Total miles: 15.4
Elevation gain: 3,165ft
Time walking: 10:45am – 7pm
Miles to date: 740.4
Today was a great day! A stunning waterfall all to myself, a big big climb, highest point of the route so far, fellow walkers, a gorgeous dale and camping in the most beautiful spot behind Great Britain’s highest pub. Today was also the third or fourth hardest in terms of elevation gain which I wasn’t expecting!
I woke fairly early after an earlyish night last night and whilst I lay listening to the stream I made plans to have a shower, partially pack up my things, go and have breakfast up by the waterfall then pack up my tent and head off. As I was about to spring into action it started to rain quite heavily (again! As I walked back from the pub last night it rained heavily for ages!) so I had a bit of a re-plan – pack my stuff up first and see if it would stop. Thankfully it did so I popped out for a quick shower (the first in a few days – bliss!) then grabbed my stove and some breakfast items and headed up the track to find the waterfall.
I heard it long before I saw it. The stream was busy but as I neared the waterfall, tucked away behind a bend, I could hear the thunderous pounding of water falling from a great height. I even felt the waterfall before I saw it, there was an intense, powerful energy I could feel as I got closer. Rounding the final corner it suddenly comes into view, this dense stream of water pouring straight off a rounded, hollowed-out cliff face high above, smashing onto the rocks in the pool below. It’s not the widest or biggest waterfall ever but it is the tallest single drop waterfall in the U.K. and it is breath-taking! It falls into a round pool at the bottom of a half-bowl-shaped canyon, where the rocks in the cliff face are layered in different colours – oranges and greys and whites – and the rocks at the base are grey and smoothed by countless years of water and many footsteps. The air is slightly misty from the waterfall but the most notable thing is the noise. There is the sound of the water hitting the rocks and tumbling down into the pool and then the echo of this ricocheting around the walls, almost thunderous! I couldn’t believe just how loud it was. It was almost too much for me to sit there and stay for breakfast but I found a flat rock near the stream and got some water boiling for a cup of tea whilst I munched on my granola. The water was mesmerising. After a while I tuned in to different aspects. The patterns the water made as it fell or as it hit the rocks and pool, the different sounds of the water and its echos, the hundreds of colours in the rocks and the little trees fighting for a foothold in the cracks in the cliff. I think moving water is just as entrancing as fire and it has a similar effect on me in terms of the way it makes me get lost in thought. But where there is almost something calming about flickering flames there was something wild and incredibly powerful about the falls. I was so glad I stayed here last night and got to enjoy the falls without anybody else around. I think if there had been other people here I would not have stayed as long and certainly wouldn’t have let myself relax and be fully present to the experience.
Eventually I dragged myself away from the entrancing water and after packing up the rest of my tent I hit the road and started the long climb up Great Shunner Fell, the main ascent of the day. I saw a couple of guys up ahead and judging by the size of their packs (not quite as large as mine but still sizeable) I guessed they were doing the Pennine Way too. They seemed to be making good time up the hill and I wondered whether I would catch them. It was a muggy morning and I wasn’t feeling particularly quick today!
The path climbed up between tall stone walls for a while which meant not much view but after not too long I reached the beginning of the moor where the views opened out across Wensleydale and the surrounding valleys. Some of the hilltops were being hugged by light cloud but somehow Great Shunner, the tallest around, was clear. I hoped it stayed that way! It wasn’t a particularly tough climb but it was looong! It was just under 5 miles to the summit in a long curve which meant I could see the top from early on, and it never seemed to get any closer! It was a pretty walk but exposed and boggy, and I was glad that the weather wasn’t horrible!
Part way up I spotted the guys taking a break so I finally caught up with them. They looked a bit tired! It turned out they were on the second day of a four-day stint on the Pennine Way and hadn’t done much walking before, and one of them was suffering with bad blisters. They were nice guys and I gave them a few tips that I hoped might help them. They joked that they couldn’t complain though when they realised what I was doing! They told me there was a pub in Thwaite, the little village at the other side of the fell, which served hot food until 3pm, which was exciting news! I’d stocked up on a few things in Hawes as I wasn’t expecting anything on the route for a few days, but a midway pub stop was tempting! I left the boys to finish tending to their feet and continued my plod up the hill. Finally, after about 2.5 hours, I reached the summit, crowned with a stone wall in the shape of a cross with stone benches sheltered from the wind. This was the highest point of my walk so far, at 712m, something to celebrate! Unfortunately the cloud had really come down and I couldn’t see very far. Apparently you could see Tan Hill when it’s clear, and I imagine you could see Cross Fell (the tallest point in England outside of the Lake District and my destination in a few days) too. Despite the limited view it was quite cool to see the cloud coming and going and at points it wisped across my hill too. I’d promised myself a proper break at the top so I made a little picnic of the scotch egg and chorizo that I’d picked up yesterday, rounded off with a few of the pic ‘n’ mix Cheryl had brought me. Quite the treat! The boys passed me this time, on a mission to make the pub in time for something hot.
