On Monday afternoon we arrived at the Old Hill Inn at Chapel Le Dale a few miles outside Ingleton in the Yorkshire Dales. Cold, damp, no phone signal, no internet. I feel as if I’ve taken orders…. I certainly don’t need a tonsure………….I have that naturally….. Like all good monasteries the place is awash with fine wines and ales so all is not lost.
It’s now Thursday so things have got to look up. I’m suffering from lack of pictures. We still walk. I still take the camera. I still press the shutter button. I still download. I still edit the Downloads. What do I see?………Some brief moments of beauty.
Depressed? Not me! There is after all the pub. Beer was invented for a purpose…………It was invented for weather like this. Yesterday after a couple of hours walk I got in and my face was bleeding. Thin skin? High blood pressure? No. Razor sharp sleet hitting me at what felt like a hundred miles per hour. murderous stuff.
In my youth waiting was called festering. Sitting under a mountain waiting for a weather window. These aren’t mountains they are big hills.
Here we go……………..
Camper in Fog and Wet Snow. Why am I moaning……….the trees have it worse than I, they can’t move…………..poor beggars can’t even grow branches up wind.
I apologise for the blown highlights…….this was a highlight it’s the sun…………No warmth in this sun though.
Or maybe a bit…………….This is almost the summit of Ingleborough. It’s also the same tree as in the first picture.
The view down the valley……………not a bad view…………….It gets better………………….
The Old Hill Inn
The Old Hill Inn…….This area is favoured by potholers or cavers the wagon wheel is polished as it’s a rite of passage to insinuate oneself through the bottom and out through the top. Difficult sober, almost impossible after a gallon of ale.
Forecast is for heavy snow tomorrow………We’ll see.