P.W. Day13- Greenhead to Bellingham 22 miles

   I left the bunkhouse just after eight unsure whether I was having a gentle saunter to Once Brewed barely 6.5 miles away or whether I would attempt to get all the way to Bellingham. Today's section includes 900 galling meters of ascent, with no single steady climb but lots of tiny dips and slopes along the Wall. I'd looked forward to Hadrian's Wall from the start but with its many steps and climbs it would challenge me. That said my boots were finally dry and, while my clothes were on the riper side, for the first time in a days I could but them on without cringing.   The finding of the trail should have been a toddle but I got all tangled up within a hundred meters of the starting point. It took twenty minutes to figure it out and actually begin the days walk, a steep climb up a field and along a newer section of the wall. Other walkers were dotted around the landscape with their dogs and kids running ahead. These got more and more frequent as I past the Cockmount Hill Farm, Great Chesters Farm and descended to the car park. 

The Lake in the Flooded Quarry

  A few campers were packing up their belonging in the car pear, I nodded as I past and headed round the old quarry lake to the actual Wall.

Hadrian's Wall- Cawfields Crags

      The winds up on the wall is strong but with the exposure you have views stretching on either side which more than make up for it. There are broad vistas on either side, nothing but farm land to the north and only Military Road and fields to the south. Here and there there are varied routes but only by a few meters and you can cross between them easily enough. Its the sudden dips and climbs that really take their tole and its not very enjoyable with a backpack, especially with people zipping past every few minutes. 
  As I reached Once Brewed I skipped down the slope to Twice Brewed Inn for lunch and buy some snacks before returning to the Wall. The food helped and I found another pair of hikers to pace myself to, overtake and feel smug about. Not the most mature outlook but it kept me going. 
  Ii was with relief that, just past Crag Lough, the sign signalled the Pennine Way was heading north again. You decend for a little while, still one of two walkers passing by, but within another few hundred meters your finally alone again. The slabs guide you through the fields and over the bridges until you reach Wark Forest. The woods here are deep things, tall and dark allowing no light through. Here, away from other walkers, you feel a little threatened by the tall trees on either side and the darkness between the barks. Its a completely different world from the walk I'd been experiencing less than a mile back. 
  The path through the woods is very clear, sometimes along the road and other times down smaller and muddier paths through thicker forests. Here you can imagine Narnian creatures watching and following you readying their attack. 
  As you leave the forest there's a wonderful tunnel of trees where you think your heading towards a manner house and not the modest service road ahead. Here I confess I felt a little confused since I'd made myself think I was further along that I was. In my mind I only had another hour to go which would get me to camp in plenty of time to buy dinner and wash my clothes.  In truth I had at least another five hours to go and it would be night by the time I reached camp.

Fallen logs along the path

    The path over the open land is uninspiring, simple field land and slopes divided my styles and walls which confuse the navigation and breaks the rhythm. The river crossing deffinately pulled me up short. It was at least seven meters in width and at least a meter deep. I stood there wondering how the hell I'd be crossing it and already morning my dry shoes and new camera. Luckily I glanced down the stream before taking the plunge and spotted the handy bridge fifty meters away hidden in the trees. 
    The day just seems to carry on and on, round farm after farm, across fields and along driveways. At one points it went straight through someones backyards. Shitlington Hall Farm was a great relief, the relay station finally looming in the distance. From there it was a simple decent to Bellingham. It was nearly half seven by this point and as I slowly climbed the sunlight magically like syrup across the landscape.  Everything was cast into shades of gold, and you could see the behavior in the animals alter slightly. I was struck most by these two sheep who stood with a grace and pride I'd not seen in any of their kind before. I thought the shape of their figures against the sweeping tree really stunning. 

Above Shitlington Hall Farm

   Dusk fell and wasn't half as daunting as I'd expected. Everything is quieter and there is a sense of freedom not experienced during the day.  The B6320 is a small and rather busy road. The walk along isn't pleasant, and often your forced to push yourself against the edge as a car swings past. Town was close though and dropping into the convenience store I rushed to get to camp. By this point it was ten and my hesitant knocking at the farm door yielded no reply. Using my head torch I set up camp alongside everyone else, deciding to try the farmer again in the morning to pay. This was only my second time ever setting up camp in the dark, the first been the disastrous Morton Island hike in Australia. It was simple enough though and collapsing, washed, in bed I gulped down my dinner and fell asleep thanking god that tomorrow was considered a 'dolly' in the guidebook.

