20th August 2024: Horton to Kirkby Malham – 16 miles
The pub filled up a bit around 6pm, a family came in, then a group of 4 people, then a solo walker who needed to charge his phone. They all ordered food and the room seemed to warm up slightly, but not enough for me to stay any longer than it took me to finish my meal and settle my bill. I was off upstairs to climb into bed, try and warm up, and watch something on my tablet. I watched Guy Ritchie’s Ungentlemanly Warfare, which was very enjoyable and then watched the second half of an old Top Gear special and by 9.30 my eyelids were drooping, so I switched it off and tried to sleep. The bed is a bit lumpy and the pillows are so flat I needed to use three, but I seem to have found some sleep. My watch says my sleep was ‘interrupted’ – which sounds about right. This is the watch that refuses to charge from the third party charging adapter I’ve been using for ages and has now decided to stop working! It’s probably only got another day’s use in it and then I’m going to miss its little notifications every mile.
The watch is right too, I remember waking a couple of times in the night and hearing the rain falling. It was coming down particularly heavy at 4.30 and it’s coming down again now, about an hour before I set out. I’m hoping it will have rained itself out by then! I’ve had a couple of flapjacks (the big, soft, tasty ones I only seem to be able to buy in the Spar in Hawes), washed down with tea made with those dreadful UHT milk cartons, of which there are never enough. I’m mostly packed and just killing time really, before I have to head out into the murk. I can see nothing out of my bedroom window beyond a couple of hundred yards, and the tops are all covered. I’m still happy with my reason for avoiding PYG, but the weather just adds to it. I have no choice in the ascent of Fountains Fell of course, it will be murky and viewless, and completely unavoidable – but then it’s not the ascent that I’m trying to avoid on PYG.
As I got dressed this morning, all my kit felt cold and damp, which was a real lift to my spirits of course – the last nail in the coffin for the Crown in Horton however, was the fact that when I came to need it this morning, I found only 6 sheets of toilet paper left on the roll and no spare roll. What a truly dreadful place.
I was out into a miserably cold and windy morning by about 8.15, I had baselayer, shirt and coat on. My pack had its rain cover on and my Tilley was already strapped to the pack. I had my Buff in beanie mode and I had my gloves on. I’m so glad to be walking the Pennine Way in August, I’d hate to have to walk it in winter weather! The only upside was that it wasn’t actually raining – although I was willing to bet my mortgage on the fact that it would start in the next few minutes.
I walked past the car park, the shuttered PYG café, the busy little camp site, ignored the usual Pennine Way path that would take me up the back of PYG, and carried on to take a footpath through a field, into a lane of houses on the other side. I crossed the little footbridge (that’s still not marked on the OS map) and up the tarmac lane to Brackenbottom. I stopped at a handy pair of wheelie bins, to take my coat off and strap it to my pack, as much as anything so I’d feel the benefit of it later when I gained some altitude. I was passed by a couple of blokes who looked like they may be doing the Three Peaks and I followed them up the road and then out onto the fell. This is the Three Peaks route and I was expecting to see many more people than just these two guys, but we were the only people in sight in either direction.
I kept my pace steady and they stretched out a good lead. I don’t remember there being this many steps the last time I walked this way. I guess there’s been a lot of work to harden the path against the hundreds of thousands of feet that walk this route every year. They do help build a rhythm though and I gained height steadily. The view behind was annoying, there was blue sky behind fluffy white clouds, over the route I’d walked yesterday, while ahead it was all grim and grey and swirling misty clouds.
As I climbed it got much colder, and the strength of the wind seemed to increase exponentially. I took a lot of photos of a very moody looking PYG, and of the view behind too. The closer I got to the wall at the foot of PYG the better the sky looked and yet the colder and windier it got. I’d lost the two guys ahead by now, they were probably half way up the steep nose of the hill. I reached the gate and stepped through to gain some shelter behind the wall. I put my coat on and then struggled to get my pack on. It took three infuriating goes, with me eventually shouting my frustration into the wind at the top of my voice.
I met a young Pennine Wayer here, he’d camped on Fountains Fell and was hoping to make Hawes and secure a place in the Youth Hostel. I was sure he hadn’t seen me come down PYG, so I felt I needed to explain about my knee. I wished him well and we went our ways. I wasn’t completely surprised to not see him climb PYG, he had a long way to go and obviously didn’t want to add to his journey. On the way down to the road I met a couple of solo day walkers who almost certainly would make the steep climb, both were in good spirits and greeted me cheerily. I didn’t really want to stop now though, I just said hello and kept going.
