A Walk in Malham, March, 2000
Part 3: Over to Malham Cove
We retraced our steps out of Gordale Scar, again passing the group of school kids as they walked in. We turned up the hill and followed a stone wall as we climbed the slippery grass.
A last look back before the weather closes in
As we gained height, the mist got thicker and the wind picked up. I put my camera away--there was no hope of more pictures. We walked through groups of sheep, trying not to slip on the short, slick grass, mud and other mucky stuff underfoot. By the time we reached a road that was our halfway point between Gordale Scar and Malham Cove, the wind was blowing hard and the mist was pretty indistinguishable from rain. Connie and Dave, who where wearing fleece tops and jeans, were silently marvelling at the water absorbing abilities of those fibers, but otherwise determined to press on.
We trudged on, Connie and Dave getting soaked to the skin. There was less and less talking among the group--even the light-hearted complaints stopped. We passed several dead rabbits, each one in a more advanced state of dismemberment and decomposition, until the last one, very close to the Cove, which was a skeleton. We tried to take each of these as omens, mostly because it took our minds off the wind. Mary Ellen discovered why her shoes did not claim to be waterproof. I was dry, except for my head--I kept my hood off in solidarity with our friends, and also to improve visibility in case they tried to sneak up and push me off the hill.
This is Malham Grove?
We emerged atop Malham Cove, which is an 80 meter cliff of fractured limestone. Walking along the top means either stepping from one slick rock to the next, with large gaps, about a yard deep, between them, or walking in the gaps, which is very awkward but safer in the rain and wind. We chose awkward. After a hundred yards or so of cracked limestone blocks, we reached the stone stairway leading down to the foot of the Cove. As we headed down, we got a spectacular view of the face of the Cove. Mary Ellen commented that "This is Malham Grove? I thought it would have nice trees and a peaceful waterfall." The stairs were very slick and we took our time decending--the wind and mist lessened with each step and it was calm as we reached to bottom.
Final indignities
We followed Malham Beck for the half mile walk back to town, passing the school kids one last time--we could almost hear the snickering. As we walked through town, our anticipation of a beer by the fire at the Buck Inn was cruelly crushed. There was no joy in Mudville. The bar was closed.
Connie and Dave changed into our dry clothes and, happily, a pub down the road a few miles served great food and pints of Timothy Taylor's Landlord.
We made plans for a walk in the North York Moors the next day.