Keen readers will remember that in 2024 my wife, Ariane, and I completed a 12 day walk in Northern England called the Coast-to-Coast. We both enjoyed it more than we expected and found that we loved multi-day walking and camping. So this year, we decided to do it again. This time we picked a shorter route, which crossed one of our favourite places – the Yorkshire Dales.

The logistics required to tackle this route were easy for us. The start point is only a half-hour drive away from my Dad‘s house and there is a 2-hour rail connection which brings you back to the start once you‘ve completed the trail. I liked the idea of starting in the back garden of where I grew up and gradually easing into the hilly wilderness of the Yorkshire Dales.

Day One – Saltaire to Addingham Moorside 16.5 km

The official start point of the Dales High Way is in the middle of the small town of Saltaire. The town itself is interesting, named after it‘s founder, Sir Titus Salt. He made his fortune as one of the first alpaca wool weavers in the country and in the mid 1800s built a large mill outside Bradford to consolidate his operations in one place. He understood that having a healthy workforce was good for business and built a town for them, next to the mill.

Salt‘s Mill is still standing and is now a complex which houses shops, art galleries, restaurants and a museum. It‘s a wonderful place to visit – and heavily supported by Yorkshire‘s most famous artist, David Hockney.

We had a pleasant lunch in one of the Salt‘s Mill restaurant and then said goodbye to Dad, our taxi driver, donned our rucksacks and strolled out of Saltaire in warm sunshine, delighted to be on our way.

After less than a mile we were in a dense wood, heading uphill through Shipley Glen. As we climbed, the valley narrowed and the wide path turned into a single sheep-track with high bracken on either side. We weaved our way up to the top of the Glen and emerged at the base of Baildon moor. I had spent many happy hours here with my brother 50 years ago. My Dad was a hang gliding pioneer and as he and his friends made the first short flights, my brother Rob and I would tire ourselves out running around and hiding in the bracken. It was a pleasure to be walking along the very road which had played a significant role in those early flying days. If a pilot made it „over the road“, that was considered a long flight. I pointed out various features to Ariane, who was happy to let me enjoy the nostalgia. „This is where my Dad‘s mate landed on a parked van. Up there are old mining craters that Rob and I used to call bomb-holes and play in. Here is where the hang-gliders were de-rigged. We were allowed to carry Dad‘s harness and helmet back to the car. We felt cooler than the spectators.“

Soon Baildon was behind us and we were heading across the open moorland towards Ilkley. We made good progress and I was enjoying the strong wind. I miss the wind, living in Germany. We don‘t get very many windy days. As the week went on, my love for the wind declined – but I‘ll get to that later. After a quick drink stop to admire Ilkley and the Wharfe valley stretching into the distance, we started to look for a place to „wild camp“. We knew a storm was coming on the next day. The sun had disappeared behind high cloud and the wind had picked up. We eventually found a spot behind a sturdy wall next to a tree plantation above Addingham. The tent was set up, dinner cooked on our little gas stove and we got to bed before the rain started.

Day 2 Addingham Moorside to Sharp Haw 16,2 km

We woke up and packed up in the rain. By now it was really windy and pouring down. The storm that we were encountering even had a name – Floris. The good news is that our weather apps said that in the afternoon the rain would stop and it would only be windy. We knew that our lightweight tent only needs a few minutes out in the wind to dry off and the rest of our gear was safely stored in dry bags.

We stopped in the village of Addingham for breakfast. After waiting five minutes for the café to open, we were welcomed in by a cheery young lady and thanked her by dripping all over the clean floor. A puddle formed as we tucked into our enormous „full English“ breakfast rolls. When you are out walking all day, it is not often that you can‘t finish a meal – but in this case we were both overfaced. We ate what we could, had a quick comfort break in the immaculate public toilets and then headed out of Addingham, up over the high moor to Skipton.

By now, the storm had really picked up. A gale was blowing directly into our faces, driving strong rain with it. We were still in a good mood because we weren‘t yet tired from several days of walking. It was still exciting. I took a short video of Ariane battling against the weather, knowing that most of my friends would not understand why were still both smiling. I took a certain pleasure in the Yorkshire weather fulfilling the cliches.

