Monday, 2 March 2009

A Shortish Walk In The Yorkshire Peaks

As the sky looked so majestic, and Saturday school was over for the day. TNM changed into his alter ego BONGO MAN and after: surgically removing Junior Geordie Monkey (TNM's son) from the computer, and rescuing Lennox the black lab puppy from the emasculating love of 'Grandma Yorkshire' (TNM's mum)  we finally set off for a bracing walk in the country. By the time we were actually got out of the door it was getting dark as so we changed destination and headed for Ribblehead. The night was foggy to say the least and as we drove away from Leeds and onto the moors we could only see three road markings ahead.
When we arrived we were delighted by our own powers of organization, we had allowed time for a small libation at the local hostelry - the splendid Station Inn.  
Readers with prolonged exposure to the 'corporate nightmare' public houses that have proliferated in the last twenty years may wish to either; Turn away now (bad thing jealousy) or Set off immediately ( good old-school pub t' station). Through visiting the bar a couple of times (as your representative and strictly in the interests of research) I was able to assemble a northern food parcel to send to the Bushwacker Jnr and The Littlest Bushwacker- Pork scratchings (a tooth cracking snakfood made of salt and pork rinds fried to a rock hard crunch and a bar of Romney's Kendal mint cake - a food synonymous with mountaineering, and fell walking. The packet even records its role in the first successful assent of Everest.
“'We sat on the snow and looked at the country far below us … we nibbled Kendal Mint Cake.' A member of the successful Everest expedition wrote – 'It was easily the most popular item on our high altitude ration – our only criticism was that we did not have enough of it.'"
We feasted on fine, fine pork pies that were kept stacked on the bar, made from gloucestershire old spot pork, sourced within five miles of the Station's kitchen.

As the night wore on we bedded down in the Bongo: northern monkeys and the dog on the fold down seats and your pal the bushwacker in the fold out crows nest. I went to sleep to the sound of a lad of fifteen whingeing indignantly  'but you still haven't made my bed' and TNM laughing heartlessly from the depths of his sleeping bag, a venue which I can vouch, once he has retired to, he is extremely unlikely to leave.

In the morning clouds rolled by lower than the hill tops, a burn tinkled as it disappeared into a pothole, the hills were rolling majestically, the camera spluttered an died.

Sunday morning had dawned bright and fresh, so after breakfasting on beans and eggs a la Bongo we set off up Ingleborough, second highest hill in the Yorkshire dales.

I don't know if you were reading back in the days of my long abandoned training regime, but yes 'Sofa- King-Whacked' just about summed up my journey to the summit. At least this time i wasn't mocked by the drinking pubic, it was the faux concern of JGM. 'are you going to die?' Fortunately he also kept up a running commentary on the state of Lennox's bowl movements  so at least the walk didn't pass without entertainment. 

As usual the 'great british countryside' is covered in crap (with only a small percentage laid by the dog) I fished a full size waste bag out of a stream and soon had it half filled with sweet wrappers, drink cans and other assorted food packaging. All left by people out for the day to enjoy the 'unspoiled' views. And they had the temerity to look at ME as though I'm mad. Go figure?

Your Pal
The Bushwacker


Albert A Rasch said...


You're having yourself a splendid time then? Good on ya!

Albert A Rasch
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
The Rasch Reviews: Tactical
Proud Member of Outdoor Bloggers Summit
Southeast Regional OBS Coordinator

Anonymous said...

Sounds like a nice walk, except for the trash. Sadly, we have that problem in the States as well.

Anonymous said...

Great pics, SBW. One of these days I'm going to take that great American college student cliche, the backpacking trip through Europe (and mainly Britain), except I'll be an old geriatric.
That's what happens when you don't have the foresight or funds to do youthful things when you're young.

If you're ever back in the states try to swing through Oklahoma and I'll show you around. Geographically speaking, there's not another state that can touch it for sheer diversity. We go from swamps and alligators to timbered mountains to tallgrass prairie to big sky sagebrush and even dip a little into Ed Abbey country in our extreme western panhandle.
I live in NW Oklahoma, which is classic big sky high plains country.
Looks alot like your pics, actually, except here all the foliage stings, scratches, cuts, punctures or otherwise hurts you if you touch it...

The Suburban Bushwacker said...

that sounds like it will be a blast. Now that me and Mrs SBW are no longer an item I've suddenly got the time to do all the things i didn't have the foresight to do when I was young. i'd be over tomorrow if it weren't for the mountain of debt.
Ping me an email - i've got a couple of ideas for your visit to ol'blighty.