Dusk from the Relay Station

 

P.W. Day12- Knarsdale to Greenhead 11miles

  This should be another relatively easy day. It does include a rather harsh section of unpaved moorland which the guide book describes as the "misery that dares call itself Blenkinsopp Common" and the "more arable muck of the Hartley Nurn floodplain" which seems like an "expedition over a country abandoned my man and beast" (Trailblazer- Pennine Way 3rd Edition). After my pleasant experience descending from Tan Hill I was very tempted to trek around on the roads, I even worked out the precise route I'd take.    Finding the Pennine Way from the campsite turned out to be easier than I'd expected. A simple series of farm fields and moor land. The path follows the wall most of the way.  Its not a memorable section and until I crossed into the dreaded moor I can't remember much of it at all. 
  The moor itself came after a run down house with two rather shady characters in the back yard. another style and you're in a very soggy boggy field. Its not easy walking but I'd learned the tricks by this point and a light foot. The fence I'd be following across the marsh was a tad elusive, I found myself getting deeper and deeper into swamp land. In sections my boots were as deep as a foot under water but my ankles stayed strong with the bandage and as soon as I found the fence the course was simple. 

Holmhead Guest House

  Black Hill is invisible to the eye and the decent to the ruin is quick if unmarked and after scaling a fence or two found the correct route. The A 69 is a little scary, very wide and very busy and fast. It took a while to find a section I felt comfortable crossing. Then up the hill again, round and across the golf course and up the stream to Greenhead in time for tea and toast. 
  With the weather forecast to be dire I'd treated myself for the first time to a bunk house. I phoned ahead to book just in case but it turned out that I had the entire room to myself as did the Italian hiker next door. We took each other to the Greenhead Hotel and had dinner speaking a mix of Italian and English. Once back in my room I remember lying in bed shocked at how luxurious it all was after two weeks of sleeping in my tent. Took me twice as long to go to sleep than any other night on the trail. 
  The lack of photographs for this section is that the camera was in my bag due to the weather.

P.W. Day11- Garrigill to Knarsdale 10miles

  My plan today was simple, a leisurely saunter to Alston barely four miles away followed by a late breakfast, a little shopping and resupplying for pain killers, plasters and bandages before picking up the last lot of maps and walking another six miles to the campsite. No climbs whatsoever, it should only take four or five hours. I'd not bathed in forty hours and I'd put on the same soaked clothes as the same before so I was desperate for a clean.  The path out the village is a little hard to figure out due to private owners fencing sections off without signing clearly but after a bit of backtracking I did find the path and from there it was a simple enough river walk. Navigation is a little tricky but any mistakes equate to the length of a field and can be quickly rectified. I does make slow and tiresome walking but there's a wonderful little town waiting at the end. The Blueberry's Teashop is lovely and very reasonably priced, there is also a handy hiking supply shop next door. 

  The next six miles to camp were unremarkable and I didn't feel compelled to use my camera much. Therefore there's little to remark upon. Pretty fields, clumps of trees once in a while, a farmer rounding up sheep just before Castle Nook Farm. At Slaggyford I decided that I'd rather follow the road all the way up to Knarsdale rather than meander back up through the farm fields. It meant I reached Stone Hall Farm around four with the sun still clear in the sky. Its a stunning farm, wonderfully flat and enclosed but without a shower. After the lady finally got back I set up camp and procured the use to a cold water hose to wash myself. I'd also given in and bought myself conditioner, shampoo and moisturizer in Alston, weight be damned. Washed and drying myself I got a welcome phone call from Anton, dressing while talking I hung all my wet clothes, and shoes out to dry. Kirkstyle Inn was next, and a little disappointing. The food was very expensive and not really worth it but I suspect this was more my choice than their fault. 

