Another Long Walk: Day 2: Sheep Poop, Airplane Wrecks and Rescued By Heather

July 28, 2024: I woke up a little after 5:00am--sunrise! I used the free time to read my Kindle (Toxic Prey by John Sandford).

Started the day, which consisted of not breaking down camp this time. I had strategically camped at a trail junction specifically so we could slackpack a half-mile or so up the side trail to the site of a B-29 Superfortress bomber crash site. I didn't really know anything about the crash site. Before I started the trail, I hadn't even realized that there was a crash site!

The guidebook mentioned that there was a B-29 crash site off trail somewhere, but none of the details about why it crashed, when it crashed, or even how far off trail it actually was. Eventually, I figured out it was 0.4 miles off trail, according to a sign near the last trailhead we passed, but I still did not know any of the details about the crash. But it sounded like a potentially interesting place to visit, so I was keen to walk the near half-mile off trail to check it out.

Debris from a B-29 Superfortress wreck

It would be even more appealing to visit if I could leave my heavy gear in camp and slackpack to the crash site, then pick up the rest of the gear after we returned and continue northward along the Pennine Way. So that was my plan.

The condensation in the morning was absolutely terrible, so I hoped some of that would evaporate while we took our side trip to the crash site.

I grabbed the water filter to fill up with fresh, cold water from the nearby stream, but much to my surprise, it didn't work. I couldn't get even a drop of water pushed through the filter. This was bad.... With all the sheep and, more pointedly, the sheep poop everywhere, I didn't trust the water sources out here. The idea of drinking sheep-poop infused water did not appeal to me at all, but dying of thirst was even less appealing. Had I realized we couldn't resupply our water from creeks, I would have carried more.

After fiddling around with the filter for five or ten minutes with no results, I feared we'd have to drink the untreated water and hope for the best--at least until we could get clean water later in the day when we were back in civilization but then I remembered--I almost always carried tablets to treat water as a backup option. Was that still in my bag?

I searched my red bag and found the old iodine tablets. Yes! It wouldn't be as tasty as filtered water, and it won't remove contaminates from the water, but it's still a much better option than completely untreated water. So I filled up a few water bottles for ourselves and added the tablets--but we'd have to wait at least a half hour before drinking from them.

Long term, I needed to find a new filter somewhere. I had enough tablets that it might last us a week or so, but we needed a better long-term replacement. Something to worry about for another time, however.

Back on track, we left camp and headed out to the B-29 crash site. We had no maps or GPS tracks to follow--just a trampled down and often muddy path leading off to the west.

All 13 American crew members died in the wreck, thus the US flag.

Found the site without any trouble, and it resembled other airplane crash sites I had seen with a debris field spread out all over the place, but recognizable pieces like a landing gear. A large, American flag had been set up at the center of the site, which led me to think it was an American plane that had crashed rather than a British one like I had first assumed. A memorial plaque placed nearby gave us additional details.

It was part of the photographic reconnaissance squadron of the USAF, and crashed on November 3, 1948, while descending through clouds and killing all 13 crew members.

While paying our respects to the sadly departed, a drone started flying over us which we found annoying. A group of a few other people had arrived and apparently needed a birds-eye view of the crash site.

We took a few photos of our own, then headed back to the campsite.

Back at camp, a few more day hikers had arrived and passed us on their way to the crash site. It seemed to be a popular place for people to visit, and the trailhead for it was only a few miles away.

We packed up camp, then continued northward with fully-loaded packs once again. Ugh.

The sheep are everywhere, and they are always watching....

Several hours later, we were walking near the edge of a very steep slope. The trail was utterly flat, following the contours of the hillside, and Karolina was walking ahead of me listening to an audiobook on her cellphone. (I was listening to some podcasts myself.)

But somehow I stumbled and lost my footing and found myself somersaulting down the steep slope. I distinctly remember my body falling down the slope, back first, and my feet flying over my head while I tried reaching out and clutching nothing but air. I'm not sure exactly what happened after that, but I landed in a thick layer of heather as the momentum of my fall caused me to roll a couple of a times before I finally came to a stop.

