Captain's Log

Hardraw

It was bright sunshine again when I woke up at the Old Hall campsite at Hardraw. I really had been blessed with some excellent weather on my trek along the Pennine Way. My tent canvas was saturated with condensation. I could have waited half an hour or so for the sun to evaporate it away, but I wanted an early start. Today’s 15 mile walk would head southwards, through Hawes and follow a high ridge line over Dodd Fell. It would then drop down and follow an undulating path to Horton-in-Ribblesdale where I hoped to base myself at its campsite for the night. I’ve always found this walk a tough one, both physically and mentally. A lot of the walk is on stone paths making it hard on the feet. The landscape changes very slowly too making it feel that you are making little progress. As some general once said, ‘No plan survives the first encounter with the enemy’...or something like that. Today’s walk wouldn’t turn out exactly as I envisaged. I heaved my rucksack onto my shoulders and set off southwards along the Pennine Way. 

Hawes

I called in at the Spar in Hawes and bought some goodies for my lunch. My next resupply would be at Gargrave in three day’s time and so I bought a few things extra for the other days too. The Pennine Way seems to take a convoluted route out of Hawes and its neighbouring village, Gayle. It was waymarked, but it was easy to miss the signs amongst all the other urban clutter. I’d walked this route many times though and so I knew it by heart anyway. I could see a walker in front of me was struggling to find his way. He kept disappearing in the wrong direction and then having to retrace his steps. Not surprisingly, I soon caught up with him. From a distance, I thought it was a woman, but it turned out to be a chap with a pony tail. He was using his phone for map reading and it was continually announcing which direction he should go. It obviously wasn’t accurate enough for the intricate route through Hawes and Gayle and it was dishing out instructions either too early or too late. When I asked him where he was going, he told me Dodd Fell. I said that he just needed to follow the signs for the Pennine Way and the trail would take him up there. We shared the path for a hundred yards. He was a day walker and intended to drop down to the Snaizeholme plantation after visiting Dodd Fell, in the hope of seeing some red squirrels. He headed off to have a look at Aysgill Force first, as I joined Gaudy Lane at the start of the long climb to Dodd Fell. 

Dodd Fell

It was a steady climb up the northern ridge of the fell. Occasionally I would stop and look around for a wonderful view across Wensleydale. I could see the long southern ridge of Great Shunner Fell that I had descended yesterday. Over to my right, I could see Widdale and the Snaizeholme plantation, home of the red squirrels. The path flattened out and I came across some interesting limestone scars and sink holes. I thought it resembled an exposed subterranean crypt. The path became a hard stone track, the West Cam Road. It was easy walking now and I started clicking off the miles. The Pennine Way bypasses the summit of Dodd Fell. I’d visited its lonely trig point 18 months ago with the Kapitan and Cabin Boy (see the Captain’s Log, Unfinished Business At Drumaldrace). The landscape seemed to pass very slowly. I thought I’d never reach the end of the Snaizeholme Valley. Gradually I hauled it in and I reached the tarmac single track Cam High Road. It was still sunny, but I was now exposed to a strong south westerly. I sat down on a stretch of limestone pavement at the side of the road and started my lunch. I could hear plenty of shooting down in the Langstrothdale valley, although I couldn’t actually see anybody. Looking south, I could see the distinctive flat top of Ingleborough and the hump of Pen-y-ghent. They both seemed far away. I would be camping just west of Pen-y-ghent and so had a long afternoon ahead of me. I finished my lunch and started back on the Cam High Road. 

Dales Way

A backpacker made his way up from the Langstrothdale valley and we met as his path intersected with the Pennine Way. We chatted and he told me that he was doing the Dales Way.
‘That was a bloody awful path along the valley’ he complained. I told him that I’d completed the trail back in 2024 (see Venture, Dales Way) . I reckoned that the last couple of miles he’d just been on had been the worst of the whole trail.
‘I found the biting flies were the worst, although the bogs had come a close second’ I told him. He agreed with my assessment. I’d also been harassed by a yapping Terrier that had viciously snapped at my ankles for half a mile. Whenever I do the Dales Way again, I’ll definitely choose a bypass route for that bit.
‘Are you doing the high level route?’ I asked him. The Dales Way splits into two at this point; there's a high and low level version. I did the high level version that heads over hills to Dentdale (see Captain’s Log, Viewtastic Route To Cowgill). It turned out to be a very impressive route. The low level route heads towards the Ribblehead Viaduct and then follows valleys to Cowgill. He said he was following the low level one. He was B&Bing and was carrying a light rucksack and so he soon walked ahead of me. 

I met a NoBo couple in their 60s. I told them I was doing the Pennine Way south bound.
‘Oh you are an Enninep Yaw, then?’ the man said.
‘I beg your pardon?’ I replied.
‘You are an Enninep Yaw’ he responded.
‘I’m sorry, I’m not following you’ I explained.
He said that anybody who was doing the Pennine Way the wrong way, that’s north to south, was known as an Enninep Yaw (Pennine Way spelt backwards). I assured him that I now understood what he was on about. It was a hot day and an arduous walk and the dehydration was clearly having an effect on the poor chap. I wished them well for the rest of their trek, especially his wife.

The tarmac had run out and I was on a stone road again now. The Ribblehead Viaduct revealed itself in the distance. I came to a T  junction of paths known as Cam End at which point the Pennine Way diverted southwards. 

