DAY FOUR

DAY FOUR

It was about 7am that I woke to hear Richard snoring and chewing on his pillow across the room. The morning sunshine was pouring through the window overlooking the resevoir and through the skylight above my head. "Where am I?" I thought to myself in the moment of hazy morning forgetfulness. "of course it's the Ponden House B&B on the Pennine Way". Richard stired and asked the time. Was I talking to myself or out loud I thought, did I wake Richard with my mumbling or did he just wake up from the bright morning sun? By now Richard was staring at me confused, it seemed like at least 2 minutes since he asked the time and I'd not replied. Quick say something! "Er... It's time to get up!". Richard grunted "Just 5 more minutes" and I smiled in agreement. 25 minutes later we  got up. 

Barbara the B&B owner had laid on a feast for breakfast with cereals, fresh yoghurt, prunes, stewed ruhbarb, Jams, honey and juices to keep us occupied whilst she prepared the perfect full English breakfast. Richard chose some Crunchy Nut cornflakes whilst I admired Barbaras eclectic decor & Artworks.

About an hour later than planned, (this was becomming a reocurring theme) we were on our 'way'. 100 feet up the road, Richard was already sat down. Actually he sat on the bench outside Ponden Hall, which was the same place David Hockney had taken his photo montarge that hung in Barbara's lounge. As usual he demanded a photo so I took pleasure in getting the car in that he asked me not to.

Just outside of ponden on a rather steep uphill we laughed about the notes the farmer had left on the gateposts about his 3 little pigs being hungry and how they loved being tickled under the chin and fed biscuits. I was sad to not see them but RIchard was happy to have the biscuits to himself!

The farmers notes set the tones as we told jokes across the moorland. On the way Richard found a tractor to sit on and we saw a postman in a red van whom we named Pat. We were worried at the lack of a black and White cat and wondered what may have happened?

After a swift lemonade in the Horse and Hounds pub we continued up and over countless lush green fields with commanding views back across the miles we had already walked. We were a bit put out by the way the 'friendly' landlord breathed through his teeth and told us malham was still another 14 miles so the next few seemed to take an age.

At pen Pinhaw, Richard ran to the top in excitement of another walker stopping for lunch. I wanted to run after him but couldn't for my throbbing blisters. At the trig point we admired the rolling hills to gargrave but moved on quickly in search of lunch. Stupidly we had forgotten to ask Barbara for a packed lunch and she had forgotten to ask us.

Along the canal towards Gargrave we spotted a sign for a cafe and tea room 'The Abbots Harbour Tea Room' over bridge 162. Richard followed the scent of the home baked cakes like a hound. To our delight we were served custom made toasties, pots of tea and some millionaire's shortbread. Oh and Richard flirted with the waitress for the last quarter of fruitcake and a wedge of cheese for the road.

On leaving Aboots Harbour across the first hill, Richard seemed to be in pain. At first I thought it was because Richard was having withdrawal symptoms from tea and cake but I high fives the air when he told me of his first blister. By now I already had two black toe nails and three huge blisters. I had almost cried just two days ago walking 28 miles with my blisters and Richard trying to make me run up stoodley pike and down the hill to hebden bridge. I suddenly felt guilty for being so happy at such disasterous news I cheeridly suggested it would not be much longer and it was flat the rest of the way.

Before long I was running accross the main road in Gargrave to take a picture of a sign saying we had walked 70 miles so far on our quest. I dismissed the bit that said we had almost 200 miles to go. Richard was nowhere to be seen. After 10 mins Richard appeared disappointed to see the sweet shop had just closed. As always he had a back up plan and some haribo tangfastics appeared out of nowhere.

Just outside Gargrave by the canal we spotted a sign that said 'Malham 5 3/4 miles. Our hearts sank and I ate my words as it became apparent that we had a few more hills to go. The last few miles seemed to take forever both Richard and I had throbbing feet and sore ankles. We tried to call our friend Johnny to tell him that it was 'a long way' as he reminded us so many times on leaving Manchester. A text had to suffice as there was no answer.

Finally caught sight of Malham village and the towering limestone cove behind. By now we could go no further so we stopped in a field of cows for a brief moo-ment to scoff some more sweets for our final descent.

15 minutes later we but on our brave faces to march through malham like big strong boys hiding our pain. On finding our B&B, 2 flights of stairs, 3 heavy bags made 2 angry walkers.

After comparing war wounds and beingp gassed by smelly boots we crawled to the pub for local fare and hobbled back like Quasimodo in time for bed ready to face the big baa-d world tomorrow.