I took a week of leave to hike the Pennine Way while I was stationed in the United Kingdom.
The bottom of every valley in The Dales is farm land divided up by dry stone walls. To get from one field to another, you have to climb over the tall stone walls, which are often straddled by wooden styles. Or, in this case, you would climb the built-in stone stairs and step through a gap in the wall. The name of a local town, Hawkswick, is carved into a stone tablet which stands by the side of a road. The dry stone wall behind it and the thistles growing around it made a tableau I couldn’t resist photographing. It’s truly hard to appreciate the scale of the Yorkshire Dales unless you’re taking in the scene with your own eyes. What appear to be gentle rolling hills are in fact immense mountains, their hardest edges worn smooth by eons of wind and weather. Malham Cove, a sheer wall of limestone 260 feet high. When I snapped this photo, a team of climbers in helmets and brightly-colored outfits were spider-crawling up the face of the cliff, but I can’t find them in this photo no matter how long I look at it. I can find two people walking down the path just left of the trees in the foreground, though. The east limb of the limestone wall of Malham Cove. I know there are people climbing that wall but I can’t find them now. The view from the top of Malham Cove. Before I climbed to the top, I camped the night before at the farm seen in the distance. If you look closely you will see the Pennine Way winding like a backwards S across the middle of this photo, disappearing between the hills in the background. Can you spot the sheep browsing in the pasture? If you look closely you will see the Pennine Way winding like a backwards S across the middle of this photo, disappearing between the hills in the background. Can you spot the sheep browsing in the pasture? Janet’s Foss, a water fall on Gordale Beck (river) below Malham Cove. There’s no sense of scale here but as I remember it, it’s not very tall, maybe 10 – 15 feet. A narrow valley between two very steep dales. At the end of the day I would look for farms where tents were pitched in the farm yards, knock on the door, ask politely, and pay the small fee, usually a pound or two. If it was a popular place to camp, farm animals would often come to beg at the door of my tent.
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