Day 36: Eslack to Malham

Hmm, suddenly feeling really exhausted. Could be something to do with the pint of beer I have just guzzled at the Lister Arms in Malham and the hundreds of miles I have walked.

I have had the most perfect day today.

It was dry and somewhat sunny all day. It all got really superb, when five miles into the walk, I left Gargrave and entered into the Yorkshire Dales National Park and I could see it all spread out in front of me like a flawless patchwork quilt.

I have been in the mist for the last four days but I am sure that the views before me would have been breathtaking under any circumstance and they felt strangely familiar. I felt oddly as though I had come home! You see, I am a Yorkshire lass at heart. I was born in Yorkshire, Hull, a sea port just south and east of here. Having left Yorkshire at the age of three, I have always considered myself a Londoner but I do feel a deep connection with this countryside.

The scenery around me had definitely changed (not that I have been able to see much for the last few days) and this was unmistakably the Yorkshire dales. Expansive rolling hills and dales, a jigsaw of various shapes formed by miles of rock walls. A much tamer landscape than the southern pennine moors.

I descended from the hills and the path followed along the scenic banks of the Aire river.

This was potentially the best walking of my trip so far. Again, it could just be the contrast from walking in rain and mist for the last few days, but I don't think so. Today will be hard to beat.

The river was full and cascading down between grassy banks. The odd fly fisherman stood casting on the banks. Cows chewed happily in the adjoining fields, beneath large, scattered oak trees and it was a tranquil, pleasing scene to walk through. The cows were collared with bells around their necks and the horses all wore coats and it seemed as if everything was happy. How could you not be happy if you lived here?

Unfortunately my camera had decided not to work again and I was unable to capture this bucolic scene.

I met a fairly elderly, but amazingly well looking couple and we exchanged stories. They walked the Pennine Way 40 years ago and last year completed the entire 630 miles of the Coastal Path. They also walked from their home in Yorkshire to Rome! They were envious of my exploits and I was in admiration of their devotion to long distance walking and they were an inspiration to me.

There is something about walking into a village that is so much better than driving into it. Walking into Malham was no exception. I had been told it was small but was surprised to find it was just a collection of a few rock houses, two pubs, cafe and YHA. All this nestled below Malham Cove, an impressive curved limestone cliff at the head of the valley.

I settled into the YHA and had a shower while I tried to recharge my camera, hoping that this was the problem. I was desperate for photographs thinking that the weather may be bad again tomorrow.

Once charged, I decided to go into the village and ended up walking along a tempting pathway to Janets Foss. What could this be? The suspense was killing me and the sign said it was only a mile away. I bought an ice-cream and ambled along free of my back pack burden. I was clean, my hair blew freely in the breeze and it felt wonderful to be walking but not to be sweaty and stinky. It was a dreamy path along a babbling brook and up a beautifully wooded valley to a waterfall. The mystery unfolded as I found out that Janet is the fairy that lives behind the waterfall and foss is Scandinavian for waterfall. It was worth the walk and I was able to take some photographs.

Malham village:





The Lister Arms and where I am now:






The wooded valley up to Janet Foss:











Janet Foss:













The Yorkshire Dales:






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Day 35: Haworth to Elslack

A map, so you can see how far north I have come:



I was very nervous over breakfast this morning about leaving the security of my deluxe secret garden room and stepping out into the unknown again.

It seems a while since I have truly been on my own. This is a tough environment too and the forecast was for rain all day.

I got a cab back to the reservoir where I had left the Pennine Way yesterday. But first I left my stick in the B&B and we had to turn around to retrieve it.

I set out, up through the sodden fields, closely following the guide book directions and map which I had sealed away in plastic bags. I had stuffed my camera, Ipod and phone down in my pack to protect from the weather but then of course I couldn't use the them. The rain makes everything so inconvenient and renders my new back pack pockets useless.


It was only lightly drizzling so it wasn't too bad, but increasingly misty as I climbed higher, back onto the moors.