P.W. Day 10- Dufton to Garrigill 16miles

  Dufton to Garrigill is one of the hardest days of the entire walk and one I'd been dreading from the start and hoping, if I only had one day of sun, that it would be clear and visible throughout. You begin the day with a hard climb up to Cross Fell 893 meters in height, only to dip down and rise again so that you're faced with a mighty 1100 meters ascent over the day. Once you are at the top there's a long and knee splitting trudge down the well named 'Corpse Road'. All this is doable in good weather, but thats not what I faced. I faced two meters of visibility,  and what I found out later were fifty mile winds.
  I woke to rain, and with that excuse rolled over a slept till half eight, wondering down to the post office for a full English. I've found that eating a lot shamelessly can only be accomplished if you have a backpack for an excuse. The weather had cleared a bit and I realised I needed to get going and try to get to the summit before the bad weather began. The decent is along a Miners Road and easier to follow while the section between the two peaks has no path and you either need to use compass bearings or rely on visibility. This would be the biggest test to my navigational skill of the entire hike.
  I struggled walking up the first stretch along Narrow Hedged Lane, the path is steep and I found myself getting either too hot and having to stop to delayer, or finding I was developing a blister and having to stop to plaster myself, and so on and so on. It took me a long time to find my rhythm.

The cartoony shapes rolling hills rising out of Dufton

    Rising higher and higher I could see the weather also closing in on the peak and squared my shoulders to what would be bearing down on me. It wasn't long before my entire concentration was fixed on the path and not leaving it while it lasted.

Mists sweeping in over the plain

    A stint along the road was a blessed relief, but a short lived one. The path remains pretty visible until it splits in two around the radar tracking station. Here I climbed to early and was forced to backtrack. Once in a while slabs give a relief to the confusion. From this point you are suppose to be able to see the 'Cow Green Reservoir' but visibility was getting worse.  I found Little Dun Fell and fell over as I reached the shelter. The wind was so strong, and I was leaning so much into it, that as the shelter blocked it I was suddenly overcompensating and on my face. The rain had been falling for a while now and I could only rest a little time in the damp before I was getting cold. This is only a collapsing wall of stones but it is a welcome relief and a good guidance point to navigate from.
  I followed the compass from here, decending in as straight a line as I could but continually been forced to divert around marshes or clunks of rocks. It should have been no more than a ten minute trot but an hour later and I was beginning to get a little worried and a lot wetter than I'd like. When I reached a series of pikes in the earth I pause and once more examined my map. No avail since I couldn't see anything around me. I decided that the best thing I could do is simple head up hill since there was only one clear peak in the region and I must have ended up east of the correct route. Dozens of lightly trodden tracks starting and disapearing suggested others had had similar problems.   Cross Fell finally appeared and gasping with relief I lent forwards against the gale and pushed on. Again I tried to follow the compass as loyally as I could, attempting to scramble down the summit but was then forced to stop near the top. The compass was trying to lead me down a cascade of jaggered rocks. I'd nearly fallen twice and couldn't face the next hundred meters of the same so turning sideways I made my way to the edge of the rocky side and skirted until I found solid ground again. A path instantly became visible and I began the decent down Longman Hill.
  I popped into Greg's Hut as I passed to see what it looked like inside. It seemed quite homely and if there had been a lock on the door I'd have even felt safe but preferred my cosy tent. After a hundred or so meters descent the wind eased and as I past the hut the fog lifted. The rain continued.
  Once or twice on the decent I considered setting up camp but the rain was too sever and I really wanted something warm to eat. The water in my shoes had caused so much suction that my feet were squelching with every step which at least eased them a little from the stone path.
  When I reached the small village of Garrigill it was dusk and the rain and increased to a torrent. I reached the town hall and walking behind found where I could camp. Deciding I'd rather sit in the rain for a hour or so than sleep in a wet tent all night I kept everything packed up and waited for a break in the weather. It took little over an hour but my clothes and shelter stayed dry. I hung the rest in the porch and shoved my soaked boots with toilet role under the lavatory sink inside. I doubted a town this size would have too many chavs hang out in the public toilets.
  The village pub is lovely but does not accept cards, and nor does anywhere else but the B&B/ post office which was shut. My plans for a well earned feast were downsized to soup and a coup of tea, however this was quite sufficient and I left feeling warmed up and ready for bed. Tomorrow should be a doddle compared to today's stretch.

