This isn’t another appeal for cash, for me to ask again after everyone has been so generous would be extremely rude and probably unproductive. I just wanted to let you know where some of that money has gone:

Twelve year old Jordan was found hanged in his bedroom by his 19 year old sister. Shortly beforehand he’d had an argument with her about who was going to walk their dogs. His family believe that he’d done it as a practical joke, but that it went tragically wrong. There was no evidence that he was troubled, and he had been talking enthusiastically about upcoming events.

Jordan’s mum, Carole, was at work when she got a telephone call from her daughter.

“She was hysterical,” Carole said. “All I could make out were the words ‘Jordan’, ‘ambulance’ and ‘dead’. I remember it so clearly. I was standing there and my legs just gave way and I ended up in a heap on the floor. I sat there for a good five minutes not able to move. Deep down I knew he had gone.”

Carole’s daughter moved out of the house shortly after Jordan’s death, too traumatized by what happened to cope with staying. Carole was left alone in what had been a busy and happy home.

“Even now, sometimes I still look out of the window at 3.30pm expecting to see him come in from school. It’s like he has gone to his friend’s for a few minutes. It’s like I’m looking down on someone else going through this, it doesn’t seem real. The thought of never seeing him again is just unbearable.”

For a while she considered suicide herself, but was helped struggle on by the help of her friends and family.

And this is where the Jospeh Salmon Trust came in. Carol is a single mum who works as a care assistant. She would have struggled to meet the costs of the funeral on her own.

“A headstone is so expensive and like most parents you don’t really make provisions for your child’s death. I’ve got life insurance but you don’t think about using it for your children – you don’t expect them to die before you.”

Neil has told me that because the charity’s bank account had been so boosted by the money raised by the walk they were able to pay for Jordan’s headstone; two thousand pounds that Carole would have found it hard to find otherwise. They were able to help Carole meet the final needs of her son, something invaluable in helping her cope with her grief.

It is testament to how important the Trust’s help was to Carol that she decided that she herself wanted to help raise funds for the charity. In a fundraiser at the village hall Carole, her daughter, and her friends raised £2200, which not only matched but exceeded the money the Trust gave her.

“In one respect I was so grateful to the trust because I just didn’t have the finances to be able to cover it.” said Carole “But in another way this was the last thing I could do for Jordan and I’m so happy that I can give this money to help someone who finds themselves in my position in future.”

I met Carole and her daughter the other day as I agreed to take some photo’s of them presenting a check to Neil to send to the local paper. The respect and admiration I have for them is immense. And while Carole has effectively “paid back” the money the Trust gave her, the charity would never have been able to grant her money in the first place if it wasn’t for the generous donations by people such as yourself. So thank you, you did what we set out to do – ease the burden of someone going through one of the worst torments imaginable.

All of the information I’ve given here is in the public domain and has been featured in the local paper. The details of people helped by the Trust is obviously usually confidential, but Carole herself chose to go public in order to publicize the charity. As I said, I’m not going to ask for any donations here, but if you went over to the Joseph Salmon Trust’s website I’m sure that they would.

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. The Dales Walk
2. Is it me, or is that a 16 mile long hill?
3. A request for a signature

1. The Dales Walk
2. Is it me, or is that a 16 mile long hill?
3. A request for a signature

Dave had probably been the one amongst us that was least phased by the walk so far. He cited regular training and a job in which he spends most of his time on his feet as being the primary reasons for his competence. Sounds a bit like cheating to me. I secretly wondered how fast he’d be walking if I gave him a quick kick in the balls, but decided against it in the interest of group harmonics.

Seeing as though no one took Dave up on his “lets walk three unnecessary miles” idea Kerry once again kindly ferried us to where we needed to be and we set off on our final day’s walking in good spirits.

Ten miles would seem like a long way to walk at any other time, but after nearly a week of walking up to seventeen miles a day we had downgraded it in our minds to a gentle stroll before lunch. In fact we were so blasé about the whole thing we didn’t even bother taking a packed lunch with us – figuring we’d just get something at the other end. A decision that we would later regret.

The guidebook described the final leg into Bowness as “an extremely straightforward day bringing the Dales Way to it’s happy conclusion”. What it doesn’t mention is that there is a great big bloody hill slap bang in the middle of it. Now I realize that my tolerance of hills is probably a lot lower than the rest of the human race, what with me being grossly overweight and a complete lazy bugger. But there is no way that the guidebook is justified in describing the mountain we climbed as “gently rolling upland pastures”. Gently rolling my arse.

