5. In the middle of nowhere - the locals call it Yorkshire

Over The Pennines

A typical Dales Way landscape

Hubberholme Church

Today is the day we start to climb up and over the Pennines and due to the scarcity of roads we do a lot of shuffling back and forth to get a vehicle in position for our expected finish - over two hours of driving along some exceedingly narrow roads and with some very thick mist on the top.    When we finally get walking, in sunshine, we reach Hubberholme, whose church was J B Priestley’s favourite.  It’s a squat, wide building

and very appealing inside with the sun streaming through the eastern window.  For anyone who has never heard of J B P, he’s on the internet.

The upper River Wharfe
- drought struck

A short while after leaving Buckden, we’re still alongside the River Wharfe, but in this drought it is now just a sheeted limestone dry riverbed.  What water is here has fled underground and so any fish or water creatures have died.  Now we don’t even expect to see Kingfishers and don’t.  Other walkers are very thin on the ground here but we did see a couple scouting around in a field and when we got nearer we were given a talk about how it was a wildflower meadow with at least six species of Orchid including Butterfly Orchid.  Even I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we had just sold a house with our own wildflower meadow and a Butterfly Orchid in full bloom in it.  So we continued along the line of the river and then started our climb up the Pennines.  Our guide book has an altitude profile of the walk which makes it look horribly daunting but of course the vertical scale is much exaggerated compared to the horizontal, otherwise it would look almost flat.  After an hour or so going up we reached Nethergill Eco Farm and stopped for tea and flapjacks (honesty box provided).   It was by the day’s standards teeming with people, us, a Dutch couple and a family group.  From here on though we were really on the moors and judging by the vegetation, we were crossing areas that in normal circumstances would be very wet indeed.  Bog-trotting, it’s called.  Fortunately for us it was bone dry and an immense fire risk.

One of those elegant single-arched bridges - this one at Deepdale

It seems to us that Sheep appear to be hard of hearing.  At the beginning of this walk they were so habituated to people they stood and looked, rarely even bothering to move.  As we got to the more remote areas they do make sure they have more space but if they don’t see us coming there’s generally no reaction until we’re upon them.   Once they’ve seen us they rush away like scalded cats but they never seem to hear us coming.

We had chosen to do the un-waymarked high-level route for the views but which by definition meant that we had elected to climb more.  For those of you unused to long walks it may be surprising to learn that climbing isn’t the problem.  Coming down with tired legs is the problem and I’d rather finish with an up than a down and however long a walk is, the last mile is always tiring.  Actually after a long day’s walk a moving pavement would be nice but I’ve yet to find one.  The transition from the low to the high level route though was a fiercely steep calf-burning mile or so up.   We reached The Pennine Bridleway, saw one walker striding towards us who was clearly not in a conversational mood, realised we weren’t sure where we were and took the appropriate action.  We stopped for luncheon.   Then we found to our chagrin that we had left the picnic hamper, chilled Chablis, chairs, table and tablecloth in the van.  So it was cheese sandwiches, tomatoes and an apple again  !   As it happens we were on the right line and only 100 yards or so from a distinctive position mark.   There was a little drizzle drifting down and we were on a long slow downhill to where the car was waiting for us tucked at the side of the road and anxiously awaiting our arrival.

So, we now drive back 45 minutes to the van at Buckden, then drive back to exactly where the car had been and a further 30 minutes to our campsite, crossing one of those lovely single arched bridges which was about three inches wider than the van.  Fortunately the wing mirrors were above the parapet.  Our site for the night was in Dent, an amazing little village with a twisty main street all higgledy-piggledy, cobbled and looking like a film set for some Victorian drama.

It isn’t often that someone says they were lucky to have a puncture but we were.  The following morning was damp with low cloud hooked on the hilltops and we decided that with no views to be had, it was pointless to walk on the tops and reluctantly decided on a low route.  Just as we were about to leave we saw that a front van tyre was very low and it had a screw stuck in it.  So we called for assistance and two hours later were ready to go back to where we finished yesterday.  Started walking the low route, looked at the tops.  Is it clearing ?  No.  Started walking, another look, Yes, it is clearing.  So we retraced our steps (only about 400 yards) and went up.  Then it rained, waterproofs on, then it stopped, waterproofs off.  Then back on and sometime during this tediousness my hat was unintentionally released into the wild without me noticing.   But then it began to clear properly and the views down Dentdale were beautiful and well worth the climb.  There were still shadows from clouds flitting across the valley but patches of sun, woods, fields and a meandering valley pointing towards our destination for the day, back at Dent.  Without the puncture delay we would have missed all of it.

 

Dent Dale

Heather leading the way down into Dent Dale

At one point while walking along a section between two dry stone walls about thirty or forty feet apart we came across a group of cows and calves.  Knowing not to walk between big ‘uns and little ‘uns we skirted to one side.  Then at the far end was a much bigger chap and I do mean chap.  A big bull who watched us walk past with what I took to be a baleful eye.  It is perfectly legal to have bulls on a public right of way in Britain but only certain breeds.  In a nutshell, it’s OK for beef cattle but not dairy.  We had a second encounter of the bullish kind some days later but he didn’t even bother to look at us. 

Arten Gill Viaduct being used

The views were stunning at this height and when we began to descend we passed the highest mainline railway station in England.  Dent station, positioned somewhat bizarrely about five miles from Dent.   When we had finished the day’s walk and went back for the car there were several people with binoculars and cameras just watching one of the impressive railway viaducts on this line.  so we stopped and asked if a train was due.  Yes it was, a steam train whose name I was told and promptly forgot which appeared about two minutes later and chuffed across the viaduct in all its glory.  Lovely.

There is certainly a difference between a one day walk and a multi-day sequential walk, starting one day’s walk just where the previous one left off.  I heard on the radio that we don’t have a word for that but the Germans do and it translates as ‘a destination walk’.  I rather like that.  After three days walking from Ilkley, we were over the Pennines now and faced with just an undulating three shortish walking days left to the end of this splendidly varied and beautiful trail at Windermere, England’s deepest lake.

Three views of Dent.

Yes, the title's for you David !