RUMBLINGS…

It’s a while since I finished a walk by torchlight!

As is becoming the norm, we set off a little later than most sane folks would (plenty of excuses available, though really we’re just settling comfortably into the lifestyle that says we live here so we can set off when we bloody like!) and ended up coming over the shoulder of Fountains Fell as the sun set; not that there was anything much to report, as gathering cloud denied any light show.

A grand walk, though, from home in Stainforth over the crag behind the village to Jubilee Cave, then across the moor to Malham Tarn and back along the Pennine Way, dropping off the trail before Fountains Fell to head home over rough pasture, in the dark.

What almost spoiled the walk was the pair of motorised persons riding trail bikes on the moors above the village and on the Pennine Way near Malham.

We met them twice. On the first occasion I thought I might be developing killjoy attitudes; afterall, the bridleway we were following was quite hard-surfaced and their motorcyles weren’t, it seemed, going to cause any damage.

Was I being Capt Selfish in wishing them elsewhere?

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Time to give the mended knee a road test.

With the blessing of Settle physio John – he and his colleague Tim have done a great job helping to heal the torn ligaments in my right knee  – yesterday saw me  return to the hills.

And about time too.

Didn’t Steph and I move from Glasgow to the Yorkshire Dales three months ago with the express intent of spending as much time as possible exploring this beautiful landscape?

Thanks to the injury – a result of stupidly lifting stupidly heavy plant pots between addresses – this was only our second hillwalk in all that time.

And what an interesting day we picked.

Though it was cold and troublingly windy, most of the snow that had fallen a day or two earlier had gone; the streams were up and the ground which would have been frozen hard and easy to cross just a couple of days earlier was boggy and sodden.

Nevertheless, as we climbed the lane out of Stainforth that leads past the spectacular Catrigg Force, I felt elated to be heading back on to the moors and was propelled up the steep lane by the adrenaline of enthusiasm as much as anything else. 

Our planned route – up to the force, over Fountains Fell and then on to Pen y Ghent and back by bus or the Ribble Way – was ultimately cut short at Dalehead by fading daylight (we’d not set off until late) and rumbling tums, as the strong wind and occasional hail showers had deterred us from stopping for any lunch.

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We awoke this morning to find the garden beneath half an inch of snow. Seems filling the bird feeders and chopping logs for the stove yesterday was done in the nick of time.

Did I say in my last blog entry that we’d have new stuff on the website in November? I hadn’t anticipated just what a chore moving into a new home could be. Instead of the lick of paint and fresh wallpaper we anticipated, we’ve been spending our time ditching carpets (victims of pets that hadn’t been house-trained), exposing a crazy wiring system, adding insulation and generally planning how to get a JCB, three dump trucks and a flame thrower into the bathroom to cauterise the bad-taste suite we’ve inherited.

Gosh, listen to me, I’m getting all domestic in me new pad!

Actually, there’s been little scope for anything else. Within days of moving in I found I’d torn a ligament on my right knee (lifting plant pots, if you must know – in my defence Steph’s growing triffids) and the local doc immediately banned me from the hills and booked me in for a course of physiotherapy at Settle’s Health Centre.

I’ve got to say, the treatment and attention have been superb. Before I’d even left the doc’s surgery he’d dictated a letter to the physio, and before a letter inviting me to make an appointment had arrived the physio, Tim, had called me personally to invite me to drop by. 

Since then I’ve had one or two weekly sessions of ultra sound, a gentle exercise regime (on my Dad’s old exercise bike!) and even massage…

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Assuming all goes to plan, later this week, Steph and I will get the keys to our climbing rose-plagued (white rose of course!) chocolate box cottage in the Yorkshire Dales.

That means we’ll be prioritising cleaning, painting and decorating over website maintenance – and as broadband takes days to set up (modern technology, huh?) we’ll be cut off from the modern world for a short while. 

Nip back in mid-November and you’ll find new stuff. In the meantime, have a great Hallowe’en and a lovely Plot Night.

Hopefully those of you whose browsers had problems viewing the site can now see everything. Let me know if not, and we’ll attack it when we’re reconnected to the rest of the world…

Have fun,

John

It’s taken a while but, at long last, the chance to settle in our new base in the Yorkshire Dales seems to be within our grasp.

Several weeks ago my partner Steph and I left the city of Glasgow, where for the last 13 years I’ve been gainfully employed as deputy editor of TGO Magazine – also known as The Great Outdoors, Britain’s longest-established (don’t dare say “oldest” or “long in the tooth”) monthly magazine for hill-walkers and backpackers.

In just a few days we hope to move into our new home – a 300-year-old rose-adorned cottage with a real, cosy pub less than 20 yards away – and to begin our new life together in the lee of some of the Dales’ iconic hills.

I’ll be starting a new life as a freelance outdoor writer – talk about poacher-turned-gamekeeper! – while Steph begins an exciting new phase in her career as a landscape architect with a new employer just a short commute away.

Over the coming months we’ll be filling this website with a bunch of entertaining features, soundfiles, videos, images and links so, please, bookmark this page and keep coming back to discover what we’ve been up to and what we’ve got to offer.

See you soon!

John