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Ponden to Cowling

I have to admit, I was not sorry to see the campsite at Pondon behind me, although it was a pretty spot, the many campfire remains spoilt it completely.  Climbed back up the hill, up the road and down on to the major road at the bottom, along which I had traversed many times on a motorbike before!  It seemed quite imposing now as there was no footpaths on either side, and the traffic was really very fast.  With relief, I soon found myself climbing over a style to access a field full of sheep, which in itself was a little amusing as all on its own, was one completely black sheep.  I felt so sorry for it.  The climb up this hill was pretty steep and the path a little uncertain until I emerged onto an access track for a dwelling which was under renovation, and was really pretty.  I was met by the biggest dogs with the biggest curly covering of hair I ever did see, they were so friendly, and must have felt very hot in the now increasing heat of the day.  The track swung to the left over a bit of rough land, which had sheep dotted about, and all of a sudden they made a beeline to a man behind me, who clearly was the food bearer!  I stopped for a wee rest and a drink, and as I took Bernie off, two particularly large but cute lambs came over to investigate my bag, and were happy to let me pet them and stroke them.  I named them Ronnie and Reggie, clearly, one was distracting me whilst the other was trying to raid Bernie – he was disappointed to find only my solar panel!


The climb up onto Oakworth Moor was a little tedious to begin with, but as height was gained, it became more pleasurable as the moor opened up and became less farmland type.  Solitude at last and the views as always, just stunning.

As I traversed the moor further – heading for ‘the sea’ – Ian told me if i could see the sea at any point of the walk, then I had gone wrong.  Not to worry, why it had been named the sea is anybody’s guess, but I thought it looked like an oversized puddle!

Looking back south east from this view, and I could see for miles.  (the photos really do not do justice).  The landscape did seem familiar somehow, and utilising my camera zoom to good effect, I could pick out the moble phone mast on the top of Beacon Rd hill.  That’s a bit specific i hear you say, well I spent a lot of time going over that road in my youth, and the views from there are pretty phenominal, as are the views from the end of Sheep Hill Lane in Clayton Heights where I used to live, which I think I could also make out, I know that behind me to the north north east lay Ingleborough hill, and on a very clear day, that was visible from my parents house, so it would only follow that i would be able to see their house from where i was now, approximately 30 – 40 miles away.  I did try waving, but I’m not sure i was seen.





The top of Ikornshaw moor was deceptively pretty with masses of cotton in bloom –


The bliss was going to be short lived as the decent off the moor started to deteriorate.  The lovely paved track deteriorated to a small muddy track barely discernable among the reeds and rushes, following a stone wall around the outskirts of a field.  Occaisionally, i came across little wonders which lightened the soul –


I wonder what it was like to live here???  Further down the path were a number of wooden huts, all in perfect condition and well maintained, with some kind of outhouse outside.  Not sure what they were, or what their purpose were, but they were rather intriguing and cute.  The path continued to be difficult and very boggy in places, and I was so glad it was a very hot dry day that i was traversing this section as i can imagine it being very difficult if very wet.  The ultimate obstacle came when the path traversed a 5 ft wall via a ladder style, only it was so delapidated, only the top few rungs were present, and they looked very dodgy.  My only hope was the large metal gate to the left of me, which was securely chained and locked, and the gate itself was encased in barbed wire.  Anyone would think the farmer had something against walkers traversing his land, but still, it was a right of way, and quite a famous one at that!  So up and over the gate I gingerly climbed, together with Bernie, we managed not to get snagged on the barbed wire.

I could see Cowling in the bottom, and it was tatilizingly close, but so far away!  the moorland came to an abrupt end, and grazing land began.  I traversed a couple of fields, and a footbridge or two, to climb back up onto a farm track in the middle of a field full of sheep.  Happily I trod, admiring the view, until I came to a bend in the track by a wall, when I realise  there are also cows and calves in the field too.  I carefully and quietly trod on, trying to show the cows that I really did not want to tread on their hooves by going as far away from them without actually falling over the edge of the gorge that had suddenly appeared.  Once around the wall, all was ok, and there was no thundering of hooves.  The track went around a very pretty little waterfall which was so sweet.


