E2: Airton to Ickornshaw

In contrast to previous days, today my journey was principally through farmland, green fields and sheep.

Felling excessively full after a cooked breakfast I ambled down to the valley bottom and the Pennine Way. I was not going to have a "Full English" today as I was still full from my dessert of the previous night, but the owner was in his chef's whites ready to prepare it and it seemed a pity to disappoint. As I carried the weight of my heavily laden stomach down the valley, burping periodically, I wondered on the breed of sheep I was now seeing. No longer Swaledales, they had broad white faces, Texels maybe or Cheviots?

First stop was Gargrave where I stocked up with provisions at the Coop as I am camping tonight and tomorrow. Then I enjoyed a pot of tea at the Dalesman café, listening to the clipped Yorkshire accents of those other customers with louder voices. I continued over fields and modest hills, the weather cool but not excessively cold, the sun found occasional gaps in the clouds to pick out a distant slope or a nearby field. Black trees, naked of leaves, were silhouetted against the dull green grass. There was a short section of walking on a canal towpath for variety. The canal went under a curious bridge, strange as it was built on top of an earlier, smaller bridge.

In my research I found no accommodation in Ickornshaw. Possibly I could have tried harder, looking at nearby towns and exploring options using a bus, however I decided to camp on the moors as a way of stopping myself over eating with pub meals of chips and puddings, and cooked breakfasts. Maybe there was also a bit of "machismo", in proving to myself I could camp in wintery conditions. So I walked through the Pennine town of Ickornshaw with its stone built houses dating from the Industrial Revolution, continuing up through farmland to the high moors of heather and moss. On reaching the rough ground the Pennine Way completed a tour of little huts that were spaced at regular intervals. Each had a chimney and waterbutt, all were padlocked, doors and boarded off windows, maybe they were used for grouse shooting with a stove to keep the customers warm. I did not wish to camp by these places, if someone visited them they would probably take offence to my tent on their grouse moor. Continuing on I was pleased to find a good spot, level with short grass, by the ruins of a small stone building, far more comfortable than camping on the surrounding tussocks of heather or in wet areas of grass and sphagnum moss. I set up my tent as the light was fading, pinning down the upwind side first with a tent peg before inserting poles to avoid the fresh breeze blowing the canvas away. Then I quickly escaped inside to avoid the rapidly cooling wind.