Captain's Log

Cowling

Each time I’d woken up during the night, rain had been pattering on the canvas. I was therefore surprised that when I woke up for the final time there was silence. Looking out of the tent’s entrance, I saw a grey world, but at least it wasn’t raining. I took the opportunity of a break in the rain to get up and start packing. I wiped down the tent the best that I could, but it still clung on to a lot of water and felt heavy when packed up. Ella, the young Australian who was backpacking from Land’s End to Cape Wrath, was making a slower start. She would be heading north today along the Pennine Way to Gargrave where she planned to meet up and then stay with a friend at Skipton. I brewed a tea and shovelled muesli into my mouth as if I was heaping coal into the furnace on a steam engine.

After yesterday’s epic 25+ miles, I’d take it easier today with a 14 mile haul to May’s Shop near Hebden Bridge. ‘Easier’ it would be, but it was still going to be a tough day. I had three West Yorkshire moors to traverse and in between them, I’d be dropping deep into the intervening valleys. The first was Ickornshaw moor, the lower ramparts of which I could see from my camping spot. I’d then drop down to Ponden Reservoir on its south side. Hopefully my momentum would carry me up the other side of the valley and then on to Top Withins, supposedly the inspiration for Wuthering Heights. I’d traverse a high pass and then drop down to the Walshaw Dean chain of reservoirs. I’d then head back up again on to the last challenge of the day, Heptonstall Moor. After crossing this I’d arrive at the legendary May’s Shop where I hoped to buy some fresh food and to camp. I had considered extending this stage to a wildcamp further south near Stoodley Pike, but that would have meant at least another 5 miles and probably an additional 3 hours. The BBC Weather app predicted a high chance of rain all day and so I settled for May’s Shop as today’s target destination. I said my farewell and a ‘good luck’ to Ella and set off for Ickornshaw Moor. 

Ickornshaw Moor

The walk started with a steep field-hop. In other words, it started as yesterday had finished. Over to my left I could see Wainman’s Pinnacle perched on Earl Crag. I’d once walked up to it on a previous Pennine Way excursion. Yorkshire folk do like a good pinnacle on the skyline. It was originally built as a folly and a memorial to the Napoleonic Wars. Interestingly, so was Stoodley Pike, an even taller pinnacle, that I’d catch sight of later in the day. It was a pretty landscape that I was walking through although it looked moody under today's grey and threatening skies. I reached the moors and the gradient started to ease. It was much boggier though, especially after last night’s rain. The moor has a dozen or so wooden huts clustered in this region. These are used by the Tweed Trouser Brigade for some mysterious purpose. It started to rain and so I stepped from the track to one with some paving slabs at its front, in order to use a relatively clean space to  take off my rucksack and put on my waterproofs. As I was struggling to get into my overtrousers, I heard an engine and was surprised to find a 4WD making its way down the Pennine Way towards me. I say I was surprised, since the track was challenging enough to walk along, never mind drive. A man was driving and a woman was in the passenger seat. They were being bounced about like clothes in a washing machine. They stopped 10 metres from me and glared at me. I was balancing on one leg at the time trying to get the other into my overtrousers. Once I’d managed to get my leg in and regain my balance, this freed up a hand and so I waved at them. The woman turned to the man and they had a brief conversation. I saw a half-hearted wave at the passenger window, a bit like the late Queen might have done. The car rumbled on with its bouncing occupants, churning up the boggy Pennine Way as it progressed. I remembered taking a break up here on a previous occasion. A man had come up to me and started chatting. It wasn’t an overly friendly chat though, it felt more like an interrogation. I wondered whatever could be in these huts that was so important to them. Maybe they were just like the rest of the world, paranoid about meaningless stuff.     

 The waterproofs would remain on for the rest of the day. I left the huts behind and joined a meandering set of slabs that led me across the moor. It was a desolate place and not much to maintain interest on a day like this. As I reached the highest point of the traverse I came across a couple of young girls coming the other way. They were dressed for running, with thin tops and shorts, but were walking when I met them. They were on their way to Malham which seemed a long way I thought, until I realised that I’d actually walked from Fountains Fell, 5 miles north of Malham, yesterday. I wished them luck and they walked off into the mist. I followed a stone wall down the hillside and I dropped out of the mist. Ponden Reservoir became visible in the bottom of the valley. I reached a country lane, then field-hopped my way steeply downwards. The Pennine Way made its way around the south end of the reservoir via a high level route past Ponden Hall. I paused at the dam wall to eat a flapjack and prepare myself for the next steep ascent.  