We plodded on, now thoroughly soaked and wondering exactly when the dry weather was going to arrive. Above Skipton, we came to an alley of trees and for the first time realised just how severe the storm was. The noise was incredible and we eyed the trees wondering if they would stay upright.

Ariane sensibly suggested a diversion to stay clear of any falling tree danger, but I was a bit lazy and said we should just go through the alley – it was only 500 metres. Whenever I heard about people being injured or worse by falling trees, I always secretly thought „if you kept your eyes open, you must have been able to get out of the way.“ So we sped up the pace and headed through „sniper alley“, trying to avoid dangerous looking trees and branches. Within a minute, I suddenly heard a loud „crack“ and saw a large branch had just hit the ground about 20 feet away. I didn‘t even see it come down – so much for my theory about keeping your eyes open. We picked up the pace and were soon out of the wind, in Skipton. We walked into the first pub we saw for a welcome drink and to dry out. When we emerged an hour later, the sky was blue and the rain was nowhere to be seen. It was still extremely windy. We decided to carry on for a few miles and look for another wild camping spot about an hour or so to the North.

We had stocked up on food in Skipton and soon found a sunny, sheltered spot next to a stream to dry out our waterproofs and enjoy a snack. Later on we climbed up an exposed hill called Sharp Haw. I had hoped we could camp behind a wall up there, but there was no shelter and the wind was stronger than ever. We pressed on, now quite tired. When I looked at the map while planning the tour, I thought there would be loads of places to camp in the area. But out there in the wind, with ominous clouds on the horizon, our options soon narrowed. After yomping around in long grass on a nearby hilltop we eventually found a semi-suitable depression in which to pitch our tent. At least we were out of the worst of the wind.

The wet tent was soon dry once it was pitched and we ducked down and boiled some water for our dried-food pasta evening meal. We had purposely opted for a fairly bland meal option – still both slightly traumatised from the effects of a lentil curry in a confined space on our Coast-to-Coast walk a year earlier.

Soon we were tucked up in the tent, listening to the storm rage and hearing rain battering down. I have camped in some nasty conditions, but this was the windiest yet. I half-expected to wake up wrapped in the flysheet but our little tent held firm. We both slept badly (although Ariane claims I snored through the scariest part of the storm) and were glad to get moving in the morning. The tent was pitched on a slight incline and I kept slipping down. Every hour or so I would wake up and do a caterpillar impression to creep back up my mattress and back to my pillow. In any case, we had survived storm „Floris“ and felt things could only get better!

Day 3 – Sharp Haw to Settle 27.08 km

We were so preoccupied with finding a camping spot the evening before, that we hadn‘t really taken in the view. Now we woke to the spectacular sight of the „proper“ Yorkshire Dales on the horizon, punctuated with showers and rainbows. We packed up and headed down the hill, as always relieved not to have upset anyone by „wild camping“ which is not strictly allowed. But as long as we leave only footprints I can handle the tiny amount of guilt.

We had breakfast by a stream in the valley. The rain had stopped and the sun came out. We fired up our trusty „Brukit“ gas stove and made coffee and hot porridge. I think this was the first time since starting that we had time to relax for a moment.

Feeling well-fed and more optimistic we set off over the fells towards Malham. Now we had really reached the Yorkshire Dales. The sight of endless dry stone walls and green rolling fields peppered with sheep raised our spirits, at least for a while. It was too good to last of course and we got battered by a vicious shower as we descended toward Malham.

But at this time of year, the rain usually doesn‘t last too long. And half an hour later things started looking up on two fronts. First of all, the sun came out and second, a van serving hot sandwiches was parked on our route. We stopped to feed and have a hot cup of tea. We shared a table with Mark, who was also doing the route and looking forward to meeting his son en route in a couple days. He was faster than us, and was soon packing up. We wished him well and didn‘t expect to see him again.