Eventually, I followed the track down to a very overgrown steep path into a field, and finally across someones access road and back into a field before dropping onto the main Cowling road, which was a bit of a culture shock as buses and trucks thundered by.  I paused by a field and watched a sheepdog preparing to round up a labrador as I phoned my campsite to ensure there was still room, I asked what to look out for.  As she asked me what was near, I started to read the sign on a building just next to me, realising I was outside the entrance to the campsite, and the dog I was watching belonged to the campsite owner.  What joy!  I was there early, and it was so sunny.  She came out to welcome me, show me the facilities – at least they were on the same bit of land this time, be it they were very primitive.  She then showed me where I could pitch my tent – among the chickens.  She did warn me I would be spending the night with some school children, and I so prayed it would not be the same ones as last night.  However, I bagged the flattest spot, put tent up, did a bit of laundry and laid over tent to dry feeling sure in the hot sun it would soon dry.  I donned my sandals, and decided to go a wandering into the village on the hunt for food.  I had been advised there was a pub, a shop and an indian restaurant.

I had already googled the pub, and the one and only review was appalling. Still, thirst, heat and sheer desperation led me to give it the benefit of the doubt, and go in and try.  My initial question of do we serve food was met with a stern no, but my obvious reaction to this, along with my obvious needy look meant the owner then apologised profusely stating she had run out of sandwhiches which she had served to the local cricket team, and could only offer crisps.  I then got her life story, and discovered she had retaken the pub over after the last landlord had led everything to ruin.  She did recommend the local indian restuarant, which I thought I would give a try.  I was waiting at their door at 5:30 – not trying to seem too desperate of course.

The meal I had was lovely, and I got 2 courses, a beer and a glass of wine for 2 thirds of the price of the cost of the meal at the old silent inn.  Hmmmm, something to be said there.   I was pleasantly satisfied, and waddled my way back to the tent for an early night.


Hebden Bridge to Ponden

The I looked back and bid farewell to Studley Pike and set off across the hills.  It was off through a few overgrown and tricky paths to begin with, which eventually opened out over sheep grazing pastures overlooking Colden.  The path descended into a steep grough to reach Colden water with a charming stone footbridge.

 The Climb back up was a bit tedious, and I was faced with a field full of cows with the biggest bull I ever did see, luckily for me, the path followed the field on the other side of the bulls fence!  Phew!  It was starting to get a bit hot, and the lady at the bed and breakfast had mentioned a small farm shop along the road at the top which sold everything.  She wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t called Aladdins Cave for nothing!  Wow, what she did not sell wasn’t worth selling, she even stocked various bottles of  whisky, including one I had not heard of – Sheep Dip!  I purchased a couple of toiletry items, some choccy and took advantage of the conveniences on site.  It really was like stepping back in time, the toilets were in an outhouse, and consisted of a simple wood bench with a lid over the hole to and elsan toilet.  I know I may seem to be very descriptive, but everything was impeccably clean, and she was obviously very proud of her establishment.  It turns out she also catered for the odd camper, and offered this facility free to Pennine Way walkers – a truly lovely lady!

After sitting outside and enjoying a drink, I reluctantly left the tranquility and went back to the trail.  I then started the climb up to Heptenstall Moor, and reaching the start of the moorland, I looked back and was rewarded with a view of Badger Field Farm and Studley Pike in the background.

 The climb up onto Heptonstall Moor was a bit of a grind in the now increasing heat, but was well worth it with views to the East.  There were some derelict properties dotted around the moor, one large one which I can only imagine must have been a very fine house for a wealthy land owner once in it’s lifetime.  It’s position being very remote, I can imagine now it would be a wild place to live if you enjoyed solitude!  Over the other side of the moor, I was rewarded with views of Gorple reservoir, and the Pack Horse Pub.  Now came the dilemma, it was getting near lunchtime, and I know the pub does lovely meals and nice beer (yep, have visited before with parents as one of their ”local’ haunts), or do I make use of the packed lunch with possibly squashed sandwiches?  Reluctantly, but with relief, I press on past Gorple reservoir, down and up the small but pretty grough, and along the access track to Walshaw Dean Reservoir, where it still being very hot, the boots and socks came off and squashed sandwiches were enjoyed with a view to the Pub!  How about that for discipline!?!