P.W. Day8- Tan Hill to Middleton-in-Teesdale 16.5miles

  The rain was hard when I woke, so hard that I didn't even try to take any photos but packed the camera away in my bag. Mainly it was drizzle but continuous and the path was non-existent. The moor holds markers every few hundred meters but no set path or slabs. Its a matter of constant navigation using compass baring and hoping another white pillar will turn up to tell you that you'd not made a mistake. To make things worse the rain had saturated the ground, the water never less than an inch deep and at times a foot or two. I fell a few times and at one point twisted my right ankle badly, my left heel much worse making every footstep horrible.
  The moor seemed to last forever and a day, and it was with incredible relief that I finally reached a road. Here I stopped and tried to do something for my ankles, the twisted one not wanting to take much weight while the other one was simply in a lot of pain. It made me shred tears of frustration, especially when I'd had such an easy day the day before. I bandaged up the heel, covering the blister and all the rest of the back of the heel and it made a big difference. Still I limped along and hated every moment.
  The rest bite of walking on the roads is small and I was quickly back in the sodden moors struggling to keep my boots from been sucked off by the mud and my ankles twisting from under me continually. This section needs to be slabbed before I do it again, stuff the 'leave the moors as they are' people, bring on the slabs. It must be much worse for the environment to have people trudging over the bushes looking for less muddy routes.
  Here you have a choice, easier terrain but longer or more moor land, no path but several miles less. I decided that I was in pain either way, the shoes were full of mud so I might as well carry on with the moors. None were quite as bad as Tan Hill but it was hard and slow going, the entire way with little to help navigate. You work mainly from a sense of the right route and the compass, and since the moorland in England is mainly a thin strip its hard to go that much wrong and its easily correctable as soon as you reach the next road.
  There was some difficulty when I reached Baldersdale, I came out several hundred meters further up  the road, at some point having left the trail, but after climbing over a fence and getting a little stuck
the mistake was quickly corrected and I trudged onward. At this point I was walking extremely slowly and with no energy, stopping far too much and struggling with my ankles. I could have stopped at Clove Lodge campsite but, walking past, it seemed a deserted farm yard and it was still early in the day. I would not give up the momentum I'd buit in the last few days.
  Climbing past Hannah's Medow I stopped to read the sign describing the place. I held little interest but any excuse to stop was welcomed. What followed was a lot of farmers fields full of friendly and not so friendly cows. The younger ones were the only ones to show aggression while the bull was too busy following a poor lady cow in circles around the field. This section is really a matter of styles, farm fields, a road, a farm drive, sheds, another field, and another road. Not the most inspired section and I was in no mood.
  Finally Middle-in-Teesdale came into view down the slope from me and limping I gratefully quickened my pace. No one was at the Dalesview Campsite reception but following the signs I easily found the empty camping area and set up. Once showered I lay and rested, cream on my aching limbs and already decided that I was giving myself tomorrow off. The next section was 21 miles and I wasn't going to attempt it till my ankle was better and I had a bandage for the heel.
  I spent the night in the campsite pub, ate their plain but cheap meal and drunk tea until my electrics were sufficiently recharged for me to watch North and South on my ipod.
 

P.W. Day8- Hawes to Tan Hill 16.5miles

   As I headed out of town I spotted another hiker marching north towards the hills. I never saw him again but he was going at such a speed, with his tiny backpack, that I never stood a chance. Pity he had very pretty legs.

Hawes fading behind me

 The first section his through Hardraw, a very pretty village with its own campsite, tea room and inn. Then up a steep enclosed path into the moors. This is a solid 715 meter climb over 5 mile to the top of the Great Shunner Fell. That said on a sunny day you have fantastic views to the east of Buttertubs Pass road and to the west the stepped peaks of the northern dales. However, today was not a sunny day and the rain and the winds descended blowing savagely from my left. A few other shrouded figures stumbled past but it was pretty deserted with Hawes fading dramaically into the mists behind as the rains swept past.

Clouds sweeping over the Great Shunner Fell

   After you finally Reach the Great Shunner Fell Shelter its all down hill until you reach Thwaite and a chance to stop for lunch. My choice was Kearton Country Hotel and Tea Room where I bought a bacon bun, a drink and visited the toilet. Half the time these stops are based around the lavatory more than food or drinks needs.Then is through farm fields, past some baby cows and up back into  the fields. The path here is mossy, springy under foot as you follow the valley and river Swale all the way into Keld. This is where I planned to stay but I still had some energy so crossing the river began yet another climb. The terrain here is pretty level but damp, crossing gates here and there as well as streams using small makeshift planks. Its a long climb to Tan Hill but the weather was holding and the knowledge that this last four miles was voluntary gave me a boost.