In one field with a couple of options for paths, I stopped to confirm I was going the right way. I was deep in thought, studying the map at every angle and carefully reading the guide book instructions when a sheep strode right up to me and started to nibble on my fingers. Her mouth was warm and fuzzy and I could feel her teeth as she gently nibbled and muzzled me. Sheep are a scared bunch usually and generally watch as you pass and run off when you get too close. All the other sheep in this field had already leapt off but this sheep kept to my side, as if guiding me as I walked on. I would have loved to take her with me, but I had to shut the gate over the other side of the field so I thanked her and we said our goodbyes.

I think I believe in reincarnation. I am glad I am a vegetarian.

I climbed up to Bare Hill which was indeed bare. Mist.

But as I walked on across the moors the clouds began to lift and a view of Cowling the surrounding countryside emerged.


I didn't see anyone else on the trail today except for a trail runner who came up rapidly behind me and scared me to death.

In Lothersdale the path took me right past the Hare and Hound and not wanting to pass up a refreshment stop, I had a pint of beer and a packet of crisps.


I had been walking without waterproofs as the weather was surprisingly decent but after my snack it all began to change again. As I approached Thornton-on-craven the heavens opened and the downpour began. Luckily I had a number for a B&B in the area and called for directions. It was however two miles in the other direction so I declined until she offered to pick me up.

The Grange B&B in Elslack is well worth a stay and they have looked after me very well here. It is a beautiful, almost stately home. I have a big bar of chocolate in my room, a lovely claw foot tub in which to soak, wifi for blogging and all at very affordable price. Sally has provided me with a bowl of rice for my Ipod as I have been advised that this may serve to draw out the dampness (although it has been in rice all night now and it is still not working), she dried my clothes and even turned on the fire in an attempt to dry out my boots.



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Day 34: Badger Fields Farm to Haworth

My camera is slowly coming back to life. It is currently switching itself on and off as though trying to remember how it used to work. When I try to turn it on however it won't work, but I am still hopeful and won't run out and buy another camera too soon. There isn't anywhere to run to anyway.

Hey, I have a picture from the other day. Looks similar to all the rest, mist etc but I will post it anyway because it is the last one I took before it inhaled too much rain.


I am currently staying in the "Secret garden" room in the Old Registry Guest house in Haworth. I am lounging on the day bed in my en-suite room sipping on a glass in wine and madly posting all the blogs I have been saving up due to lack of wifi.

I departed from the usual way of the path today and will now be out of synch with all my Pennine chums. It was all getting too chummy really and I want some time on my own to walk alone. I also wanted to visit Haworth as the Bronte sisters grew up here in the parsonage and wrote their classics. This is in the heart of Bronte country.

The weather was decent today and actually scorching hot when the sun came out, which it did a few times. So wonderful to be back in shorts and T shirt again and to see the views of this magnificent landscape. It is a completely different experience to be walking this path without the rain.

Sarah and I walked over Wadsworth moor and up to Within heights. At Top Withins there is a ruined farmstead thought to be associated with Emily
Bronte's novel Wuthering Heights. We met up with the three Yorkshire lads and their dog here.

After descending to Ponden reservoir I said goodbye to Sarah and hoped I might catch her up further up north.

I hitched a ride into Haworth and it is extremely quaint with beautiful shops and cobbled stone streets but this day bed is so comfortable, I am now reluctant to go and explore. My boots and socks are wet and anyway the museum at the parsonage is already closed I am sure.

That settles it then, I will have another glass of wine.

Hard to sight see and do the Pennine way at the same time.

Hey, I can take a picture with my camera - brilliant. Here is my Secret Garden room!






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Day 33: Diggle to Badger Fields farm (Hebden Bridge)

Good news is I am staying in a fantastic B&B at Badger Fields farm, just north of Hebden Bridge.

Bad news is both my camera and Ipod have stopped working. Despite being in a plastic bag, in the pocket of my "waterproof" jacket, they must have got too wet. Therefore there are no pictures of today and won't be any more until I can buy a new camera :(

The weather is atrocious and has been all day.