 Boots back on, feeling refreshed, I follow the reservoir edge for a while, before picking up the path over Haworth moor, and it really is a beautiful moor.  There are such stunning views, and somehow do not seem to be bleak but welcoming, with cotton making the moorland look really pretty.  On the approach to Ponden, the views got really big.  In the distance, the ruins of Withins house could be seen, allegedly the inspiration for the house used in Emily Brontes Wuthering Heights.



The walk down from the moor was a bit of a plod as it had become very hot.  I passed a farmstead that did offer campsite facilities but were closed at the moment, undergoing improvements.  Shame as it looked a lovely site, but never mind.  It was a pretty steep descent to Ponden reservoir, with a further plod along the access road to the few dwellings at the end – including Ponden House – my goal.  It seemed a cruel twist to have a bit of a steep climb up to the house, but I was there.  Having paid my fee, I followed my instructions to the campsite – up the road a bit further, through a gate and down a steep grassy path to the campfield by a stream and pick somewhere flat by the stream (duh – I was thinking of pitching on the hill!!!) – to access the ‘facilities’, I had to climb the steep grassy track up to the road again, and then continue up the road a bit to a private house, on which there was an outhouse with the one toilet/shower/sink inside, and drinking water tap outside!  Oh goody, when one is desperate in the morning, the hurridly having to get dressed is further agonised by the dash up the very steep and long grassy path and through an awkward gate to the outhouse!  Never mind, the lady said I would have the campfield to myself, which was brilliant, and I looked forward to dangling my hot feet in the cool stream.

WRONG!  The peace was shattered by a small party of school boys and their teacher who arrived on site, and teacher promptly announced they would be camping here, and to go and find firewood.  My only happiness was when I discovered the optimum (and in my opinion – the only viable spot) in the field where it was flat, and not near the several abandoned campfires at the bottom – had been taken by me!! This was loudly pointed out by the teacher, but never mind heh?  Celebrations were shortlived as I realised that despite the incredibly dry conditions, they were actually going to light a campfire??  I know that having a responsible adult around should mean it would be ok, but surely the purpose of the responsible adult would be to highlight when it is INAPPROPRIATE to light a campfire, ie when the surrounding ground and vegetation is extremely dry!

Time to scarper and let blissful ignorance be my solace, I hot footed it (literally) to the pub, a mere 20 minute walk, at the other end of the reservoir.  Despite being very expensive, the Old Silent Inn was lovely refuge, and I enjoyed my expensive meal and very expensive one drink, even managed vague conversation with Ian despite the dodgy signal.

I spent a very tense evening, sprawled in the tent, listening to the menagerie outside deciding what could and could not be put on the fire, exhaustion eventually giving way to sleep.  Thankfully, the morning was aided by the entertainment provided by the group as they discussed their plan of action, and struggled to get it together as some members of the group were clearly more enthusiastic at getting up out of their tent than others.  Having enjoyed my dish of beans, pot of coffee, and done the climbing of the hill to the toilet thing, I was packed and setting off just as they were getting their tents down!


Attempt part duex

Well hello there.  I know I failed first time round, and having decided feet are feeling ok, I went for a second attempt, but with far more realistic goals.  Just a few days of hiking, and a definite finishing day regardless of where I am.  I made provisions to finish possibly at Horton in Ribblesdale, but accepted if I needed to finish earlier, then so be it.  It would be totally feet dependent!  (Can’t get very far without them).

