Roses are red, or maybe white, its borderline. - Wednesday 10/7/24
Descending from the high dales after the storm was a tad precarious. When we got up in the morning, we were shrouded in fog, or maybe low cloud. The rain had lashed down during the night,
mostly horizontaly due to the high winds. The wind had abated, but it was still drizzling a bit. We left The Tan Hill Inn heading back towards Leyburn, quite slowly as not only was the visibility
almost zero, the road was flooded in places, and where it wasn't, the potholes were full of water so needed avoiding even more diligently.
By the time we got to Reeth, we were out of the low cloud, and it had stopped drizzling, so progress was much easier. We carried on through the dales past Aysgarth Falls and stopped briefly in Grassington
to our destination of Skipton, where we checked out the shops and had a spot of lunch.
We needed to do some clothes washing, and the Skipton Morrissons store has a laundrette.
After working out how to use it, we loaded up the machine and had a coffee in the cafe. When we got back, it still wasn't dry so paid for another 45 minutes and had another coffee.
After collecting our dry washing we concluded it might have been cheaper just to buy some new clothes but at least we know for another time.
We left Skipton and drove to our pub stop for the night, The Old Stone Trough at Barnoldswick. This is just over the border, in Lancashire, the red rose county. They have really gone out of their way to welcome people with campers and mo'homes. There were designated large parking spaces, and even a toilet and water tap.
We had a lovely meal in The Trough that night, and in the morning ventured further into red rose county, stopping first at Colne.
Quite pleased to find out the parking was free.
All you had to do was
collect a free 'clock badge' from a local shop and put it on your dashboard showing the time you arrived, and you get 3 hours free parking. Just as well, because if you had to pay for parking you wouldn't bother stopping unless you really needed to.
From there we went to Nelson, pausing on the way at The Pendle Heritage Centre. Here we learned about The Pendle Witches.
In 1612, twelve people were accused of murder and witchcraft.
The key witness in the trial was a nine
year old girl, and three of the people she 'testified' against were her own mother, brother and another family member. Eleven of the twelve 'witches' were found guilty and hanged.
The twelth
defendent, was set apart because of her class. While the others were peasants, she was a wealthy widow who owned land, and possibly a tad more intelligent than the peasants. At the trials, she said
nothing more than pleading not guilty, whereas the rest mostly accused each other.
After learning about the witches we wandered around the walled garden, had a coffee in the cafe, then drove a little further and parked up in the town to look around the shops.
From Nelson we turned north again, re-entering the white rose county heading for our stop for the night.
We had booked a campsite at Horton in Ribblesdale, and passed through Settle on the way.
As we were so close, even though it was a bit out of our way, we carried on past the campsite to see the Ribblehead Viaduct. The viaduct is a brick construction of 24 arches
carrying The Settle to Carlise Railway over the moorland of the ribble valley, known as Batty Moss. Completed in 1876 after 7 years of construction by a manual workforce of around 2300
men, the viaduct is now grade II listed and the surrounding land, which housed several shanty towns for the construction labour force is recognised as a scheduled monument.
After the viaduct we went straight to the campsite, which is what might be termed 'very rural' or 'off the beaten track', but is basically in the middle of nowhere.
Their spin on it is it is convenient for people walking The Pennine Way, which I can't dispute, as walking the pennine way is something that has never been on my bucket list.
There was a pub quite close, (obviously, if you've been reading this blog for a bit) and after poping the top, wandered down to partake of a beer or two.
Tonight was the England semi final of the world cup, so guessed it may be busy. Actually, it wasn't. They also did not do any food as the chef had done a runner a few days before.
The poor guy running the bar was the only bar staff on hand at the time, and he had been 'pub bound' for around three days. There is no village shop for around ten miles, so this is pretty rural.
While I was out having a cigarette, the barman came out and scrounged a fag off me. He said he had been cooped up here for days and run out of tobacco, and nowhere to get any!
We chewed the fat for a bit, and when I went up for my next pint, he said "roll us a few fags and your beers free for the night". Of course, I obliged.
Later an old guy came in with a dog.
The dog had a backpack. First dog I've seen with a backpack, so I had to ask.
We got talking to him and he was, I'm sure you're ahead of me here, yep, he was walking the pennine way.
He was no spring chicken, and that was why the dog had a backpack. The old guy carried his tent and camping gear, and the dog had to carry its own food and water, plus anything the old guy couldn't get in his own pack.
Still, they seemed happy enough, though the dog was asleep throughout the conversation, so we never got his opinion on the trip.
After the footie came on, it filled up a bit. By half time, I think we either hadn't scored yet, or were losing, but all those free beers were taking its toll and I didn't have the stamina to stay for the second half. By the final whistle, I was tucked up in bed, but though the pub was at least 100 yards away, heard the cheering, so assumed we had got through to the final.