbers scaling the vertical sides of the cliffs. Sometimes their shouts are resonating through the gorge. When you walk around the curve, the outside world disappears from view.

Gordale Scar from above.

A crack in the hills.

At the end of the valley, where the converging walls almost meet, it is either climb or walk back. A huge mass of tufa, transported down by the waterfall, forms an abstract composition. Perfect for climbing, all the strange cracks and fissures provides great grip for your hands and feet (but please be careful as not to break the tufa).

View from New Close Knotts.

On top of Gordale Scar, the gorge is seen from a different perspective. With grassy hills reaching backwards and the scar disappearing between them. Walking out on a tip above the scar, I sit down to eat. It is a great spot for lunch, maybe the best on my walk at this point. Someone has left behind a disposable barbeque grill here, that disrespect for nature unfortunately exists everywhere.

Limestone deposits on the landscape above Gordale Scar.

The Pennine Way is in the distance, along with Malham Tarn.

I walk over to New Close Knotts, looking back to the Pennine Way I have come from. The scenery above is distinctly different, more wild and a splendid promise of what might be waiting in line for me later on this hike. There is also a strange landscape that I see on the top of Gordale Scar. Riddling the green ground are limestone rocks, in various forms and sizes. A lone tree stands on top of this open landscape. The upper top of the scar is slowly rising upwards, to became level with the rest. With the last end of it petering out, pointing to the far back, where I can discern the water of Malham Tarn. That is the direction of the Pennine Way.

The top of Gordale Scar.

On the climb down again, blue sky and sunlight appear above. Then then walls are closing in behind me. To get back to Malham, I do not go by the way of Janet. Instead, I aim for another public footpath visible on my map. It is a nice walk underneath the cliffs of New Close Knotts. The path takes me to the top of Malham Cove, at the eastern side of it. Strictly not necessary to visit the cove today, as the Pennine Way goes straight to it, but the weather forecast for the upcoming days are not good. Rain is coming and since I had an opportunity to see this remarkable feature while it is not raining, I took it.

Tufa climb.

On the Dales High Way to Malham Cove.

Malham Cove is a near vertical limestone cliff, cut into the otherwise rolling green hill. Kind of like someone has taken a gigantic shovel and dug out a part of the hill with vertical precision. It must be one of the highest vertical drops in England, quite remarkable. The surrounding landscape appear like scenery from a world where mythical beings reside, when I continue on the Pennine Way I will be disappearing into that fantasy world. More interesting is the limestone floor at the top of the cove. Almost stacked on top of each other are intricate square formed rocks. The same type as above Gordale Scar, but here a lot more denser. The surface of the rocks looks like molars of teeth.

Malham Cove.

Limestone pavement. The glaciers formed the landscape at the top of Malham Cove, and since then acidic rainwater has dissolved the rocks, forming what is known as grykes.

Looking from the top of cliffs, I can see a winding road leading south. That is the way back to Malham, and also the Pennine Way. To get down I have to walk down a long staircase of stone. I head into the base of the cove before returning. From underneath the cliff there is a water source, but in old times the water came from above. A narrow ledge can be reached to gain further access to the vertical cliffs. Climbers are here too, preparing to scale Malham Cove. Also popular is watching the peregrine falcons, which nest above.

Molars.

Back in Malham after the pleasant walk back, I settle in at the youth hostel. I prepare my own dinner at the kitchen, making me getting rid of some of the food that I unnecessary carry with me too. Has a beer in the lounge. On the tv, the Tour de France stage is stopped due to a freak hail storm.

In the cove.

In the evening, I go for a short walk in the village. It is a lot quieter here now, as most of the day-hikers has left. Even at the local pub, The Buck Inn, it is quiet. That suits me fine, I want to relax now.

Malham Beck and Cove.

Many hikers would, if choosing to walk straight from Ickornshaw to Malham, miss out on the Gordale Scar. That is a pity. It is of course possible to visit the place in the morning, before setting forth to Horton in Ribblesdale (or wherever they fancy walking to after Malham). Another possibility is to omit Malham Cove and walk directly towards Malham Tarn from the top of Gordale Scar. One can actually walk up to Malham Cove and then walk to Gordale Scar using the same footpath as I did (the Dales High Way), and from there cross over to the Pennine Way again. Loose a little, gain a lot.

Back towards Malham.

With the visit to Janet's Foss, Gordale Scar and Malham Cove it was a great day.

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