Unfortunately I felt distinctly stodgy for a lot of the day following a heavy meal last night and a lighter breakfast. My still full stomach needed a lot of effort to carry it. In the background an annoying headache played around my temples, which I felt unfair as I had not drunk excessively in the bar last night while exchanging pleasantries and views on different long distance paths with a couple on a neighbouring table.
Nevertheless my ailments did not prevent me admiring the scenery this morning. The Tan Hill Inn, England’s highest pub where I stayed last night, stands surrounded by high ground which today was covered with snow. Somebody was out before me, their clear boot prints stamped into the white snow. Rabbit trails headed this way and that. Standing water on the path had frozen over, and I was cautious to avoid slipping on its grey ice. Reeds and grasses poked their needle like leaves through the white blanket. Despite the overcast skies visibility was good. All the higher ground was white above a sharp line, a height below which extended valleys of dull green fields, marked out into large rectangles with grey, drystone walls. Each field seemed to have a drystone barn in the corner.
I happily walked over this empty, serene landscape, eventually loosing height, and leaving the snow behind for a time to enter Swaledale. At the bottom of the valley I passed a waterfall, East Gill Force. All the waterfalls are called a "force" in this area of Yorkshire, and valleys are called "dales". After steeply climbing out of the valley bottom I diverted into the village of Keld. I thought I had stopped at a café here on a previous occasion but was mistaken, I spotted the café, closed until the end if the month, in the next village of Thwaite. However my walk into Keld did reveal a "Self Service, Winter Tearoom". Inside there was a warm fire, the equipment to make tea or coffee, and a wide selection of cakes. Despite not being hungry I could not resist a slice of Yorkshire Fruit Cake with a glass of blackcurrant squash. The latter was particularly wise as the water I was carrying had become so cold that I was unable to manage more than a sip at the time. Lacking any change for the honesty box, I made my donation through a card reader they helpfully provided. Very modern!
Some of the stiles today were exceeding difficult to get through. Approaching Thwaite, there was a stile of a type where, to make absolutely sure no animal escaped, a small gate was combined with a narrow slit halfway up the drystone wall. The narrow slit proved difficult for me to squeeze through and I do not consider myself as having a wide girth.
After Thwaite the Pennine Way climbed gradually up Great Shunner Fell and back into the snow. As the path rose higher, the ice on the grasses and rocks became ever more fantastical in shape. Clear ice formed on needles of grass protruding from the snow. As more ice was deposited the wind caused it to stretch out to form little translucent "daggers" pointing downwind. As the wind changed direction around obstacles so the direction the extended shards of ice changed.
In this empty, cold, white landscape I saw a distant figure walking towards me in multicoloured clothes. One of two hikers I passed with heavy packs, evidently planning to camp. I also overtook a man out for a day trip. As I was so surprised to be moving faster than him I exchanged a few words about the weather to make sure he was OK.
In the last hours of the day the lowering sun made a few appearances, through gaps in the cloud, creating graceful shadows, transforming a dull landscape on the valley ahead of me into one of warmth and beauty. Below me the town of Hawes was spread out, my resting place for the night, where I arrived as the last of the daylight was extinguished.
No comments:
Post a Comment