So with Bernie packed, and train tickets purchased, I caught train back to Hebden Bridge, and then the local bus service to a rendevous point at a known public house in Heptenstall – the Cross Inn.  Here I would meet with parents to enjoy a celebratory meal – well it was the day of the big 40!  I have to say, it is the first time I have done a three point turn in a bus, and hats off to the drivers, they have to negotiate their buses in places where I would really think twice about taking a car!  They must have the patience of a saint, and were very friendly!  Having fed full of roast lamb and beer, and ginger sponge, I was dropped off at the Badger Field Farm where I would spend the night bed and breakfast.  It was really nice, and the views from the garden were spectacular, as they were from my bedroom window.  I had to share the garden bench with the farm’s barn cat, who apparently, was extremely friendly for a barn cat.  I spent the evening enjoying the views, Studley Pike was across the valley looking splendid in the evening sun.  I declined evening dinner as I was still pretty full from lunch, so sat it in the wonderful little lounge, reading a book on the pennine way.

I was introduced to another house guest, Ross, who was also on an ambitious trek – a wee bit more ambitious than mine.  Although staying at Bed and Breakfast thoughout the 3 month trip, he was hiking from Lands End to John o Groats.  He had taken a 3 month sebatical from work, with a rest day every 7 days, his wife arranging his night stays a couple of days in advance.    Well done to him!  I found it reassuring to find that he had also struggled with navigation on Bleaklow head, and was humbled to think that as the Pennine Way required 9 Explorer maps, his expedition required 52 explorer maps!  Good luck to him anyway, and what an awesome thing to do!  It was really nice talking to him and we wished each other luck following our lovely breakfast.  I collected my packed lunch which had been kindly prepared for me, told Bernie to behave and off we set.


I am so excited, I haven’t told Bernie yet!!!!!

With the help of Mr Bean and his impeccable memory, I am getting things together to pack Bernie with.  He (Bernie) has fallen asleep in the corner of the room and is blissfully unaware of his imminent trip – I have sworn the boots to secrecy as they were informed when they got new insoles put in them!!

I have bought my evening meals for Friday and Saturday ( beef meatballs in herbs, and beef in black velvet porter, with the obligatory small can of beans for brekkie!  I am looking forward to my birthday pint of Ram Tam and birthday lamb shank at the Cross Inn in Heptonstall – (ever get the feeling I have been there before??).  My feet will be getting their daily pampering as I promised them in return for a hassle free walk.

The trouble is, Deej knows something is happening as he is stuck to me like velcro and I keep tripping over him.  I guess he thinks he is off on a camping expedition himself!  Erm – nope.  I do intend to get a good night’s sleep each and every night.  I have promised Mr Bean that I will have a wee dram of my whisky, which I carried all the way last time but never actually touched!  Tut tut.

Anyway, busy person, lots to do, need to be ready with Bernie packed at lunchtime ready for inspection by General Bean

All booked then!

Right, B%B booked at both ends, train tickets purchased. Just need to get Bernie sorted cos come Thursday, we are recommencing our adventure. Discussed the prospect with my feet this morning, who have now had ample time to get themselves better. Put new insoles in boots and took mutley for a bit of a longer walk than he’s used to – it certainly wasn’t to the 2nd bridge on the railway line and back! Nope, bribed with the prospect of a sausage on the sea front, we had a wee walk round the front and up the southside of the castle, meandering at a leisurely pace, taking in the lovely views. Deej enjoyed his mince around the castle but was glad to be home. I felt the need to continue walking, and with that thought in mind, decided it was time! Having got the consent of my feet, time was spent today planning and phoning and booking.
Now is all done, and Mr Bean need not worry as back up plans are also in place, so no rescue missions should be required. I won’t be spending my birthday where I originally planned, but in an equally nice location – Hebden Bridge in a lovely B&B after a meal at an equally lovely pub!
Til later!

Walking a wee bit of may way back to dignity

There are no words to describe my utter disappointment and heartbreak at having to abandon the walk early. Or to describe the hurt caused by someone who said I should face the fact I will never do it as I am not fit enough and just forget about it now. Well, I may have underestimated the challenge ahead, and yep, I will admit i bit off more than I could chew. However, if everyone were to take a ‘realist’ stance of everything, then the world would still be flat, so many parts of our planet would be undiscovered, and we would all be hidden away in our homes, fearing what was out there. Sometimes you have to take a gamble and try something, and whilst you might not always succeed, then there is nothing stopping you amending your plans and trying again. Major industrial revolutions were invented through trial and error, and mistakes being made. I know I challenged myself as there were definately times I wanted to be anywhere but where I was, but then i was glad I concquered and carried on when I could.