The way down was nearly as long as the way up, and equally boggy. I was thankful for my gaiters as I could just squelch my way through most of it. I felt sorry for a couple I passed who were picking their way through trying not to get their feet too wet – it must have taken them forever to get down! I was relieved to finally get into Thwaite and found Dan and Gareth sitting outside the pub-come-tearoom-come-shop eating lunch and airing their feet. I’d made it just before 3 so decided to order a coffee and a bowl of chips (Dan let me taste-test his first – they were definitely worth it) and I decided to join them in airing my feet. Even with my waterproof socks my feet feel a bit soggy – my boots are starting to show little cracks so I think their waterproof days are over…
The boys were also aiming for Tan Hill tonight so we set off together, after a hilarious sketch-worthy moment when they tried to lift my bag and thought it was stuck to the table. Nope, just heavy! I tried not to wet myself laughing as they struggled to lift it and looked at me, stunned and somewhat abashed, repeating once again that they really couldn’t complain at how heavy their bags were or how tired they were. I don’t get tired of seeing people’s expressions when they lift my bag, it’s my wicked sense of humour coming through!
After Thwaite we had a steep climb up through pretty fields, each with their own stone barn, to heather-clad hillside. I was out of breath pretty quickly and glad that the climb didn’t go all the way to the top! The path levelled out about halfway up the hill and followed the contours around on a tiny, rocky and sometimes boggy path which seemed far too small for the hundreds of people that walk the PW each year. The hillside was one side of the Swaledale valley and the river Swale was far in the valley below. At one point we could see hikers on the opposite hillside and it was only their miniscule size that gave an indication of how big the valley was. It was a beautiful natural path and a stunning valley, probably the best bit of the day. At points we could see impressive waterfalls as streams tumbled down the little valleys that joined the main valley opposite. Eventually the path started to drop and we reached the turn off for Keld, where I’d originally planned to stop for the night (incidentally Keld is one of the stops on the coast to coast path so I’ll get to stay there one day!). Not wanting to add miles on we didn’t detour to Keld, instead pushing on and crossing the footbridge over the pretty river, spying a waterfall the other side which of course we went to investigate.
At first we missed the path and it was only when we realised the grass was long and unmarked that we realised we should have gone straight over and up, not along the field! Thankfully we hadn’t gone too far, and retraced our steps to follow a track up to a house further up the slope. It was a steep climb, rewarded by great views back down Swaledale, then back out onto the moor again for the last 3 miles to Tan Hill, the highest pub in Great Britain. The clouds started to gather behind us and we wondered if we’d make it before the rain came. The boys had a room at the pub, it was just me camping! Those three miles seemed to take a while – across the moors there’s not much by way of landmarks to gauge your distance – and the funny and now-familiar call of the grouse can only go so far to add interest along the way. Not that it was at all boring – the colours were fantastic and the view back to the hills changed every time we turned to look.
Eventually we crested the hill and we finally saw the inn about half a mile ahead and slightly below, in the middle of nowhere. It is an isolated place! We arrived tired and happy at the not too shabby time of 7pm and after a warm welcome from the barman (and the suggestion that the lads be chivalrous and let me have their room while they have the tent) I went to hunt for a good camping spot. I say hunt, as there wasn’t much flat even ground around! I found a spot between some rocks that was just about big enough for my tent and had a super view out over the endless moor. I pitched my tent in the windiest conditions yet (which actually dried it out quite nicely!) and for a while just sat looking at the view, listening to the wind and the occasional grouse. I felt very happy! This was the best camping spot ever! It was like the best of wild camping and campsite camping put together!
A quick wipe over with a wet wipe (feeling slightly envious of the boys’ hot showers) and a change of clothes and I was ready for some food. Lasagne and chips and a cider on the boys, followed by a pecan sponge slice, in front of the fire, and I’m feeling pretty good about life! We get chatting to the barman, who tells me about the Orkney Islands where he grew up, and a fellow camper who is a wisened old Kiwi guy, fit as anything and like a slightly thinner Gandalf. He is walking the PW having already walked the South West Coast Path and is proper old-skool with his gear but a fascinating guy to talk to. He is very excited about all the English things to try, mainly food-related. He had his first cream tea the day before and tonight was his first English beer!
After a while I’m just too tired to stay up any longer, having already stayed up chatting longer than I would usually. The wind is whipping around the tent but I feel pretty secure, I figure the tent isn’t going to fly off with me inside it!
Tomorrow we all have a long day so the plan is to start fairly early, with the pub’s full English to help us.
Goodnight!
