Glaisdale to Robin Hoods Bay

The Toll Bar, Egton Bridge

The Sherwood Forrester

The last moor, Graystone Hills

Nearly there: Sarah, Jo's hubby, Chris, Jo and Pete

Robin Hood's Bay

The slipway

Wednesday 17 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 18.5 miles)

Dad’s Army had left early after a buffet breakfast. I didn’t see them again. I, however, enjoyed the best breakfast of the walk: a Whitby kipper.

Peter, whom I’d met in the pub last night, was going to have a leisurely day. After walking from St Bees he was content to finish 15 or 16 miles from Robin Hood’s Bay to take a ride on a stream train operated along the North York Moors Railway, before catching another, conventional, train home.

It must have been raining overnight, the path through Arncliffe Wood was sodden and muddy underfoot; the morning was cool and misty. The woods, as always, were beautiful.

I met a couple of American ladies walking along the old toll road beyond Egton Bridge. They were having a slow walk to Littlebeck and they too were contemplating a ride on the steam railway. They’d thoroughly enjoyed the trail after getting over the shock of the Lake District: they’d found the mountains tough and intimidating.

I’d been surprised how many walkers, foreign and domestic, had apparently done insufficient research and underestimated the demands of the C2C, particularly those of the first few days (I wonder what happened to the Israeli lads…).

When I got to Grosmont I felt I should make some minor concession to the railway mania: I had tea and a scone in the railway café. The 'Sherwood Forrester' was steaming up as I supped my brew. Peter clamber aboard; the ladies dithered over buying tickets and missed the proverbial bus.

The walk up the lane from Grosmont onto Sleights Moor is one last shock to the system: 1:3 in parts and more than a mile long. I was happy to note that I only needed a couple of short “photo stops” before cresting the ridge: much better than my last attempt.

I paused for a break besides the stream at Littlebeck and considered my options. The walk along May Beck is scenic and rewarding. It is one I’ve done several times, not least on my last C2C trip. The path, however, is muddy and veers wildly from the obvious, direct route to the coast. An alternative route to the B1416 and Graystone Hills is available along a single track lane. This option saves 1.5 miles and a lot of mud paddling and bog trotting.

Sad to say, I took the lane.

I met Devon Brian as he emerged on to the road from Sneaton Low Moor. I walked with him across the last moor of the walk, Greystone Hills. The final acres of heather and bog are just as wet and cloying as any met thus far, and the route finding more difficult than most. The Honeymooners breezed past as we came off the moor, the exertions of the trip having taken no discernible toll…

We stopped for a final break on the bench at High Hawsker. Brian walked on ahead after donating much of his packed lunch: he has an eating disorder which, fortunately for me, restricts his diet. I was about to follow when the Aussies and the Manchester Ladies crossed the road.

And so we walked together to the cliff. It was fitting that I should finish the walk with the best of the companions met along the way.

One final surprise: Jo’s husband appeared from the direction of Robin Hood’s Bay fully equipped with champagne and glasses. The Nantwich couple caught up just in time to polish off the dregs.

The last mile of the walk and the subsequent celebration was, as is always the case at the end of a long walk, something of an anti-climax. Still, the half hour session outside the Bay Hotel was entertaining: the Whitby Duo and the Honeymooners were already there. Most were staying overnight.

I said my awkward goodbyes, walked back up the hill and met my lift for home. It had been a good walk.

Urra (Clay Bank Top) to Glaisdale

Tuesday 16 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 19 miles)

Bilsdale

Close-up of Roseberry Topping

The Hand Stone, Round Hill

The Face Stone, Round Hill

The iron stone railway

Fat Betty

Great Fryup Dale Head

Breakfast lived up to Maltkiln House’s standards: more good food in convivial surroundings.

One of the Oxford chaps, nothing if not a purist, insisted on them both retracing their steps to Clay Bank Top before resuming the walk eastwards along the Wainwright route. I was content to take a path from behind Maltkiln House to the intake edge before striking across the moor to regain the conventional course at Round Hill.

I got off to an eight thirty start but only managed to walk a few yards before meeting Mr Broad working in a recently felled plantation: it was pushing nine o’clock when we eventually parted.

