Day 29 - Back on the Pennine Way

 

After a good night's sleep and an excellent breakfast at the Alma Cliff in Barnoldswick, my feet felt a lot better and my step was bordering on jaunty as I walked through the town to rejoin the Leeds Liverpool Canal. In hindsight, I may have been a little harsh on the waterway yesterday: for obvious reasons the Canal made its way through the industrial heartland of Lancashire, enabling the barges to pick up and drop off wares along the way. Indeed, I had passed countless mills, most now converted to flats and apartments. It was just a different kind of scenery on a wet day when Wolves lost.

The landscape changed immediately today with the familiar rolling hills and drystone walls of the Yorkshire Dales. There was an abundance of sheep and lambs and, with no breeze and no nearby road traffic, the birdsong echoed down the canal. The path was also unconcreted, much to the relief of my aching feet. Other than a brief threat from an over-protective swan, as well as a silent runner passing from behind just as I was practicing a leg glance, it was a straightforward and enjoyable 9 miles to Gargarve, where the Canal crosses the Pennine Way.

To improve the day even further, I was reunited with Phil and the motorhome: the door was open and the kettle on, just like the good old days of a week or so ago. After lunch it was only 6 miles on the Pennine Way to Malham, but it was two of the best hours on my journey so far. I walked the Way with Peter Forster last year and we had a great time, so I have been looking forward to the next few days.  I've missed out the first 4 and a half days taking the route I have but this afternoon was a lovely reintroduction.

The path soon follows the River Aire and, as a relative novice, I was delighted to spot a couple of dippers. As usual, I failed to grab a meaningful picture but I am satisfied my spot was subsequently confirmed by Dr Google. I don't recall seeing any further swallows since being in Devon and Cornwall but I stopped to watch a group of 9 or 10 swooping back and forth over the river. Don't bother asking about photos.

I convinced myself today was the day I would come across a kingfisher and had my eyes fixed above the water waiting for a flash of blue. Unfortunately, all that meant was that I kept tripping over tree roots and rabbit holes, so kingfisher spotting can wait a while.

Looking over to my right there was gang of 8 lambs racing each other between two small rocky outcrops, and then back again. On reaching each one, they all jumped in the air for a few seconds and then ran off again (reminded me of Rob Brown, Fral). It was so entertaining, I forgot about the camera.

Being in the dales means extra stiles and gates to navigate all the drystone walls. I can only presume the Gatemaking and Locksmith Society of Yorkshire have been working overtime during the winter to come up with ever more ingenious ways of creating unfathomable and downright dangerous devices. I imagine their annual awards ceremony includes shields for 'most hospitalisations caused' or 'highest number of fingers amputated.' What's wrong with a simple gate and catch?

Approaching my last hazard/gate, I saw it was the most mud-covered ground of the day and immediately thought how Phil would relish the opportinuty to get the Boot Buddy brush out this evening and give my footwear a good clean; what an opportunity I would give him! Unfortunately, I have been hoist by own petard as Suzanne forgot to repack the Boot Buddy and my boots remain encrusted. She'll have a hell of a job when she's back on Thursday.

There are stretches of LEJOG that I really just tick off as part of the journey of ultimately getting from A to B: not today, though - this was a day to savour, just not with many photos.

View down to Malham, with Malham Cove in the background, our starting point tomorrow