OK, on our last day in Hawes, Saint George's Day, we relented and decided to do a walk we've done a number of times.
But first, a wander around the village, down along the River Ure, up to play ball with our border collie friend (sadly only the one, this year, the other cannot get up there any more) on the wall, and back to Crockett's for beef cubes for dinner and, of course, Eccles cakes for breakfast. We have gotten spoiled. After breakfast, we go to the Spar and Elijah Allens for a bell pepper, mushrooms, and two beers (one for tonight's beef stew and one to drink with it). Then change to anoraks and hiking boots - and off to Hardraw.
Down the road that heads north past the Dales Museum, across the River Ure, and then through fields to the little village of Hardraw.
 Coming into Hardraw along Hardraw Beck. Those tunnels to the left of the main opening are to take off pressure in floods. Before they were added, a storm washed out this rather substantial bridge over what looks like a gentle little stream. |
 Stock dogs (yes, working border collies) penned in the entrance to a farm next to the church. |
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A peek into the church of Saint Mary and Saint John. It's still morning, so the sun is pouring through the east window. |
We bought our tickets to Hardraw Force in the Green Lion pub. They are doing a lot of work on the paths and picnic areas - and the way to cross over the stream at the top of the falls. So we had to walk up each side separately. Good exercise.
For us Yanks, a "waterfall" in England is what we might call rapids. A "force" is what we'd call a waterfall. English and American are different languages. As in "pants", which are trousers here and are underwear there. Note Bene.
We tried something different this time and climbed up the right side above the force. We were almost able to cross it at the top. But the path had had slipage and was closed. So we went back down the hill and along the stream to the falls. Nancy tried to keep dry. |
 And then back down , with Nancy trying to keep dry. |
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Then we walked back to the bridge, and up the left side of the force until we reached the slipage area. Chuck, overlooking the force. |
Into the Green Dragon for Yorkshire Dale's and Richmond's halves. And to meet pups and their people.
 Chuck with Pip, the brown Jack Russell pub dog. |
 WeWee (pronounced, I think, "yoo-ee"), Rhodesian for Hey Yoo!, who belongs to a gentleman we met who was born in South Africa and lived in Rhodesia for 34 years, and is now a local. |
Travelling doesn't really count unless you go into places like village pubs and talk to the folks at the next table. Otherwise, you might as well buy a DVD of the region. It's meeting people that makes the trip worthwhile.
Because, next, as we headed on the footpath to the east, we met a village couple taking Rolly out for a walk. He, the border collie, is their 13-year-old neighbor - and the dog on the left in the previous photo of stock dogs. Rolly still jumps the stiles over the walls, works sheep, and shepherds baby lambs. And is a sweetie.
 Rolly about to go through an easy stile. |
 And with his good friend. |
We walked with them along the ridge above the north side of the River Ure, then back down to the road back to Hawes, where we parted with them - and Rolly. And into Hawes.
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Nancy makes friends on the way back. |
We made beef stew with beer and ate in front of our last coal fire.
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