The B&B in Diggle was nothing to rave about. It belongs to a very sweet elderly couple who are deaf and had the TV turned up to unimaginable volumes and then had to shout at each other (with terrific Yorkshire accents) to be heard. About 10 pm I heard Sarah go downstairs and very politely
ask them to turn the TV down. The bed was awful too with enormous springs sticking up in multiple locations. But they made good poached eggs and I like the name of their village, Diggle.

It was also odd because the elderly landlady kept on commenting on the weather and how warm it was and failed to note that it was bucketing down with rain and blowing a gale. We kept on hinting about a ride up the road until I finally came out and asked them. They kindly obliged for a small fee.

It was a long steep road to rejoin the Pennine way so we were very glad of the lift.

I spent another day walking with Sarah who was good company. She used to be a lawyer but has just recently been ordained into the Church of England. Come September she will be a curate in the parish of Chipping Camden and will then be tied for years to come. Sounds very scary to me but I wish her all the best and admire her for following her "calling".

Today the Pennine way took us across the M62 motorway and I found it quite thrilling to cross the bridge with the roar of traffic and civilisation below. It was such a startling juxtaposition to the moorlands and our life on the path.

We walked on, across more desolate moorlands accompanied by the usual squall and deluge, to the high point at Blackstone Edge and then down to the A58 crossing our fingers that the White House pub would be open.

Amazingly it was open and was serving up food. After we had settled in with sandwiches, soup and plenty of hot tea, our three Yorkshire lads with the dog showed up and we compared notes yet again. I rung up Badger Farms and booked myself in as I was definitely not camping in this.

Pubs are wonderful places and you can see why they have survived through the centuries and are so ingrained in the British culture. Always an island of comfort, an oasis of dryness and warmth and as predictable as the atrocious weather. Walking only short distances across the moors makes you yearn for a pub.

It was about 17 miles today. I seem to capable of longer distances now. Although it still hurts, so I suppose you just do what you have to do.

Badger farm is lovely and comes highly recommended for Pennine Wayfarers. Very homely and the landlady obviously takes pride in what she does. We were greeting with a big pot of tea and chocolate cake. Dinner was incredible with tasty home grown veggies, mashed and roast potatoes, a delicious home made cheese flan, all washed down with a glass of red wine. We even had a pudding of chocolate browny and ice cream.

A quick update on Curt and Ivan as I have just received a voice mail from them. They couldn't get a flight out of Gatwick, so they rented another car and drove back to Jills. They then drive to Birmingham and took a flight to Dublin, Ireland where it looked most promising. But no luck there either. They ended up having to buy full price tickets back to Salt Lake and scrap the buddy pass. What a palaver! Lesson learnt. No buddy passes in the summer.

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Day 32: Crowden to Diggle.

Thankfully my feet were a little better when I awoke and I was able to get to breakfast without using the elevator!

I had only made vague plans to meet up with my friends again but as I hobbled up to where the trail started, there they were, with amazing timing. At the same time it started to rain again.

On with the waterproofs that aren't waterproof at all.

FYI - I am wearing all Patagonia stuff, their gortex equivalent, which seems to be utter crap. Don't buy it.

Lessons learnt from yesterday were to follow the map, set compass bearings and know where I am at all times, even when on a well defined trail. Because you never know when the trail will disappear or when the mist will descend.

I know, I know.....I have scoffed at this in the past, but it is essential here and now I am actually finding it fun to map read.

So I strode (hobble fading) out in front of my posse (Sarah, Heather and Martin) leading the way up the misty valley. Yesterday had taken me by surprise but I knew what to expect today. I was already starting to understand this trail.



We had a view initially but that quickly changed and it was more of yesterday. Bleak, baron and isolated moorland with driving rain, howling winds and yes...mist.

It is quite amusing actually to meet fellow hikers (not many of them mind you) walking the opposite direction. They appear suddenly out of the mist, a couple of feet in front of you, water pouring off their hoods, noses, chins, down their backs and fluorescent back pack covers, mud streaking up their legs as they battle side ways in the wind and pass with a nonchalant "good morning" like all is quite normal.


