On the Tuesday morning I was woke at 6 (am !) by the sound of baa-ing (?) with a stream of sheep being brought to market ahead of conversion to Lamb Dopiaza.
My campervan allows for Pre-Covid standards of ablutions, just enough to get changed and out of the car park before it was overrun by Yorkshire farmers.
Parked up by Gayle Beck, I headed into Hawes (whose car parks charge money) for breakfast.
Despite it being market day in honeypot Yorkshire Dales in July, finding a coffee and full Yorkshire breakfast was challenging. Seemingly it’s gentlefolk business owners as much as gentlefolk patrons who are nervous about reopening.
Half a dozen cafes weren’t opening anytime soon, but Hawes was redeemed by Stage 1 Cycles, whose young folk rustled up poppyseed cake and flat back and made me feel bad about slagging off cyclists.
I joined the throng of walkers heading for Hardraw Force, 2 miles north.
When I say “throng“, I mean “none“, of course.
The waterfall, which I sense I last visited in 1992 when it was a mere stream, is private owned and tucked behind the village pub. A bit like High Force but with weird accents.
For £4 you get to stroll the site
and ride down the waterfall on an inflatable boat.
It’s no Victoria Falls, but it is a gorgeous walk around the cliffs.
An American couple who’d driven (driven !) from Hawes said Hello. Americans are lovely, aren’t they ?
“They’ve turned the waterfall off for an hour, for maintenance” I told them.
“Really ?” they said, and carried on, bemused.