Climb to Tann Hill

  Tan Hill offers a pound a night camping behind the pub as well as cups of tea and a wonderfully unique place to spend the night. You'll struggle with the tent pegs and be exposed to serious winds, the toilets are interesting, no showers but for a pound its value for money. Two gypsies came in around five and began to play country/folk music with wonderfully colorful voices and an infectious enthusiasm that set the whole place alight. The tea was good and while the food was expensive a bowl of chips was quite enough and just what I wanted.  I sat extremely contented and emailed my friends as I recharged the ipod and planned the next day. Since I'd walked the extra four or so miles it meant I could forge onwards tomorrow all the way to Middleton-in-Teesdale. Forecast said heavy rain so I was in for a rough one.

View from behind Tan Hill Inn looking over Sleightholme Moor

Pennine Way Day6- Gargrave to Horton-in-Riddlesdale 21miles

  This is the day you begin the walk you imagined, and for me probably the best on the entire Pennine Way. Hard, disbelievingly long but the landscape you see while you're up there takes your breath away in every sense. Whats even better is that after Malham there are no more villages or roads its just moor land and paths. I began fed up with the entire walk and second guessing myself and ended walking into camp like the living dead but exhilarated and excited about whats to come. This is the real start of the walk.  

  The day started like the others, the path meandering through hamlets and across country paths and rivers. This section is simple enough, holds a few too many gates and styles for someone carrying a twenty pound bag, but I reached Malham my midday.
  Malham is gorgeous, full of life and bustle and completely covered in tourists, which was understandable since the weather was wonderful. I stopped at Old Barn Cafe for beans on toast and a hot chocolate.

  From there its a 15 mile straight walk up to Malham Cove and finally a sense of majesty and wilderness.  This is the site of an ancient waterfall and the start of limestone country, springy turf and very little bogs.

From the top of Malham Cove

Malham Cove

  The path covered with tourist follows the river to Malham cove and then climbs up some sturdy steps to the top of the falls. Its pretty steady and with a few pauses for breath a much easier alternative to rough land. I did feel a bit like a pack-horse compared to other people around me with day packs but as soon as you reach the top you leave the crowds.
  Its a little confusing here but if you turn right as instructed and work your way to the back you eventually stumble upon the style and enclosed path. The terrain before the style is intense, the lime stone worn away to form spike like areas with foot deep gabs between. One slight slip and a very very painful wound.
  The climb continues but steadily and the audiobook of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers is my constant companion. Once the Pennine Way turns away from the main walkers routes from Malham it gets quieter again and opens up to an even more grandiose landscape.
   From here you walk down towards Malham Tarn- a large lake in front a Edwardian style house. A few people are dotted around the place but fewer and fewer as you follow the dirt track around the lake to the structure manor house. With the terrain easy and flat I covered several miles an hour and felt some of my old energy coming back. My heel had finally been overcome by medication and I was on my way. It was time to leave Lord of the Rings for a while for the quicker beats of the Lion King, there is no need to attempt coolness when hiking.
  Part of the lighthearted enjoyment of this section was the fact that there was little point in worrying how much I'd covered. I was going to be walking all day no matter what so I wasn't paying attentions to the miles.

Malham Tarn

    The dirt track goes down along the lake for a little longer before breaking away and following a stone wall up to the farm. As with Stoodley Pike the lake gives a satisfying sense of distance as you move away and it shrinks into the landscape.
  The fields, like most I'd gone through the last week, were full of sheep and the path was indistinct. Keeping to the wall its a stunning view nonetheless. Then its a quick jaunt up to the farmyard and then a steep climb back into the abandoned and solitary moor land of Fountains Fell. Any tiredness is easily recuperated by glancing behind at Malham Tarn shrinking behind me, and the open wilderness in front as far as the eye can see.

Fountain Fell Moors

  Fountain Fell is a wonderful path and in less than an hour I was already descending a steep track to the valley road. The pains in legs, heel and back were all intensified by the concrete under-foot. I was now ready to reach camp. I figured I must have covered the majority of the ascent and there were only two or so pages of maps left in the guidebook. I hadn't realised that within those two small pages there was another ascent to 696 meters as the Pennine Way pops up to Pen-y-ghent- one of Yorkshire's three peaks. Parts of this climb is literally a climb, which with the rising winds threatened to push me off. I was a little scared but there was little other choice and once it was completed it would be all down hill.

The path doesn't twist around, but goes right up over those rocks

From neat the top of Pen-y-ghent

   

Top of Pen-y-ghent

Pen-y-ghent as I descended into Horton-in-Riddlesdale- the Pennine way pretty much follows the profile in view.

