The Red Tops ‘Phew what a scorcher’ of yesterday was replaced with a return to grey weather in the Dales yesterday. There was a hint of a sunrise from my over-priced pub window, of St Oswald’s church .. but still no hint of wifi. Managing to set off the alarm in search of a non-existent breakfast we got off to an early start.

The 12th century church of St Oswald’s in Horton in Ribblesdale

As we passed the campsite there were streams of people emerging from a huge variety of tents. Some groans from sleepy-heads but many campers dressed and ready to go walking, climbing or pot-holing. The area has an abundance of interesting pot-holes and indeed we’d had a very jolly conversation the previous evening with a bunch of military guys who had been underground for the day, celebrating a stag night. Apart from the best man, they were all very enthusiastic about it!

Caves and potholes form a major part of the Dales’ limestone landscape. It’s known as karst and the Yorkshire Dales National Park is apparently the finest and most extensive example in Britain. There are over 2500 known caves in the area, including the longest system in the country .. The Three Counties and the famous large chamber of Gaping Gill. There are popular caves for beginners such as Long Churns, with its famous squeeze called the Cheesepress.

What I didn’t realise is that caving is not all about crawling. There are magnificent stream way passages where the ceiling is high and there are massive great chambers too .. Gaping Gill is large enough to accommodate St Paul’s Cathedral! I was astounded to find this out and wish I had photos to show you .. but we were strictly above ground yesterday. And finally, the guys were telling us that if you think it is dank and gloomy down there you need to think again. There can be beautiful passages and shafts and calcite formations such as stalactites, stalagmites, curtains and flowstone, which can be utterly beautiful and serene. Unless you suffer from claustrophobia, of course.

Limestone in the walls

The caves of the Yorkshire Dales have formed in limestone rock over a period of many thousands of years. Limestone is a strong rock but has many joints and cracks and is also soluble in rainwater, although this happens extremely slowly. Spray erosion near underground waterfalls makes the underground spaces very gradually larger and I guess, unstable. In larger chambers walls and roofs collapsing can speed up the erosion .. making pot-holing one of the less safe adrenalin sports. As much as I like the idea of standing in the underground equivalent of the nave of Westminster Abbey, I don’t think you could tempt me down there.

We knew before we set off yesterday, that we wouldn’t be passing any pretty little villages or market towns along the way. We tried to stock up on stuff for lunch but the cafe was not yet open .. what a wasted opportunity with the scores of hungry campers right next door! But Jill had chocolate and apples; I had crumbled biscuits and tea. What more could we want! As we walked out of the village we came across a tree adorned with discarded walking boots. Some good stories there.

Boots with a history

Fields either side of the village road had backdrops of the lovely Dales, where many of the campers were headed today for a good walk. There was even a Cornish chough in one of them, to my surprise and delight! As the beautiful writer J Butler puts it, ‘Here again are drystone walls, stone barns, emerald green pastures, streams doing disappearing acts, jumbles of grey-white rock pavement and numerous potholes’.

Cornish chough masquerading as a jackdaw

Our plan was to walk a combination of the Pennine Bridleway and Pennine Way to Hawes. A country track took us up to join the Bridleway. Along the way we had a couple of fun runaway sheep encounters. There was a group of six, who looked as if they were sheepishly returning from a night on the tiles only to find themselves locked out of the field. One after the other they scrambled over a slight dip in the wall and then looked airily around as if to say, ‘party, what party’. And then we followed a lone sheep with a red number five sprayed on his backside. He skipped along the road for at least a kilometre and when he arrived at the cattle grid skipped over that too, joining his fellow number fives. So much for cattle grids .. or maybe that’s why they’re called that and not sheep grids.

Revellers returning

Made no difference to our sheep

A warm welcome to the prodigal

As we climbed, the weather started to close in. We were passing some of the most wonderfully named areas .. Dismal Hill, Sheep Scar, Fair Bottom Hill, Calf Holes and a liberal sprinkling of shake holes. It started to look bleak. I was sorry for my friend who I’d like to have seen more sun but actually I find this sort of bleakness quite exhilarating, with a beauty of its own. My friends think I’m completely bonkers. There were magnificent cloud formations and the views across the Dales remained at least clear for a good couple of hours.

