Malham to Horton-in-Ribblesdale 4/29/25

Breakfast at my Vegan Hotel was most interesting.

 I had avocado toast with curried carrot lox. There were no fish, but carrot ribbons imitated fish.  It was pretty tasty, but not an exact duplicate. The most surprising part of breakfast was the pastries. Very flaky.  Not sure what they used, but most good pastries use lard or butter, neither is vegan. These were fabulous.

Melham’s Ancient fields were terraced.

"Malham Cove has been a wonder of the Yorkshire Dales since people first started visiting.  Once upon a time, a huge waterfall poured over the top as a

massive glacier melted on the high land above it.

Since then, freezing water and rain have continued

the process of creating the sheer limestone cliff face

we see today. Recent investigations in the caves

behind the cliff have shown that the Cove may

have been formed 50,000 years ago, much earlier

than previously thought."

This should be called the Stairway to Heaven.  It went up and up and up some more.

I am not sure how comforting a sign from the suicide hotline is before a legendary hike is.

Looking back towards to Malham

Just a bit of a narrow walkway.

My nemesis.  I took a minor fall traversing these rocks, causing a puncture wound to my right forearm.  I kind of managed a bellybuster forward without hitting my face or head on the rocks. Nothing serious, but  I landed on my camera and now the shutter won’t close.  It still works, but when you see a bit of black in the corner of my photos, that is why.  Hurt my pride more than my body!  LOL

This is a bigger photo of the rocks I fell on.

Malham Tarn is a glacial lake formed around the Ice Age.  Look at that estate across the lake.

This is just the side of that estate you saw across the lake.

OMG!  There was an open bathroom just before I saw this sign.  I didn’t use it, but if one of these giant spiders had been in there, I would have flipped out.  They live in caves, but for some reason, they took over the room next to it.  The sign said you could peek into the room and see some of them.  I looked, but none were in view.

These rock walls were about twenty feet high.

A cute bunny carved out of an old tree stump.

Looking ahead at the barren landscape.

My next obstacle is in the distance. It was a very long uphill.

This may have been a bunker at one time.

In the distance is the grandaddy of mountains to climb.

You can see how steep the way up is.  My photo does not do it justice. This was the steepest climb that I have ever made. It was a scramble to the top, meaning I had to use hands and feet and hoist myself to the next rock.  I kept having to stop to catch my breath, but so did everyone else. It was never ending

And when I got to the top of this, there was way more to climb.

If I hadn’t flopped myself on the grass to keep from dying, I would have done the happy dance to have made it. I am sure I heard the Rocky Music as I topped the mountain.

The official marker at the top.

A distant view of the mountain.

As I came into Horton-in Ribblesdale, I saw this Craver Pothole Club. I didn’t see any potholes on the roads so maybe we need a Louisville Pothole Club?

I made a wrong turn coming into town, costing me about a mile.  Jeez - just when I am practically racing to be finished.  An extra mile is a lot when you are topping twenty. I ran out of water with about a mile to go.  Plus, it was 80 degrees, so I was hot, tired, and thirsty.  These two women came out of a store with ice cream cones.  If there has ever been a need for ice cream, it was now.  Two scoops of raspberry swirl gelato. I ate it so fast I got an ice cream headache, but it was worth it.

My hotel.  I almost thought it was a mirage, I had been walking so long.

The Golden Lion Pub was a dive, complete with a surly waitress, but the food was surprisingly good.  I ordered chicken boutons, which turned out to be fried chicken breast pieces, and of course, it came with chips.

So whatever doesn’t make sense in this blog, just chalk it up to extreme tired.

Good night and God Bless!

Gargrave to Malham 4/28/25

 

Good morning.  I got to lounge around a little bit because today was short.  Including a couple of wrong turns, it was still 8.7 miles.  Woohoo!

My breakfast is included daily, so today, I ordered a bacon butty. Since I read a lot and watch a fair amount of British TV, I had heard the term Butty, but I wasn’t sure what it was. The bacon was not like our crisp bacon, but very lean bacon, sliced and served on a buttered bun. It was delicious. It had an optional sauce similar to Henry Bain with a slight vinegar aftertaste. 

