Day 39: Hawes to Tan Hill Inn

The Fairfield was another luxury B&B.

We left Hawes and set out across the fields, stocking up on bars and lunch items from this whole food shop with an appropriate name.


We ascended steadily but slowly up to another high point on the Pennine Way.



And ate our yummy lunch


Consisting of pitta breads, squeezable mushroom pate and Wensleydale cheese. Of course Hawes is in Wensleydale. I cannot say Wensleydale without Wallace and Grommet coming to mind. Visions of large clay hands excitedly shaking, a wide mouth with oversized teeth saying "cheeeese grommet" and freshly shawn sheep stacked on top of each other in a triangular formation atop a motor bike whizzing through the Yorkshire Dales. If you haven't seen Wallace and Grommit then you must - brilliantly funny.

This was a long day of walking (17 miles) and we ended it by climbing again across the soggy moors towards Tan Hill Inn.



Tan Hill Inn is the highest pub in Great Britain. As we came around the brow of the hill, there it was, situated in solitude on top of the desolate moors, shrouded in mist and looking heavenly. I could not hobble fast enough to get in the door and had to step over sheep sheltering in the doorway to get in.


The bleak landscape of it's location, it's cold grey exterior and the quietness of the moors was a complete contrast to within. Inside a coal fire burned and the bar was crowded and noisy. The cold flag stone flooring was warmed by the fire and the gentle lighting. Dogs wandered around hoping to get scraps and a cat was curled up on the piano stool. The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation of the evening's entertainment, a blue grass band firm Nashville!

By midnight we were merrily singing along with a particularly raucous rugby club celebrating a stag night. Then we had to find our tent amongst dozens of others camped on the misty moors outside.

It had been another brilliant day of contrasts and connections.



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Day 38 Horton in Ribblesdale to Hawes

Lesley really reminds me of mum because she laughs a lot. Mum would laugh until tears streamed down her face and this must be genetic because actually, all of us Bonner sisters have inherited this gene - especially when together.


We had breakfast back in the Pen-y-Ghent cafe and I had more butter with crumpets and another tea in a gallon mug.

Lesley left the cafe and promptly searched for her car outside so she could put her sandwich in it. I had to remind her that she was now carless and directed her back to her rucksack, the necessary place for her sandwich.

We laughed about this too.

It was fifteen miles to our next destination, Hawes. It was a straight forward track, the weather was warm and sunny and it was not necessary to navigate at all. This made it very easy for us to talk and talk we did, for the entire way.


Lesley is eight years older than me, left for uni and then married before I was old enough to really get to know her. I then left for the USA, she had four kids and we were then too far away, wrapped up in separate lives and too busy. So this was a perfect opportunity to make up for lost time.



She had also joined me on a perfect leg of the journey because we reminded each other that we had spent some time together in the past and it was right here, in the Yorkshire Dales. Lesley was nineteen and I would have been eleven and she took me on a road trip to the Dales after she had just got her drivers license (scary, what were our parents thinking?). Neither of us can remember anything about it however, except that I ate white bread and apricot jam for the entire time, a chip shop in Hawes and a difficult three point turn on a dead end road. Funny the things we both remembered. What did we actually do for those few days?



Walking down into the village of Hawes was beautiful and sunny and we already had our destination for the night booked, the Fairfield B&B.






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Day 37 Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale

I'm sitting in the Pen-y-Ghent cafe waiting for the bunk room in the pub down the road to open. I've already had 4 hot crumpets drizzled in butter and a gigantic mug of tea. Now I am having a coffee and waiting for my sister Lesley to join me. She decided at the last moment to come and be my next walking companion on the trail.

This cafe is really quite famous and has been open since the Pennine Way officially opened in 1965. They have volumes of large books where Pennine Wayfarers have signed in over the years. I signed my name too and noticed that another chap had also come up from Lands End, had started a week after me and was in this cafe yesterday. So I am not the only nutcase undertaking this kind of thing.

I had been thinking that the end of the Pennine Way, just over the Scottish border, may be the end of my walking for this summer too. I still have a long way to go through Scotland and I don't think I will have enough time to make it to John O'Groats. But now after seeing that entry in the book, well, I am obliged to keep going. I can't have that guy get there before me. Not that I am competitive or anything. My sister-in-law, loves to remind me of a quote I made to her some years ago "I am not competitive, I just love to come first"

Another FYI.....

When I open up my blog now and see the title "Ali's Mid Life Crisis", I can't help but think, what crisis? I am definitely not in any crisis, far from it and don't think I ever have been. I did feel as though I was at a cross roads in my life and needed to make some changes both physically and mentally. That, plus my overwhelming desire to get away from it all and walk for miles and miles must surely have meant I was in The mid life crisis.

I have successfully walked all my issues away. And my blog now has the wrong title :)

Today I climbed to the highest point on the Pennine Way at 694m. In fact the path took me over two of the highest peaks in Yorkshire making it a tough day.

Initially the trail took me right up to the base of Malham Cove, that impressive lime stone cliff I mentioned in my previous blog. Apparently at the end of the Ice age a river would have poured over this cliff forming a mini Niagara falls, right here in Yorkshire. The trail then ascended steep lime stone steps to get on top of the cliff and I thought for sure that I would hurl my YHA breakfast up.





The trail continued to ascend and took me past the bleak and desolate Malham tarn and on up to Fountains Fell. The guide book says that I was supposed to enjoy the magnificent views from here - NOT. I was in the mist. But it wasn't raining so all was good.






One thing that has amazed me on this trip is my ability to enjoy my own company. I don't usually you see. I have always needed to be with others to feel comfortable. Well, not anymore because I can walk for hours on my own, not see a soul and love it. The more isolated I am the better.

As I descended down Fountains Fell and out of the mist, my next challenge became visible, the summit of Pen-y-Ghent. This peak is one of the highest in Yorkshire and it looked Everest like from my perspective.





[my camera died again at this point-will have to consider the possibilities of a new one]

The Pennine way climbed right up the rocky side of Pen-y-Ghent and by the time I had ascended and then descended the other side, I was absolutely shattered. The long walk along a bridle path into Horton on Ribblesdale was painful and endless.

Which is why I am so happy to be in this cafe right now.

The pub and bunk house eventually opened and I decided to take a shower before Lesley arrived. The following chain of events then caused me a great deal of amusement for the rest of the evening.

I could not get out of the bunk house. I tried the door handle every which way, but it appeared to have locked behind me. I was imprisoned, alone, within the walls of a dark and primitive bunk house. It smelt of old socks and wet rucksacks with bunk beds and plastic stained mattresses stacked to the ceiling. Earlier I had been glad to find out Lesley and I were the only ones booked in for the night. Now I wished there were forty other people in the bunks. I could be stuck in here for days.

But then I remembered that Lesley was meeting me in the pub and would come to my rescue when I didn't show. Luckily my phone for once actually had a signal and doubly lucky, I had the pub phone number. So I was rescued and set free to find that Lesley had just arrived in the pub. This caused us a big giggle as we feasted on veggie lasagne's










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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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