Good Morning and Happy Derby Day. Hope all your horses came in. I didn’t post this blog yesterday because I was too tired. There will be a second post after this one. Today was the hike from H. E. double L.
I wandered around Keld trying to find the start of today’s hike, and I came across this sign. The name Butt House Bed and Breakfast made me laugh.
Look at these cuties. The one in the front was so curious. I thought he would walk up to me until his Mama bleated at him. The babies are so cute. They are very enthusiastic when they nurse, and their stubby tails wag furiously.
It was a bit chilly and foggy when I stared out this morning.
A fence with no purpose. I could have easily walked around it.
I started with a daunting uphill.
At the top was the Tan Hill Inn, "the highest pub, at 1732 feet above sea level,
stands alone among wild, beautiful moorland, twelve
miles from the nearest town and four miles from its next
door neighbour - 'not four miles from a village or anything
tame of that sort,' as a visitor in the 1920s noted, 'but four
miles from the nearest inhabited building.'
How long there has been an inn at Tan Hill is unknown.
In 1586, William Camden's Britannia recorded 'a solitary
inn' at Tan Hill, but the present building dates from the
seventeenth century, when it was known as King's Pit
House.” I stopped for a pint (of Diet Coke). I had many more
miles to go, and I wanted to ensure I was hydrated.
Plus, they had a real bathroom. A scarce find on
the Pennine trail.
DON'T LOOK ETHEL! Some of the history was so interesting. This was a group of “naturalists” who hiked up the mountain in the buff.
The sign says, "My host of the Tan Hill Inn between Reeth in North Yorkshire and Brow in Cumbria pulls pints at 1732 feet above sea level, the highest in Britain. Thus proving that some people will go to any lengths (or heights) to get their hands on a Guinness. Mind you that after that climb, you need one."
Caution, Deep Hole. Stay right of this marker post. Good advice, but my phone map showed the trail going around it. I wandered around the bog trying to find the trail again. I added some time and some length to an already impossible-sounding day.
Finally!
Rural mail truck in England.
I am starting to see some rocky cliffs. And more up and up.
A portion of today looked like this.
A glimpse at Blackton Resevoir.
The last section of the official hike was six and a half miles, with six of the miles sharply uphill. Oh, Mon Dieux. Then my hotel was three-quarters of a mile from the trail. Today was brutally uphill, and counting my missteps and periods of lost on the moors and bogs, I came in at 25.5 miles. Twenty-five miles is tough when it is flat. I hiked as fast as my short, stubby legs would go all day. Whew!
I had a beautiful room in a magnificient old hotel.
Dinner was incredible - "Crayfish Cannelloni, pea puree, artichokes, sea greens, hazelnut, bisque.” The restaurant was booked, and I understand why. I would describe the menu as some kind of fusion, chefish dream. My dinner was so full of flavor and nuances that I considered lying my face in the bowl. If I had, I would have just slept there all night. The desserts looked scrumptious, but I was too tired to wait.
Goodnight and God Bless.
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