Undulating Fell

The next 5 miles to Horton-in-Ribblesdale was over undulating fell. The rolling hills mostly restricted the extensive views that I’d enjoyed earlier in the day. The track was still stone and hard on the feet. A couple of mountain bikers rumbled past me and I caught up with them when they stopped for a rest at a pot hole just after Ling Gill. They were a couple of blokes from Rotherham and were cycling from Carlisle back home. They were doing 50-60 miles a day which I thought was pretty good over this type of terrain. They were B&Bing and so didn’t have to carry much stuff.     

I continued southwards along the track and eventually it started descending towards Horton-in-Ribblesdale. The day hadn’t been especially long, but I was ready to put up my tent, take a shower and have a rest. There were even a couple of pubs in Horton too. The path actually dropped me down to the front of the Crown Hotel, where I found people sat at patio tables sipping pints of ale. I was very much tempted to drop in for a pint, but I wanted to get settled in at the campsite first. It was Friday and I figured that the site might get busy later on. I walked up Horton’s one-and-only street and entered Holme Farm Campsite. 

Change Of Plan

The guy in the campsite’s office asked me if I was doing the Pennine Way. I thought it was pretty obvious given the size of my pack, but I confirmed I was anyway.   
‘Well, I can squeeze you in, but I have to tell you that there’s an event going on over the weekend and we are expecting up to 250 people tonight’ he explained. I’d already seen that the campsite was almost full and it was only 4:30 pm. Hmmm. I’d camped here before when it was far less busy and found that the toilets and shower facilities were overstretched. Did I really want to camp here when it was so busy? I could hear somebody already playing music on the campsite. Different options rumbled through my head and I started to consider each one. I was pretty certain I didn’t want to camp here was the one conclusion I came to.
‘It’s okay, I’ll make other arrangements’ I told him. I moved outside the office and perused my options. As far as I could see, I had two: wildcamp on either Pen-y-ghent or Fountains Fell. 

Pen-y-ghent was a popular wildcamping spot. It might be very busy on a Bank Holiday weekend, especially if the campsites were this busy. Fountains Fell was more remote and less favourable to wildcampers. If I wildcamped on Pen-y-ghent, then I’d have to scramble down that tricky south ridge with my heavy pack tomorrow, something I didn't really want to do. If I wildcamped at Pen-y-ghent, I’d also follow my original plan of camping at Malham's campsite tomorrow. If the campsites were this busy on a Friday, I was pretty sure Malham’s site would be heaving on a Saturday. I didn’t much like the Pen-y-ghent option. Wildcamping on Fountains Fell would give me the option of walking past Malham tomorrow and wildcamping further south. Maybe I could even reach Ickornshaw Moor. That would be a 25-30 mile haul. Would that be possible? I could give it a try. Out of the options, a wildcamp on Fountains Fell seemed the least worst one. It was a shame I'd reached Horton-in-Ribblesdale on a Bank Holiday weekend. 

Fountains Fell

My alternative route meant leaving the Pennine Way and I joined the well trodden route used by Yorkshire Three Peakers to reach the south ridge of Pen-y-ghent. I left the tarmac and joined the fell at Brackenbottom. It was a slow, gradual climb up to the ridge. The sun disappeared and it started to get rather gloomy. I thought I felt one or two drops of rain on my hands although it may well have been sweat. I began to doubt whether I’d be able to get to the top of Fountains Fell before it became dark. When I reached Pen-y-ghent’s south ridge, I got my first glimpse into the next valley and at Fountains Fell on the other side. It still looked a long distance away. I was back on the Pennine Way now, joining its descent from Pen-y-ghent. Frustratingly, the trail doesn’t take a direct path across the valley to Fountain’s Fell; it heads south first before taking a 'U' turn back north along the valley road. This did have the advantage though of visiting the huge sink hole known as Churn Mill Hole. 

It was getting rather dark as I made my way along the road. It was obvious that it was going to rain at some point. Could I make it to the top of Fountains Fell before it started? At the start of the ascent path from the road, I had a 5 minute break to eat a flapjack. I’d walked over 19 miles already today. The climb from here to the top was around 230 metres vertically. I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer and I set off up Fountains Fell's steep slope. I made steady progress, occasionally stopping to catch my breath and look at the graceful flank of Pen-y-ghent across the valley. In the far distance, ominous rain clouds were creeping over the summit of Ingleborough. I pressed on.   

I eventually reached the top of the fell around 7:30 pm. There was a warning sign on top saying that you shouldn’t stray from the footpath due to mine shafts in the area. The open ones have fences around them and so you are unlikely to fall into one. I walked around 100 metres from the Pennine Way and found a flattish pitch. It wasn’t the best wildcamp spot I’d ever found, but any port in a storm, as they say. I just got my tent pitched before the rain started. I flung my rucksack into the tent and I followed it soon after. I brewed a tea and ate a sandwich from a Spar meal deal. It had been a 20+ mile day with about 1100 metres of ascent. If I followed my plan and headed for Ickornshaw Moor tomorrow, I could look forward to a 25 to 30 mile walk with a lot of ascent too. I'd deal with that tomorrow though. All I could think about now was sleep. I drifted off to the sound of heavy rain on canvas.