Mushy wasn’t a fan of the hills either

Despite being lied to by the guide book once again we eventually made it to the top panting and heaving. Then, it being noon, we stopped for the lunch that we hadn’t brought. What’s more it was an exceptionally hot day (the hottest this year someone later told me) and many of us had run out of water.

It was at this point that Craig came out with the funniest gag of the whole trip. It probably won’t translate too well into the written word, but never the less I feel it needs to be recorded for posterity.

Picture the scene: there we are huddled in the only shade for miles around us, glumly contemplating the next five miles of walking in the baking heat with no water to quench our thirst when suddenly Craig exclaims excitedly –

“I’ve just remembered, I brought a load of drinks with me in my backpack!!”

Turning round we see him with about ten little packets of dry powder in his hands.

“Look, I’ve got instant coffee, hot chocolate, and teabags! Who wants one?”

Genius. Pure genius.

Mr Kelly, I salute you (photo by Oli)

Fortune favors the foolish and as luck would have it just half an hour down the road we stumbled across an unlikely tearoom on the outskirts of a farmyard. Apparently the ice cream was absolutely fantastic. However I didn’t have much cash on me and so opted to prioritize in favor of a much needed injection of Diet Coke.

And then suddenly we were nearly there. A quick phonecall to Kerry to check our greeting party was ready and waiting and then onwards with a spring in our step (well, maybe a spring in our limp would be more accurate).

It’s difficult to describe the emotions as we walked down the hill to the finishing point. Relief certainly. But also a fair bit of pride and sadness that it was all over. I’ll reflect further on the walk as a whole on a subsequent post, but I will just say that the walk, while sometimes difficult, was never anything other than a fantastic experience. And I would do it again in a shot (although not just yet, my blisters have just healed and my toenail is still in the process of falling off).

Neil and Rachael were at the finish line to cheer us on, as were their daughters Lydia and Eve. Kerry was there too, and Caroline (Craig’s partner) and Nat (Lee’s wife). They gave us a resounding welcome and we even got presented with special Joseph Salmon Trust foot balm.

That man will take a photo of anything

A quick pose for some pictures then it was off again down the hill to dabble our feet in the waters of Lake Windermere, the unofficial ceremonial end to the Dales Way. The hustle and bustle of tourist hotspot Bowness was quite a shock after the tranquility of the last six days. But we soon got over it, aided of course by a couple of cheeky pints in a nearby pub.

Brooky exhibits his impressive six day beard growth

And then the fellowship was broken. Oli, Mushy and I went off with Kerry back to Huddersfield while Gav drove Rich and Brooky back to their homes. Lee and Nat drove back down the M6 to their home, while Craig, Dave and Caroline stopped on in Bowness for another couple of days for a bit of rest and relaxation.

The final total we have raised is yet to be calculated as money is still coming in from various places. But it looks like we have made well over £4000 ($8000), and we may have even hit £5000. That is going to make a big difference in a lot of peoples lives, and the people who read this blog have been a massive part of that. So thank you, your generosity has been overwhelming.

So, anyone up for a walk next year?

I think it’s this way

Vital Statistics

Time set off: 9:30am
Time arrived: 2:30pm
Rough distance traveled: 10 miles
Big bloody bastard hills: 1

You can find more photo’s of the day here and you can still see the video for the final day over at the ITV local site. Neil has also kindly uploaded some of the day three footage to youtube:

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Lincolns Inn Bridge to Burneside
2. The magnificent thirteen
3. Sausage sandwich at the start and bacon butty at the finish

1. Lincolns Inn Bridge to Burneside
2. The magnificent thirteen
3. Sausage sandwich at the start and bacon butty at the finish

“Ow” I said as I stumbled around like some sort of crippled zombie. “Ow ow ow ow”. It took me about ten minutes to walk the 50 meters to the toilet block and back. Oh yes, today was not going to be a good day.

I had originally had some vague ideas of getting up at dawn and setting off early in order not to slow the others down. But the prospect of hobbling fourteen miles all by myself lost it’s appeal at around five in the morning. My Captain Oats style heroics were forfeited in favor of having some stretcher bearers easily to hand.

Still, the disparity between the faster and the slower walkers was pretty great, and so it was decided that we would go for a staggered start. We split ourselves into three groups: fast, slow, and walking wounded (no prizes as to where I ended up).

