It may well be the smallest of the Yorkshire Dales Three Peaks at 694m, but the ‘Hill of the Winds’, as Pen-y-ghent is known in Welsh, cuts a dramatic figure. Approaching it from the south west, you could easily mistake it as a long extinct volcano, especially when its peak is wreathed in white cloud. Climbing this iconic hill on a bitterly cold but gloriously sunny winter’s day was exhilarating. The crisp, clean air meant stunning views.
I started from Helwith Bridge, a few houses and a pub that sit on the banks of the River Ribble. The pub was a welcome sight when I returned more than six hours later. I set off up an old packhorse route called Long Lane, the ground frozen under foot, and I had the open moor to myself. I didn’t see another walker until the base of the final climb to the summit, where a far more popular path from Horton in Ribblesdale intersected my route.
At this point, Pen-y-ghent rears up in front of you, the path suddenly becoming almost vertical in places. I was soon scrambling over bare rock trying not to lose my balance as strong gusts of wind appeared determined to separate me from the hillside. It’s a short scramble and soon I was walking the last few hundred metres to the top of Pen-y-Ghent. Ahead of me I could see people already at the trig point.
The wind was blowing on Pen-y-ghent’s exposed summit, so It was a relief that my route to the 680m Plover Hill was alongside a high stone wall that provided shelter from the icy gusts. The wall runs almost arrow straight along the hilltop as it first descends and then ascends before taking a hard turn up to the top of Plover Hill. I left the dozen or so people gathered on Pen-y-ghent behind and didn’t see another person for the next two hours.
The route up Pen-y-ghent had mostly been on old horse and cart tracks, most were stony and dry. The route to Plover Hill was through what on a warmer day would have been a treacherous bog. Luckily, in most areas the ground was still frozen and easy to walk on, but in some places I squelched my way through heavy bog, plunging up to my shins once or twice. There were a few diversions and lots of leaping around.
The oft cursed bog aside – and it elicited a few expletives – the views on this part of the walk were rarely less than spectacular. On one side of me were panoramic views across Ribblesdale to Ingleborough; on the other, vistas that stretched for miles to Fountains Fell and Birks Fell. All the while accompanied by nothing more than the wind. Plover Hill is named after the bird, although none were visible as I approached the summit.
A stile allowed me through the stone wall and I started a steep descent down a stone staircase to Foxup Moor below. I’d expected this section to be boggy and wet, instead there was a remarkably grassy track that seemed slightly raised above the moor. It made for a longer than anticipated but easy walk towards Horton in Ribblesdale. Finally, I met another walker. After a quick chat we went our separate ways.
The sheltered valley I was walking down was quiet and peaceful, and the further I walked the better the view of Pen-y-ghent and the long ridge that stretches to Plover Hill. After an hour or so of walking in the semi-daydream of isolation, I was startled by the sudden appearance of a group of people who were gathered around Hull Pot – a large hole in the ground which is technically a collapsed cavern that sometimes has a waterfall.
One of the shorter routes to Pen-y-ghent summit joined the path I was on, along with several small groups of walkers. We all made our way down a stone track into Horton in Ribblesdale. Most ended their walk in the village, while I heroically walked past two pubs to a footpath along the River Ribble for the 3 or 4 mile walk back to Helwith Bridge. The views were fabulous, as was the much deserved pint of beer at the Helwith Bridge Inn.