It was a cool, dull, but fine and clear day; ideal walking weather. The light had a magical quality for the first hour of the walk, rendering the moor in a subdued pastel shades.

After the initial steep pull onto the tops it was easy going in bleak but splendid surroundings.

I walked alone all day, meeting occasional walkers including a couple of solo hikers heading west to St Bees.

If today’s walk can be criticised it is because it is a little too easy underfoot, particularly after joining the track bed of the old ironstone railway. The walk is familiar, being on across my nearest high ground. It runs across a flat upland plateau with views down into the many valleys which dissects the moor. Whilst the landscapes, sounds and smells of the moor are appealing, the actual walking tends towards the tedious after a few miles.

The long anticipated sight of the Lion Inn on the horizon was welcome indeed. I reached it well before midday. Dad’s Army were already ensconced in the bar. They’d stayed at Great Broughton overnight and had had another early breakfast-free start. They too were heading for Glaisdale.

At the Fat Betty cross I got chatting to a biker out for a blast from South Yorkshire. He’d backpacked the C2C ten years ago and was hankering after a repeat expedition, next time using B&Bs.

I met the Whitby Duo near Great Fryup Head. Dad had had a night at home and had got his knee patched up by his wife, a nurse. After being fed and watered he was again on the trail; hail if not quite hearty. It would have been dreadful to have walked so far and have to retire with the finishing post almost in view.

Rain threatened during the easy but enjoyable hike above Great Fryup Dale and along the long declining ridge north of Glaisdale. It never quite materialised. There was an adder on the road just before the track at Glaisdale Rigg; fresh, but squashed into the tarmac. It was the second adder I’ve seen on the Moors; the previous one was seen basking on a rock in the sunshine on the moor near Goathland a couple of years ago - whilst hardly more animated, that one was somewhat rounder.

I was booked into a very comfy room at the Arncliffe Arms by 16:00 hrs. I’d stayed here years ago when the rooms were small and basic. Now the rooms were large, en-suite, well appointed and warm. The restaurant was probably the best on the walk.

My feet remained blister free.

The clans gathered at the Glaisdale pub for a very agreeable evening: the Aussies, Dad’s Army and the Oxford men were there, together with Peter, an elderly solo walker from the Wirral, and a pleasant couple from Nantwich who I’d met earlier in the day along the old railway, and later in the Lion.

The Aussies had had a very easy day from Blakey Ridge but, true to form, had filled in the afternoon with a walk along much of Eskdale.

The locals must get heartily sick of the C2C banter being replayed by different groups every night of the walking season. I thoroughly enjoyed it…

Accommodation:

Arncliffe Arms

1 Arncliffe Terrace

Glaisdale

N Yorkshire

YO21 2QL

01947 897555

Not the cheapest, but one of the best stops on the route.

Ingleby Cross to Urra (Clay Bank Top)

Monday 15 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 13 miles)

Carlton Moor top towards Cringle Moor

From Cringle Moor towards Roseberry Topping

Carleton Moor from Cringle Moor

Cold Moor

Hasty Bank from Cold Moor

The Wainstones

I was the only C2C walker at breakfast.

Today was another of those crossover days where differing schedules across the Vale of Mowbray and onwards across the moors introduced new faces or impose farewells.

The crossing of the North York Moors to the sea is usually tackled in three days. The topography dictates an itinerary of two long and one short leg. The problem is where to place the short leg. There are possible stopovers in the areas around Clay Bank Top and Blakey Ridge, along the Esk valley between Glaisdale and Grosmont, and, for a half day final leg, at Littlebeck.

The dozen miles along the escarpment of the Cleveland Hills to Clay Bank Top rates alongside the best walking of the entire route: an exhilarating switchback which, despite rising little higher than 1300 feet, has a cumulative ascent of around 2,700 feet. It’s a shame to rush it. The one available on-route accommodation near Clay Bank (albeit with a minor route variation) is at Urra: Maltkiln House - a stopover we’d used on our first Coast to Coast.

It’s another nine miles, a good three hours of easy walking, to the Lion Inn at Blakey Ridge. We’d taken that option on our second C2C: it is a long way, but at this stage of the holiday, with increased fitness levels, is comfortably achievable, with the advantage of leaving an easy penultimate day to the Grosmont area.

