I had to walk about 5 miles from Cowgill to Dent to get some breakfast. I was grumpy, muddy, and hungry by the time I rolled into Dent. I somehow got turned around on the trail and ended up in bog central.

After a bit of nourishment, I was feeling a little better. Today is a relatively easy day of walking. About 11 trail miles and just one hill. I said goodbye to the Dales and hello to the Lake district. My walk was mercifully uneventful.

I found myself completely sapped and sore as I descended into Sedbergh. My room at the B&B would not be ready for hours, so I shuffled around the cool little village of Sedbergh for a bit.

Sedbergh is very charming. Slate built houses all vertical and huddled together. The Lake District is something of a walking tour mecca for the brits. There are more walkers out and about than locals.

I just had dinner with a couple of English women (both in their 50s who have walked many long distance footpaths) and an Australian guy in his late 60s. We had some great conversations, mostly about Trump and Brexit.

Tomorrow is another long day. No villages on the route. Total mileage today: 15.

Before I start with Saturday’s walk, I want to finish up writing about Friday. I spent Friday night at The George Inn (the “George”) in a place called Hubberholme. Huhbberholme is little more than a 12th century Norman church, a 15th-century inn, and an old bridge. The George is a great little inn run by a very affable bartender/hotel manager/owner/cook. The food is fantastic and despite how small it is, it manages to keep four fresh casks on.

The people staying at the George were mostly Dales Way walkers, which resulted in a good deal of camaraderie. I sat with an older Australian dude that I met earlier that morning in Burnsall. Towards the end of the Friday walk, we walked together. It was a fun night.

All that being said, I was beyond exhausted Friday night. I’ve been fighting a cold and not sleeping well, averaging 4-5 hours a night and missing a night of sleep altogether. I decided it was time for a sleeping pill. I woke up the next morning with 9 solid hours feeling like a champ. The cold was manageable and I was no longer tired. I hit the road with a spring in my step. Except about a third of mile out, I realized I had forgotten something at the inn and had to go back to get it. That’s +.6 miles the hardest day on the Dale’s Way.

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The first third of the Saturday walk was fantastic. Flat with beautiful river views and bookended with lime rock hills. I could see the high hills of the Dales slowly melt away at as I made my way to the main watershed of England. The landscape slowly turned bleak. Trees disappeared and nice short soft grass was replaced by long wiry reed-like grass. And then it started to get muddy. Super muddy. Ankle deep muddy. So muddy that when I took a step the mud sucked my boots down as I tried to pull up for another step.

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Of 19 miles I hiked on Saturday, at least 4 miles were pure mud and most of those miles were straight uphill. It was slow going. I’ve been assured that it is very unseasonably muddy due to the intense winter rain the UK received this year.

After what seemed like an eternity of mud, the trail turned out of the hills and followed a paved road, under the impressive Dent aqueduct, and into the tiny village of Cowgill. I stopped in the only pub (and inn) in Cowgill for what turned into 3 pints in about 30 minutes. From there I headed to my “self-catering” cottage, which was a cool house sized cottage converted from an old school house.

On my way, I ran into a couple of English walkers, who, just like every single person I’ve talked to, wanted to know how we could have let Trump get so far. More often than not, these conversations turn into Brexit conversations. In the span of a not much more than a single breath, I listened to an English man mock Trump and launch into a diatribe about how England is for the English and how those “damn Muslims” need to get out. I suggested they build a wall.

I found my cottage and freshened up just in time for the owner to ride in on her bike. I mentioned that I wanted to find some way to get to Dent for dinner. Dent is almost 4 miles away, so after 19, another 8 walking was absolutely out of the question. There’s no taxi service in the area, not to mention cell signal or internet. I asked to borrow her lady bike, complete with giant basket, and she agreed.

So within minutes I was speeding down towards Dent. Tall man on a little ladies bike. I passed some lycra enthusiasts. They were not impressed. Also ran into a herd of dairy cows blocking the road. It was exhilarating to go fast after a slow day of walking.

I made my way to the George and Dragon, had a few of Dent Brewing’s offerings, and had some great conversations with a few locals. I sat down to dinner with some Londoners walking the Dales Way. We talked Trump, Brexit, and the virtues of the English walking tour. Another beer and it was time to head back to the cottage, except this time in the pitch black dark, uphill, and with a few more pints in my system.  Walked in, went to bed.

Total Miles Walked: 19. Miles Biked: 8.

I’ve just taken a sleeping pill. Sleep has not been great. I also took five sleeping pints. I think I will be ok tonight but don’t hold errors in this post against me.

I left Burnsall this morning all chipper and happy. The first part of today’s trail followed a peaceful portion of the River Wharfe. The river provides a wonderful soundtrack to walking.  After a few fun bridges, I walked into the Grassington. Grassington was a fantastic village. I’d love to come back and spend time there some day. Something about the city oozes Yorkshire. Kind of a stark beauty.

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Out of Grassington, I managed to miss a sign and ended up adding about 2 miles to my walk – mostly uphill. After I was back on the trail, the trail veered away from the river and drove up and over the hilly moors. Up there the landscape was a bit sparse. No trees, just grass and rock.

After about 7 miles, I descended into the tiny village Kettlewell, had a huge meal and set to Hubberholme 5 miles away. I lost my hat on the way. Very sad about that. I’m staying a very old inn. The village’s population probably doesn’t exceed 30 people. Just a 12th-century church, an inn, and a bridge.

I’m tired. Big walk tomorrow. Total mileage today: 19.

 

I’m typing in the courtyard of my tiny B&B. I cannot hear, and have not heard for some time, a single car. I can hear two distinct sounds: the gentle breeze through the tall manicured trees and the rush of the River Wharfe a quarter mile off. It’s near pitch black save for the illumination of my computer screen, the occasional cherry flare of my cigar, and the eerie night glow of the hill moors that surround this small valley. It is cool but not cold.

I’m tired but not overly exhausted. I went to sleep around 11pm last night and woke up about 4am and could not go back to sleep. Chalk it up to jet lag.

My day started with a quick breakfast and a very short jaunt to the official start of the Dales Way. The initial leg of the Dales Way faithfully follows the banks of the River Wharfe. Apparently, the River Wharfe is prime fishing territory. There were fishing signs and expert anglers all along the river. It rained consistently during those four miles.

The first noteworthy spot was an old church in Addingham, but for me, the village of Addingham was far more interesting. Hilly and snug, the small buildings, gardens and cobblestone creek bridges of Addingham conveyed a charm that my pictures did not justly capture. I stopped into a pub for some coffee and a quick half pint.

After Addingham, the sun appeared and blessed me with great weather for the rest of the walk. I visited the ruins of Bolton Abbey and braved a stepping stone crossing across the river (I’ll post the video when I have a better connection). The remaining landscape was dotted with ancient bridges, amazing river views, and serene pastures.

About a mile and a half before my B&B I stopped in the tiny village of Appletreewick to visit a pub I had read about. The Craven Arms is a lovingly maintained 16th-century cozy pub. There was a wedding party today but I managed to find a small quiet corner and try quite a few beers. After two hours of chatting with employees, locals, and tourists, I made my way (tipsy) to Burnsall and my quiet B&B. I had a good meal of sausage, mash, greens and more potatoes at the local pub.

It was a fantastic day of walking. Total mileage: 17 miles. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep (fingers crossed) and some renowned villages tomorrow.