In those days I had to take my breaks during the school holidays, when my mother would look after my two children for a week. Easter was very early this year, and so we decided to avoid the possible bad weather in the Lakes and try Yorkshire instead. Jerry travelled up with me, and Mark made his own way.

Jerry and I arrived in Ingleton at lunch-time, and made straight for the Craven Heifer for a pint and something to eat. We studied the menu over our pints of Thwaites, and I was tempted by the mixed grill for &#pound;2.50. I assumed at that price it wouldn't be very big, but I'm not a great lunch-time eater anyway. Imagine my surprise when it arrived - steak, lamb chop, gammon, sausages, black pudding, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans and a vast plate of chips. How on earth the landlady could have avoided losing money on it I just don't know!
We made our way back to the cottage and got unpacked. Mark arrived just in time for the evening trip to the pub, and we introduced him to the mixed grill.

The day dawned wet and misty, but we had already decided that today was to be Ingleborough. I can't remember too much about the walk, except that most of it was in thick mist. We went in Mark's car to Clapham and walked up alongside Clapham Beck, past Ingleborough Cave and Gaping Gill, up to Little Ingleborough and then on to the main summit.
We walked round the ramparts and descended to Ingleton by Fell Lane, one of the muddiest tracks I have ever walked on!
Then I drove Mark back to Clapham to pick his car up.

We parked at Horton and climbed up by way of Brackenbottom. The weather wasn't too bad until we began the final steep ascent, and then with almost no warning, we were engulfed in a blizzard. We struggled to the top against the horizontal snow and sheltered behind some rocks to eat a Mars bar.
As we began the descent along the Penine Way down to Hull Pot, the snow stopped and we had a beautiful view in retrospect of the snow covered hill.
It was still early, and so we decided to drive to the Tan Hill via Buttertubs pass. As we dropped down to Thwaite it started to snow again, but fortunately it didn't last long. We eventually arrived at the Tan Hill Inn. It was bitterly cold, and we enjoyed a bowl of hot soup with our pint of Theakstons.
We finally returned to Ingleton by way of Brough and Sedburgh.

And finally the last and highest of the three peaks, Whernside. We parked at the junction of the B6255 and B6479 near the Batty Moss viaduct on the Settle to Carlisle railway. It was blowing a gale, and Jerry's first exercise of the day was to chase the plastic carrier bag which held his boots as it blew away in completely the opposite direction to the one in which we were headed. He eventually caught it by diving full length onto a very boggy piece of ground! We made our way alongside, and then under, the viaduct, but as we turned left to begin the ascent of Grain Ings we were a bit more sheltered. The long slog up the boggy slope was unpleasant, made all the more so as we gained altitude by the fact that the worst bits of bog were covered with nice crisp snow. The contrast between the initial crunch and the long, wet descent into black slime was quite interesting!
As we continued to bear left above the hollow of Greensett Moss the wind hit us again with undiminished fury, and by the time we had gained the summit ridge it had started to snow as well. We struggled through deep snow drifts alongside a wire mesh fence, which had six inch long horizontal icicles sticking out from it. We sheltered briefly at the top while Mark ate the cream cake he had bought in Ingleton. (no, I'm not joking, he actually sat down in the middle of this arctic wilderness and produced a cream cake from his rucksack!).
We returned to the car by way of Winterscales Farm. It was about 3p.m., and still cold and windy with flakes of snow when we met a solitary walker who asked us how far it was to the summit. We tried to dissuade him from attempting the ascent; it would have been dark by the time he got there, with the temperature dropping rapidly.

Mark had to return because of pressure of work. Jerry and I had intended to visit the White Scar caves, but they were closed because of high water levels, and so we drove to Skipton instead (why?) where we lunched on Yorkshire puddings with sausages and onion gravy.
The caves were open on the way back, and we made the guided tour. I was only wearing trainers, and got wet feet (and also a bruised head from hitting it on the roof, and a stiff back from bending to avoid hitting my head). We returned to the cottage and managed to melt a large hole in the nylon fabric of my trainers while trying to dry them over the gas fire.

We returned home today. We had done the three peaks, and in view of the continuing bad weather we weren't really tempted by any further walks. After all, it wasn't the Lake District!

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