I’d booked accommodation at Urra: it was the short day for me today, followed by longer days to Glaisdale and the sea.

By 09:00hrs I was walking steeply uphill through the forest to Beacon Hill. I passed the Whitby Duo on the long pull up to the Cleveland Way path from where there were magnificent, if somewhat hazy, views across the plain east towards the Pennines and northwards along the line of the escarpment towards Middlesbrough…from this distance not at all hideous.

I caught up with the Aussies and the Manchester Ladies at a bench above Scugdale. They were slacking, taking an early breather; all had had a long day yesterday, bless ‘em. We walked in a loose group to the Lord Stones café at Carlton Bank, Jo giving another impressive demonstration on “How to climb hills quickly without getting out of puff”.

I’d heard about the Honeymooners. I first met them when they arrived at the café; she with tight shorts and long, tanned legs: another reason to celebrate the improved weather. They’d married in the Registry Office at Whitehaven, the driver of the taxi from Ennerdale Bridge had acted as a witness. The Coast to Coast walk was the honeymoon.

The others were walking to the Lion Inn at Blakey Ridge so I waved them on their way whilst I settled down to enjoy a rare (for me) chip butty, followed by a slow walk to Urra.

The Whitby Duo called at the café. Dad was looking somewhat crestfallen. His knee was playing up and it seemed he would walk no further than Clay Bank Top where they were being picked up for a night at home in Whitby. The son intended to complete the walk solo.

The remaining miles were magnificent. Hasty Bank rates as my favourite “little hill”. I remember being there one day, shortly after I’d hiked the Pennine Way; the air was crystal clear and the long purple line of the Pennines was arrayed on the horizon. On that day the golf ball shaped radar installation on the summit of Great Dun Fell and the nearby Cross Fell were clearly visible.

It wasn’t quite that clear today, but the swallows, hunting insects and playing on the thermals above the precipice, made this afternoon’s hill-top sojourn just as memorable.

I’d glimpsed some sort of large raptor on the col beneath the Wainstones. My first thoughts were that it might have been a Red Kite, although I’ve not read of them being in this area: it was more probably a buzzard.

I met Brian on Hasty Bank. He was a solo walker from Devon characterised by an immense map case and, despite using a baggage transfer service, a grossly overfilled rucksack – if you needed anything from a needle to a bivi bag there was at least one in Brian’s bag. His main hobby was letterboxing on Dartmoor (nothing sexual, it’s a cross between treasure hunting and orienteering apparently). Brian is a fortunate soul; a bookkeeper by trade who finds his work interesting, challenging and stimulating. A kindred spirit…

The mile or so from Clay Bank Top to Urra was along footpaths, at first paralleling the road, then by way of a short steep-sided valley. Although I’d had a lazy afternoon I still arrived at Maltkiln House before four to a warm and genuine welcome. On our first visit in 1994 the Broads had just started their business. They had photographed us then, along with their other early guests: my early incarnation, along with that of Rita, and our American friends Laurie, Larry and Lita, was still displayed in a rouges gallery by the entrance.

My room at Maltkiln House was on the first floor. The floor was shared with a guest lounge and a bathroom – almost a little flat. I was joined in the lounge by a personable and interesting couple, Kate and Peter (he a retired Bank Manager) from Stratford. They were currently walking the Cleveland Way but had walked many of the English long distance walks. Included in past honours was a walk along the Yorkshire Wolds Way, a rare distinction.

Dinner was an enjoyable and sociable affair. Mr Broad went through his well rehearsed mini-lecture on the history and archaeology of the area before a splendid three course dinner. Another couple of C2Cers were staying, an apparently ill-matched pair of men from Oxford: or perhaps they just enjoyed arguing and correcting each other at every turn. They’d had a longer then expected day having walked to Urra from Lovesome Hill on the A167: about twenty miles. The route planner got some stick from his mate…

It was an entertaining evening.

Accommodation:

Maltkiln House

Urra

Chop Gate

Middlesbrough

N Yorkshire

TS9 7HZ

01642 778216

Malkiln House is a highly recommended stopover: quirky, comfortable, unique.

