Vole Explosion

BALLS–DEEP IN HAWES

Saturday 10^th September 2022

Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Hawes

_{“Seriously, Davies? ‘Balls-Deep in Hawes’? Is that the best you can come up with?”}

_{Well… I, er…erm…}

_{“Are you proud of yourself right now? I thought you were supposed to be a smart guy. First you slut-shame Malham Cove and now this bullshit!”}

_{But… but… Hawes… it sounds just like….}

_{“Yeah, yeah. We all know how a homophone works. Just shut up and get on with the blog.”}

I realise just how much the campsite resembles a festival, specifically Latitude, when I’m woken by a group of posh southerners who had arrived during the night, pitched way too close to my tent (despite there being loads of space) and are now standing around ‘my’ picnic table and talking in loud, braying voices while trying and failing to boil water on a really noisy stove that they don’t appear to know how to operate. Fortunately it’s only about 15 minutes before my alarm is due to go off anyway. I crawl out of my tent and they all go quiet and stare at their feet like naughty children.

Horton-in-Ribblesdale is another village that makes it difficult to acquire food supplies, so I hit on the bright idea of catching a train to nearby Settle. Everyone on the campsite is getting up at the same time and huge groups of hikers are pouring by on the road outside. Even more crowds are evident on the walk into town and I find out that there is a Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge event going on.

I’ve never ridden the Settle to Carlisle railway, supposedly England’s most scenic line, and I briefly consider doing it this morning but I figure I don’t have enough time, so I only travel one stop to Settle. This is a nice-looking town that has everything I need. I stock up on sandwiches, cereal bars and snacks, then have a full English and a coffee in The Golden Lion – a hotel that serves breakfasts to non-guests. This is my first coffee since the café in a container on day three and it tastes great.

Catch the 8.50am train back to Horton. The ticket inspector walks through the train carrying a dead bat that he’s found. Nobody claims it.

Arrive back in Horton to a complete lack of crowds and a dry tent – happy days!

Before leaving the campsite I run into the young Scouse guy I had met on day four. He has damaged his foot and is mostly unable to walk. He had booked all his accommodation in advance and is walking as much as possible before busing it to his overnight stops. I really feel for him – he’d obviously put a lot of organisation into it and now his trip is ruined. This is why I don’t book in advance, but take each day as it comes. If you book and pay in advance you are then committed to a schedule and have to show up at each point every evening. Sometimes stuff happens and it just isn’t possible to make it. As long as you have a tent, some food and water, and plenty of open country, you don’t have to worry too much about where to stay that night and you can just enjoy the great sense of freedom this brings.

I practically charge out of town this morning on a very easy trail and fuelled by a good breakfast. The PW briefly coincides with the Three Peaks trail and there are still plenty of Three Peak-y blinders along the way. I have good views of the Ribblehead Viaduct, and at Ling Gill packhorse bridge I meet a couple who I had sat near on the train during the Ceremonial Parading of the Dead Bat – I recognise the woman’s highland cow leggings.

The track then climbs gently on a more-or-less straight route with great views of the Three Peaks. It then follows a straight, stony dirt track high above Snaizeholme Valley which is used by dirt bikes, as I find out when I step off the track to let a group of them pass at exactly the wrong place and get a liberal dousing with mud. Oh well, I’m planning to do laundry tonight anyway.

Along this track I pass a tall hiker chatting to a couple of dirt bikers. I don’t realise this yet, but I’ll be seeing more of him later. Maybe too much more. Let’s call him The Tall Guy.

Eventually the trail descends into Wensleydale across some boggy fields, just as a heavy drizzle sets in briefly. It stops just as I arrive in Hawes.

According to my guidebook: “At 259m above sea level, Hawes is the highest town in England that still holds a regular market on Tuesdays.” Eh? That’s a really bizarre flex. Since we’re bragging about pointless shit, I’d just like to point out that I once (very, very briefly) held the record for being the World’s youngest baby! But I don’t bang on about it. Wind yer neck in, Hawes.

The town centre is fairly busy, with it being a Saturday, and I have to walk another mile to the campsite. It’s a very friendly place with good facilities and I get to do my laundry, charge my phone and camera, and use their wifi.

Today’s walk felt like the easiest day so far. No steep climbs, navigation was mostly intuitive, and there was still enough voluptuous scenery to make a man tent his Craghoppers.

I find my first blister today, on the outside of my left heel. It causes me no problems at all and I didn’t even notice it until I removed my socks. I’m not entirely sure what its purpose is in life. It’s clearly failing as a blister, and just seems to be tagging along for the ride.

I’ve actually been taking really good care of my feet: making sure they’re thoroughly dry before putting on socks, not lacing my boots too tightly, taking my boots and socks off halfway through the day and swapping the socks over. The new boots I bought for this trip have also been exceptionally good.

I go into town for dinner but the first pub, The White Hart, is fully booked. Having a beer outside, I spot The Dutch Guy at the next table and we move on to a different pub – The Fountain – and have a few more. Food is soon forgotten as we have a fun Saturday drinking and chatting to locals. The four boozy hikers that I met in Malham are also here. An acoustic covers singer is going down well with the crowd. He plays Oliver’s Army by Elvis Costello and I wait to see how he negotiates the ‘problematic’ lyric. Aaand… he leans right into it. Cancel that man immediately.

After the pub I visit the chippy for some more carb. loading but I find it shut. Oh well, beer also contains carbs., so I should be all set for tomorrow’s endurance race to The Tan Hill Inn.

So that’s the first week and the first 100 miles completed. Easy, right?

13.5 miles; 21.5 km; 6 hours