Roasted, but I don’t feel like a Yorkshire Pudding – Pen y Ghent

I slept with my clothes on last night and the sky was so clear that it was cold in the early hours. Usually I piss for England during the night, five or six visits to the khazi not being unusual. But last night was a majestic one wee only. And I got out of bed to do it! Hooraaay!

After a decent sleep I woke at 5.56, feeling good. Within half an hour I’d taken the tent down and packed my gear away.

On to breakfast. I’d bought toddler food and I had a few little cartons of beans left in my provisions bag, so the delightful combination of macaroni cheese (for 12+ months) and baked beans graced the table.

Then I was off. My objectives today were to climb Pen y Ghent, the first of my Yorkshire Top Ten, and walk up hill and down Dale to Kettlewell.

Even before 7am the sun was warming things up quite alarmingly. Pen y Ghent seemed a long, long way away.

My rucksack was quite a problem, at 17kg it was ridiculous. I can travel lighter than that, but it is great exercise, and that’s the objective. If I do the whole route it’s a bonus.

On the way up I spotted an aniseed plant. Chewing the seeds was a delight.

And then up on to the foothills. Penny looks a bit more intimidating from here.

Despite the fact that it was early in the day there were loads of folk doing the Penny as part of the Three Peaks. A 12 hour marathon. They all overtook me. Baarstads!

Finally, just before 9am, I reached the summit. I’d call it the Top but summit sounds more challenging. And in fairness it was very challenging. It’s more of a climb than a scramble, in certain sections, and it’s difficult because a heavy rucksack can tip you backwards, and you don’t want to do that.

Looking northwards the Dales disappeared so far away that they looked like low hills. But they’re not that low.

Then I turned around and had to retrace my climb back down Penny. Most accidents happen on the way down so I was extremely careful on the climbing sections. And it was hot now, dafty hot for 9.30am.

The track back to Horton dropped down to the right, but I was going straight on south, following the Pennine Way, which would twist eastwards up the side of Fountains Fell. It was tough for an old get with a heavy weight in a heatwave. I stopped on the way up several times and drank my water. Which was slipping away quite quickly. Fabulous outcrops of limestone pavements and flowers in full bloom, sprouting from the sockets ground out of the limestone by acidic rainfall from thunderstorms over the millennia.

After two hours of uphill slog I was buggered, and almost out of water. I’d reached the top of Fountains and most of the way from here to the last stage was downhill. The top was flat and made up of peat. With little canyons running though it, just like Kinder Scout in summer.

As the Pennine Way dropped down I felt the heat. By this stage I’d started to fill my bottles with water from the occasional stream. There aren’t many in limestone. Make sure it’s running fast, very cold and springing out of the undergrowth not far from where you are, so that sheep can’t shit or die in it.

At last I made it to the farm where the track to Kettlewell cut across the Pennine Way. The sheep were packed under any shade that they could find.

I sat on a low wall and the old farmer came round and told me that he wouldn’t carry the weight that I’d got. He wanted to be buried up the hill behind us, where he’d buried his dogs over the years, and to be able to look down to make sure his son was running the farm properly.

I staggered out down the track. Hydration wasn’t enough. I made it down to within four miles of Kettlewell but this track was remote, and a car came past only every fifteen minutes or so.

A Yorkshire Dales Ranger’s station wagon came down in my direction. I stuck out my thumb and he stopped. “I’m buggered mate” was all I could manage. He opened the door and I threw my gear in the back.

He took me to Kettlewell and I walked to the campsite through the churchyard. Strange, ancient, unmarked limestone gravestones sprouted throughout.

The campsite rested below the ridge that I would have to scale tomorrow, to reach the summit of Great Whernside. I slept in the shade for two hours on the grass. Buggered. Then I rehydrated with two litres of water, put the tent up, had a shower and went down to the village for a beer.

I’m going back now to have kids’ food and another baked bean carton. Great days. May they last a long time.

Night night.