Catterick Bridge to Ingleby Cross

Sunday 14 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 19 miles)

The Jenkins Memorial, Bolton-on-Swale

Breakfast lived up to St Giles Farm’s exacting standards. I was on my feet by 08:45hrs for the long slog to Ingleby Cross and walked intermittently with the Pilots.

If there is any section of the C2C that has to be sacrificed due to lack of time or funds this has got to be it. It’s not a bad walk, but: the terrain is flat and unexciting, the land is intensively farmed, there’s much too much tarmac and it’s a very long way. Compared with the rest of the walk it’s just …ordinary. As a counterbalance to the remainder of the way however (and as an illustration of vast areas of lowland, rural England) it works.

The last vestiges of the hills are lost after the path drops to the river to pass under the A1. The Swale was swollen and the paths remained wet and muddy.

After more soggy fields beyond Bolton-on-Swale a long, tedious section of road walking ensues. I saw Dad’s Army ahead: they went right at the road; we went left. Whilst walking alone near Streetlam my MP3 player was deployed for the first time: Kate Rusby serenaded me into Danby Wiske.

When I first came this way the White Swan at Danby Wiske was the hub of neighbourhood life and enterprise, servicing the needs of locals and visitors alike. Sadly it has gone into decline. At 12:15hrs on a Sunday lunchtime I was the only customer. Later a former regular told me that one or more of the recent licensees, lacking the flair of the former incumbent, had had too great a fondness for their own wares. I hope the place eventually gets the management it deserves.

Dad’s Army arrived as I was leaving 45 minutes later. They’d forsaken breakfast for a very early start from Richmond and were heading for Ingleby Cross.

After Oaktree Hill, on the Darlington to Northallerton road, more appealing surroundings are encountered: the Cleveland Hills loom ever closer, the road walking ends, the aerials on Beacon Hill gain definition and Roseberry Topping appears away to the north. Soon, after cheating death crossing the A19 duel carriageway, I was sat outside the Blue Bell enjoying a long, cold drink.

I had reached Ingleby Cross at 16:15hrs, footsore but blister free. The Aussies walked by shortly afterwards. They’d hiked the 23 miles from Richmond and had another couple of miles to go. Despite the distance they looked well, if disappointed to find the bar temporarily closed. After an exchange of gossip off they trotted up the hill towards Osmotherly.

The Manchester Ladies and Dad’s Army were in the pub for supper. The Ladies were lively and entertaining company with contrasting personalities and physiques. Jo, slim and athletic, had determined to tackle the C2C before emailing friends for a volunteer companion. Sarah might have regretted accepting the challenge of an eleven day crossing, including several 20-mile-plus days, and forever following in the wake of her friend’s impressive uphill progress.

I had developed a respect for Dad’s Army (I never did learn their real names). Captain Mainwaring was plump, recently retired and, apart from a few training walks, admitted to little outdoors expertise. His companion, pushing seventy, had more extensively rambling experience. They weren’t fast walkers but possessed a dogged determination to complete each day’s walk in full. Dad’s Army cheerfully missed breakfasts for early starts and were content to finish at whenever time it took. And, in a dour sort of way, they kept smiling (or was that a grimace?).

Everyone had drifted to their respective lodgings by nine. I was in bed by ten.

Accommodation:

The Blue Bell Inn

Ingleby Cross

Northallerton

N Yorkshire

DL6 3NF

01609 882272

The rooms at the Blue Bell are in an adjoining annex with the satisfying breakfast being served in the pub. The accommodation is comfortable, with en-suite shower rooms, but is decoratively tired.

Reeth to Catterick Bridge

Saturday 13 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 15 miles)

Reeth

Below Applegarth Scar

Swale Falls, Richmond

Richmond

Breakfast was scheduled for 08:30hrs. I was in the dinning room ten minutes early to get a head start. The meal was fine but unexceptional. No other walkers were staying.

I was scheduled to walk to St Giles Farm, near Catterick Bridge today. The extra miles, added to the otherwise short day to Richmond, would reduce the near marathon crossing of the Vale of Mowbray the following day to a much more manageable 19 miles.

It had been raining steadily since yesterday tea time; it was still raining at 09:15hrs when I left the pub kitted out in full wet weather gear. Keen to keep dry feet I stayed on tarmac as far as Marrick Priory. I spotted Gavin and Kathy, braver or more reckless than me, on the riverside path: we didn’t meet up again.