Due to the campsite being a mile or so away the Dales Way we had wandered off the path somewhat, so Kerry kindly gave us a lift to Lincoln’s Inn Bridge to rejoin it. While we were all committed to walking all the way to Bowness, we saw little need to add superfluous miles to our journey. We’d signed up to do the Dales Way damnit, and I begrudged every torturous footstep above and beyond that.

So Mushy, Brooky, and myself set off half an hour before the rest and attempted to build up enough of a lead in order that we wouldn’t be overtaken 200 meters down the path. To my surprise I found that after walking on my bad leg for a little while it began to improve rather than deteriorate. Sure it hurt, but it wasn’t really slowing me down. Mushy was coping well with his injured tendon and Brooky had only really joined us out of charity anyway, so what I had thought was going to be an excruciating endurance test ended up being a relatively pleasant morning’s walk (relatively)

There were a few problems. Up until then the footpath had been exceptionally well signposted, but all of a sudden the waymarkers dried up and we frequently found ourselves standing in the middle of fields trying to work out which way next. There was also quite a bit of mud to contend with, and on a couple of occasions we had to make a detour in order to avoid a herd of cows who appeared to be doing the Dales Way too.

At one point we crossed over the M6 motorway on a footbridge. It was rather startling to be walking through beautiful serene countryside and then to turn a corner and find 80mph traffic hurtling beneath your feet.

We made good time, and we had probably done around six or seven miles when the others eventually caught us up. We walked on together for another four miles or so, enjoying the sunshine and each others company.

The group successfully circumnavigate a cow in a stream. Go team!! (photo by Oli Walker)

We then split up again. We were due to stay the night in Kendal, which was not actually on the Dales Way but was pretty close to it. Dave, Lee, Craig and Mushy decided that they would leave the path and head directly for the town, whereas Oli, Rich, Brooky and myself chose to stick to the footpath and get Kerry to pick us up from Burneside. There was very little in it milage wise, but I reasoned that the Dales Way would be better signposted and maintained than some random public footpath. I really didn’t relish the prospect of getting lost or hacking my way through a nettle forrest.

As usual those last four miles seemed to be just as far as the previous ten. At one point we came across a eight year old girl selling cans of ice cold pop beside the path . She charged 70p a can, most reasonable given the remote location; although everyone did just giving her a quid (apart from Oli that is who fastidiously counted out the exact change, the tight bastard). We all thought her very enterprising until her Granddad told us that she was just operating a franchise licensed by her older brother. She was paying him 50% of all her profits while he went swanning off to a birthday party. That boy will probably own half the country by the time he’s fifteen.

We reached Burneside by about 4pm and waited for Kerry to pick us up in a nearby pub. It was called the Jolly Angler, but was swiftly renamed The Oli’s Janglers in honor of Oli’s recently acquired habit of stopping walking every three hundred meters in order to grease his knackers to prevent chaffing (I bet you’re glad I told you that aren’t you).

I wouldn’t recommend a visit to Oli’s Janglers. It was one of those pubs that if it had a jukebox it would have scratched to a halt the moment we walked in the door. In the short space of time it took to down a pint we overheard a conversation about dogfighting and one that began “I’m not racist but….”. Not a nice place and we were glad to get out of it.

Fortunately Kerry picked us up pretty quickly and we went off to the more civilized town of Kendal, which appeared very nice indeed. Unfortunately we arrived too late to buy any mint cake but we did go out for a pint and a very nice chinese meal. Gav also rejoined us that eening, he had been due to do so that morning but his car had been broken into and he had to get his window’s replaced (so he tells us anyway).

After the chinese it was back to the youth hostel, our 11 bedded shared room, and a race to go to sleep before everyone else started snoring.

The worst was now behind us, just ten more miles and then we’d be done. Marvelous stuff.

Vital Statistics

Time set off: 9:00am
Time arrived: 4:00pm
Rough distance traveled: 14/15 miles
Number of times cows stopped play: 2

I didn’t take my camera with me on Day 5 so photos are a little scarce.You can still see the video for the fifth day over at the ITV local site. Neil has also kindly uploaded some of the day three footage to youtube:

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Burneside to Bowness-on-Windermere
2. The magnificent thirteen
3. Ilkley to Grassington

1. Burneside to Bowness-on-Windermere
2. The magnificent thirteen
3. Ilkley to Grassington

Ironic really as he was the one most prepared for the hike – regularly walking twelve miles a day and doing thirty mile bike rides. But it wasn’t the distances that did him in, it was the accommodation. Used to the life of luxury the prospect of yet another night of roughing it, this time in tents, was too much to bear.

The big girl.

