Arriving in Clapham (the one in North Yorkshire, with a very small railway station; not the one in London with a very busy railway station) just before 4pm yesterday afternoon, I rejoiced in the lengthening of the hours of daylight by squeezing in a 5.75 mile stroll (600’ of up) before dusk fell.
The sun had not been so successful in burning off the fog up here (unlike at home, where we had left a fine day), so we weren’t blessed with distant views, but there was still plenty to see in our immediate vicinity.
Having reached and passed through the village, the falls caught out eyes (an information sign tells us that they were man-made by the Farrer brothers, in a year that I can’t recall):
From there we headed for the public right of way which would have led us to Ingleborough Cave, if the hour of day hadn’t suggested that we didn’t have enough time to go that far. Instead, we turned right instead of left and knowingly took a toll-path without any money on us to pay the toll (all funds in our pockets having been consumed by a box of Jaffa Cakes and a remarkably good local sausage roll in the village shop).
The toll-path took us past the lake which is imaginatively named The Lake. Pretty it unarguably was, but without a good vantage point for a photo to do it justice:
Dusk was upon us by the time we re-joined Colin (oooh, he’s getting about a bit lately!), pitched neatly on a Certified Location just beyond Clapham Station.
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