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Yesterday, my rest day, I stayed at the IOU Vegetarian Hostel, which was a lovely place, full of all sorts of different people, in an old period building up a steep hill. I met Mikey as planned at midday and we walked to a lovely pub on the towpath. After 20 minutes or so, I was amazed as my friend Dan walked up. He’d taken the train from York to join us. Then a while later, Iain and Nick arrived as well. They’ve come up from London. This was a complete and fabulous surprise and I was touched they made the effort to join me.

We spent the day in the pub eating well and in the evening at a banging club playing 90s classics very loud. Lots of Stone Roses, Happy Mondays and Inspiral Carpets, just my thing.

It’s a sign of the times that we were all tucked up in bed by midnight and that two of us (not me) took a cab to avoid the 15 minute walk up the hill again.

After yesterday’s revelry, I woke a little later than normal, posted my blog and said goodbye to Mikey, Iain, Dan and Nick, most of whom were off to Blackburn for breakfast and more high jinks at Mikey’s house. 

I decided to wait until 8:30 and have a big breakfast in Hebden at Squeeze. Then there should be plenty of time to make it to Ponden Mill where I planned to camp.

After another very good breakfast, I set off and found my way across the many pathways leading up out of Hebden in the direction of Heptonstall. I reached a dell with a stream running through it and an old stone bridge. This was where I rejoined the Pennine Way climbing up, onto and across the moors on a fine bright morning. I stopped for a while as this was going to be a relatively short days walk (yesterday had been a fabulous day but not that restful). As I lay with my back on a large tuft of heather and a gentle breeze blowing, the contrast with the moors from two days previously couldn’t have been more stark.

Walking off the moors I went past two reservoirs and then started the long but gradual climb to Top Withens, the now derelict farmhouse thought to have inspired Emily Brontë to write Wuthering Heights. It was a Saturday and there were lots of other people around. It was pleasant to chat. The views were spectacular and the walking was easy. I took a detour to the Brontë’s waterfall an even more popular place. It was jammed. There might have been as many as 15 people there at one point, not something I’m used to.

It was now 3 o’clock and I was only a mile or two from Ponden Mill, where I had stayed before. What a relaxing day this was going to be, the shortest day so far. 

I arrived at Ponden, pitched my tent and walked up the hill to the Old Silent pub, so called because the locals remained stum while Bonnie Prince Charlie took refuge there during the Jacobite rebellion. I ate well and returned to the mill at 7 o’clock. The Old Silent’s Wi-Fi wasn’t the greatest.

Back in my tent, I decided to have a nap. 10 hours later, I woke up!

Day Summary

Farewell to the lads. My shortest walk yet. My longest sleep for years.