Hello campers!
Just got back from a wonderful week in the Pennines. You can see the vids here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9u_gy5Bku4&feature=share
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UPrqBnHVSI
That's me with the Lowe Alpine Sting on my back.
Caught the train from Kings Cross up to Leeds and then caught the wonderful Leeds-Carlisle train to Horton-in-Ribblesdale. We arrived at 4pm and decided to stretch our legs on Pen-y-ghent. It's only around six miles round trip and we were lucky enough to witness the sun shining its rays through a gap in the looming cloud onto the village. We stayed in a bunk house behind the Golden Lion hotel. The experience was fairly unpleasant in that the room wasn't ventilated and was crammed with bunks and the sink was millimetres from the toilet. Brushing ones teeth with the bouquet of excrement in the nostrils is never fun. The pub smelled of rancid chip fat so we ate that night in The Crown Inn hotel where we met a group that had just finished the Pennine three peaks challenge.
The next day we hiked to Hawes which is a lovely little town straight out of a scene from All Creatures Great and Small. No yellow lines to be seen anywhere and Theakston and Black Sheep on tap in almost every pub. We ate in The Crown. The walk itself was slightly marred by the douche bags churning up the bridleway on their scramblers. I know they're entitled but wading through foot deep puddles caused by modern knobbly bike tyres is irksome.
From Hawes we made an epic trip up Shunner Fell and down into Swaledale, a picture perfect valley with Thwaite, a tiny village nestling at the bottom. We filled up on locally made Wensleydale cheese and fruitcake, a local tradition, before heading out and up across a desolate moor to Tan Hill. Awaiting us there was the Tan Hill Inn, England's highest altitude pub. The staff were eccentric and the welcome warm. Two coal fires and plenty of ale and good food to cheer us up.
The next day was tough. A lot of bog walking across Sleightholme Moor in rainy, windy conditions. I made us coffee halfway on my hobo stove but arriving in Middleton was welcome relief. I'd burnt myself out hiking at a lunatic pace the day before. We stayed in a BnB next to a hotel hosting a shooting party. The braying voices, big frames, brightly coloured shirts and brown shoes alerted me as I wondered in to peruse the menu. The next morning they were outside in their breeks and flat caps. Comical. I felt like a chav in my uncool sports shorts, white socks and walking boots.
We walked up the river Tees. We were attempting to hike 21 miles but my partner's blisters were now weeping blood which meant the going was slow. Combine that with making a three mile wrong turn and we decided to stop at a great youth hostel in Langdon Beck to nurse our wounds and drink some sublime ales at the Langdon Beck Hotel. It's a free house run by a lady who makes all her own dishes. Ate a superb steak pie and downed some ale from Newcastle called Rivet Catcher. Very moreish. On our earlier walk up the Tees we witnessed High Force waterfall and whitewashed farm cottages along the valley. In the pub that night I asked some local farm lads why the houses were whitewashed when all the other stone cottages I'd seen weren't. It turns out the local estate owner Lord Raby followed the tradition of marking all his properties in this way to remind himself of what was his. They didn't seem happy about it. The shooting party (roughly £10,000 a day to shoot) turned up and made polite small talk ('I shot 96 brace of grouse') before clearing off to the other bar. I think they'd been shooting on the same estate.
The next day we set out for Dufton, taking in more of the Tees and a valley-scape full of heather and scrambling rocks that resembled a highland scene. We had to scramble up the side of Cauldron Snout, a stunning, roaring waterfall and limped across another moor wishing my thighs weren't aching so much. The cumulative pain was offset by the the view of High Cup, which is kind of like a mini Grand Canyon, but without fat Yanks buzzing by in copters to ruin the tranquility. It was downhill from here into Dufton and its youth hostel. We were the only ones staying so we decided to eat in the pub opposite to give the receptionist a night off from cooking duties. That night we got back and lit a fire and chilled out in the big lounge. Our journey was at an end. We'd covered an average of 15 miles a day, which was pretty good going considering the hideous blisters covering my walking partner's feet.
In five days of hiking we must have seen no more than 16 other walkers. The hostels were pretty much empty after the August bank holiday weekend. Peace and quiet prevailed. As you can see from the videos some of the views were stunning, although Dean's camera view of my stumpy legs for much of the journey weren't quite as spectacular) and my Lowe Alpine Sting was comfortable and very roomy. Next time I'll carry even less: a shirt and jeans and flip flops for evenings; toiletries; a fleece; three pairs of sports socks; and a spare wicking sports shirt to swap over every day. I rinsed the shirt I was wearing every evening and dried it. I will ditch the poncho and replace with a very lightweight breathable waterproof coat. Add a head-torch and book and that's it. Towels can be hired at the hostels. I reckon a lightweight 30 litre rucksack would suffice.
I slept like a log every night and ate like a pig. Hiking burns up the calories. Enjoy the videos.
