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Doing the Dales Way
Doing the Dales Way
Doing the Dales Way
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Doing the Dales Way

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Take one person and a rucksack, put them in a market town in West Yorkshire, and point them towards Windermere.

If they've not instantly leaped in a car, hailed a cab or run to the train station, then chances are that they're doing the Dales Way.

Andrew Bowden was one such person. And this is his tale.

Fans of thrillers and romance need detain themselves here no further; those of a nervous disposition should look away now. But if you're after hiking, beer, viaducts and rivers, Doing the Dales Way is the e-book for you as one man heads to the hills to walk from Ilkley to Windermere on the Dales Way.

It doesn't feature dogs leaping impressively over stiles. Nor does it include an ingrowing toenail or other such gimmicks beloved by travelogues. Although it does include a lengthy section about Ilkley Moor and hats. Unfortunately such things can't be helped.

What Doing the Dales Way does feature is walking. And ale. Plenty of ale. But mostly walking. Walking through some of Britain's finest countryside on what transpires to be one of Britain's loveliest long distance walks. And it has some good pubs on it too.

This second edition also includes a comprehensive guide to planning your own Dales Way walk.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAndrew Bowden
Release dateJan 1, 2013
ISBN9781301931323
Doing the Dales Way

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    Book preview

    Doing the Dales Way - Andrew Bowden

    Doing the Dales Way

    Andrew Bowden

    Text and photographs ©2011, 2013, 2014, 2015 Andrew Paul Bowden

    All rights reserved

    The right of Andrew Bowden to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

    First published 2011 by Andrew Bowden

    Second edition published 2013

    Third edition published 2014

    Fourth edition published 2015

    Published by Rambling Man

    ramblingman.org.uk

    To everyone who bought One Coast To Another.

    This one is your fault.

    Contents

    Introduction

    Day 1 - Ilkley to Burnsall

    Day 2 - Burnsall to Kettlewell

    Day 3 - Kettlewell to Gearstones

    Day 4 - Ribblehead to Sedbergh

    Day 5 - Sedbergh to Burneside

    Day 6 - Burneside to Windermere

    Epilogue

    Planning your own Dales Way walk

    About the author

    Discover other books by Andrew Bowden

    Connect with Andrew Bowden

    Standing next to the Dales Way information board at Ilkley.

    Introduction

    All of a sudden I'm awake. It's 10:30am.

    TEN THIRTY?! WHAT THE... I should have been out of here hours ago. I mean, checkout of the the hotel was at 10 as it is!

    Gordon Bennett, how could this happen? I mean I know I was tired last night, but 10:30 for goodness sake... I'm never going to be able to fit in that steam train trip now. And what on earth is the pub downstairs doing playing that thumping bass-heavy music at this time of day?

    Flinging my belongings into my rucksack, I leg it out of the door, rush in to the nearby Co-op, throw some sandwiches at the cashier and run down the street. This is not - I repeat, NOT - the way I planned on starting the Dales Way.

    A few minutes later, I open my eyes and peer around my dark hotel room. It's nearly two am. The Dalesway Hotel had shut up shop hours before; the strains of bass-heavy music of some distant late night venue are filtering through the open window.

    Outside a drunken woman is shouting FRANK! loudly. She does it twice and disappears into the night. Five minutes later a man replaces her. There's an edge to his voice, like he's on the look out for a fight to ensure he finishes off his Saturday night in style. llkley's late night culture is about to wind down but someone clearly still has plans.

    I lie in bed and assess options. I mean I could pop out for a kebab, a quick bout of fisticuffs or maybe proclaim my name is Frank. Or maybe I could not bother. Silently I pad over to the many windows which seem to adorn my room, and shut them all before padding back to my bed and shoving my head on the pillow. I'm knackered. It's time for bed. I shut my eyes. The next time I open them, its 10:30. TEN THIRTY?!? WHAT THE...


    Yorkshire. It always seems to get me in the end. Earlier in the year I'd been dutifully planning the trip. I was going to go off to the South West, walk somewhere, drink Cornish beer and enjoy lots of seafood. Sorted.

    Then Catherine comes out with the classic line of Why not do the Dales Way? and five minutes later I've booked several B&Bs, got the train tickets, ordered a guide book from Amazon and am standing there with a How the hell did that happen? look on my face.

    Somehow I'd managed to plan my trip in such a way that it went absolutely nowhere near any Cornish pubs, had no sea ports with fishing vessels and had a distinct absence of tin mines.

    Hence why I was in Ilkley, ready to set off on a 78 mile trip to Bowness-on-Windermere. Although if I'd read the bit on the back of my guidebook that proclaimed the Dales Way to be one of Britain's gentlest multi-day walks maybe I would have changed my mind. But then I'd booked the whole thing knowing next to nothing about it, nor why I should actually do it.

    Still I needed the relaxation, deserved the holiday. I mean it had been a whopping three weeks since my last one.

    But then one minute I'd just finished Wainwright's Coast to Coast walk, and the next I was back at work. And those three weeks had been action packed. I'd prepared a product for launch, took on a colleague's role whilst he was away, taken on a new and highly demanding project on secondment to another team, attended a stag do, a beer festival and a wedding, seen my parents, seen Catherine's parents, popped in and waved at my 93 year old Granddad, declined to buy a house in Reddish, been to Sainsburys and had a pizza with Caesar salad dressing on it whilst conversing with a member of Her Majesty's Police Force in Leeds. And then there was that whole Knutsford thing.

    Frankly I needed the break. Especially if my dreams were anything to go by.

    And so I was in Ilkley with a rucksack, a pair of boots and a stack of maps. It was time to get walking.

    Enjoying the sun at Bolton Abbey.

    Day 1 - Ilkley to Burnsall

    In which our walker admires a friendly church, is invited to picnic with the Quakers, toot-toots on a steam train and fights the throngs at an old abbey.

    Prior to this trip if you'd asked me about Ilkley I would have said don't go on the

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