The next section was one of the most spectacular of the route. We skirted past the top of Malham Cove and the famous limestone pavement. It was strange seeing the fields full of tourists as we‘d been more or less on our own for 3 days, but we soon turned away from the hot spots and were on our own again in beautiful limestone country. The last few kilometres into Settle, past escarpments shining in the afternoon sun were particularly beautiful. Just before we got to town, we phoned a friend who lived there. Dean said he would be delighted to pick us up and take us for dinner at a nearby pub later.

Our spirits lifted again. We had treated ourselves to a night on a proper campsite and we knew we would be eating well later. Luxury. I set the tent up on a very flat and very soft bit of grass. There would be no caterpillar moves required that night. We both had showers and soon Dean collected us and drove us into town. We had a great pub meal and a good catch-up with Dean. As we were nicely settled in, 2 other friends, Andy and Graham popped their heads around the door. They knew about our walk and reckoned we should be in Settle but didn‘t really expect to see us in the first pub they tried. They had been out climbing and we all enjoyed a beer together – fuelled by the good feeling you get from being warm and full but feeling like you earned it after a day on the hills.

Day 4 – Settle to Chapel-le-Dale 22.50 km

Next morning I brewed some coffee and set up a modest breakfast on a wooden picnic table in the campsite. It was nice to have a dry table and chairs to spread our kit out and pack up in an organised fashion. Even if it hasn‘t rained in the night, there is always a heavy dew on the ground when we get up, so that usually means packing everything within the confines of a small tent. Bent over, trying not to touch the condensation on the inner tent and cramming everything into dry bags and rucksacks is not the best way to start the day.

But as I said, we had an easier start to the day this time. Enjoying our breakfast and watching rabbits jumping around. Soon we were fed, packed and heading along the river bank on a day we were especially looking forward to as it would take in the summit of Inglelborough – a mountain we already knew well as one of the „famous“ three peaks in Yorkshire.

The first few kilometres were quite gentle and quiet. We met the odd walker or farmer but, as for most of the walk so far, we were usually alone on the trail. It was still quite windy and not very warm, so we sheltered behind a wall for our lunch break. Here we did get to see some action as a couple Mountain Rescue Land Rover passed us and there was a bit of chatter as gates were opened and closed. But soon all was quiet and we were on our own again.

As we got closer to Inglebrough, our route converged with the Yorkshire Three Peaks trail and suddenly hoardes of walkers were going in each direction. Even if the sudden crowds were a bit of a shock to the system, everyone greeted us in a friendly manner – as walkers do. When I was a youngster walking in these hills, there were less people around and, as I remember, they were all fairly keen „hardcore“ walkers from not far away. The greetings were either a hearty „Morning!“ or later on a friendly „Ow do“ (Yorkshire for How do you do?). Occasionally, someone would say „nice weather for ducks!“ if it was raining (which it usually was) and there was a jovial sense of camaraderie just because we were all out in the fresh air. Today, there is much more foot traffic on the hills and the well known routes are always busy. But I‘m pleased to report that the general level of friendliness is still there. Now the accents that we heard were from all over the country and it was more usual to hear „Hiya, how you doing?“ or „You alright?“ than the old-fashioned greetings of my childhood. But still there were the same smiles and sometimes little jokes that made us all feel a little better after each encounter. This is something that Britain (outside London where other rules apply) can rightly be proud of. It shouldn‘t be taken for granted and is something we notice and appreciate each time we go walking in the North of England. Everyone is friendly.

We had been quite tired in the morning but picked up the pace as we made the final ascent up Ingleborough. The view was spectacular and we enjoyed a snack bar out of the wind before heading down to our campsite – which we could see from the summit. We knew the descent was a bit nasty, as we‘d done it the year before. But the weather was good, the wind had dropped somewhat and we made good time. Soon we had made the campsite at Chapel-le-Dale and pitched our tent in the sunshine! Unfortunately, the local pub was closed but the campsite had a snack dispenser so we managed to cobble an acceptable dinner together. We had also booked a full english breakfast next morning so we knew that calories wouldn‘t be a problem.

