Cold as the grave......

The freezing weather continues and I'm beginning to wonder whether I'll soon be eligible for an extra fuel allowance?  But in spite of all the ice I haven't yet resorted to wearing Yaktrax, though some of my routes have been modified to avoid known slippery pavements and ungritted roads.  I'm lucky insomuch as I can step out the door and in less than 25 metres be running on grass. 

Staying low - thankfully not so low as some!  (Click to enlarge pictures)

It was well below freezing for midweek runs, so sensibly stayed low to avoid wind chill.  Most cemetery paths had snow on them but only the tarmacked one from the main entrance was slippery.  I took shorter, faster steps up that one for my uphill reps and found it quite enjoyable (particularly as a Personal Trainer and his client seemed reluctant to run in such conditions).

Setting off to Grassington

The dashboard thermometer told us it was -3ºC as we drove back to the Dales on Saturday, but beautifully clear with hardly a breath of wind. We lit the stove to warm the cottage and made ourselves a mug of coffee.

Obstacle on High Lane, but nothing we couldn't cope with

  Then, my wonderful partner managed to get an envelope jammed in her printer and we'd difficulty extracting it to get the machine working smoothly again.  Probably feeling neglected, the stove sulked and went out.  By the time we'd re-lit it the sky had clouded over, obscuring the sun for the rest of the day.

Which side to go?

Undeterred, we set off over frozen fields to the flesh pots of Grassington where folk from far and wide were braving  the second Dickensian weekend festivities.  High lane was plastered with ice though most of it was avoidable.  It still slowed us down as we pondered which sides of the lane were safest.

A joyful bunch of carol singers, especially the one on the right!

Grassington was heaving with sight-seers, thronging the streets, queuing at various food stalls, warming their hands round mugs of hot chocolate (suitably laced), joining in the carol singing, watching the Morris dancers and various other colourful entertainers.

Leeds Morris men do their thing..

But the surprising thing was that very few people this year were traditionally dressed in Victorian hats and clothes.  It was mainly stallholders who'd made the effort to dress appropriately to suit the occasion

and this sweet little girl

There'd been complaints the previous weekend that no-one had provided a donkey for the pregnant Mary to ride upon while Joseph knocked on various pub doors seeking some place for the infant Jesus to be born.  In desperation an alpaca was hurried into use.  But it wasn't quite the same!

Some strange looks..

To be honest, such crowds and festivities are not my scene and I was glad to be running through the car park, down the Snake to Linton Falls and heading for home.

The Wharfe by Linton Falls

With most people crowded into the village the riverbank was appreciably quiet and we'd a pleasant run back to Hebden.

Hurrying home before the snow

But the sky had darkened, our cameras had difficulty coping with dull conditions and we'd a distinct feeling that snow wasn't very far away.

Less than a mile to go - to a hot drink and a Keelham pork pie!

  It felt wonderful to step back into a warm cottage where, I'm afraid to say we stayed for the remainder of the weekend.

Just a short uphill now...

Not that it was intentional.  We'd planned to do a Sunday morning run but, because it was foggy, decided to fit a new curtain rail in the bedroom first.  The fog duly cleared but I'm afraid it was after lunch before us two fuddy-duddies had mastered the intricacies of our task and got a curtain hanging again.
Next weekend, we'll try to get our priorities right...