Still, at least he gave it a go; and to fair he does have quite a lot going on in his personal life at the moment. Starting your own hairdressing and manicure business can be really stressful, and his pet poodle Foo-Foo has been off his food recently.

But although he was only with us a couple of days, Sandip still left his mark on us. For example I never realized how versatile swear words could be. Who knew that you could construct entire sentences using nothing but obscene profanities. Even Shakespeare didn’t have such skill with words.

Day four was meant to be an easy day. Just an 8 mile amble down the River Dee to Holme Farm where we would be camping for the night.

And to be fair most of the group did find it pretty easy. But Mushy and I had picked up injuries on the previous day’s walking – Mushy on his ankle and me on my leg. I’m still not sure what exactly I did, the best description I can come up with is that it felt like I had a taut steel wire over the back of my knee which hurt like buggery every time I bent it.

Things were going ok for the first four miles or so, but then it really started playing up and by the end of the walk I was in agony. It probably didn’t help that I had soaking wet feet due to rather foolishly taking a short cut through the river at around mile five.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. (photo by Oli)

I also had a blister that ran most of the length of the ball of my foot then crept up between my big toe. For the first time I started to worry that I wasn’t going to make the entire walk. If I was having so much trouble after eight miles, what was it going to be like tomorrow when we had to walk fourteen.

Despite all my worries and aches and pains the evening of day four was possibly my favorite of the entire walk. Kerry took a break from her sherpa duties and stayed with us on the campsite, which probably had a lot to do with it. But there was also a fun atmosphere both within the group and at the campsite itself.

There was also a wedding going on in the field next door. Two musicians were getting married and they had staged their very on music festival. God knows how much it all cost, but the fireworks at the end alone probably came to more than my and Kerrys entire wedding. I have a vague suspicion that the bride and/or groom may have been famous but google reveals nothing. Perhaps they were just rich.

Mushy. His chin is naturally that blurry you know.

The very best thing however is that we had a campfire. There is just something about sitting around a fire laughing with your wife and seven of your best friends that creates a atmosphere of inner peace. Even if your leg does hurt like a bastard.

Dave and Brooky. Sunglasses at twighlight, the very epitome of cool

Vital Statistics

Time set off: 10:00am
Time arrived: 3:00pm
Rough distance traveled: 8 miles
Times I regretted suggesting the walk: 18

You can find more photo’s of the day here and you can still see the video for the third day over at the ITV local site. Neil has also kindly uploaded some of the day three footage to youtube:

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Oughtershaw to Whernside Manor
2. The magnificent thirteen
3. Sausage sandwich at the start and bacon butty at the finish

1. Oughtershaw to Whernside Manor
2. The magnificent thirteen
3. Sausage sandwich at the start and bacon butty at the finish

Mr Smith (aka Sandip) in a rare photo, proving to his mother that he did in actual fact do some of the walk.

After a hearty breakfast and filling up my water bottle with suspiciously yellow tap water we set off walking. Any traces of optimism I may have had remaining were soon beaten out of me by a rather unpleasant hill. within half an hour of setting off we found ourselves climbing up to the highest point of the Dales Way, the point incidentally where it also joins briefly with the Pennine Way.

I have decided, I am never, ever going to do the Pennine Way.

In my estimation I am at least 70lb heavier than all of the other walkers, therefore at a natural disadvantage when hauling my carcass up bloody great big hills. I proposed that given this handicap the others should have at the very least offered to carry my backpack up for me. Strangely enough they all refused, muttering something about me “eating all the pies”. The swine. Still, after much huffing, puffing, and cursing geological plate tectonics I made it to the top.

Then it was downhill for a bit, then flat for a bit, and all was looking right with the world. But then we received a message over the walkie talkies that the fast group had just had to tackle a slope that they had ominously christened “The Bitch Hill”. Oh joy.

My guidebook had said that The Dales Way was an easy gentle walk suitable for beginners! If I had had a mobile phone reception I’d have rung Amazon and demanded my money back.

The view from the top of The Bitch Hill. I’d like to say it was worth it, but quite frankly it wasn’t.

We were about five miles into the day and had nine more to go. I’m pretty sure that stumbling up that Bitch Hill was responsible for the problems I would later have with my right leg,. Mushy thinks it was responsible for the injury that saw him relegated into the slow group too.

Still, onwards and (thankfully) downwards. We spent a couple of hours traversing some pretty desolate moorland, then descended towards Dent Head Viaduct into another Valley bottom.