Gargrave was a beautiful village that was clearly affluent but keeping with the old English style.  

A beautiful English tea room.  Trudy! This is just for you - right up your alley.

The local pharmacy.

British loyalism.

We have one way roads, but do we have one-way systems?

Oh Janet, look at this gorgeous horse; he had furry legs you can’t see for the grass.  He was magnificent to watch.

This is the area of magnificent manors.

Got a chuckle out of this man herding sheep, not on horseback but on a four-wheeler.  Gotta keep in step with the times.

I have definitely worked out my knees on these step-ups, but this is the first one with a gate at the top.

Usually, I am not nervous around cows, but this one had a newborn calf nearby.  She wasn’t a problem.  

A door for Mary Popham.

I made a wrong turn and went about a half-hour straight up the mountain, pant-pant, gasp-gasp so then I had to go back down. The cool part was that I stopped at this residence to read a poem on the wall. This English gentleman came out and told me it was written by a young English girl from the village. I wasn’t sorry that I had climbed to the top of a mountain to see this.

Malhamdale Poem

O how I love thee, dear old Malhamdale!

With thy sequestered nooks and lovely vale,

Adorned by curious rocks and shady dells,

Fine waterfalls and rugged, high-peaked fells,

That lavishly display in many a part

The richest beauty of nature’s art

In thee, old Malhamdale.

Thou dost at every season of the year,

In sunshine bright, and wintry storms severe,

Present to my admiring eyes a face

That’s unsurpassed in beauty and in grace.

For, though I wander other sights to see,

Yet find I none that can compare with thee,

Romantic Malhamdale.

For, in the joyous and reviving spring,

What dale is there that can surpass thee in

The charms which budding tree and freshening field

And springing flower in rich abundance yield?

As nature fair arouses out of sleep,

And with consummate skill makes thee complete

In beauty, Malhamdale.

And when the soft and genial summer’s air

Brings into bloom thy flowers of beauty rare,

They with thy new-borne stream and rocks unite

In making thee a wonder and delight,

While birds, which sport so joyously at play

Raise happy songs that drive dull care away

From thee, bright Malhamdale.

Or when the cold and searching autumn’s breeze

Blights the fair flowers, and strips the dark green trees

Of all their leaves, which once were bright and gay

But now are left to wither and decay.

Although thou art of such great charm bereft,

I love thee still for there is beauty left

In thee, fair Malhamdale.

I love to see thee clad in garments fair

Which winter brings and spreads o’er thee with care.

As though to shield thy beauties from the cold,

She doth thee in pure white snow enfold,

And render thee more picturesque and grand,

While wonderingly at Windy Pike I stand

To view thee, sweet Malhamdale.

I live to view thee in the daylight clear,

And when the calm grey twilight hours appear,

Or when the moon sheds forth her mellow light

To cheer and grace the shadows of the night.

No matter when or where I gaze on thee,

Nought can I find but rich sublimity

In thee, my native dale.

Written by Betty Chester (Nee Banks)

at Windy Pike, Hanlith in her 18th year, 1881.

On the house, it says shooting barn.

The shooting barn.

I stayed at the Beck Hall, which has a history of several centuries. It was uilt in 1705 as a yeoman's cottage, it became a wayfarers' hostel in the 1930s, under the ownership of Mr. Hardacre, an adventurous explorer. The property was kept within the Boatwright family for several generations before being acquired by Andy and Louise Macbeth in 2014. They transformed it into a dog-friendly hotel, now known as the Beck Hall Hotel. (Mostly copied from the hotel info.)  It is the first Vegan Hotel in England.

I ordered the White Bean Cacciatore, which was mixed with white beans, capers, black olives, tomato ragu, whipped tahini drizzle, and puffed chickpeas, served with garlic ciabatta. It was accompanied by a salad with a light lemony dressing. This was great!  All vegan.  If I could have this level of vegan food, I could easily be a vegan.  I rarely clean my plate, but this was so good I couldn’t quit eating.  

So I have a hard day tomorrow.

Good night and God bless.