Martin however was a little grumpy and questioning quite rightly why he was doing this. His wife reminded him it was because he loved her and she wanted to do it.

Although some views would have been nice, I was still enjoying the experience of it all. For me the weather is part and parcel of this experience and synonymous with the moors. Anything else would not have been right.


Then we arrived at Snoopy's snack van and Martin was happy too.


Two rounds of tea for all us and a cake for me. The rain also conveniently stopped for us to enjoy this treat.

Everyone was at the snack shack. You get to know fairly quickly who is walking the trail with you as you meet up with them sporadically, at various stopping points. As far as I can tell there is only Sarah and I, three Yorkshire lads with their dog and one lone guy doing the entire trail, and on my schedule - so to speak (Martin and Heather are doing a two day package deal and are done today). It was like we were old buddies as we delighted over our mugs of tea and discussed our destination points.

But then I had to suffer the consequences of frequent pee stops which is incredibly awkward in this situation - rain, pack on back etc.

However, Lone guy had eaten a cheese burger and stated how much he regretted this as we stormed past him on the trail.

The weather had lifted somewhat and I was starting to dry out.


At the road to Diggle, Sarah and I turned left and Martin and Heather turned right to get picked up and taken back to their B&B. They were done.

I had called ahead and reserved a spot in the same B&B as Sarah because actually, this was the only place available. It poured with rain as we approached Diggle and we arrived soaking wet.

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Day 31: Start of the Pennine Way

It felt like a momentous occasion to be standing at the Nags Head pub and the official start of the Pennine Way (or Wa as it says on the sign)






Curt and Ivan left yesterday for Gatwick airport and Mick dropped me in Edale to begin the Pennine Way. I am back on my own for a while and it feels both exciting and a little scary.

But I am now equipped with the entire set of maps for the trail and a compass.

And I am ready for my biggest challenge yet - The Pennine Way.

This trail starts in the Peak District National Park and travels due north over the South Pennines, through Yorkshire Dales National Park, the bleak and remote North Pennines, traverses Hadrians Wall, through Northhumberland National Park and the Cheviot hills before entering into Scotland where it ends at Kirk Yetholm. Two hundred and seventy miles in total.

To date (July 14th) I have walked for 31 days and have covered 335 miles (353 including today). Let me just state that my feet have walked all that way. Not bad for a cripple that usually has a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.

I set off from Edale with Ipod on and happily marched along the trail with head down. After passing through several gates I suddenly realised that I hadn't noticed an acorn (the official national trail symbol) sign for a while. Chastising myself and realizing that I needed to take more care with route finding, I got out the guide book (yes I have a guide book AND maps) - that's when Sarah came wandering by, another lone female walking the Pennine way.

Meeting up with Sarah at that spot was in hindsight very fortunate for me. Mick had tried to explain how severe this trail can be, both in terrain and weather but I did not have a concept of this until I was there and experiencing it for myself.





About half an hour out of Edale it began to rain and as we climbed towards Kinder Low the wind began to howl and the mist descended. We could only see a couple of feet in front of us and the path petered out onto a plateau of gritstone rocks and peat bog. There were no acorn signs up here and without a compass we would have been doomed.

Somewhere along here we met up with another couple who were in the throws of an argument as to which way to go. Heather, as I was later to find out her name, kept on saying how thankful she was to have met up with us as her husband was useless and would have almost certainly got them lost! I must have looked the part, wafting my compass into the mist but I did admit to her that I had only a five minute instruction the night before on how to use the thing. She was happy to tag along anyway and although looking a little dejected, I think hubby was too.

[The mist and rain lifted for a few seconds for me to take this picture. Navigation was obviously easier here because of the flag stone path over the bogs]





But man, am I glad Mick gave me that lesson because it was invaluable and we were able together to navigate through the mist.

After sixteen miles of viewless, misty moorlands I said goodbye to my new comrades as they were staying in a B&B and I was walking onto the youth hostel a couple of miles away. We had made brilliant time because we had not stopped once. I had marched for eight straight hours with water pouring down my neck and my feet squelching in my boots. I was ready to stop and get dry.





