Sunday, 5th August.
The breakfast room at the Royal Oak was drab to say the least, and the breakfast itself uninspiring. I had an interesting experience when I came to check out as the lady behind the counter didn’t seem to believe that I’d been in the room on my own. It had been a triple, with a double bed and a single bed, so she assumed that there were three of us. I spent a ridiculously long time explaining that Mike had his own room (she checked) and that I had not sneaked anybody in, two people in this case. She asked me to wait to speak to the manager when he arrived, at which point I gave her a hard stare of gargantuan proportions and she relented.
Today was hot. At times really hot. It took a mere ten minutes for Mike’s sun tan lotion to drip with sweat into his eyes, rendering him pretty much blind as he squinted pathetically into the sun for the remainder of the morning. He needed a bandana, he rummaged in his rucksack, he did not find a bandana, he found a pair of underpants (clean apparently; I’m not so sure judging from the number of flies they attracted). So for the rest of the day I walked with a man wearing a pair of pants on his head, a pantdana if you like. Thankfully he did take them off when we came across civilization.
Pantdana!!!
Considering it was a gorgeous Sunday we saw very few people with the exception of a mile near Malham, when we were suddenly inundated. Apparently a TV programme (I don’t know which) voted the loop from Malham to Gordale Scar to Malham Cove and back to Malham the most beautiful walk in the world. It seems that many agree as it was rammed today. It also seems that most people have taken it literally to mean that it cannot be done in reverse. We were doing Malham Cove to Gordale Scar and I couldn’t help thinking that we might at any point be reported for contravening the rules of the walk (“Honestly, I saw it with my own eyes, they were doing it CLOCKWISE!!!).
As is normal in these situations, we walked 100 yards away from the main drag and everyone had disappeared (and Mike could put his pantdana on again). It had been the same in the morning; beautiful scenery with almost nobody to be seen, just sheep with the occasional field of highland cattle playing hide and seek and donkeyfoals eating polos. I don’t know whether it’s my imagination, but unless I’m mistaken day four of all my walks tends to be one of the best. I must look back and check.
I can see you!
Donkeyfoal eating polos!
We arrived just a mile short of Grassington in Threshfield, which had a pub. Two pints later we finished the job and I checked into the Foresters Arms for a shower while Mike had another pint. Soon after his wife Nicky and daughter Rebecca arrived and we sat outside for a meal. It was great to see them again but also meant that I’d now be walking on my own until Jen arrives for the last two days.
Heading for Grassington.
If I was asked to name the most beautiful village I’ve ever been to it would be Grassington. Others come close, Dent not far from here and everyone’s favourite stage set Lacock spring to mind, but this place is a stunner. Of course being in the middle of Wharfedale means it’s hugely popular, so I was grateful to be here on a Sunday night when the daytrippers had gone. I’ve never stayed overnight here, so a wander round followed by a couple more pints seems like a good idea.
Stats Zone:
How’s that for heading due east!
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