Snowed In at Britain's Highest Pub: A Four-Day Adventure in the Yorkshire Dales
In the realm of reporting, few tales capture the public imagination quite like the story of being snowed in at a remote pub. For journalist Robyn Vinter, this became a reality during an early January snowstorm at the Tan Hill Inn, nestled high on the northern edge of the Yorkshire Dales National Park. What began as a professional assignment swiftly transformed into an unforgettable communal experience, blending camaraderie with chaos.
The Call to the Wilderness
As the Met Office issued severe snow warnings, Vinter recognised an opportunity to document a quintessentially British fantasy: being stranded at a local pub during a blizzard. She packed her bags and enlisted Guardian photographer Gary Calton, heading towards the Tan Hill Inn, Britain's highest pub. Within hours of their arrival, fat snowflakes began to fall from the night sky, signalling the start of a four-day ordeal.
Inside the pub, drinks flowed freely as locked-in customers embraced the novelty of their situation. Laughter echoed through the cosy interior, but by 8pm, reality set in: the road was closing, and anyone not planning to stay faced a treacherous escape. For Vinter and Calton, it was too dark and risky to leave, sealing their fate as involuntary guests.
Communal Living and Sleepless Nights
Securing the last two beds available, Vinter found herself in a room of bunkbeds shared with half a dozen inebriated men, their wet socks adding to the less-than-ideal sleeping conditions. Despite the discomfort, the next few days fostered a unique bond among strangers from around the world. They ate together, joked, played games, and even organised a mass snowball fight and disco. One fellow guest described it as "one of the best times of my entire life", highlighting the unexpected joy found in adversity.
Amidst the revelry, Vinter struggled to maintain her professional duties. Filing stories proved challenging with the constant background noise of antics, and the pub's small size offered no escape for solitude. She resorted to pretending to need the toilet just to steal moments of personal space, a testament to the overwhelming nature of communal confinement.
The Perilous Escape
On the fourth morning, news arrived that a snowplough was en route, but timing was tight. Harsh winds whipped snow back over the roads as quickly as they were cleared. After digging their car out, Vinter and Calton joined a convoy of vehicles attempting to leave. With Calton shouting directions like a rally co-driver, Vinter navigated steep, winding roads with sheer drops, experiencing eerie skids on the treacherous terrain.
Despite winter tyres costing £300, their efforts proved insufficient. The car slid downhill, landing with a dull crunch on a snow bank, wheels spinning helplessly. Stranded miles from help, they realised they had left the snow shovel at the pub. Using gloved hands and a camera tripod, they spent an hour freeing the vehicle, a gruelling task in the freezing conditions.
Return to Civilization and Reflection
Reaching gritted roads felt almost spooky, as they encountered ordinary people going about their daily lives. The car juddered violently from the crash damage, but with a deadline looming, they had to find a place to file their work. Ironically, they ended up in another pub to complete their tasks. Exhausted, sweaty, and with shaking hands, Vinter penned her final Tan Hill Inn story, which later earned a place in the annual Bedside Guardian book.
This bizarre experience serves as a sweet memento of resilience and human connection. While Vinter recommends the adventure for its unique camaraderie, she admits that in future snowstorms, she won't be rushing back to the pub. The tale stands as a reminder of how nature can forge unexpected bonds, even in the most challenging circumstances.