Path down to Horton-in-Riddlesdale

     The decent was painful but with me giggling and talking my way to camp like a crazy woman not without its moments. It took at least an hour to get into the town making today's walking time well over thirteen hours but having the destination in view makes such a difference. My feet felt like sponges on sharp stones, every step baring the entire weight of the backpack. It didn't matter though, I'd done it and I was finally engaged in the walk and excited about what was to come. I kept on glancing back at what I'd just climbed over as it began to look above me and couldn't stop grinning.
   It was nearly dusk already and I was a little worried about finding somewhere to camp. Once in a while I glanced around to see if there was a handy corner to pitch my tent but I was nearly out of water and in need of a good meal and a toilet. I checked the map and concluded that the best course would be to go to the first campsite I spotted and hope there would be space. It was a Sunday though and the hordes at Malham might have been an ill omen. With an hour left of daylight I reached Holme Farm, a massive makeshift campsite run my a loudly spoken and friendly Scottish man. Tents filled two large fields and a number of loud parties were taking place. I headed away from the large crowd and found a slightly quieter patch behind the edge facing the smaller of the two fields and a family tent. For a little while I simply lay on my rucksack as I felt my feet decompress from the shoes. The mother of the family drifted over and introduced me to her wonderfull husky. I was glad of the introduction so I'd know where to direct my screams should the need occur. This was the fullest and most inebriated of the campsites I'd come to and I felt a little more weary than usual.
  Stiffly I raised my tent and not bothering to shower sorted out my stuff and eating my powdered soup/couscous concoction fell straight to sleep with my earphones in place to block out the drunken uproar around me.

Pennine Way Day5- Pondon to Gargrave 14.5 miles

  This day is an extremely dull one and there is very little to note about it. I only took around a dozen photographs and filed less than three. You start off by following the reservoir round and take the road up back out the valley. The road is broad and clear and the only annoyance is the passive aggression shown by the farmers here and there.

   At one point you pass a strange series of cabins, very stoutly built but in the middle of nowhere. The guide is equally unsure suggesting the possibility that they were hunting cabins. Its another awkward passage through a village and back up through an endless maze of farm fields.
  I paused at the Hare and Hound Inn for lunch, soup and onion rings before climbing up for the last 8 miles, slightly annoyed that I'd only managed to cover six and a half. The food was great though and rejuvenated me. I also talked briefly to an elderly gentleman on a walking stick who's walked it fifty or so years ago. He still had pride in his voice has he described it and reiterated what a wonderful experience it was.
  Thornton-in-Craven was a little confusing and once again my pace went down to a mile an hour as I tried to find my way around. After my previous disasters at navigation I doubled checked everything, using the map to cross reference the guide book. On the way up another road I stopped at a house with a hose outside and asked to refill my water bladder. It wasn't that empty but since it was a warm day it made sense to be cautious.

  Not that long later, and a easy stroll up Leeds-Liverpool Canal through East Morton, I arrived in Gargrave. I'd originally planned to stay in East Morton but Gargrave was only a little further and the extra stretch gave me the option the next day to walk all the way to Horton-in-Riddlesdale instead of been stuck in Melham tomorrow night only 8.5 miles on. The stretch between Melham and Horton-in-Riddlesdale is 15 miles of hard and steep walking, if I added on the distance between Gargrave and Melham it equaled a 21 mile day. I'd been struggling with 15 and I was sick of it so I figured I'd get a hard day under may belt and gain confidence that I could do this walk.

Leeds-Liverpool Canal

  Gragrave seemed a very pretty town but I'd walked another eleven hour day and both my feet and my left heel were on fire. I stopped in a co-opperative store and bought an obscene amount of food. I decided on brae, cuotomali, and baguette for mains with peaches for desert. I also bought snack food for the next day or two. The campsite was flat and with washing facilities including a clothes ladle with I liked. I showered and ate my meal outside the laundry rooms as my electricals charged. I was a little worried about them been stolen on such a busy caravan site.
  I lovely couple on holiday were also at the site in their enormous tent and they kept offering me things like a chair or coffee. I thanked them but declined. A larger tent stood behind me housing a loud family with kids but with my Ipod on I fell easily asleep just before the rain came.