The remainder of the day was pretty much straight forward. We all ran out of water at one point and were too English to dare ask anybody for some. Thank god for honorary Scotsman Oli who saved all of our lives by knocking on the door of The Sportsman Inn. If he hadn’t have persuaded the landlady to allow us to fill our bottles from her outdoor toilet (the taps obviously) we would have all been desiccated skeletons by now.

“You ask”, “No you ask”, “No YOU ask”

Whernside Manor, the accommodation on the third night was slightly less salubrious than it’s name might suggest. The Manor was built by a slave trading family in the 18th century and it’s grounds were used to house the slaves. And I think I know where they kept them.

Gav and Jez very wisely chose to bow out at this point as they both had weddings to go to. Gav however would rejoin us later on the walk.

The facilities were basic, which was fine. The main problem was the fact that there were swarms of man eating midges outside and so we had to sleep with all the windows closed. Have you ever slept in a room with nine other sweaty snoring men with all the windows closed on one of the hottest nights of the year? No, neither have I because I didn’t sleep a wink.

Still it was cheap, and the owners (Lord and Lady something-or-other) even knocked £20 off the price when they heard we were doing it for charity, so it would be churlish to complain too much.

Vital Statistics

Time set off: 9:30am
Time arrived: 4:30pm
Rough distance traveled: about 14 miles
Number of times I sulked: 2

You can find more photo’s of the day here and you can still see the video for the third day over at the ITV local site. Neil has also kindly uploaded some of the day three footage to youtube:

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Whernside Manor to Holme Farm
2. Grassington to Oughtershaw
3. Cumbria Way, day three

1. Whernside Manor to Holme Farm
2. Grassington to Oughtershaw
3. Cumbria Way, day three

There were a few members of our group that were unable to start on the Wednesday with us due to various other commitments, but by Thursday afternoon we were up to our full compliment. The arrival of Jez, Lee and Sandip really provided a boost to the group. Eleven men all devoting ninety percent of their brainpower to come up with obscene double entendres is a powerful force indeed.

The first half of the day was spent walking over the limestone hills between Grassington and Kettlewell. Many of the group have said that this was their favourite stretch of the walk but it was a little bleak for my tastes. Plus there were a couple of hills. I am of the opinion that hills are a Very Bad Thing.

After lunch and a pint in Kettlewell we were off again, rejoining the river Wharfe that we had left at the end of day one. We had once more split up into two groups: fast and slow. Of course my natural athleticism would normally earmark me for the fast group; but I felt sorry for the others and so decided to selflessly hang back and pretend that I was some sort of unfit panting oaf to make them feel better about themselves.

You will notice that nearly all my photos are of people walking away from me. Any accusations that this is because I was always at the back will meet with swift legal action

At one point we passed an elderly couple in their mid sixties who were out for a day’s walking. After exchanging pleasantries we joked that we would see them again when they passed us. “Oh no” they said “We go so slow that we’ve never ever passed anyone”.

They passed us twice. Oh the shame.

Rich looks all noble

We caught our first glimpse of Kerry, our sherpa, in a village called Buckden where we had stopped for ice creams (a can of diet coke: 60p. Very reasonable). She was in the process of driving both Sandip and our bags to our accommodation and had stopped to buy milk. Sandip took the opportunity walk the rest of the way with us, and Kerry went on to dump our gear and make sure the bunkbarn was ready for us.

We caught one more glimpse of Kerry that day from opposite sides of the river. In a brief shouted conversation she told us that we only had four miles left to do. I think there must be something wrong with the odometer on our car, as that last four miles seemed more like about twenty.

The last few miles really took their toll, and it was a pretty miserable group of men that dragged their way up the steps to Swarthghyll Farm Bunkhouse. Still, we were all cheered to see that Dave and Lee were in the midst of preparing a mighty dinner of spaghetti bolognaise for us. Good men!

The evening was spent drinking beer and playing Oli’s name game. A game it appears I am incapable of playing without going into some sort of sulk. I am not a man designed to spend 24 hours a day in other’s company, and the combination of fatigue and compulsory sociability led me to be a little grumpy on a couple of the evenings. I mention it here only in order to hold my hands up to being a bit of a pillock at times, and in no way should you infer that there were any serious or lasting fallings out during the trip. On the whole everone got on very well, and I’d gladly do something similar with any one of them in the future (although not just yet please, I need to let my blisters heal).

So that was the end of the second day. During the planning stage I had assumed it was going to be the hardest one. I hadn’t however counted on the effect that the hills of day three would have on my already weary bones.

