It was a cheerful crowd that left Higherford on the Saturday before Whitsun, and everything seemed to point to them having a glorious holiday. The route was through Gisburn and Settle, where we stopped to refresh ourselves, and then on to Horton-in-Ribblesdale, which is, by the way, the last tea place before Hawes; but as Horton had been voted too early, we had no option but to ride to Hawes for tea.
The sun was blazing outside whilst inside we had tea, and exchanged a few gentle ironies on various events of the day. The most surprised person in the house was the hostess, who confessed that she thought we were as bad as old women for drinking tea.
Seven-thirty found us at the foot of the Buttertubs. This is often called a pass, but it is a mistake; as the Buttertubs track goes right over the top. Very little was known of this region a century ago, and though now one of the wildest districts in England, its heights and wildness are often traversed by the hiker and cyclist. As it saves a great distance. by road, and because of its wild grandeur, modern travellers use this road in passing from Wensleydale into Swaledale. The pedlars of olden days often thought on similar lines, and many are the records found in different parts of the dales today of pedlar merchants who were murdered for their goods whilst crossing this lonely stretch.
We found Keld, our rendezvous fer the holidays, about two miles up the Swale from the bottom of the Buttertubs. It appeared to be ready for bed, so after pitching our tents and eating our meal, we went also.
The best of arriving at camp in the dark is that on the following morning you awake, look out of vour tent and find the surroundings rather a surprise. Having spent the morning exploring the waterfalls in the immediate vicinity we returned for dinner and we felt the first few drops of rain, which was to last, off and on, all day.
Donning capes and sou’westers, two of the party went over the road known as Tan Hill, the top of which commands good views of the Swale and Tee valleys, but on this particular day nothing was seen or heard outside a radius of fifty yards in high places. From there they turned down the valley of Arkendale, which meets Swaledale at Reeth, and from there, they followed the Swale to Richmond for tea, a repelling place on the whole, but possessing some fine ruins, and an illusive history.
Having ridden ten miles up the valley with capes on after tea it was decided to doff them, as no rain had been experienced so far; but after five minutes it started again, and was still coming down as we passed through Gunnerside, Muker and Keld again for supper and bed.
The following morning gave promise of a fine day, and the club split up into three parties, each taking a different way home. Our number had been about thirty, so we said good-bye to Keld, the largest party going over Aysgarth Pass, and home via Kettlewell; the second going baeck over the Buttertubs to Hawes, and from there over Fleet: Moss to Buckden and home; whilst the third and smallest party traced the infant Swale to its peaty birth on the heights of Birkdale Common. From here they dropped down to Kirkby Stephen and passed over Ravenstonedale to Sedbergh for dinner. Thence by Bettle and Gisburn to home; All three parties had, glorious weather, except for mist in high places, and all voted the holiday as another of those never to be forgotten.
H. H.