Penning Way Day4- Mankinhole to Stanbury 15 Miles

 The days official millage doesn't include the climb back up to Stoodley Pike which had been bothering me the night before. I woke early and collected my recharged phone from the bathrooms, packed my stuff and headed for the shortest but steepest route to the top. I was tempted to walk along the valley floor till it rejoined the Way but I found I couldn't miss such a key point of the Way and meet peoples eye when I claim to have completed it.
  It was a stiff and hard climb but once I committed to it it wasn't so bad and the view from the top was lovely. I also hadn't realised that the pike was hollow and easy to climb up. I dumped my bag on the ground and, slightly light headed from relief, climbed to the top. The actual Pennine Way, if you choose not to camp in Mankinholes, is pretty level stretching across the moors alongside the valley. You soon cross the Pennine Bridleway, one of a few times the two walks cross paths, and slopes down to Lower Rough Head Farm. The navigation is easy and the path is clearly boarded by a stone wall to the left. You finally wind down a more zigzag path to Mytholm, crossing a dingy canal and railway. The towns here look a little desolate and abandoned.

Descending from the Pike

Satisfying view of how far I'd traveled

From around Cinder Lane

  Here starts an incredibly frustrating and unsatisfying hour winding your way back up the other side of the valley through pockets of houses, stairs going alongside gardens and behind buildings. There's a interesting abandoned graveyard marked with a 'Wainwright Sign' which gave me a bit of a navigational problem but it was soon solved and I gained added confidence in my skills.

Abandoned Graveyard

  Winding up and away from the graveyard the houses finally grow a tad scarcer, Stoodley Pike still stood in the distance giving you a satisfying sense of the distance you've covered- if at the speed of a arthritic turtle. The progress is horribly slow. I think next time I do this walk I'll do as suggested and carry on past Mankinholes and onto Mytholm to camp in Badger Fields Farm- its closer to the path and would get this ugly section over and done with. You pass through farm gardens, wined between yards and over styles until you're completely turned around. Some paths are well kept but others are boxed in by walls and allowed to go wild and overgrown.

The beginning of a week long problem

  There is a lovely river between the many roads where a family was having a picnic and would have been a wonderful place for local families. Up another valley side and a very posh drive I reached Cinder Lane and diverted to Aladdin's Cave for supplies. Bought an orange juice, and orange (I sometimes eat healthy when walking) and my monthly female requirements before plastering the newly formed blisters on my heel. I should have stopped before it had become so big.


 Finally you break onto open moor land, five or so hours after I started. In that time I'd only covered five miles, maybe six with the climb back up from Mankinholes. That left me another ten miles to go which as my current pace was never going to happen. But as soon as the roads and houses were left behing and the landscape sweeps up around you my pace doubled and I began to enjoy the day. I was also very excited about passing the supposed location Emily Bronte had based Wuthering Heights. We'd studied Emily Bronte at high school and no other book had hit me quite so hard. I've read it nearly five times and have always wanted to see where it might have been set.

   There's a wonderful section where you drop into a ravine and crisscross the stream in these wooden bridges. It a very quaint set up and exactly as I'd have imagined Monet's garden. I'd hoped to pause around here and skip the half a kilometer to Packhorse Inn for lunch but time had gotten away from me. I was taking twice the suggested time of the guidebook and by the time I passed it had shut till dinner time.

Path down to Wuthering Heights

The ruin in the distance

    Following another dull series of reservoirs you finally reach Within Heights and my sought after ruin. The land is also very tame and easy here and the warm weather overcasts everything with a golden hue. Tourism is big along here, as is evident by the Japanese sign post indicating the direction to Haworth.

 From here your nearly there, a quick meander down a pebbled drive to yet another reservoir. You get a real impression of how much work goes into our water supply on this walk. Through Stanbury Moor and along the rim of the reservoir to Ponden Guest house took less than an hour. I'd been walking for nearly twelve hours and felt inadequate when I read in the guide that it should have been a mere eight or nine.

Ponden Reservoir

  Ponder Guest house campsite is not a campsite. Its another case of a B&B having a spare field, although in this case its a five minute walk and a stiff climb from the only toilet.

Ponden Guest House Campsite

   While very picturesque the river had it's friendly hoard of midges as well as one or two too many campers. One lady in particular was extremely annoying, loud music and a lived-in-look to her tent as if she'd been there for several weeks. Later two more tents were set up by a friendly looking bunch of teenagers. I'm afraid I showered, cooked and slept without saying a word to any.