I wanted to make good time along this flat section between the hills, and I reckoned I had a better chance of a mobile signal on the top of Fountains Fell, than I did down on the valley, and ideally I needed to be up there asap. I made excellent time along the road too, and was soon at the foot of the climb. I could see two groups of what I immediately assumed to be DofE walkers ahead (big group, big packs, colourful rain covers deployed), part way up the climb. I followed them up. The first group bent left, along the good path that cuts across the face of the hill, while the second group just carried straight on up beside the wall. That direct route was rough and although it would take them to the summit of the Fell, it would leave them a long way from the path most folk use.
The path up Fountains Fell is great, it’s grassy and rocky and nicely angled to ease the gradient and it affords one of the best views of PYG, in fact one of the best views in the Dales. The sun was being revealed and hidden in waves and the views ahead and behind were constantly changing. There’s a little rushing beck as you approach the top and it was filled with water and sparkling in the sun as I crossed it.
At the top of the ascent I found the first group sheltering from the wind, enjoying drinks and snacks. I jokingly asked them who was navigating for the other group, and whether they should be replaced. Apparently there was some group rivalry and this group weren’t impressed with how competitive and gung-ho the other group were. I wished them well for the day and headed into the wind. I soon reached the wall which marks the point at which the path would descend and I ducked into a familiar shake hole to get out of the wind. I’d sat here a couple of times in the past and I could hear the wind blowing ahead, while I was in the watery sunlight, and out of its spite. I didn’t have a phone signal and it was already after the time I’d been expecting my call, so I only stopped for a couple of minutes and then I was off, heading downhill. I got a signal and a rush of messages and a minute or two later, I got a call. I kept walking, as it was too cold to stop and I listened in as best I could. After 20 minutes I lost the signal though and felt a bit frustrated. I sent a message, hoping it would get through at some point, and pressed on.
I was mostly in the lee of the hill now and without the windchill I began to feel warmer. The descent of Fountains Fell is almost as picturesque as the ascent, there’s load of little becks to cross and the path is flat and grassy for the most part, and dead easy to follow. I was soon passing through the yard of Tennant Gill Farm and on the lane leading away from the buildings I found a ewe with her horns stuck in the waffle wire fence. I looked around, but I couldn’t see anyone within shouting distance, I thought I’d have a go at helping. As I approached her she went ballistic, but after a couple of attempts, I managed to twist her horns free and she ran off. Good deed done for the day, I figured I needed a break, so on the climb up the hill beyond I found some shelter behind a wall and had an early lunch.
From here the path is mostly through pasture land, following the dry stone wall on my right. The sun became the dominant feature, rather than the wind or clouds and as I left Malham Tarn House Field Centre I stopped and hooked my coat into the top of my pack. I was instantly cold, but once out of the shade of the lane, the sun seemed to trump the wind and I felt warm enough. The Tarn looked like the sea, with white caps being blown across its surface and small waves lapping at the shore beside me. I began to see more and more people now, this is a very popular place, close enough for adventurous folk to walk up from the Cove, or (despite it being closed at the moment) an easy walk from the Tarn car park.
There’s some sort of construction going on by the Tarn, a temporary road has been installed, leading from the commandeered car park to somewhere off towards the Tarn. There are containers and a cabin for workers and it all looked quite industrial and very out of place for the location.
If I had to pick the best mile of walking anywhere in the Dales, it would probably be the next mile of this path – from Malham Tarn to the Cove, via Watlowes. It’s just so rugged and beautiful and in the sunshine, the limestone outcrops gleam against the verdent green of the grass. Even my pictures (when I get back home and post them) probably won’t do it justice. It’s a truly spectacular section of path and everyone should make the walk at least once.