Just got back from a wonderful week in the Pennines. You can see the vids here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9u_gy5Bku4&feature=share
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5UPrqBnHVSI
That's me with the Lowe Alpine Sting on my back.
Caught the train from Kings Cross up to Leeds and then caught the wonderful Leeds-Carlisle train to Horton-in-Ribblesdale. We arrived at 4pm and decided to stretch our legs on Pen-y-ghent. It's only around six miles round trip and we were lucky enough to witness the sun shining its rays through a gap in the looming cloud onto the village. We stayed in a bunk house behind the Golden Lion hotel. The experience was fairly unpleasant in that the room wasn't ventilated and was crammed with bunks and the sink was millimetres from the toilet. Brushing ones teeth with the bouquet of excrement in the nostrils is never fun. The pub smelled of rancid chip fat so we ate that night in The Crown Inn hotel where we met a group that had just finished the Pennine three peaks challenge.
The next day we hiked to Hawes which is a lovely little town straight out of a scene from All Creatures Great and Small. No yellow lines to be seen anywhere and Theakston and Black Sheep on tap in almost every pub. We ate in The Crown. The walk itself was slightly marred by the douche bags churning up the bridleway on their scramblers. I know they're entitled but wading through foot deep puddles caused by modern knobbly bike tyres is irksome.
From Hawes we made an epic trip up Shunner Fell and down into Swaledale, a picture perfect valley with Thwaite, a tiny village nestling at the bottom. We filled up on locally made Wensleydale cheese and fruitcake, a local tradition, before heading out and up across a desolate moor to Tan Hill. Awaiting us there was the Tan Hill Inn, England's highest altitude pub. The staff were eccentric and the welcome warm. Two coal fires and plenty of ale and good food to cheer us up.
The next day was tough. A lot of bog walking across Sleightholme Moor in rainy, windy conditions. I made us coffee halfway on my hobo stove but arriving in Middleton was welcome relief. I'd burnt myself out hiking at a lunatic pace the day before. We stayed in a BnB next to a hotel hosting a shooting party. The braying voices, big frames, brightly coloured shirts and brown shoes alerted me as I wondered in to peruse the menu. The next morning they were outside in their breeks and flat caps. Comical. I felt like a chav in my uncool sports shorts, white socks and walking boots.
We walked up the river Tees. We were attempting to hike 21 miles but my partner's blisters were now weeping blood which meant the going was slow. Combine that with making a three mile wrong turn and we decided to stop at a great youth hostel in Langdon Beck to nurse our wounds and drink some sublime ales at the Langdon Beck Hotel. It's a free house run by a lady who makes all her own dishes. Ate a superb steak pie and downed some ale from Newcastle called Rivet Catcher. Very moreish. On our earlier walk up the Tees we witnessed High Force waterfall and whitewashed farm cottages along the valley. In the pub that night I asked some local farm lads why the houses were whitewashed when all the other stone cottages I'd seen weren't. It turns out the local estate owner Lord Raby followed the tradition of marking all his properties in this way to remind himself of what was his. They didn't seem happy about it. The shooting party (roughly £10,000 a day to shoot) turned up and made polite small talk ('I shot 96 brace of grouse') before clearing off to the other bar. I think they'd been shooting on the same estate.
The next day we set out for Dufton, taking in more of the Tees and a valley-scape full of heather and scrambling rocks that resembled a highland scene. We had to scramble up the side of Cauldron Snout, a stunning, roaring waterfall and limped across another moor wishing my thighs weren't aching so much. The cumulative pain was offset by the the view of High Cup, which is kind of like a mini Grand Canyon, but without fat Yanks buzzing by in copters to ruin the tranquility. It was downhill from here into Dufton and its youth hostel. We were the only ones staying so we decided to eat in the pub opposite to give the receptionist a night off from cooking duties. That night we got back and lit a fire and chilled out in the big lounge. Our journey was at an end. We'd covered an average of 15 miles a day, which was pretty good going considering the hideous blisters covering my walking partner's feet.
In five days of hiking we must have seen no more than 16 other walkers. The hostels were pretty much empty after the August bank holiday weekend. Peace and quiet prevailed. As you can see from the videos some of the views were stunning, although Dean's camera view of my stumpy legs for much of the journey weren't quite as spectacular) and my Lowe Alpine Sting was comfortable and very roomy. Next time I'll carry even less: a shirt and jeans and flip flops for evenings; toiletries; a fleece; three pairs of sports socks; and a spare wicking sports shirt to swap over every day. I rinsed the shirt I was wearing every evening and dried it. I will ditch the poncho and replace with a very lightweight breathable waterproof coat. Add a head-torch and book and that's it. Towels can be hired at the hostels. I reckon a lightweight 30 litre rucksack would suffice.
I slept like a log every night and ate like a pig. Hiking burns up the calories. Enjoy the videos.
