part two

The next day we headed down the steep cobblestone street and out of town.  Our destination, a little town in the Dales named Muker.  Driving over little stone bridges and past hillsides covered with sheep brought back memories when I was growing up of reading about James Herriot, the vet who practiced here in the 1920's.  Muker consisted of a handful of gray stone buildings.  Like the gray stone walls that crisscrossed the hills they gave the landscape a somber mood matched by some foreboding clouds.   The weather had changed... as usual.  

We stopped in a wool store and fingered some beautiful sweaters before setting off on our five or six mile hike to reach an even smaller village, Keld.  The shopkeeper directed us to walk up the hill through the village, then across the fields to the trail along the river.

It feels strange to us to walk through private land.  The cows and sheep stare at us with concern but throughout England trails crisscross pasture land.  Handy little turnstiles of all sorts help us traverse stone walls and fences.  Of course at this point I imagine I have long skirts and I'm a Jane Austen heroine walking over to visit a neighbor. 

It rained but it was wild and wonderful and we made it there and back!

This shows the elevation of the hills we were walking past.  They call waterfalls "force".  Seems like an appropriate name for them.