Another great walk today - and short at 9.5 miles. Most people walking the Pennine Way on this stretch have a longer day, but due to accommodation availability my trail days are inconsistent. Some longer ones are coming up…In the meantime, I’m fully enjoying more time soaking up village life in the picturesque and quiet Thwaite. A friendly couple opened up Kearton’s Inn recently, a tearoom, pub, and B&B, and it is very welcoming and comfortable.
There was a diversion of the Pennine Way leaving Hawes as the 220 yr old stone bridge over the River Ure has been closed for repairs after severe flooding last winter damaged it, so we crossed some nice fields, talked to some sheep, and stuck to the edge of an A road (not a very busy one fortunately). It added a little bit to our short walk, but the skies gifted us with a couple wonders. First of all, a driver kindly slowed down on a curve to give us plenty of room, we locked eyes and then he pointed up over the adjacent field, and I saw a beautiful white owl, wings spread wide soaring low across the field and in and out of a group of trees. I watched him glide, flap a bit, glide some more for a long while before he finally disappeared in the hills. Basking in that beauty for less than five minutes before a huge noise crackled through the air and a RAF jet zoomed from the surrounding hillsides, turning 90 degrees as it passed low over our heads. Very different from the silent, elegant owl, but impressive none-the-less. Then all of a sudden there were three more, turning and banking. (When we arrived at the pub I of course looked up which owl we had seen (barn), and Bill looked up which jet (a F-35). Exciting times overhead!)
We started the long 5 mile ascent up to Great Shunner Fell. I’m still very much enjoying these wide open moorlands, and it’s nice that after the heatwave last weekend the boggy paths have dried up a bit. There are still plenty of squishy bits where hopping, jumping and careful stepping is required, but mostly my feet stayed dry. The climb up the fell was grassy and soft, but on the way down there were ankle busting gashes in the ground and loose scree with roly rocks. It was pretty darn steep, too. For the first couple of hours we felt like we were alone in the world, views that went on forever, the songs of skylarks and lapwings heard when the wind died down occasionally. We were surprised by a friendly, deep Scottish brogue behind us. After a brief chat, our new friend who was on his way to the twice as far Tan Hill, hurried ahead of us. Now I saw that we were not alone on the trail, there were at least 7 people climbing behind us. Eventually, we all converged at the top of the climb at the best hilltop cairn ever: a rocky bench designed in quadrants, protection from any direction of gusts of wind. We met again our Scots friend, and also walked up was Robert with whom we had been leapfrogging for a few days. He emigrated to Australia from Scotland 32 years ago, so we nicknamed him ‘Scaussie’. He’s a very sweet guy, and he, like everyone else on the trail today, was going twice as far as us. I felt a tad wimpy. We ate lunch, chatted, and after a good long break, ventured out into the windy hilltop again. I added to a very tall pile of trail marking rocks. Then, as mentioned earlier, it was a rough walk down and I really had to pay attention to finding the trail and not falling down on the trail. We made it to the wonderful Kearton’s, ordered a cup of tea and coffee walnut cake to wait while our room was ready. We waved goodbye to all our trail friends when they headed out (it’s the only place in the village to get a drink), as they headed towards the hill we would be on tomorrow morning.
I have to share a little about the day off yesterday because it was really lovely. Hawes is a sweet village, and after shopping a bit (I enjoyed a Yorkshire ice-cream interestingly licorice flavored - it was very good - then succumbed to the draw of the country store and bought a very English Barbour vest), I rested in our super comfy room with spectacular views from its corner windows. In the afternoon I went across the street to visit the butcher and baker (no candlestick-maker in sight), and bought fruitcake and locally made Wensleydale cheese which became an odd but delicious dinner. It’s the treat of choice around here. All of this followed up by a perfect evening of strolling to a nearby field to watch a demonstration by a local farmer of her working dogs herding sheep. And the best part of these two days: getting to say “I walked over the fell from Wensleydale to Swaledale.”
