Yorkshire and Me (1) The Three Peaks

I guess Yorkshire is going to feature rather frequently in this blog if I manage to persevere with it. Apart from being a county that has everything- a proud and robust people, cities of great character, mountains, moorland, a beautiful coast, a strong culture and history- it has given me a life partner and a second family. If I am to write about my relationship with Yorkshire, the difficulty is where to start.

Let me begin with one of the many powerful Yorkshire traditions, the Three Peaks Challenge. Most of us in the UK probably think of The Three Peaks Challenge as the attempt to climb Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon in a 24-hour period. I might have some remarks on the complete lunacy of this in a later piece, but for now, you should know that there is a Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge, which is arduous but less likely to kill you.

The Three Peaks are Pen-y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough, a triangle of mountains around Ribblesdale, in the Yorkshire Dales. The challenge is to make a circuit climbing them all in 12 hours, a walk of around 23 miles, with 2,000 odd feet up and down three times while you’re about it. You can start and finish wherever you like, but a popular choice is to start at Horton-in-Ribblesdale, doing them counter-clockwise, Pen-y-ghent, then Whernside, then Ingleborough. You are recommended to leave your name at the café in Horton, and to tell them when you have finished or when you have given up, so that they know that you are safe and not stranded on a hillside. As noted above, it is less likely to kill you than the UK Three Peaks, but all hill walking carries risks.

If you Google it, you will see a number of organised events attempting the challenge, and pictures of large parties marching cheerily through sunlit moorland. Don’t believe them. It is always pouring down with rain.

I sometimes mistakenly boast that Linda and I have attempted the challenge three times. That’s not quite correct. We have climbed Pen-y-ghent three times, but we did not intend to attempt the other two peaks the first time. That first time was an extended family outing aimed only at a jolly morning climbing Pen-y-ghent. There was driving rain and low visibility. The climb is mostly a long, walking slog, but towards the summit, you have to use your hands. On this occasion (actually on all three occasions), the weather meant that it was like climbing up a waterfall. My son Tom, who had been conscripted to join the merry throng, made two very pertinent remarks as we scrambled up. The first was that the horizontal rain and corresponding twenty foot visibility was advantageous as we couldn’t see what was below us if we looked down. The second was that this experience reminded him of a Japanese television game show.

The first time we tried the full Three Peaks, there were only Linda, myself, Linda’s sister Margaret, and our friend Jared. Pen-y-ghent was the usual swim up the waterfall. Then there was the dispiriting experience of the six-mile tramp across sodden moorland to the second peak, Whernside. The rain was relentless. Just before the second peak, there was the welcome sight of a van selling hot drinks and bacon rolls. Despite our being close to Whernside, we couldn’t actually see it, so we bailed out.

Linda and I had one further attempt at the challenge in the late summer of 2017. We rented a cottage just outside the tiny settlement of Chapel-le-Dale. The cottage had no telephone or wifi, and the area had no mobile phone network coverage. The only way to have immediate communication long distance was to walk to the pub up the road and ask to use their landline. I actually liked this. It meant that my work could not bug me with emails and phone calls 24 hours a day. Whenever we drove to the nearest decent-sized village, Ingleton, to buy groceries, as we went over the rise into the next valley, our phones would start beeping and whistling with incoming texts, emails and voicemail messages.

Anyway, we studied the weather forecast, and decided that Monday was the day on which no rain was anticipated. At six in the morning, we drove the ten miles to our usual starting point, Horton-in-Ribblesdale, which meant that our cottage was between the second and third peaks. I wrote our details on a piece of paper, put it through the letterbox of the café, and off we went.

Round about half way up Pen-y-ghent, the rain came down. On these three peaks, I am told there are magnificent views of the Yorkshire Dales. I have never seen them, as the weather has never permitted it. We completed the first peak, trudged the six miles to the second, and were rewarded with terrific views of the magnificent Ribblehead Viaduct in stormy weather. This time we carried on and climbed the second peak, Whernside. On that side, the ascent was long but with mainly gentle gradients, and all walking, no need for hands. At the top, there was again horizontal rain and low visibility. Our southern descent towards Ingleborough was steeper and rather nerve-wracking.

The awareness that our cottage was just at the bottom of the valley before turning upwards towards the third peak rose higher in our consciousness with every step. We were also thinking firstly that this fighting through the rain and wind was no fun, and secondly that attempting the rather steeper ascent of Ingleborough might not be a brilliant idea in this weather. And my feet were killing me, thanks to my cheap walking boots (Yorkshire saying: you buy cheap, you buy dear). I have since got myself a very expensive pair of all leather walking boots and they are so comfortable!

So we bailed out again. I had to go to the pub, borrow their phone and call a taxi (twenty-five quid) to Horton-in-Ribblesdale, to pick up the car and let the café people know that we had abandoned the attempt and were safe. That afternoon we agreed that we had scratched the Three Peaks itch quite sufficiently and would not be attempting it again. The following day was dry and then we did climb the third peak, Ingleborough, but of course that doesn’t count.

I loved that holiday. The expression getting away from it all really meant something. Rather than being able to buy whatever you want at a massive supermarket, you took pot luck at a village grocery store. And the most important escape was from modern IT and telecommunications. I didn’t think about work for a whole week. And Margaret, Andrew and their dog visited for a couple of days, which was great fun. A few days in the beautiful Yorkshire dales with Yorkshire family. What more could you want? When all this is over, make sure you spend plenty of time with the friends and family from whom you’ve been separated during the pandemic.

 

Top of Whernside- gives only a hint of the weather

Ribblehead viaduct in unusually merciful weather