I am now at the Crowden youth hostel and in a bit of a mess. I can barely walk and took the elevator labeled "disabled only" up to my room. I am not sure of my ability to walk to the dining room for breakfast tomorrow, let alone miles on the Pennine way.



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Day 30: Selattyn to LLangollen

We set off earlier today.

1. Because we weren't in a comfortable bed and breakfast but instead camped under an apple tree and sleeping atop the very hard and round fallen apples.

2. Because we were psyching ourselves up for a really long day to avoid the mistakes of yesterday.

Obviously Ivan was not ready to face the day








And definitely not ready to face the breakfast of left over chow mein and egg fried rice which Curt and I were finding delicious.

Leaving the Cross Keys pub:








It was somewhat sunny with a cool breeze, so perfect walking weather and time seemed to be back to normal again.


We made good time and quickly came in view of Chirk castle. You can vaguely see it above the tree tops in this picture:


Down the valley and then up by the castle to find the national trust farm shop open for business. Lucky for us because most things seem to be closed on sundays and Ivan was tremendously happy as he had not partaken in the breakfast. Tea and Bakewell tarts - yummy.

Next came chips and curry sauce in Froncycylite before walking over the impressive viaduct spanning the river Dee.


I wanted to stop for a coffee here but the boys wanted to get the next five miles over with and get settled in Llangollen

By the way in order to pronounce Llangollen correctly you have to start by forming your lips and tongue to pronounce the letter L, but instead just blow air gently around the sides of the tongue and that is the "Ll"

Try reading the next paragraph out loud. It is english but written using the sounds of the Welsh alphabet:

"Ai hop ddat yw can ryd ddys and ddat yt meiks sens tw yw. Iff yw can ryd ddys, dden yw sawnd ryt and ar redi tw gow hycing in wals. Gwd lwc and Haf ffyn."

We walked down an extremely long tow path to LLangollen.


And then got smart and got a cab to our hotel as it was a couple of miles out of town.

Spain won the world cup tonight.

Llangollen ended up being the end of Offa's Dyke trail for me, 35 miles short of Prestatyn.

Curt and Ivan needed to get back to Mick's to pick up their rental car and drive to Gatwick airport to fly home :(

I will miss them.








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Day 29: Four Corners to Selattyn

So we had a discussion over breakfast time about this business of walking and fun.

We explained to Ivan that fun has a different connotation for us. In fact fun is not how I would describe walking anyway. Pleasurable is perhaps a better word. Pleasurable because I am outside, obviously taking time out from chores and therefore doing something I wouldn't normally be doing. "Fun" maybe when I stop and get to sit down in an amazing pub with a beer.

In fact, that IS what it is all about and something I cannot expect a fourteen year old to understand. I have discovered that the ingredient to happiness (my happiness anyway) lies in contrasts. I think that in order for me appreciate the mundane nature and comfortableness of every day life, I have to mix it up. How can you appreciate not suffering if you have never suffered? The irony of this, is that as you become more comfortable (something we continually seek) in life, you shirk further away from discomfort not realizing that a dose of it may be necessary for true happiness.

Not to mention the tremendous physical benefits of walking.

We made the mistake today of thinking this would be a short day. We lingered over breakfast and didn't leave the village until nearly 11 a.m. For some reason, without checking the map, I thought we only had about a eight mile day.

Offa's Dyke zig zagged all over England and Wales today. We spent miles walking around a canal, which was stunningly beautiful, but the road would have got us to the same place within minutes.





We lunched on top of a hill, thinking we had traveled miles but the village we had departed from hours ago was still clearly visible and disappointingly close.

I am usually very intuitive when it comes to mileage and time of day but on this day all that ability left me. We had obviously entered into a weird time and space warp.

Howdy pardner:




Ivan was questioning our sanity more than ever, but his sense of humor and obvious physical fitness never failed him and he walked admirably on.


