Day 8 - Malham to Horton in Ribblesdale

First late blog posting. The hotel we're staying in doesn't have Wifi and there's no mobile phone reception on O2 or Orange from anywhere we could find in the village.

Today was a big walking day, but I think the best so far with some spectacular scenery, exhausting but satisfying climbs, and good weather. Starting out from the Beck Hall hotel in Malham a short walk up the valley took us to the cliff face of Malham Cove. This is the reason why so many people visit Malham (I've been here myself in the past for that reason) and it is fairly spectacular to see the huge limestone cliff rising sharply out of the gentle valley of the River Aire. Peregrine falcons nest here, and there's a special viewpoint set aside to keep the birdwatchers off the path (only joking).

Malham Cove

It looks intimidating to climb, but a set of rough stone steps leads up the left side of the cliff, so although there's no avoiding the ascent at least you aren't stumbling and slipping. Just a few minutes later and we were up at the top of the cliff by 10am, with a fantastic view looking down at the River Aire slipping away through Malham, then onto many of the villages which we've passed through in the last couple of days.

View from the top of Malham Cove

Malham is where Sean picked up his camping gear to add to his already substantial load. This was needed because the next stop, Horton in Ribblesdale, is the first point of call where he couldn't find a B&B which takes dogs, so he's having to camp tonight. He's calculated that the rucksack now weighs around 19 kilos, which means he's carrying almost a quarter of his own body weight. It's definitely been slowing him down today, and making him more prone to slipping on muddy slopes while descending, but we're all getting fitter day by day so hopefully it won't be the final nail in the blister coffin (excuse the meaningless metaphor).

Sean's burden

From the limestone pavement at the top of Malham Cove the path continues through a further series of smaller ascents along Ing Scar, a fissure through the limestone cliffs leading eventually to Malham Tarn, the source of the River Aire. Many years ago (thousands ? millions ?) the water used to form a waterfall over Malham Cove, and tourist information boards show an artist's fanciful imagining of the sight, complete with caribou grazing on the banks of the river below. Over time the slightly acidic water eroded through the limestone and finding a new path, eventually resulting in the river springing miraculously from the base of the cliffs with no waterfall in sight. We reached Malham Tarn at just the right time for 11ses, ie. not 11 o'clock.

At the north shore of Malham Tarn is a beautiful Victorian hunting lodge with two boathouses and numerous outbuildings and lodges. The house was built by local businessman James Morrison who had been given the land on his 21st birthday. Apparently during its prime the house paid host to Charles Darwin and Charles Kingsley, and it's believed that the inspiration for the Water Babies came from staying here. The house is now a field studies centre and I assume that visiting children stay there judging from the ranks of small colourful wellington boots lined up outside.

Malham Tarn with extravagant tree guard

After passing through the forested land around Malham Tarn the path passes on slowly uphill over moorland and more sheep farms until it starts ascending Fountains Fell, which someone said is the highest point we've yet reached on the Pennine Way so far. Quite a slog uphill, several miles of medium gradient, although mostly the worst patches have now been tamed with gravel.

About this point we started to see what are marked as shake holes on the OS maps, usually smallish pits in the ground, filled with limestone boulders, up to maybe 10 feet deep (that's the deepest I've seen anyway). Apparently these are caused by rain eroding through the top layer of limestone, forming a pool, which then further accelerates the erosion, leaving these mysterious pits in the ground.

Shake hole on the edge of Fountains Fell

While we were sweating up this path a lone figure dressed in track-suit trousers, trainers, and tiny canvas rucksack appeared in the distance and soon overtook us without a word. After passing us he then started running up the hill, and I wondered if he might be a local on his way between towns rather than a walker or tourist, given his lack of kit. More later...

At the top of the fell we stopped for lunch, sheltering in one of the many shake holes and pit remnants. Fountains Fell used to be owned by Fountains Abbey, and was heavily mined for coal in the 1800s, with workers staying up on the hill through the seasons to be near work. There's little left of the mining workings apart from a scary looking deep hole, maybe a ventilation shaft, protected by just a flimsy wooden fence.

View from Fountains Fell north edge

Now we started to descent steeply off the north edge of the fell, with Pen-y-ghent, our next summit, getting closer by the minute. After a few hundred yards the lone walker reappeared, this time coming towards us, and stopped to ask for directions in an East European or Russian accent. Apparently he was trying to walk the Fountains Fell circular route, and had a paper leaflet showing the path, but the path isn't really marked and I don't think he could understand the text description (he was having problems with "road", so words like tarn, stile, or cairn would have been a problem). I think we managed to point him the right way though, and off he ran again.

Now the path drops into the valley between Fountains Fell and Pen-y-ghent, the looming mass of the latter looking more intimidating by the minute. A half hour later or so and we were at the start of the big one.

Pen-y-ghent

Actually it wasn't as bad a I had imagined. From the point where the above picture was taken to the top took only about 20 minutes, and the two steep ascents only about 6 or 7 minutes each. I thought that they're pretty similar to climbing up the cliffs at St Agnes Head in Cornwall after fishing at sea level. You just have to accept that every 5 minutes you need to stop to prevent your heart bursting out, then start again. The view from the top is certainly worth the trip, and with continuing good weather we had a full 360 degree panorama.

From the top of Pen-y-ghent

Now the path drops over the north side of the hill, one of the stumbling, slipping marathons that often seems harder than the ascent. A couple of miles on there were some great views back of Pen-y-ghent with limestone pavements and cliffs in the foreground.

View back to Pen-y-ghent

The path at this point was now on a rocky track with walls on both sides, slowly descending to Horton-in-Ribblesdale. We had an exciting 10 minutes rounding up a lamb which had managed to escape from some woods onto the track we were on. When I tried to get around the back of it to chased it back through an open gate it ran further down the track, so eventually we had to leave the gate open then I ran down hidden behind the wall and surprised it further downhill, so it was scared into running the right way. Good deed for the day done we completed the few hundred yards into Horton, stopping briefly for hot chocolate (Sean/Jonathan) and ice lolly (me). Different metabolisms I suppose.

Unfortunately the Crown Hotel in Horton is a pretty dismal place. Lack of Wifi is fine of course, but it's one of those rather run-down places which is plastered with "DON'T" signs everywhere you look. Don't wear boots in the bar, don't bring dogs in here, don't eat your own food in here, etc etc. Clean enough and the bar food was fine, but I don't think we'd choose to start there again really.


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