Malham

On what seemed like the first nice day for weeks on end, I decided to make the most of it by taking a trip out to Malham.  Parking on the road going up to the Tarn, I walked along the well worn path to the Cove which was surprisingly pretty quiet considering the weather. Maybe only half a dozen people were on top that day but there was one young woman more or less sat right on the edge of the Cove. You can just about make her out in one of the photos. The top is a photographers delight with its limestone pavement and glorious view down Malhamdale and I wasted no time in getting my camera out.

I then followed the Pennine Way path which leads away from the Cove and up the dry Watlowes Valley. The valley narrows as you progress and the only way out is up a fairly steep stepped path. The Pennine Way path then continue up to Malham Tarn but I cut off to the right across a sometimes wet and boggy Cote Moor. The moor really is a wild and open place which I wouldn't fancy walking across in low cloud as there are so many tracks created over the years. Knowing roughly which direction the Cove was, I picked out the lowest of the paths and, after a detour to another limestone pavement, I was back in more familiar territory.

My path eventually came down round the back of the Cove and there was just time for a sit down to take in the glorious view before joining the path I'd set off on. A very enjoyable walk was finished off perfectly with a pint at The Lister's Arms where I joined the other walkers and visitor who were sitting out on the green enjoying the late evening sun.

Malham Cove

Malham Cove

Malham Beck from the Cove

Limestone Pavement Malham Cove

Limestone Pavement Malham Cove

Malham Cove

Malham Cove

Malham Cove

Limestone Pavement Malham Cove

Limestone Pavement Malham Cove

Limestone Pavement Malham Cove

Limestone Pavement Malham Cove

Watlowes Dry Valley

Watlowes Dry Valley

Watlowes Dry Valley

Cote Moor

Hardraw Force

“We found the rock, which had before appeared like a wall, extending itself over our heads like the ceiling of a huge cave, from the summit of which the water shot directly over our heads into a basin, and among the fragments wrinkled over with masses of ice as white as snow, or rather, as Dorothy said, like congealed froth. The water fell at least ten yards from us and we stood directly behind it." (Letter from William and Dorothy Wordsworth to Coleridge, December 1799) 

 

From the high lonely fells you’ve carved your course
And now in a single sudden chute you fall:
Loud, fierce, a mighty thunderous force,
Spending your pent power, your strength, your all
In this dark hollow where I stand, confronted
By an immense cavernous echoing wall
Scooped out around you, in sedimented
Layers of limestone, sandstone, shale.
No seedling could settle long enough here
To take root; no climber find a stay
In the serrated sides which drop sheer
To the beck as it tumbles down the valley.
But I can walk behind you, see you batter
The rocks in the pool below; or watch the way,
In perpetual motion, you smash and shatter
Your own reflection with dancing froth and spray.