As we put our heads down, we heard a rustling sound just outside the tent. I had inadvertently left a bag of nuts outside. A cheeky mouse was sneaking out of a crack in the dry stone wall and taking the nuts one-by-one. It was very cute. Keen to capture this on film and be rewarded by an „Awwwwww, cute!“ when I posted this on our family chat, I tipped a few nuts out and zoomed in with phone camera waiting for the mouse to arrive. Somehow the mouse new this and kept quiet. Until my arm got tired and I put my head down for a short break. Soon I heard the rustling again, but by the time I had got my camera up the mouse was gone. This happened a few times. In the end I got a nice close up of a bag of nuts on a bit of grass – and that‘s all. Still, our pitch was flat and we slept well.

Day 5 Chapel-le-Dale to Sedbergh 31,1 km

We woke up to the familiar sound of rain on the tent. After the now well-rehearsed packing of gear in the tent, we headed to the campsite barn for a full english breakfast. We were on our own and had plenty of space to pack our gear properly. We knew we had a hard, wet hike ahead of us but it still felt good to be setting off with a decent hot breakfast in our bellies and well-packed gear on our backs.

We wandered up the valley, past the famous Ribblehead Valley Viaduct and then up a long slog around the north end of Whernside. It was raining hard, the path was more like a stream and visibility was very limited. I was ready for a head-down slog in the rain, but our day was brightened up by some unexpected company. First, we came across Mark – the chap we‘d met in Malham two days earlier. He was waiting for his son to join him to finish off their walk that day. Later on we met Luca, a chatty young bloke who was a pub-manager from Keighley but liked to get out on his days off and go walking in the fells even if the weather was awful. A kind of therapy, I suppose.

The time seemed to pass quickly and soon the climb was behind us. We were on our own again, picking our way across boggy highland with the beautiful valley of Dentdale slowly coming into view. The rain gradually subsided and we could see sunshine and rainbows ahead. We also knew that in the village of Dent, there were a couple of pubs and so a lunch-stop was waiting for us. We walked along a very overgrown narrow path next to the river and reached the picturesque cobbled-street center of Dent in glorious sunshine. Unfortunately, the pubs were closed during the day. It‘s a shame that so many pubs are closing, and those that are left can‘t afford to open as often as they used to.

We were saved by the Stone Close Tearooms – a bit more expensive than a pub lunch, but excellent food and they even served beer. We filled up and set off in the improving weather towards Sedbergh. In the distance we could see the Howgill Fells, looking magnificent in the afternoon sun. We would be walking over the top of them tomorrow.

The next section was fairly easy going and we had made good time. We stopped near a stream to cool down our feet and enjoy the view. And we finally saw some of the low-flying jet fighters that train low-level flying in the area. We had heard them many times, but were always on the wrong side of a hill or stuck down in a valley and never saw them.

We were soon wandering into the town of Sedbergh, ready for dinner and a comfy campsite. We had to walk through the town centre and about a mile out of town to reach our campsite. Bad news – we hadn‘t booked slot there and arrived to find hundreds of campers had got there before us. There was a music festival taking place and we probably were not going to get any sleep there, even if we could get a spot. We decided to get dinner in Sedbergh, then buy some food and head up into the Howgill fells and wild camp somewhere up there.

At the end of a long day, when you are mentally prepared for dinner and a rest, it‘s tough to know you have to press on – especially when your route takes you up the steep hills towering above the town. We stocked up on food and water in the supermarket – making our packs even heavier and found a pub to have dinner. As luck would have it, we met Mark and his son again and shared a table in the evening sunshine with a huge plate of pub fish and chips.

I would love to have enjoyed another cold beer and then settled into a cosy Bed and Breakfast, but after dinner we had to head out up onto the hills and find a place to pitch our tent for the night. So we bid our new friends farewell and were soon trecking up a very pretty, but very steep path into the evening sun. At least it was dry and not too cold. I was really tired and struggled to keep up with Ariane. After about an hour’s walk uphill, we eventually came up to a plateau with a fantastic view all the way to the Lake District and the Irish Sea to the west.

