#1 - ‘After the Rain Falls' @ Rainby Force

I'm not an adventurer...but I was one this weekend. And I was terrified. 

We pulled up in the pitch black but thankfully without a tent to pitch because we had booked a Mongolian Yurt...fact. 
Driving to Keld in the dark was nothing short of horrifying. I couldn't believe the tyres on my Noddy inspired Fiat 500 were still intact upon arrival. 

Check in was pain free. Host Julia walked us to our yurt which we all ducked into. Felt like a Hobbit for the weekend.  We had our own private shower room / toilet and there was a lovely camper's barn to share with other guests too. 

The selling point for us though was the private access to Rainby Force on the River Swale...

But first, a visit to Britain's highest Inn - Tan Hill. This place, according to my swim buddy, had turned a remarkable corner since his previous visit back in 1989 when he had stumbled in mid-hike (the Pennine Way) and been told that all they could offer was fish fingers and that he should have called ahead. 

Today's offering was white bait, which I would have tried had I been blindfolded. It was the eyes. 

To be honest, it felt like the place had sold out (not of fish fingers) with cabinets full of merch and mostly reserved tables. 

Our 'swim' took place later that day. As we made our way across the camp site from the yurt, swim ready, it started to rain. As we walked down the steps to the river the noise of the waterfall broke through. I was worried and thrilled. The water was rushing and we spotted a further more ominous fall not too far down. It took a while to work out what we felt might be a 'safe' spot for a swim but it involved crossing part of the river. We clambered along the edge to a tree and very slowly made our way across, grasping on to overhanging branches to prevent being pulled along the water by the force of the stream.

Having made it to the other side we realised that if we did swim there it would take us an equally long time to make our return, and we'd probably develop hypothermia in the process so...we backed up. Eventually we plucked up the courage to wade over to the waterfall itself and took some photos to make us look braver than we were.

Running back to the yurt dripping wet was almost as dramatic as attempting to untangle underwear under a dry robe river-side.

Swaledale Yurts...would highly recommend.