A couple of women walkers, Jo and Sarah from Manchester, caught me up at Marrick after the steep climb up the Nun’s Steps. I was dumping my waterproofs in response to the improving day. The Manchester Ladies were aiming for an eleven day crossing, having walked from Kirkby Stephen to Reeth the previous day (and having walked between Borrowdale and Patterdale in one hop ). Like everyone else but me they were heading for Richmond and a lazy afternoon. We walked together for much of the way to the Applegarth farms.

The two American couples were in Marske emerging into daylight from the innards of the church: they were hunting for a tea room promised in their guide (I could have triggered a scone obsession yesterday). They seemed to be enjoying the walk although the elder male was suffering with a strained, painful knee. It was the last time I saw them: they were taking two days to cross from Richmond to Ingleby Cross.

The Geezers were in an enclosure not too far from the path climbing walls and gates to regain the route. They were meeting up with family in Richmond for a couple of rest days. Richmond is another of those places where schedules diverge and familiar faces disappear.

I was in Richmond by 13:15hrs: it was bustling. The little town felt almost metropolitan after the seclusion of the past nine days. I needed nothing so was happy to walk on through.

The path through the woods - next to the Swale, beyond the malodorous sewage works - is as wet and muddy as any on the entire route. The way hovers in entertaining fashion high above the river, before leaving the trees on a high buff on the approach to an abandoned farmstead. I paused for a break, sitting on one of several large masonry blocks marking the otherwise scant remains of Hagg Farm.

It was a tranquil spot - until three youths turned up on scrambler bikes. Round in circles they went, mounting the foundations of the ruin, doing occasional wheelies and causing general mayhem. I went into grumpy old man mode, muttering and grumbling under my breath and spreading my possessions to limit their range. I savoured the moment when the engine of one of the bikes grounded on concrete with a satisfying crunch.

I was just a little humbled when, without irony, one of the lads apologised for disturbing my peace before they all rode off and serenity returned.

Just before St Giles Farm I chatted to a couple walking to St Bees: I warned them about the dusty, parched paths ahead - apparently it had been dry on the North York Moors too...

I got to the farm for 15:30hrs and was welcomed with tea, a chat and cake, before being shown to my large, comfy room. A couple of blokes arrived later, followed by two couples walking with dogs. All had set out from Reeth that morning.

Supper was a satisfying, enjoyable affair. The two blokes were Mersey River Pilots walking the route in two and three day chunks as shift patterns and domestic considerations allowed: they made good and interesting company. The dog walkers went to the pub.

After messing up a Sudoko I was asleep by eleven.

Accommodation:

St. Giles Farm
Catterick Bridge
Richmond
N Yorkshire
DL10 7PH
01748 811372

St Giles shares the “best B&B award” with a couple of other stops. It offers excellent accommodation, terrific food and has welcoming, interesting hosts. It is ideally situated to break the two stages between Reeth and Ingleby Cross into more equal bits.

Keld to Reeth

Friday 12 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 13 miles)

Keld

Swaledale near Crackpot Hall

Ivelet Bridge

Meadows near Gunnerside

Walltop path, near Isles Bridge

Reeth

It was an excellent and interesting breakfast. I’d seen a low flying helicopter during supper last night. This morning the craft was parked in a field behind the hotel. I was stowed next to the driver. An interesting chap he was too: ex-army. He had an arrangement with the owner of the aircraft whereby he rented it from him when it wasn’t needed. He used the helicopter down time for what amounted to a high class cab business.

The pilot had ferried a Banker (I’m sure that’s the spelling) up from London last night and was flying back to the smoke later in the day. Taxiing shooting parties up to the northern moors was a regular earner apparently.

It could have been half-way blues, but I felt a little bit off colour today: nothing specific or uncomfortable, just not quite on form. I decided to take the easier, more scenic, valley route and was away by 09:15 hours, passing the Whitby Duo leaving their digs in the hamlet. The day was again fair and made for an easy walk down the dale.

All along Swaledale there were hundreds of dead rabbits. It was obvious that many were miximatosis victims; another thought was that the saturated and recently flooded ground had left some animals vulnerable to hyperthermia and disease.