I hope the person who thinks I should face facts and realise that in reality, I will never get any further on the walk, will think again, and realise the negative effects of those words. I may not have achieved all I set out to do on the walk, but one important thing I did do was to raise awareness of the plight of our service men and women, and help people to remember where their freedom was derived. That has got to be viewed as a massive success hasn’t it!

Regardless of what this person thinks, I will be going back to where I left off, and I will tackle more of the walk. I do not intend to complete the rest of the walk in one go – I have neither the time or the funds, and clearly not the stamina. However, I can manage less mileage each day (an average of 16 miles per day is pretty good going in bad weather carrying a large pack) – I will have a maximum of 11 miles in any one day, mainly to ensure that my feet are able to cope given they have just been recovering from bad blisters. I have bought new sole inserts which will help prevent the same problem occuring, and will be savagely streamlining my pack, being very choosy about what goes in. I also learned how lack of sleep had a very drastic effect on my energy levels, and general morale. Not only did it mean it was extremely hard to get myself out of bed the following morning, but meant I tried to make time up by not stopping for proper meal breaks. For this reason, my walking day will be shorter, and I will ensure large meals are taking on an evening, but light snacks at lunchtime (better than no lunch which is what happened before). I have ensured a couple of stays in B&B to enable me to guarantee at least a couple of good nights sleep, with good breakfast. Finally, I have got a finishing date with an option to finish early if I wish. I will try to eradicate the time factor, and if I reach a destination far earlier than anticipated, then so what? I take full advantage of this to ensure my feet are ok and have time to recuperate.

Sorry to have failed and been over-optimistic before, but I had to try, and I believe I did that in an admirable fashion. If this seems farsicle to some people, then tough! I am very proud of what I HAVE achieved, and look forward to getting back out th

Wednesday and walk to the Pub!

I waved goodbye to Bill as he abandoned me in the Carpark at Stanedge.  The weather forecast was bleak.   The nice lady on the TV had cheefully said to expect heavy showers, and some of them thundery, not to worry though as later on in the week the showers would become dryer!  (Eh???? Dry Showers???? I could do with them type!).  As such, I was dressed accordingly with waterproofs and gloves on.  Northwards I set, and off I trudged.  The way crossed with the Pennine Bridleway here, and it could be a bit confusing.  I picked out where I should be and climbed up and onto the heathland.  To my dismay, I found a kissing gate to get through.   I wondered just how many I would come across.  Off Bernie came as there just was not enough room for the two of us, and he was maneouvered through.  That done, I could see back over Stanedge and beyond.   Wow, I had come a fair way.  Off I strolls again, the strong westerly wind flapping my map around, but it was still dry.  There were a lot of menacing clouds around, but no rain.

Another Kissing gate crossed my path and i decided there must be a better way of doing this without having to take Bernie off all the time.  I found, it.  If I straddled the inner sides of the gate hole so Bernie was above the fence, then opened the gate below me, it was so much easier!  Anne – 1, Gate – 0!  My joy was short lived as there before me, right on the path, all laid down looking unimpressed, were a herd of white cattle.  I couldn’t walk around them, so had to carefully tread past them.  Relief followed when none of them paid any attention, and I did not have to do a pathetic attempt at running with my pack on!  I was quite pleased to see the next kissing gate I can tell you!