Pennine Way Day3- Standedge to Mankinhole 11 Miles

   The rain seemed to have left us for a while and even if everything remained damp and wet it was much better than I'd thought. I forced the damp clothes back on and began before everyone else. Again I was hoping to come across somewhere I could buy some food since my breakfast of pringgles, bought the night before in the pub. wasn't quite as nutritional as I'd hoped.
  The walk today was easy compared to the other ones. Back at the car park you cross the road and within five minutes your enjoying fantastic views from Millstone Edge. I stopped within ten minutes and finished off my pringgles then trudge on-wards feeling slightly more upbeat about it all.  It's today that you'll get you're fill of reservoirs- you'll pass at least five before reaching camp. There was no sense of seclusion and wilderness at this stage although by any normal standards it remains very pretty.

View from Millstone Edge

  A hill runner swept past me as this point and I was very impressed, thin gentleman quite young and quite happy to puff his way over the rough terrain. I'd have collapsed in less than five minutes for sure. Looking through the guide book I realised I must have missed the memorial to Ammon Wringley saying- '...so over the hills I'll take my way and mate with the wild and free will mu dust is flung to the winds in my hill country.' Its a lovely quote and suggests the sweeping feel of the moors themselves.
  Up over White Hill Summit I crossed my first road. I then reached my desired chip van and I paused to buy myself a bacon bun and a slice or jam cake. The sandwich was horrible but hit the right spot and I enjoyed a quick break on a stone. Then a quick climb and its over the M62 where I had a very enjoyable fifteen minutes trying to work out how to get the road in focus and moving cars blurred with my brand new Cannon 1100 camera.

M62

  Around Blackstone Edge I got a bit bewildered and lost as I wound around large boulders straight from Narnia and the Giants realm. I examined my map thoroughly and using my initiative took a route away from the Pennine Way choosing a more distinct path and cutting out the moor. You follow the stone path down and then walk along an old ditch to the side of an ancient pack-horse road- possibly Roman. Its nice and flat, and easy to follow. I stopped and lying on the slope enjoyed the sun for a few minutes, relaxed and beginning to loose the ever present sense of times and schedules that runs my life at home. At the next road, the A58, I paused at the White House Inn to pee- something I'd wanted to do for quite some time. I enjoyed two glasses of coke, recharged my phone a little and checked in at home. Its a lovely pub, full of locals and pensioners having lunch.
   Time was wearing on now and I knew I'd squandered my early start. The next section is dull but extremely flat. It curls on the inside of the Blackstone Edge Reservoir before going along the Light Hazzles and Warland Reservoirs. Your legs wont feel it at all and you can tune out. Its then a short stretch across the moors and left. I followed it precisely but ten minutes later I doubted myself and returned back to the T-junction.

My first view of Stoodley Pike

  After re-walking the same section, disturbing the same sheep, I spotted Stoodley Pike in the distance. My legs were feeling a little better but my feet were in serious pain again, the souls were on fire. After the memorial seat I turned left and walked down the steep slope to Mankinholes. I past the river and mill and spent the next hour walking backwards and forwards looking for the campsite a local eventually told me had shut down a few years ago. After three lots of direction I finally found Cross Farm and set my pitch in an over grown lopsided campsite. The Farm Cross is a B&B with an enchanting garden but its not a campsite, the ground is far too sloped and makes for a horrible pitch.

My lopsided but quiet campsite

  I had enough cash to pay for the campsite but little else. Very few campsites take credit cards so I decided to walk the thirty minutes down to Mankinholes town and buy some snacks. I swapped into my flip-flops which helped my feet a lot. Within half an hour they seem to recover from the shoes and it felt like I was doing nothing more than walking home after a long day. This feeling soon slipped away when it took me over forty minutes to get into town, making more and more nervous about missing my bus back up to the top. I didn't want another hour of walking with my shopping back up the hill.
  I finally reached the shop but the cash machine was broken making the entire trip a waste. I'd not eaten for a long while now and low on sugar I might have been blunter than I'd meant to be with the lady who told me that there was a petrol station another ten minutes down the road. I rushed in and grabbed the first high sugar snack I spotted, got back to the bus station and saw on the electronic sign that there was another ten minutes before it arrived. I should have stayed and waited but I realized I'd forgotten to get noodles for dinner or milk. By the time I got back again two or three minutes later the bus had gone.

Stoodley Pike from the Cross Farm Camp

   I got back to the campsite at dusk absolutely exhausted but I was rewarded for my efforts by a stunning sunset. I had a shower and collapsed back in the tent having had chocolate bars for my dinner. My health-kick side of this walk is failing horribly and chocolate raisins for snacks tomorrow isn't going to help.