Gunnerside’s Tea Rooms provided the opportunity for a welcome mid morning scone and Earl Grey. I got the distinct impression, however, that the proprietor wasn’t too keen on muddy, scruffy hikers loitering outside her wannabe genteel establishment. No more encouragement was needed; I took my time over the snack, watching the world go by and chatting amiably to her more refined customers.

When I eventually prised myself out of the seat and walked round the corner to find the path, I bumped into the two, thirsty looking, soil encrusted, American couples last seen at Shap. We swapped greetings before I pointed them in the direction of the Tea Rooms: one likes to help local enterprise…

The remainder of the walk to Reeth was pleasant and largely uneventful; the paths were very wet and occasionally flooded; the wall-top path, near to Isles Bridge, was as entertaining as ever; the ford at Barney Beck was high and impossible to negotiate dry-footed. There was one nasty little sting to the day: a heavy, cold, twenty minute long shower; just enough to rehydrate drying trods.

On the outskirts of Reeth I met the Aussies: they’d walked from Muker along the river to Gunnerside, there following the beck to join the high route at Bunton Hush. We arranged to meet later in the pub.

After booking into the Buck at around 15:30hrs, I showered, changed and went for a wander around Reeth. It didn’t take long. When the rain started I made my way back to the Buck and logged into their internet connection. Whilst sat in the bar a procession of familiar faces filed through the village.

I had something of a pub crawl later, visiting all the hostelries and chatting with the Aussies and Gavin and Kathy. Later, back at the Buck with Gavin, I ordered and paid for my customary non-alcoholic lager. It was only when I got back to the table that I realised I’d been given a Mackison Stout: it would have been currish to take it back – it tasted rather like liquid liquorish.

After the booze it was bed: I slept the sleep of the just.

Accomodation:

Buck Hotel
Reeth
N Yorkshire
DL11 6SW
01748 884210


The Buck was fine, if somewhat pricey – the most expensive of the trip. The room was comfortable but tired.

Kirkby Stephen to Keld

Thursday 11 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 12 miles)

The Aussies, Peter & Christine, at Nine Standards

Nine Standards Rigg

Kirkby Stephen from Nine Standards

Whitsundale

Ravenseat

Wain Wath Force

Breakfast dispelled my initial impression that the hostess was somewhat remote: perhaps she’d had an off day yesterday. The meal was good and eaten round a single large table with Gavin, from London, and his Canadian girlfriend, Kathy; together with a single, non-walking, guest. Gavin and Kathy had had a couple of days off, but were walking today over to Keld Lodge.

I started walking at about 09:15hrs on a bright, cool, dry morning and made good progress by Fell House on to the open moor. I knew Nine Standards was going to be wet; on my last visit to the hill, in early August 2008, the bogs had been epic – it was much wetter this year. I’d half considered following the bad weather route: staying with the bridleway and dropping down to the road from Nateby, but that seemed like cheating: anyway, the day was improving. Over the hill I went.

I’d read that Julia Bradbury (God bless her little, cotton, walking socks) was following up her “Wainwright Walks” series for BBC4 with a series documenting the Coast to Coast Walk. It was only after chatting with someone that I realised that the “striking young woman” in the Black Bull last night was her. Bugger…

I was quite pleased with my progress; much quicker than my last visit, with few, if any, stops during the long pull to the summit. Whilst congratulating myself I spotted the Aussies trotting up the hill behind me and rapidly closing the gap. Pretty fit them there Aussies! They caught me up at the big cairns.

The views from the top were good and extensive, but perhaps a shade hazier than they'd been on my last visit. We were soon joined by others, including the Geezers and the Whitby duo. It was very, very damp, with frequent and entertaining bog hopping. The groups leapfrogged each other for much of the rest of the day.

I can’t better the description of the descent towards Swaledale than that of last August; “The walk down Whitsun Dale is muddy; in places a morass of semi-liquid peat. The surroundings are sombre, lonely and magnificent”.

We stopped for an alfresco tea and scone at Ravenseat. What a splendid spot for a tea break. The farmer’s wife was busy serving a steadily growing collection of mud streaked refugees from the tops. She was friendly and chatty. Yet more Julia gossip: she was filming in the barn tomorrow (Ravenseat’s wet weather café).