We pitched the tent, which was still wet from the previous night but dried out quickly in the wind. Normally, we would look for a private and secluded spot to pitch the tent, but it was very open and exposed so there was nowhere to hide. Somewhat reluctantly, and because I was so tired, I decided we should pitch the tent where we stood – right next to the main footpath over the Howgills. I assured Ariane that nobody else would be up here so late in the day.

We set everything up and hung our wet socks on the tent to dry and settled down to watch the sunset. Then a man with his dog jogged past our tent. He stopped for a quick chat and then went on his way. No sooner had he left, than we heard somebody singing behind us. A young woman was singing along to music on her earpods. She stopped by our tent too. We had another brief chat and she kindly took a picture of us. Then we noticed that just along the ridge there was another group of people, probably camping too. So much for my prediction of a night spent in glorious solitude away from civilization. But our spot was nice and flat, we were dry and warm in our sleeping bags and fell asleep quickly with the pleasant knowledge that our weather app said there was 0% of rain the next day.

Day 6 Sedbergh to Appleby 33,5 km

It was a strange night. Because the wind was from the West and we were on top of a hill, it carried the sounds and smells of the valley up to us. The unmistakeable smell of a brewery filled the air as we drifted off. Ariane woke me at 5:30 because she had heard a dog barking. Because wild camping isn‘t strictly allowed, we decided to pack up quickly and get moving – maybe there was a farmer on the way and we had heard his dog?

We were packed up and moving by 6:00 and also enjoyed seeing the sun. I felt fit and we had done most of the climbing the evening before and we made great time over the moors. But, in spite of the weather forecast, we were soon surrounded by dark clouds with horizontal rain blowing from the West. I felt a bit like Charlie Brown – with that black cloud following him around. After about an hour we found a spot which gave us just a bit of shelter from the wind and made ourselves a hot porridge on the Brukit. It was wet, windy and not very warm but we both felt fit and were way ahead of schedule.

Normally, we had planned another night out before we made it to the end of the walk. Bute made the decision to try and finish the walk a day early and head all the way to Appleby. I got online and found a hotel room and booked it straight away. Now we had a real incentive to finish for the day.

Walking up hills is tiring, but walking down steep slopes, especially with heavy rucksacks, is also tiring and puts a lot of strain on tired knees. Luckily for us, the descent from the top of the Howgills was very gentle and on soft grass. We made excellent time and were soon in undulating grassland punctuated with some spectacular limestone pavements. We stopped for lunch behind a wall (it was now dry but still windy) at the exact spot where our path crossed the Coast to Coast path we had been on a year earlier. We met a few „C2Cers“ and I was able to needlessy drop into the conversation that we‘d done it last year. Feeling smug, we marched on.

Even though the rest of the walk was fairly easy going, this had been a long day and we were tired. About 5km before the end we found a pub which was open and had a lovely pint of shandy before the final stretch along the river Eden. The sun was now out and we were accompanied by huge numbers of ducks on the river and we saw quite a few partridges scurrying along banks in front of us. What a glorious show of nature! (I later googled „ducks and partridges in Appleby“ only to find that the area is popular for shooting – which brought us back down to earth).

We eventually made it to Appleby and had a pint to celebrate in a rough-looking pub which looked delightful from the outside but was full of people shouting at a football match on a giant screen inside. The whole town had a strangely unwelcoming „vibe“ to it so we soon scurried off to our hotel and enjoyed a hot bath, dinner from room service and a soft bed. We had enjoyed the trail, but were glad we’d finished. We left the countryside behind us but were not quite adjusted to return to civilisation. In the middle of the night we had to open the hotel windows wide because it was too warm for us and we felt better if we could hear the sheep in the morning.

The next day we took the train from Appleby back to our starting point in Saltaire. It was nice to see some of the places we had been from the comfort of the train. It took us a week to walk up and just under 2 hours to get back, where my Dad was waiting with a smile to meet us. Looking back, it is a wonderfully varied walk for a relatively short distance. Every day had it‘s own individual character. We could have done with a bit less rain, but we enjoyed it nonetheless.

Thanks for reading!