Keïteï Ventures

 So much quieter today – not sure if that’s because it’s a Monday or because I left the Lake District – probably both but I don’t see many people today.

I wake to a lots of wind, pack down a wet tent and leave to hike along Haweswater. Mini herds of deer scamper about as I hike towards Shap which takes a while – though I do pass by two honesty boxes – Amazing! The first one had drinks and flapjack, the second one had cans, chocolate bars and a 1st aid kit and sun cream – very thoughtful. 

On the way into Shap, I wander into the abbey which is a stone structure. I’m not religious but I do enjoy exploring the site and imaging the lives of those who lived here. In Shap, I get way too excited about the prospect of food and go to town in the supermarket. I sit on a bench half way up the street and rearrange my newly brought items. A west-bounder passes me and we silently nod at each other.

Walking through the town I hike over the M6 and enter the Yorkshire Dales. You know you’re in the Dales when the amount of sheep outnumbers the people, the scenery turns into rolling, endless green hills and every boundary is now a dry stone wall. I enter meadows and marvel at the cowslips and buttercups filling them. 

Coming up next is a little hikers haven – a mini retreat from the sun or rain in the form of a campsite attached to a farm. I eagerly read favourable reviews of hot or cold beverages, snacks, homemade cakes based on an honesty box system. My mouth (and greed considering I’d just resupplied in Shap) was excited for this little respite, my feet were keen for a break. Turning the corner I saw a little shed but it looked closed with no signs of being open in any form. No one was around to asked, perhaps the opposite end was open, nope, nothing, it was no more. Feeling gutted I trudge on. – Checking google maps a few months later, the site had fallen victim to a storm and was hoping to reopen at a later date.

Hiking on, the sun still beaming down on me despite my hopes being dashed. I crossed an old railway and a new village in the distance along with a mega rain cloud. Hmmm, it was late afternoon, I could either pitch my tent and keep dry and have an early night – though it wasn’t super remote and I could annoy a dog walker or farmer by pitching this early. Or I could make haste and hope to reach the next town and shelter in a pub.

Choosing to fly like the wind, I did indeed run. I must have looked a little mad, running with all my gear in hopes of reaching Kirby Stephen before I got soaked. As it loomed nearer, I quickly realised I wasn’t going to make it, I saw a few railway arches and diverted for those. In my hurry, I took a wrong turn…I wait out the worst of the storm and end up road walking into town not on the intended footpath.

Kirby Stephen is as drenched as I feel as large puddles gather and water flows swiftly along every road edge. Out the other side, I pause to gather water from a now muddy river and begin the climb into the hills. I scale the edge of a quarry and arrive at the top very sweaty. There is still a way to go to get to the top top but the sun returns to brighten the late afternoon. A jog passes me and doesn’t stop as they appear to ascend the road with ease. Thankfully the tarmac-ed road turns into a gravel track and then into a footpath making me happy to camp anywhere. 

I climb over a wall in case of any late dog walkers and find a flat spot to pitch. Thankfully sheep have munched the grass offering a soft place to sleep. I can see more rain clouds on the horizon and quickly do my evening chores and hide from the shower.