We walked for nine hours and finally arrived, tired and desperate at our destination, The Cross Keys pub in Selattyn (back in England again)

This pub doesn't serve food and doesn't have accommodation but was chosen because it was in Mick's 2005 pub guide. It does have great beers. It is also 17th century, beautiful and traditional. We had called in advance and they had agreed to let us camp on their lawn.

I had told Phil and Hilda the hospitable publicans (only the third owners since 1900) that we would be arriving about 2 pm but because of this time warp we arrived about 8 pm. We basically fell through the door into the small bar and everyone was instantly aware that we had arrived.


It was also blatantly obvious (thanks to Ivan) to all at the pub that we had not had any dinner and had no prospects of any.

One of the locals suggested he run us down to the local chinese/chippie a few miles away. Ivan thought that was a grand idea and made lots of satisfied noises as he inhaled his egg fried rice and veggie chow mein - which he more than deserved.





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Day 28: Welshpool to Four corners

I assume you have figured out by now that I am only numbering the walking days. Not sure why I am doing it this way but this is how I started so I will continue.

We actually spent a couple of days in Capel Curig in self catering accommodation pre booked by Jill many months ago. It was wonderful to spend time with family and get to know my cousins after all these years. We vowed that this was the first of many reunions.

Cousins:



Curt then drove us back to Mick's in LLandudno, we left the rental car there and took a train back to Welshpool to pick up the Offa's dyke trail about ten miles north of Montgomery.


It was now time to walk with Curt and Ivan and it was so wonderful to finally have them with me. I desperately wanted them to understand and feel all that I was experiencing.

From the train station at Welshpool we quickly found the footpath to rejoin the Offa's Dyke trail.

I was sporting a brand new back pack with a few necessary additions, such as pockets and a hydration bag. Ivan was now using my back pack and a pair of my old boots as he walked down the tow path of the canal, kicking the football along. Within minutes the boots were killing him. He changed to his little boat shoes and then eventually walked the next five miles or so in bare feet. And looked a little bizarre as you can tell in this picture.


We left the canal and followed the trail along the Severn river. It was here amongst the fields of cows that Ivan decided he needed shoes. Curt had fortunately brought a spare pair, which Ivan ended up wearing for the rest of the walking. Three sizes too big, but better Ivan thought than having cow poop squelch between your toes.

It was an easy, flat day of walking today and we arrived at the B&B ten miles later still relatively happy.

This was a very posh B&B, in big Georgian house with an equestrian centre, fuzzy, dead animals for blankets and bath robes for use after a dip in the deluxe corner tubs. Not really a typical English B&B experience to initially expose my boys too but fun never the less and Ivan made the most of it.

Let me introduce Ivan Hefner:


We joined another fellow boarder for the evening and got a cab together to the local pub for dinner and drinks.

A successful day by all accounts. Ivan is happy and seems to be enjoying himself despite the fact he cannot understand why we would want walk all day long for fun.


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Somewhere over the Rainbow

If I could put music to this next blog it would Iz Kamakawiwo'ole, singing his beautiful rendition of Somewhere over the Rainbow.

This blog isn't about walking or England but about something we all have to deal with eventually. It is about three sisters putting their parents to rest and another purpose for my trip this summer.

We begin this journey in North Wales at a family reunion. I had already been reunited with my husband, curt and son, Ivan in Montgomery. They had just spent three stressful days getting to me via numerous international locations on our now, not so wonderful, buddy pass tickets. They were traveling in style with a hire car and it felt kind of bizarre to throw my pack in the boot (trunk) and whiz north, covering miles of Wales in a matter of minutes. Sounds weird to think that in only four weeks I could become so unaccustomed to traveling in a car but these four weeks have been intense and do not equate to time in my normal life.

We dropped Mick back at his home in llandundno and drove to Capel Curig to be reunited with an extended family that I barely new existed. Jane and Val are my Dad's sister's children and therefore my cousins, who up until last year I hadn't seen for forty years. It had seemed as though only my sister's and I were left surviving, but here we were in a crowd of people, introducing ourselves, shaking hands and hugging - my family. My other sister Lesley and three of her four children had also arrived and were part of this hugging session.

