15/04/16 - Day 5 Yorkshire Dales Inn Way - West Burton to Kettlewell

Previous days on the Inn Way - Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4
Distance - 14 Miles
Geocaches - 2
Pubs - 4

"Ah, beer. The cause of and the solution to all of life’s problems - Homer Simpson"

Getting Going

After the monster breakfast of yesterday - containing all possible breakfast ingredients known to man - we are brought back to reality when our host at the Fox and Hounds suggests "Bacon and Eggs".  On day 1, we would have been disappointed.  Today, we are secretly delighted to dine on something that isn't belly busting.

We vow to make up for things during our evening meal.



The Walk


Today's walk looks like it has a double hop. Escape from one valley to drop down to another. Find a pub. Escape that valley and drop down to find the 3 pubs of Kettlewell.

Nothing could be more straightforward.

We get into a breakfast conversation with a couple who overtake us on the road up to Fleensop Moor.  They are interested in our adventure.  When they pass on their way back down, they pull over and advise us that "there are no pubs up there lads".

Not yet there aren't - as soon as we cross the Moor we drop down to Horsehouse.  If we have timed things correctly, it should be midday and opening time at the Thwaite Arms.

Abandoned Railway Cart on the Ascent 

Wild Descent into Horsehouse

We arrive at Horsehouse at 11:57am.  We are getting good at planning.  Neil checks the pub and comes back with grave news.  Very grave news.  They don't open at lunch time.

We sit and stare in disbelief at what could have been.

What are we going to do now?

Surely there has been some mistake?  I didn't even fully fill my water bottle today, expecting replenishment here.  I go and have have a look at 12:03.

There is hope - the sign actually says that they don't open at lunch time in Winter Hours.

Just where does April fall in Yorkshire calendar, where the seasons are mainly defined by the wetness of the rain?

I see movement through the window and then the most wonderful sound in the world - the scrape of a bolt being pulled and the door edging open.

I pounce on the Landlady to ask if they are open.  They're almost not, as I appear to have induced a heart attack.  She's not used to customers and certainly not ones as keen as us.

The Day is Saved!

We're in and in good spirits at this change in fortune.  She tells us all about the history of the pub and the village and then fetches her husband who tells us where our Route author has gone wrong for this afternoons walk and how we should avoid the road and head up Little Whernside.

Then the most extraordinary thing happens - they both leave us alone to go back to tending the garden and suggest we ring the bell if we need them.

Can we be trusted at an unmanned bar?

Of course we can.  We're not animals.

We check out the route for this afternoon.  A walk along the River Clover, before picking up a steeply rising road to get to moorland and drop down into the next valley and Kettlewell.  A three pub metropolis.

And when you think there is nothing to talk about - we find this.

Country Folk with their Country Ways

A fence with dead moles is always going to warrant debate.  Through discussion with other ramblers and the use of the #walk1000miles facebook page, we eventually determine that this is how the farmer knows how much to pay the molecatcher.

We leave this scene of multiple varmint homicide and pick up the road, stopping for a cache at Cover Bridge.

Geocaching Ground Zero

It's then all uphill to Hunter's Stone, where the weather closing in.  Properly closing in.  We are at the start of a bad storm that rages all night and get thoroughly soaked through.  It's a shame, as the views of Kettlewell Valley would have been superb... although that we are slightly disturbed that Kettlewell itself doesn't appear to be coming to view.

We need something to maintain enthusiasm and we promise to ourselves that it will appear as we turn every corner and descend every hill.

Hunter's Stone and the Weather Changes

Where's Kettlewell?

It turns out that the village is tucked away right at the end of the valley, huddled beneath the very steep slopes - presumably for protection against the elements.

Tonight, we are staying at the Yee Har.  There is no problem spotting it from the hill, it has a huge model giraffe in the garden.  It's also the Post Office.

The Yee Har

We are just in time, as we are sharing the accommodation with the Thames Valley Triathletes.  Our host advises us to get into the Drying Room and showers quickly, before they return from their bike ride/swim/run and infest the place with Lycra.

Sound advice - by the time we have showered, they are swarming all over the place.

We decamp to investigate the three pubs marked in the Inn Way.  Who would have thought that a small village would need so many gastropubs?

The best, and where we ate, is the Bluebell.  After five days of walking and three pies - the winner can be announced.  Meat and Potato (all the food groups covered) at the Bluebell takes gold.

Vegetables - Including Roast and New Potatoes yet to arrive

Copper Dragon and Yorkshire Dales Brewing Company

Next Stop - The Racehorses - Over the Road

Some of the party animal Triathletes come over.  They drink halves.  They don't eat pie.

We leave them to it to check out the Racehorses, directly over the road.  We liked this place for the Timothy Taylor beers (exceptional condition) but every table was given over to dining - which was being completed in a strange semi silent manner as though people were too scared to talk.  Sitting at the bar watching a Yorkshire Man getting a Polish barmaid to decipher "bacardi and coke" offered limited entertainment value, so we headed out into the storm to check out the 3rd and final pub.

The King's Head

Another pub mainly geared to food and we did get to try a new beer - Dark Horse - but we had to admit to ourselves that the Bluebell was the best and head back, tails firmly between our legs.

They don't hold it against us and we stay until closing.

On arriving back at the Yee Har, it's apparent the Triathletes have all gone to bed.