Horton to Hawes - Piece of Cake

I woke up revitalised from a good night’s sleep and recharged the batteries with a hearty breakfast. My only real beef with the Crown is the timing of breakfast. I think you can gain access to the kitchens if you want a very early start but breakfast is served only between 8.30 and 9 o’clock. This of course limits you if you want to get away a bit early, or have a lie in, and everyone tends to show up on the dot of 8.30. If there are a lot of guests you can end up watching the day tick away while you’re waiting.

This particular morning the girl who’d laid out the tables had got the place settings wrong (at least that was the excuse) and we were all on two tables instead of every room getting a table each. I was sharing with a couple of blokes who were staying for a few days walking in the area and a bohemian looking chap who, when asked, professed himself to be a painter. He wasn’t having a full breakfast, just tea and toast.

“I suppose you’ll be wandering the hills looking for nudes to paint” I quipped

“No, I’m starting on the ceiling in the landlady’s flat after this.’ He said.

I needed supplies to keep my returned appetite happy so after nine went to the shop for snacks and to the café for a sandwich. I signed the Pennine Way book while I was there and got into a chat and nearly managed to leave without paying.

I was in no particular hurry to set off. I knew it was a pretty easy 14 miles especially going north. It was 10 o’ clock before I started up the lane behind the hotel, on yet another hot sunny day, though I got a bit of breeze later, higher up.

I stopped for a break at Ling Gill bridge and was passed by a young chap who was obviously a Pennine wayer- large pack and two sticks. I passed him half an hour later and this game of leap frog carried on all the way to Hawes. From intermittent exchanges I learned his name was Joe and he’d set off on the Tuesday before me. He was camping so had a lot more to carry and he was taking his own sweet time to do the walk in. If I could have carried the camping gear as well as put up with the actual camping I’d say this would be the perfect way to do it. You don’t have to make sure you arrive at your accommodation in time to eat. You could have your evening meal in a pub then walk another few hours before setting up camp. For the older walker it would allow them to stop, put up the tent and have an afternoon nap if they found their eyelids drooping around about snooze time. Something that’s very important when you reach a certain age. Just thinking about it makes me sleepy, halfway through this paragraph I had to go and lie down for half an hour.

You can tell when you’re on Dodd Fell and nearing Hawes by the low flying jets whizzing past your ears. If they don’t drop anything on you they’ll be RAF. I always think it’s amazing that, no matter where they’re based in Britain these pilots could be back having a gin in their mess before you’ve walked the next couple of miles. I’ve seen Dambusters and 633 Squadron so know how their conversation would go:

“Piece of cake”
“Don’t mind if I do”
“Skipper’s bought it”
“About time he got a round in”
“Bandits at 6 o’ clock”
“I’ll be gone by then”
“Beastly flak over Dortmund”
“Wizard prang”

I feel I could fit in perfectly.

The last time I’d been along here was the September before, travelling Hawes/Horton. It was breezy in the dales but on the hills the wind was terrific, particularly on the West Cam Road. It was a fight to get through it when it was blowing in my face and side on would force my feet sideways halfway through a step. I was constantly nearly tripping over. Of course after battling through this for what seemed like hours, practically blinded by the tears squeezed out of my eyes by the force of the gale a little granny passed by, on her way to Hawes, not a grey hair out of place, as unruffled as you like. I was a little surprised she wasn’t twirling a parasol on her shoulder. She had a large rucksack on her back which was either filled with cushions or she was stronger than she looked. She was probably rough camping, on her way to completing the Pennine Way in a week and a half while patching up any holes she saw in the dry stone walls she passed and tidying up the litter as she went.

The Roman Road near Cam End, it's good to see that those in motor vehicles can enjoy themselves in the countryside as well

I reached Hawes at 5 o’clock which meant the shops were still open and I hadn’t needed to buy the Telegraph in Horton and carry it unlooked at all this way. I normally stay at The Fountain which is a nowt special but o.k. sort of place but just for a change I tried The Herriot. The Herriot is best described as nice. If you like pine furniture, different wallpaper on the top half of the wall to the bottom and those little bowls of smelly things which always make my nose itch you’ll like the double rooms here. You might like the look of the single room as well, but you wouldn’t want to stay in it. It is simply too small. With both me and the rucksack there was no way I could have got a cat in as well. Being quite short I was able to squeeze into the bed. Anyone over six foot would have a very uncomfortable night with their ankles resting on the wooden rail at the bottom. The corridor shaped room is right at the top of the hotel, on the corner, overlooking the main road through the town. The bathroom, perched at the far end of the room is very light and airy. This is because of the good sized window situated right next to the toilet. It is bevelled of course but it’s obvious your outline must be clearly visible to anyone looking up from the street. It was a bit like crapping in a crow’s nest.

After my meal, in the Fountain, I wandered round the town looking for a signal. Eventually finding a weak one behind the church I booked a room in Keld for the following night. I didn’t want to leave it till the last minute as it was a Friday. Then it was back to my little room where I sat on my little bed. One plus about being high up was the view over the rooftops to the fells. The evening was too hot not to have the window open and I sat and watched the swifts darting between the chimneys, screaming a Watch Out! at each other, while catching a late evening snack. I also could not help but listen to every car and lorry rumbling over the cobbles below and hear every word spoken by anyone in the street as clearly as if they were sat next to me in the room.

Calling Hawes a town stretches the definitio of the word to its limit. The nearer houses belong to the village of Gayle

One rather weird thing about the hotel was a sign outside proclaiming no vacancies yet the hotel felt empty and the three other rooms on my floor were obviously unoccupied. Their doors were wide open and I looked in. They were very nice. I would have had one for a small supplement but they wanted half as much again on the single room rate, which was already expensive at £32 for a cupboard.

I began to think that perhaps, midweek, it was the sort of place that would lure in single travellers and in the middle of the night would sneak in to drug, gag and tie me up, then drag me off to either the Far East or Pontefract where I’d be sold into sex slavery. No such luck. I woke up at 7.30 on my own in the same tiny bed, bleary from lack of sleep from the continual interruptions. Not from kidnappers, from the noise outside.