Weather on the horizon

To the west of Sike Moor we came to a beautiful tumbling waterway called Ling Gill. From the path we could just about see the great chunks of limestone through which the water crashed. Reading afterwards I discovered the secretive path of the ravine has been seen by very few. It’s an extremely difficult climb, full of caves but those who do descend are treated to a magnificent, savage beauty. I came across this blogger, brave enough to descend into the ravine. His photos are sublime.   http://oldfieldslimestone.blogspot.co.uk/2013/06/ling-gill-limestone-wild-and-untamed.html. We made do with crossing the gritstone bridge which dates back to the 17th century. It’s thought it was a crucial passageway on the ancient packhorse route to Ribblehead. It remains significant to this day, as this is where the Pennine Bridleway crosses the Dales Way, another long-distance footpath.

Ling Gill Beck

We passed a couple of cairns which in days gone by would have been crucial for guiding travellers. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how treacherous the area could have been without them, especially with the random pools of water and numerous pot holes.

Cairns marking the route

Would have been wet underfoot

Eventually, getting to the highest point in our day the views proved well worth the long, steady climb. And by the time we came to look across Oughtershaw the wind was so strong we felt we could probably fly under our own steam into the valley. The Pennine Way at this stage uses an old Roman road: Cam High Road, which like most Roman roads of that time is arrow straight. The Dales Way drops to the right, into the Oughtershaw valley. The Pennine Way heads onwards, along the top of a windy moorland ridge, eventually reaching the limit of the tarmac road at Kidhow Gate.

Jill walking ahead on the Roman road section of the path

Having a complete lapse of concentration I led my friend to continue on the tarmac road, all the way down to Hawes instead of turning left and keeping on the Pennine Way. It was a terrible, basic mistake which I thought I was well past making. Thankfully it still meant that our destination was Hawes and didn’t add much distance to the day. Jill was very forgiving, despite the fact that I’m sure her feet were beginning to hurt and tarmac was not the best of surfaces for her to be walking on. Sadly, the views also evaporated at this stage and we were looking out into a virtual void until we reached the Sleddale valley.

Disappearing horizon

Same in the other direction

Jill looking into the void

There was a steep descent down into Sleddale Valley, the mist and rain clearing half way down.

Emerging from the cloud

Before we walked into Hawes we passed through the pretty little village of Gayle, where the Sunday afternoon peace was being shattered by motorbike riders doing dare-devils across the ford. Jill was very taken with the old Massey Fergusons parked close by, which were similar to ones she used to drive as a child in Western Australia. Feisty people these Aussies.

Tractors for kids

Gayle village

Gayle Beck

And then on the few extra yards to Hawes. This magical little market town is England’s highest, set 850 feet above sea water. The name Hawes means a ‘pass between mountains’ and it stands between the stunning Buttertubs and Fleet Moss. It was first recorded as a market place in 1307 and the Tuesday market still brings in the crowds. It is also the producer of Wensleydale Cheese. Speaking of which, can you guess what Wensleydale cheese has in common with Arbroath Smokies, Gloucester Old Spot Pork and Champagne .. 

Sun returning as we finished our walk

In celebration of my passion for sheep and the runaways I bought a new hat to replace my lost today in Hawes, from the lovely Herdy shop, named after the Cumbrian Herdwick breed of sheep. By the way, my sister once bought me a Herdy teapot with a tiny sheep sitting on top of the lid .. not obsessed at all!

Herdy hat

Thank you for your patience, Gentle Reader, for bearing with me as I sorted out the bandwidth issue I had with the blog .. all made more complicated with an Aussie/Pom time difference. Hopefully it’s a thing of the past thanks to Shona and Michael.

Black Dog Tails
Here’s handsome Hansen, posing next to his very own statue, commemorating his part in the 9/11 rescue.