It was busy of course. I only passed a couple of people between the Tarn car park and the top of Watlowes, but once there it was a steady line of folk coming up the path towards me. I stopped to let an old couple negotiate a couple of big steps, towards the top of Watlowes. The old boy was stumbling a bit, he looked exhausted, and his wife was scolding him, telling him it was too much for him and they should walk back to the car – which realistically must have been at least a couple of miles back. He waved her off and insisted he was getting to the top. I was genuinely emotional at his determination – I hope I’m still as passionate as he is, in another 20 years – and I blurted ‘Good lad’ and patted his arm as he went past. ‘Lad?’ he laughed and suggested I was suffering from altitude sickness, but he thanked me and I left him to his walk. I did have a flash of guilt, as I thought of him expiring on the climb and me being the cause of it, for encouraging him.
I passed more and more folk as I got closer to the top of the Cove, but that was nothing compared to the number when I got there. At least 200 people were milling about on the limestone pavement, sitting, walking, shouting, playing all enjoying what had become a warm afternoon, albeit still quite windy. I’ve been here many times, so didn’t feel the need to spend much time sightseeing, and I made a beeline for the steps in the far corner. I had intended to confirm my count of steps from when I did the Pennine Way guide book research, but I chatted to a couple of people on the way down. Saying hello and offering more encouragement, this time to a young girl (10 I guess) who was a few steps ahead of her mum and dad. She was inordinately happy with herself for making it so far and beating her parents.
I could see a line of people along the path at the foot of the Cove and I must have passed another 100 folk heading up to the top. I’m not sure if the Harry Potter effect still drives people to see the top of the Cove, but it was very popular today.
Down at the bottom, I navigated the crowds and their dogs and finally made it to the road and down into the village. It was just shy of 2pm and I had some time to kill before I could check in to my room at the Victoria in Kirkby Malham, so I stopped into the Buck and ordered a pint of Landlord and a pint of Diet Coke. The guy being served in front of me nearly choked when he was told the price of his 4 drinks and I must admit to agreeing with him to an extent. I know beer is more expensive and even ‘up north’ you’re not going to find many places charging less the £5 for a pint, but the cost of soft drinks have just become ridiculous. A couple of years ago it was astonishing if I paid £2.50 for a pint of Coke, now it’s at least £3.50 and I’ve paid closer to £4 a couple of times this week. However, I’m on my holidays and I can’t be arsed sounding outraged all the time, it’s too wearing. I sat and drank my £8.75 worth of drinks and watched people for a while. A family (or maybe two) of 10, with 4 kids sat opposite and all had drinks, I imagine their bar bill must have been at least £50.
I stopped into H’s (the gift shop / convenience store) next to the pub and bought a couple of snacks for my room later. It’s great that Malham has a shop again, and I said as much to the lady behind the counter. I then crossed the tiny footbridge beside the smithy and headed along the very well made path that takes folk to Janet’s Foss, but also supports the Pennine Way for a while. The path beyond Malham isn’t particularly inspiring, it’s most fields, many with cows in them, and then it’s down the steep hill into Hanlith and along the road into Kirkby Malham and my bed for the night.
It’s less than £10 more expensive than the Crown in Horton, but the Victoria in KM, is light years ahead in terms of comfort, quality, services and hospitality. I’ve drunk here a few times and it’s a nice little pub. I instantly felt welcomed by Peter when I arrived and I was shown to a large airy room with a view of the church yard behind. I tried to have a shower but no water came out, so I went down to find Peter and report the problem. He apologised profusely and explained that the water company had been fixing a leak, so they’d shut the water off, but he thought it had been fixed, so he’d not mentioned it to me. I made a couple of phone calls and within a few minutes, the tap I’d left on in the ensuite started to run. I left it for a few minutes to make sure it wouldn’t stop mid shower and then got in to warm my bones.
I don’t think I’ve felt properly warm at any point in the last four days. More often than not I’ve been bloody cold. Even in some of the places I’ve stayed, I’ve not felt comfortably warm unless I’ve been in bed. I have to admit I’m sick of the bloody weather, the bloody wind in particular. You should expect a couple of bad days out of nine, in August, but so far it’s been every single one. The only upside is that it’s still not rained properly!
I went down for tea about 5.30 and had a huge, but only average gammon steak. I took another pint of Diet Coke up to my room and got into bed. As I mentioned, my room looks over the church and tonight is obviously bell practice! For two hours they played the range of bell chimes, from call to prayers, wedding peals and funeral durges. Even with my window shut it rattled my teeth. Thankfully they’d finished by the time I was ready for bed, but the bells still toll the hour, the quarters and the halfs, so I decided it was a night for the ear plugs!