My final resting position left me on my stomach, with my backpack still on my back. Somewhat to my surprise, nothing was hurting. Not even a little. The slopes were covered with heather, often times a few feet thick in places, and it felt like I had fallen onto a cloud, or maybe a particularly fluffy pillow. It caught me gently and brought me to a stop safely--not that my heart wasn't racing and my brain was still trying to process what had just happened.

Karolina kept walking, not having any idea of the distress I was in.

"Karolina!" I shouted, trying to get her attention. "Karolina! Stop!"

Eventually she heard me, turned back and asked what I was doing in the bushes five or six feet below the trail. "I fell! I tripped! Or something...." Honestly, I'm still not even quite sure what happened.

I was a little disappointed the event wasn't caught on video--I imagine the video would have been spectacular!

The trail is definitely rugged in places!

After deciding that I wasn't physically injured in any way, I started trying to make my way back to the trail. It was difficult, however, because the heather was so thick. I couldn't get my feet to reach solid ground, so it felt like I was "swimming" up the heather back to the trail. It was slow and difficult going.

Finally back on the trail, I took stock of all my possessions. Everything that was in my pockets was still there. Neither of my pedometers had fallen out, my phone hadn't fallen out. Not even the earbud I was wearing while listening to the podcast had been dislodged from my ear. I checked the side pockets of my pack--the water bottles, guidebook and so forth, but they all stayed in place as well. And even my hat with the handkerchief hadn't been dislodged in the fall. Absolutely nothing was missing or become dislodged! Which was particularly good because if it had, it could have been very difficult trying to find it in the thick heather.

Karolina scolded me for doing something so dangerous--pointing out that if that slope hadn't been covered in heather, I could have rolled a hundred or more feet down the mountain before I stopped and possibly been killed or severely injured!

It wasn't like I had tried do that. Sheesh! It was an accident. I had no plans to make a repeat performance--but I was grateful for the soft landing that the heather provided.

But my good fortune ended about an hour later when I took another bad step and twisted my ankle--which hurt quite a bit for the rest of the day. That injury, I knew, was practically inevitable on these long-distance hikes. It seems like it always happens eventually, no matter how careful I try to be. But it didn't seem serious, and I continued hobbling along, albeit at a slower pace than before.

Soon the trail led down a steep slope to Crowden. It crossed over a dam, then a busy road with a lot of fast-moving traffic that required us to stand around and wait for about ten minutes before there was a break in the traffic wide enough for us to dash across safely. Where did all these drivers come from? Where were they all going? Why couldn't the trail people at the very least build a center divider so we could cross one lane of traffic (from one direction) at a time?

Crossing the dam near Crowden

My guidebook seemed to show that Crowden was a village, but it seemed like it mostly just consisted of a single campground. It was a little off trail for us, but since we had no filter to treat unlimited amounts of water, we felt it was best to drop in and fill up with water there while we could.

It also gave us the opportunity to the use toilets and buy some cold drinks and ice cream. It was a good place for a break as well, which Karolina used to take a nap for an hour or two while I continued reading a book on my Kindle.

Eventually, it was time to push onward. The climb out of Crowden was steep and hot. Temperatures late in the afternoon felt terribly hot, and we took a couple of short breaks. Our packs felt annoyingly heavy, freshly loaded down with lots of water. There were creeks up ahead, but I had us carry some extra water out of the campground so we didn't have to use the iodine tablets so much and they might last us a bit longer. Consequently, our packs were even heavier than they would have been.

Eventually the trail reached the top of a plateau, following along the edge of some steep cliffs. "You better not fall here!" Karolina scolded me again. "Heather won't save you this time!"

"It was an accident!" I replied, shaking my head.

These cliffs were so tall and steep, we even spotted some rock climbers on it. (See the orange coat near the bottom of the photo?)

My guidebook mentioned a nice place to wild camp near the junction of two creeks a little beyond the cliffs, and upon reaching it, it did turn out to be a pleasant place to camp. We arrived a little after 5:00pm--a bit early in the day to stop since we had only completely a measly 10.6 miles (which included the side trip to the B-29 crash site, so even fewer Pennine Way miles). I was wore out. Hot, tired and still limping along on my sprained ankle, I was ready to call it a day.

We stopped and set up camp. I, for one, was glad the day was over.