Feelin' fair geffard a'ter faffin and gettin' clarty on mi'sen in't dales*
*Feeling worn out after messing about and getting dirty by myself in the dales.
Following the beating I experienced on my first day in the Dales, I had decided not to take part in the second recce day. This turned out not to be an option anyway as there was no train to get me to the start line. I'm sure there was when I first looked.
However, the sun was shining and I felt much fresher after a good night's sleep and a hot meal. I was keen to get out again, this time on my own. After a leisurely breakfast I headed up the nearest hill from the centre of Settle. This turned out to be Warrendale Knotts, a series of limescale knolls above the town.
A steep road wound its way to a gate after which it was muddy, rocky trails again. This time they were much drier and I was wearing a new pair of Saucony trail shoes that had an excellent grip. Skylarks, nesting in the long grass, shot into the sky as I passed, calling out with their melodic whistles.
I tore up the hill and was standing atop Sugarloaf Hill in less than half an hour. The view over Settle, as well as the other way towards Langcliffe Scar, provided spectacular panoramas of endless hills, stone walls and limestone crags framed by a clear blue sky.
I hurtled down again and had time to pick up a coffee from Ye Olde Naked Man Cafe before arriving at the trail station just a few minutes before the first train to Ribblehead arrived.
The benches on the platforms either side of the line reflected the direction the trains would be traveling - Settle Down for south bound trains towards Leeds and Settle Up for north bound trains towards Carlisle.
Ribblehead is the location of the Ribblehead Viaduct or Batty Moss Viaduct. Opened in 1875 it is a famous landmark on one of the most scenic rail journeys in the UK. The 24 spans carry the railway over 400m at a height of 32m above the ground. Visiting it had been on my bucket list for some time and it was amazing to exit the station and see it there before me.
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| Whernside in the distance |
A path leads alongside the viaduct before climbing towards Whernside, the highest of Yorkshire's three peaks at 736m. The path was well constructed and made for easy running. There were quite a few people around due to the good weather and it being a Sunday morning. We greeted one another as I passed.
In the distance I could see a waterfall. As I got nearer I could hear the roar of the falling torrent. This was Force Gill or Low Force (Force meaning waterfall). I had to climb a small dilapidated wall to approach the cascade that towered over me. There was no one else there as I noticed a rainbow etched across the white foaming wall caused by the direct sunlight catching the rising water droplets. It was a special moment and I felt tears in my eyes and I spent a few minutes giving thanks for the opportunity to be there. It was truly a thin place.
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| Low Force |
Forcing myself to push on, I rejoined the trail and headed further upwards on limestone paving slabs to the trig point. The wind at the top was strong, but there was no rain or hail so it felt pleasant - apart from the sight of multiple plastic bottles discarded on the ground. I collected as many as I could carry, scrunching them up to remove the air first. I sat on a small stone seat protected by shoulder high walls for a snack and began chatting to a couple of guys who were also sheltering there. One of them told me that he had once completed the three peaks challenge every day for seven days! He was raising funds for an epilepsy charity.
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| Whernside trig point |
Whernside along with Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent are known as the (Yorkshire) three peaks. The Three Peaks Path links them over 25-miles. This was the route that the second recce day participants were taking. They had started at Horton-on-Ribblesdale and faced Pen-y-Ghent first. The question was would I be completing the set or not?
My legs still felt fresh, and the weather remained dry despite some low clouds emerging. I looked across the valley where I could see the slopes of Ingleborough flirting with me. How could I resist her charms? Off I went at speed hammering down the side of the mountain, passing surprised hikers and whooping with delight as the distance closed between my first and second peaks. A small farm on the way provided a room containing vending machines, maps and toilets. Tiny spotless white lambs speckled the low-lying hills as they snoozed in the pasture. It was an idyllic setting.
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| Ingleborough |
The climb began easily enough with a runnable section before ramping up vertiginously. A zig zag path scored up through rock and caused me to scramble using my hands to balance. The sheer face of the mountain caused me to gasp for breath and I refused to look below with memories of the vertical km in Chamonix fresh in my mind.
Eventually I arrived at the top harrowed and shattered to see a family having a picnic on the grass. I didn’t feel so heroic anymore. A series of stone steps led up to a stark grassless wasteland where giant rocks littered the ground, and a punishing gale blew across the scree. A quick photo by the cairn and I was off free running again back down the opposite side towards Horton-on-Ribblesdale.
On the one hand I was happy to call it a day and get the train back to Settle. Two out of three peaks ain’t bad. On the other hand, I knew there was a set to collect and I might not make the train. I sped up fully intending catch the train and with the possibility of a pint if I missed it. Truth was I knew Pen-y-Ghent was calling my name. The unknow factor was whether I had the strength to make it. The clouds were getting lower and the sky was darkening. My legs were pretty far gone after 22 miles the day before and three climbs already. It would be another nine miles and hundreds of metres elevation to get back to Ribblehead.
The decision was partly made for me by the fact that I missed the train by five minutes and there wasn’t another for almost three hours – we’re not in London anymore Dorothy. Onward! Two miles of winding path led up to the base of the mountain proper where another opportunity for scrambling presented itself. As I hauled myself ever higher a couple with their two spaniels zipped past me, the dogs repeatedly descending and retracing their steps. When I clambered to the trig point the black and white version was sitting on top of the stone posing for a photo. Keeps you humble that kind of thing.
By now I wor at t’band-end** and still had to get back to Ribblehead. I could have taken the path back to Horton-on-Ribblesdale of course – two miles rather than five, but then I wouldn’t complete the circuit. As tha-nos I’m a wee burk so it was the long way home for me. I finally dragged my tired legs onto the platform just five minutes before the Settle train arrived. Not even time for a pint, but I had completed the day two recce albeit doing it my way.
**I was exhausted