The path progressed very nicely over the moors to another road, and it was such a pleasant walk with the path being easy going after yesterdays rock climbing!  Crossed the road, to climb the moor to the top of White Hill.   The moor was swathed with cotton and looked very pretty.  Although a little boggy in places, again the path was relaxing and the views were spectacular.  The only niggly little thing was that my waterproof trousers kept creeping down, to the point where i was getting really annoyed with them.  (Clearly Bernie was relieved something else was getting my wrath instead of him!)  I descended slowly to yet another road, and i could hear roar of the M62 long before I saw it.  It was like a huge moving snake across the moor.  It looked quite spectacular in the glory of the sun which now was shining!  As I crossed the road and made my way to the high footbridge which crosses the M62, I started to get texts from folk wishing me well, which was lovely to keep me spurred on and motivated.

It felt quite wierd walking across the motorway at such a height and the noise was unbelievable! I paused at the middle to take the obligatory photos, before continuing onwards.  Pause again at the end of the bridge to pull the bloody trousers up again – fear not, I did not cause any accidents by pulling any unintentional moonies on the bridge!  Another climb, this time to another notorious part of the walk – Redmires.  Apparently very boggy, and yep, it did live up to it’s reputation.  It was a bit of a quagmire, but I managed it, and continued the climb up to blackstone edge, stopping every so often to pull the trousers up.  Seriously, I may need to invest in some braces if this continues!

Now I had made a date to meet parents at the White House between 1pm and 1:30, given they stop serving meals at 2pm, I realised that my mess up with the time this morning was meaning it would be a bit of scrape to get there in time (I didn’t actually start walking until 10am – abysmal I know).  A worried Ian called as he could see where I was, and wanted to know if he should place an order.  Then I rang mum to reassure her that I wasn’t all that far away – really I wasn’t.  She called me back to say they were going to be late because the moorland road was blocked and they were following a detour.  It was a race against time, but i was feeling so confident.

This was shattered on reaching the summit of Blastone Edge.  The path just disappeared amongst the many strewn boulders, and following what i believed to be the correct path, led me partway down the side of the crag, and I was rock climbing again.  Some rock climbers nodded at me in wonderment as I jostled Bernie over rocks and along the very narrow path.  Eventually I found where i needed to be and was off at a pace again, checking my watch it was only 1:45.  I passed over a roman road – but no time for photos, well ok one of the sprawl of Littleborough below me.  Eventually the pub was in sight just around the corner, and so was the green Saab. We both made it just in time, and the landlady was expecting us, having received orders for 3 rump steaks with egg.

I plonked Bernied down on a bench in the foyer, and left waterproof jacket there and made a beeline for the wc.  Here, I discovered the problem of the falling down trousers – I had only managed to put them on back to front!  What a wally I felt!  Sorted that out, and as I approached the table, I adjusted my top to find i had put it on inside out.  There really was no hope was there!!!  It’s a good job Ian wasn’t with me, he would be so ashamed!

However, food soon arrived, and I downed half a pint of orange squash, followed by a pint of lager.  I managed the steak, but left most of the chips and veg as I was too full to eat any further.  For those who may not believe what they have just read, yes, I definately said I was too full to finish my meal – a first for me I know.  It was 15:30 before we were eventually persuaded out of the pub, and I bid farewell to mum and dad before plodding along the path by the reservoir.  My feet were definately starting to feel a little sorer than usual, and I feared I would not make it to my next destination at Badger Hill Farm at the other side of Charlestown – the other side of the gorge.  I rang to say I would not make it for 6pm for the evening meal, but would be there at some point this evening.  She asked where I was and agreed I still had a fair distance to go yet.  The clouds were menacing and actually looked as if they meant it this time.  Although the path was really good, I wasn’t really enjoying the walk as much now, in fact, rump steak probably made me feel too sleepy.  The path followed the edge of a couple of reservoirs, which seemed to expand in size as I walked along them.   The last reservoir certainly did.  I eventually got to the end, and looking at the clouds all closing in, I suddenly felt really tired and that I could not go any further today.  Spying a place where my tent could go, I phoned Ian to give him my intention, and he phoned Badger Hill for me so I could get my tent up and sort myself out.  I was releived in a way as it meant I would get a reasonably early night.  Not brilliant time when wild camping as you are supposed to camp as late as possilbe and leave as soon as possible the following morning.  However, needs must.  I gave up with trying to find somewhere dry, the moor was waterlogged – if I hear any newscaster mention water shortage or drought, I may have to resort to violence.