Top Withins

If I followed this valley three miles eastwards I would have come to Haworth, home of those literary giants, the Brontes. I was now walking in Bronte country. So much so that I once saw a fingerpost somewhere around here that was inscribed in Japanese, a nation who are fascinated by their books. I tried to find it today, but failed. I followed a steep pathway up the hillside that meandered between the scattered houses. It was hard going but eventually I reached a wide, well made track that headed westwards. I recognised this as the well travelled route to Top Withens and I set off along it. It was a Sunday and I met quite a few walkers making their way in both directions. I climbed into the mist again. Eventually I came to the collection of derelict buildings known as Top Withens. The location is cited as being the inspiration for the setting of Emily Bronte’s 1847 novel Wuthering Heights. There appears to be no documentary evidence to support this, but who cares, we all like a good story. I must admit, the place did attain a certain dramatic atmosphere in the swirling mist. I left the literary pilgrims and continued along the Pennine Way up towards the pass to the next valley. I was walking on slabs now and making fast progress.  

Walshaw Dean

I reached the top of the pass and was greeted by a headwind that I’d describe as wuthering. It brought light rain with it too. The slabs carried on down the other side of the pass on such an easy gradient that I felt I could almost run, even with my heavy pack. I dropped out of the mist and the chain of the threee Walshaw Dean reservoirs came into view, stretching down the valley. I came across a small piece of gritstone with an inscription on it: ‘E Wilkinson A Rambler Died Aug 31 1964 Aged 35.’ Later research revealed nothing more on this unfortunate incident. I reached the Walshaw Dean Middle Reservoir and the end of the slabs. The path proceeded down the valley squeezed in between the reservoir and a deep culvert. I reached its dam and then progressed on to the next reservoir, Walsham Dean Lower Reservoir. All these reservoir ticks were given my Yorkshire Reservoirs Venture a long awaited boost. 

I met a couple walking the other way who looked in their early 60s. The man was David Thomas and he was walking from Dover to Stornoway, or more accurately Lewes (near Worthing) to Lewis (on Stornoway). I asked why he wasn’t doing Land’s End to John O’Groats instead.
‘Oh, I already did that four years ago,’ he replied.
His wife was supporting him on this walk. His progress can be seen at: https://2026lewes2lewis.blogspot.com
I was amazed at how many people I’d come across on the Pennine Way that were doing very long walks.    

I reached the lower reservoir’s dam and crossed it to the other side of the valley. I followed single track roads down the valley before descending  to Graining Water that ran along its bottom. There was then another climb back to the top of the moors again. 

Heptonstall Moor

Over to the right I ticked off another Yorkshire Reservoir, Gorple Lower Reservoir. Rather annoyingly, there was another reservoir further west, Gorple Upper Reservoir, but I couldn’t see it. I would have to come back here at some point to tick this outlier off. The Pennine Way got tired of climbing southwards and so started heading eastwards across Heptonstall Moor instead. The path was slabbed and so I started to make fast progress again. I made way for a couple of mountain bikers to pass me. On the horizon, I spotted the unmistakable pinnacle of Stoodley Pike. For the first time on the Pennine Way, I felt that I was nearing home. 

Light rain drifted in and out. The mountain bikers had headed down into Hebden Dale on my left, but the Pennine Way continued eastwards along the moors. Eventually the moors ran out. I found a cairn with a carved stone on the top of a smiling face enclosed in an upturned horseshoe. An inscription said, ‘Good luck.’ I wondered if somebody had put it there for Pennine Wayers. I dropped down the hillside to a single track road. A hand-painted sign attached to a fence (easily seen by NoBos, but easily missed by SoBos) said,
‘<-- MAYS SHOP. (100m)       SELLS OWT THA WANTS      + CAMPING      AND REFRESHMENTS’
I followed the sign up the road. 

May's Shop

May’s Shop is legendary to Pennine Wayerers as a place where you can restock with supplies and also has the benefit of free camping. It used to be called Aladdin's Cave, but that name seems to have been dropped in favour of May’s Shop. It’s been 7 years since I was last here and camped. May was serving behind the counter then and I wondered if she’d still be around, since she was fairly old. The woman serving in the shop today said that she was indeed still active and she’d go and see if she had time to see me, if I wanted. I told her that I didn’t want to disturb whatever she was doing. The shop still was a treasure trove of things that a backpacker might want. There were also plenty of pasties, pies (that they offered to warm up) and cakes too. She also said that she'd make me a sandwich if I wanted. Given the intermittent rain, I said that I’d get my tent pitched first and come back later to stock up. 

The small camping area was in a field across the road from the shop. To be honest, it was a pitch I would normally avoid. The field had sheep in it and the flat area was covered in sheep droppings. I cleared what I could and pitched my tent. I revisited the shop and bought a selection of pies and cakes to feed me tonight and fuel me for tomorrow.    

It had been my wettest day along the Pennine Way. The section had felt harder than I remembered from the previous times I’d done it, probably because of the tiredness from the  mega-walk that I’d completed on the previous day. The sight of Stoodley Pike had reminded me that I wasn’t far from home. I reckoned I only had another 3 days on the trail. The end was in sight.