We were back. We had had an early start from home, a lift to Ponden with Kath in deteriorating weather conditions, and a bacon butty stop en route to feed the inner man. We were saddling up besides the reservoir just as the heavens opened in earnest. It would seem later that they would never close much again. Never mind, we were off. There was nothing now to thwart our ambition to walk to Scotland. With a noontime start, we were to have a short day, overnighting at Earby Youth Hostel a dozen miles away.
It was grand to get mud on the boots again, and mud there was aplenty. The walk over to Cowling was wet and soggy, the rain heavy and ceaseless. The little wooden chalets mentioned by Wainwright are still there, way above the village. Although empty when we passed, they seemed well maintained and in regular use. We wondered by whom and when. Probably people from nearby towns enjoying the solitude, although hereabouts is reputed to be the UFO spotting capital of the U.K.
In spring, the hills are so different, so much more vibrant. May is a more appealing time for a walk than August. We were greeted back onto the moors by the song of the Skylark, Curlew and Lapwing. Their song was to accompany us much of the way to Kirk Yetholm. The meadows too, first met at Cowling, were bursting with wild flowers and insects. Wet or not, it was grand to be out.
The handsome village of Lothersdale was a highlight of a short day. It was one of my father’s favourite places. I was raised in nearby East Lancashire, but family research suggests that several generations of ancestors lived just over the hill at Connonley. I have visited there in the past and found some old family graves in the churchyard; as for the village, not a Watson Memorial Blue Plaque in sight.
The view from Pinhaw Beacon was magnificent: across the Aire valley to the Dales and south towards the glorious mass of Pendle Hill. I was back in familiar country now; in fact, much of the way to Tan Hill had been well trodden by me before.
And so on down to the Youth Hostel at Earby for the night. I’ve hostelled before, Robert hadn’t. Earby YHA is one of those small, traditional, basic, self-catering hostels, beloved by the "old school" hosteller. The experience for Bob was completely novel.
I must mention here, as I did to the Warden, that I have a problem...It is not too offensive, grave or communicable. Just a propensity to snore.
I’m afraid my snoring is world class. Bob would rather sleep on broken glass than share a room or even the same floor, if he could avoid it. I offered to sleep in the little lounge on the ground floor, to avoid disturbing his other guests. The Warden, ever helpful, would have none of it. It wasn’t busy. I could have a dormitory to myself. And so I did.
After a quiet but agreeable night in the nearby Red Lion, I retired to my bed. Bob was sharing his dormitory with one other young chap, quiet, but amiable enough, who had walked over from Settle that day. After adjusting to a small and bumpy bunk, I sank into oblivion and enjoyed a peaceful, restful sleep. There is nothing quite like gentle exercise and a good pint to promote sound slumber.
I was up early the next morning for a snack of Weetabix and tea, before the walk over to the Café at Gargrave for a real breakfast. Robert appeared in the kitchen. He looked dreadful, tired and drained.
“The bastard snores!”
Accommodation: Earby YHA (01282 842349)
£9.50 Self Catering only
Earby is a cheap and cheerful, traditional hostel. It represents terrific value.
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