Day 64 Camping again

Today was a difficult day. The way out of Hebden Bridge (after a trip to the Co-op to buy some lunch) was up some steep stone steps.

These were followed by more uphill, including what seemed to be an old quarry known as Hell Hole. The views back down to Hebden Bridge were good, and demonstrated why I found the start so difficult

The path took me through the village of Heptonstall, a very quaint village with two churches in the same churchyard-one ruined. They were both dedicated to St Thomas -one to St Thomas a Beckett and the other to another St Thomas. I think Sylvia Plath is buried in the churchyard.

I trundled along, still struggling with the heat, until I reached a sign for a farm shop

I sat and had a Coke as I felt my sugar and salt levels were probably already deranged by the heat/my sweating. I pressed on, not without difficulty. Today was the day of the Difficult Stile

The path took me up and over the moor, and due to a lack of attention on my part I missed the pub. I carried on up a long track to a reservoir and was startled suddenly to find a man behind me. He told me he had been having his lunch in the shade of a rock when I went past. He was on holiday in Keighley and was doing a day walk. We chatted for a bit, around two shadeless, hot reservoirs, and up and over another hill-mostly on a flagstone path. He pointed out the Lancashire Yorkshire border but at Top Withens (Withins? Can’t remember) I stopped for a late lunch and he carried on.

Some ten minutes later, a cheery backpacker came round the corner and asked if I were doing LEJOG. I looked amazed -she said no, she wasn’t psychic, she had just met the chap I had been talking to. Her name was Becky and she was doing the Pennine Way north to south so was very near the end. She had walked from this side of Gargrave where she had wild camped and was heading for Stoodley Pike. That’s two of my days. And she looked a lot perkier than I did.

On the other hand I met a few people looking tired after their walk up from Haworth who thought I was amazing for actually walking the Pennine Way. It’s all relative.

The rest of my day was uneventful-I reached my campsite at 11.5 miles and pitched my tent under a tree near a stream. The stream was blissfully cold on my weary feet.