Vital Statistics

Time set off: 9:45am
Time arrived: 7:00pm
Rough distance travelled: about 17/18 miles
Number of sheep shagging jokes: 86

You can find more photo’s of the day here, and you can still see the video footage of the second day over at the ITV local site. Neil has also kindly uploaded some of the day two footage to youtube:

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Oughtershaw to Whernside Manor
2. Ilkley to Grassington
3. Sausage sandwich at the start and bacon butty at the finish

1. Oughtershaw to Whernside Manor
2. Ilkley to Grassington
3. Sausage sandwich at the start and bacon butty at the finish

I do want to record it’s general feel for posterity however, and so I’m afraid I’m going to subject you to at least some half baked amateur travel writing. If that seems a bit too much to stomach then I’d advise you to give this blog a miss for a week or so and hope that when you return I’ll be back to blogging about my bodily functions once again.

The personnel of the walk varied slightly throughout the start due to various commitments, but those present right from the start were (from left to right) Mushy, Rich, Gav, Oli, Dave, Craig, me and Brooky.

Trying to look buoyant and optimistic while secretly worrying that our backpacks are far too heavy.

Within a mile we had naturally split up into two groups, the slow walkers and the fast walkers. I had anticipated this would happen, it was why I bought some walkie talkies so we could keep in contact. I hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly though. I stopped to take a photo, turned round, and half of the buggers were disappearing over the horizon.

The first six or so miles were very easy going, and we stopped for a horrendously overpriced lunch at a cafe near Bolton Priory (£1.50 for a can of Diet Coke! The swines!). Then it was over some stepping stones and into Strid Wood where we ran into a couple who had done the Dales Way twice before and assured us that the walk got easier as the days went on. I have since considered reporting these two to the police for such blatant disinformation.

Craig and Brooky stubbornly ignoring my pleas for them to ‘fall in for the camera”

Once out of Strid Wood we had to take a minor detour to Bardon Tower ruins where a very grumpy restaurant owner allowed Oli to refill his water bottle but wouldn’t let us sit down on their outside tables. Then onwards towards Burnsall via an ice cream van (£1 for a can of Diet Coke! The bastards!).

On reaching Burnsall we had done around twelve miles, and were starting to feel rather drained. We also managed to catch up with Rich, Gav, Mushy and Dave who told me they had been working very hard filling the video camera with “interesting facts”. It was, they assured me, television gold. They had also spent the last half hour or so drinking in the beer garden of a nearby pub and to my sweat stung eyes they all looked very unfairly refreshed.

The last three miles to Grassington was a bit of a struggle to say the least. Which was a shame as the scenery would have been breathtaking should I have had any spare breath to take.

Walking towards Grassington

We stayed the night at the Foresters Arms, but much to our disappointment had little energy for any serious drinking. We had a fantastic meal then sloped of in dribs and drabs to bed. The latest any of us were up was 10:30pm. Quiet the party animals I’m sure you’ll agree.

Vital statistics

Time set off: 10am
Time arrived: 6pm
Rough distance traveled: about 16/17 miles
Number of swear words uttered: 587

You can find more photos of the day here, and you can also still see the video footage we took of the first day over at the ITV local site. Neil also very kindly put some of it on youtube for us:

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Grassington to Oughtershaw
2. A report from our man in Grassington
3. Day Two

1. Grassington to Oughtershaw
2. A report from our man in Grassington
3. Day Two

The mighty conquerors of the Dales Way.

More tomorrow. Tonight – Bath, pain killers, and bed.

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. I can’t believe I’m even going to blog about this
2. Patty cake patty cake…
3. Three things that I have not been enjoying recently

1. I can’t believe I’m even going to blog about this
2. Patty cake patty cake…
3. Three things that I have not been enjoying recently

More video is available on itvlocal.com and also at youtube.com/thejosephsalmontrust.

We’ll have clips of the finish as soon as we can!

Back to you Dan……….

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. My Feet Hurt
2. Videos
3. …and I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

1. My Feet Hurt
2. Videos
3. …and I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

More video should be posted by the team at ITV Local tomorrow with the big finish going online on Tuesday. I’ll try and do what I can to get it on youtube too. Although that won’t be tomorrow as I’m not in work.

I’ll leave you with Dan’s twitterings from the past 36 hours or so.

• Now we have reached civilisation we’re planning on making the most of it and are going for a chinese 1900 from txt

Bookmark It

Related posts:

1. Day 6 – They’ve made it!!!
2. Day Two

1. Day 6 – They’ve made it!!!
2. Day Two