Lade my mat out, followed by plastic bag, followd by sleeping bag.  Arranged Bernie in a suitable place, undressed and climbed in my sac and that was it, instant sleep.  I awoke at about 8.30pm to the sound of voices who were clearly intrigued by my tent, what batty type would be on the moors at that time??? ok, what OTHER batty type would be on the moors at that time – some cyclists, I could hear the squeal of their brakes.  Eventually all went quiet after 9pm, and the wind started as did the rain.  As a comfort, I rang Ian and chatted to him for a while, taking comfort from hearing his voice.  I was cosy and I was warm, just my feet were still bothering me.

I drifted off again, and was woken at 4:30 by some cheerful little bird singing it’s heart off.  Slept for a further hour and half, then decided I should get up.  This is where things started to go downhill.  Firstly, I decided I wished I were a bloke, and blokes need to appreciate this!  I was absolutely desperate for a wee.  So I got dressed as hurridly as possible when your body is stiff and complaining.  Squeezed my painful feet into my boots, hurried outside and found relief.  The sky was very dark and very menacing.  I decided time to get the tent packed away quick before the clouds unleashed their very heavy load.

Went back in tent, undressed and freshened up, redressed and started looking for breakfast – tin of mackerel will do with some jelly beans.  Yum, that was such an enjoyable breakfast compared to yesterday ( I wonder if Bill does delivery service).   Started to pack and organise Bernie, and it happened again, desperate to wee, I had to squeeze boots on again and go outside.  I was getting a tadge frustrated and annoyed.  Ian obviously picked the wrong moment to ring me, cos I was really fed up and very tearful as I felt I wasn’t making progress.  Wrong thing to do cos Ian was now worried.  I reassured him I would persist and ring him later.

Eventually got tent down and packed away, just in time too as the heavens absolutely opened up, the torrential shower lasted ages, and I could see more heavily laden clouds waiting their turn behind.  I set off, and truly, my feet complained in a way they hadn’t before, especially my left foot.  It was utter agony.  I carried on a bit longer, but the pain was becoming unbearable, and it was then I decided that it would be fruitless and stupid to persist any longer.  I phoned Ian and told him I would be coming home and why.  He then rang my parents who wanted to pick me up, so I arranged a pick up point at a youth hostel only a couple of miles away down the moor.   I picked my way down the moorland path, incredibly and painfully slowly.  The shower just persisted and persisted.  I limped into Mankinholes, and eventually found the youth hostel.  I got in the entrance foyer which was lovely and warm.  The man inside said as it was 10am, sadly they were closing for the day, but he must have read the look of desperation on my face, and said I could wait in the foyer for my parents, he got me a chair and told me where I could put things to dry off.  That chair was relief.

That is when the impact of my decision hit me, and I cried.  I was so upset at having to give up so early in the walk.  A couple emerged from the building and gave me some solace by telling me he had started the Pennine way, and had got as far as Hebden Bridge, like me, but ended his walk in hospital with exhaustion.  That did make me feel better, and I was proud of the fact I walked or limped my way off the moor.

The walk may be off for now, but if my feet heal in time, and I am fully recovered enough, I still have time to go back and do some more.  I realise now that to expect to do the whole lot in one go would be unrealistic, and my daily expectations of the mileage to be covered were a little optimistic given the pack I was carrying.  Nevertheless, what I have acheived is more than some, and I am proud of how far I got.  I did it in some difficult conditions, the weather was not really all that kind to me.  If I go back, it will be with the intention of doing less daily mileage, with a slimmed down Bernie, and acceptance that I get as far as I get and that is it.  I miss being on the walk, I was really enjoying it, some of the climbs were tough, but were rewarding at the end, and the sense of achievement at the end of each day was overwhelming.  I still feel that to you need to be challenged sometimes, and placed out of your comfort zone once in a while.  It does wonders for the soul, not to mention your self esteem!

In the words of Arnie – I’ll be back!!!!