We spent hours reminiscing, trying to piece together fragmented memories, looking at old photographs and wondering why our parents had drifted so far apart.

Questions we could only speculate on but regardless, it was time to put mum and dad to rest. We had decided it should be on Tryfan, a mountain that stood out in our child hood memories as a family favorite.

Dad had been keeping mum in a shoe box for the last seven years, a box that I had unknowingly almost thrown away. He had reassured me then that he couldn't part with her and wanted to be reunited with her ashes upon his death. Dad was now in a plastic bag and it was time to make that reunion happen so they could rest together in a more appropriate place than a plastic bag and shoe box.

As the three of us drove down LLanberris pass towards Tryfan we were faced with a view that never fails to take my breath away. A view so imprinted in my memory from so many happy childhood walking trips. Tryfan stands bleak and imposing, a hardscape of grey rock and soft purple heathers. Waterfalls tumble and flow down the mountainside but from a distance look white and static. On top, and clearly visible this morning stand Adam and Eve, two massive stonehenge type rocks. If you are young and brave enough as I was many years ago, you jump between these rocks, risking death from the sheer drop on one side if you are unfortunate enough not to make the jump.





Perhaps a little apprehensively we started up the "Heather terrace" and the path that we always took with mum and dad. With impeccable timing and as if ordered as a tribute, two spitfires roared low overhead, twisting and turning as they sped fearlessly down the valley.

I carried mum on my back. Jill carried dad. Lesley carried the sandwiches.





As we walked we remembered.

Do you remember that picture you had taken there Jill? You had just had your hair cut and your jeans were all rolled up and I thought you looked really cool. That picture of you with pig tails Lesley, I think it was taken there. That is where you rescued me Jill when I was five, I fell off the mountain, eating my packet of bovril crisps. I was hanging by my fingertips before you pulled me to safety and I never spilt a crisp so mum used to say. The same paths, the same walls, stiles and rocks that were here 35 years ago, a timeless landscape.

We shared memories and gave each other a well needed update on our current life situations.

We scrambled on up to the top and ate lunch, delaying the task at hand for a little longer. It was oddly comforting to have them with us on our backs and sad to think we would be going back down without them.

It was very windy and cold and we could delay no further.

We opened up the containers and the ashes flew out and joined together in the wind. It was a magnificent, beautiful experience, exhilarating and happy and not at all sad as we had expected. We were laughing as they blew into the distance or congregated together on the rocks at our feet.











As we turned to leave the summit and started to climb back down we could hear dad saying to us in his Yorkshire accent,
"Ah, well dun lasses"





Now when I think of mum and dad, I think of them blowing over the mountains and valleys of LLandberris pass and snuggled together for eternity on the rocks and crevices of Tryfan.

"Somewhere over the rainbow,
way up high
And a dream that you dreamed of
once in a lullaby"







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Location:Main St,,United Kingdom

Montgomery

Mongomery is a gorgeous Welsh border town with a church, market square and clock tower and a ruined castle looming on the hill above.

I am doing this as a separate blog because the last blog couldn't handle any more pictures. It starts to freak out once I get above four and stops saving the blog.

Mongomery also has the most deliciously moist and tasty carrot cake I have ever had in this delightful little organic cafe. You must visit.






There was a beautiful light and wonderful clouds as we walked up in the evening to visit the castle.





















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Days 25 through 27 Kington to Montgomery

I have got really behind on the blogging front. It is easy to blog when I am on my own but so much harder once I get company.

This will just be a quick synopsis of these 3 days so I can get up to date.

Day 25 took us to Knighton or the "Town on the Dyke" in Welsh.


This mound is the Dyke. Doesn't look as though it would keep the Welsh out.


We stayed in a converted barn in Knighton behind the George and Dragon pub which I can highly recommend.


Day 26 we walked to Newcastle. The village of Newcastle in Shropshire (back in England again) obviously and not the city. We camped here at the Clun Valley camping which is not mentioned anywhere in the Dyke accommodation guides but worthy of a mention as it was excellent value at four pounds a person.



A field of poppies


And a cricket game as we approach Montgomery on day 27



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