No Effin Tan Hill Inn (to Muker)

When we turned up waterlogged and muddied at the Inn last night and asked if they had a room, it was over an hour before the woman locked behind the computer could confirm it. The queue was deep at the bar and only one woman was serving. Five others were hovering behind the bar doing nothing, and unsure if that was right. It was the most disorganised outfit ever. The highest pub in the U.K. and the lowest level of customer service. Chip went to pay with his card and the woman said she hoped there wasn’t an ‘f’ in his name or post code as the ‘f’ key didn’t work. She seemed terrified of Fletcher and reduced him to Letcher. Dirty old get. Anyway a good night sleep was had by all. 

The sign above the bar summed up the previous day.

The weather was looking iffy in the morning and after being ignored for half an hour we got a decent breakfast. Then we were off.

                                              
Quickly Chip slipped into his new waterproof outfit as we hit mud again. He says he’s going to patent the footwear! 

And I developed a bad Richard the third impersonation.

Today’s journey was to be a modest, but ultimately testing, 8 miles to Usha Gap Campsite near Muker. We were initially aiming for Hawes, which was a 16 mile hike, but that’s too much for Chip and I don’t want to do it. We’re carrying a lot of stuff and there’s no need to push ourselves to the limit. However the weather improved and the rain stopped. The first leg was 4 miles to Keld, down the side of the valley from Tan Hill. 

Just before Keld is a delightful cascade, which is a pleasant interlude after featureless moorland.

We had coffee and snacks in Keld and set off refreshed on the route to Muker, the River Swale snaking in the valley below. With streams running down from the tops and cutting deep valleys on the far side.

Eventually the river turned left into Swaledale proper and the views were great.

Chip was feeling the strain. An old, knackered wasterd. Not a pretty sight. But he kept going like a Trojan.

We dropped down the hillside to Muker, a mile off the Way, nestling in the valley.

And we refreshed ourselves at the Farmers’ Arms, appropriately selling an Old Peculier. Won’t get much for him!

                                             
Up to the campsite, pitched the tents, back to the Farmers for dinner. Great food.

Then an early retreat to our tents and a bonfire outside, invaded by armies of midges. A little corner of Scotland in north England, land of the swarming midge, and Chip’s legs look like he’s got chicken pox. Poxy old get.

                                          
Sleep time. A long day. But a great one.

Night night.