Trails and trials of the writer who walks
Another pair of boots abandoned on the dreaded Pennine Way! (I once left a pair next to a stile having acquired so many rubs and blisters, and unable to get plasters to stick to my damp sweaty feet, I couldn’t walk another step in them. On that occasion I continued in sandals before quitting and going home.) This time, my comfy but holy boots got me to Hawes where I purchased a super-luxury pair of Gortex-lined shoes, made by Meindl, for an eye-watering price but as soon as I tried them on, my feet thought they’d been tucked up in bed.
To pass the remainder of my rest day with strictly non-walking activities, I took the bus to Leyburn for a little top-up shopping and the chance to float about in my new shoes. As i write this, I am not enjoying a slightly sour Wainwright beneath a blaring TV that has not drowned out the sound of the staff swearing at each other. The first thing that put me off this pub was the scrawled notice ‘NO EFFING WIFI – TRY TALKING TO SOMEONE’. I don’t disagree with the sentiment, just the crudeness of its delivery. That reminds me, I was searching for wi-fi networks at that quirky campsite at Horton, and the only one that came up was listed as ‘FUCK OFF. CAMERON.’ I guess Cameron wasn’t keen on sharing his broadband. If you’re ever in Leyburn, don’t bother with the Old Swan. Otherwise, it’s a charming market town with pie shops to die for and two other pubs serving top-notch Wensleydale Ales where it’s no hardship to pass a couple of hours before the next bus back to Hawes. Aren’t bus passes wonderful? I must be wearing mine thin. What a delight it is to sit in a raised back seat next to a huge (clean) window and be driven round the prettiest villages in England.