After the farm the dale gets greener, softer and ever more striking; the Dales at their brilliant best. I was at Keld Lodge by about 15:30hrs. The Aussies were walking another two or three miles to their B&B at Muker. Never to be accused of taking the easy option, I later learnt that they had forsaken the riverside path for the much higher, rougher, but superb Pennine Way route via Thwaite.

Whatever one might think of the YHA selling their Keld Hostel, its successor, although not cheap, is very good indeed, with an excellent bar, restaurant and comfortable rooms. The early finish left plenty of time for a laundry session, utilising the Lodge’s drying room, and a snooze before a memorable meal.

The Geezers and Gavin and Kathy were also resident, together with other C2C walkers not previously encountered. I lingered after supper over a non-alcoholic lager or two, chatting with Gavin before retiring to a comfortable bed and a good night’s kip.

Accommodation:

Keld Lodge
Keld
Richmond
N Yorkshire
DL11 1LL
01748 886259


Despite my prejudices against the YHA’s decision to sell the building, Keld Lodge is very good, if a bit pricey. The owners also now own and operate Butt House. Although Butt House is run as a separate business they have something approaching a monopoly of accommodation provision in the hamlet; an important crossroads of Long Distant Paths.

Shap to Kirkby Stephen

Wednesday 10 September 2008
(Walking Distance: 21 miles)

Crosby Ravensworth Fell

Orton and the Howgills

Rayseat Pike

Smardale Bridge

Four Americans (one half of the younger couple perhaps being a child of the senior pair) had arrived at Brookfield at around 19:00hrs last night. They were the only other guests and were walking to Ravenstonedale today, but were going all the way to Keld the next. They seemed in good spirits but one commented, “It’s a shame England’s excess of water can’t be exported to California”. We do seem to have a surplus this year…again.

The breakfast was by far the best to date: porridge, omelette and fresh fruit.

I was away by 08:45hrs, in dry, cloudy weather, taking the track at the side of Brookfield, under the main west coast railway line, to regain the route at the M6 footbridge. Shap is at about the one third along the C2C. Together with the road and railway, the Shapfell lime works and associated quarry completes the unholy trinity of the everyday and humdrum; a now accustomed tranquillity is regained at Oddendale.

Today’s was an enjoyable hike in perfect walking weather: dry, warm, but not too hot or humid. The underfoot conditions were still wet, however. I’ve heard and read others’ opinions that this section is tedious and boring. How could that possibly be with the immense vistas back to the Lakes and over to the Howgills, Wild Boar Fell and Cross Fell and the North Pennines? All that and stone circles too…

I met up with the Aussies before Oddendale and we walked together for the remainder of the day. At some point near Robin Hood’s Grave I was expounding on the increased dangers of accidents on less challenging ground, where concentration might wane: on cue, I slipped, falling on my bum, landing in an inelegant heap; my only fall of the walk.

In the planning stage I’d considered following an approximation of Wainwright’s original 1972 route over Beacon Hill, Great Aisby Scar and Castle Folds to Sunbiggin Tarn; there taking a course around the north of the tarn to Rayseat Pike and along to the current standard route at Ewefell Mire. Below Beacon Hill, however, we opted for the usual way, bypassing Orton and using soggy field paths to Sunbiggin Tarn. It was too long a walk to Kirkby Stephen to risk reasonable progress on uncharted ground.

We met up with the Geezers and walked together to the Gamelands stone circle where we stopped for a break. Later, for the first time, we met a father and son; an agreeable, if somewhat reserved pair, from near Whitby.

At the tarn we became a little bit more adventurous, opting to forsake the long road walk for Wainwright’s original route across the moor. The Geezers, after some discussion, followed us around the tarn, but wandered off on a different bearing into the mushy wilderness. If there was a path in Wainwright’s time it isn’t there now – or at least we didn’t find it. The going wasn’t too bad though and, reaching the prominent long cairn at Rayseat Pike, a faint trod materialised.

On rejoining the standard route, at the crossing of the Mazon Wath Lane, the Geezers were storming down the hill towards us. I’ve still not fathomed how they came to be walking down the lane from the north, when they were last seen heading south at Sunbiggin.

There’s a trap after Bents Farm: the route leaves the right of way, which continues on to Crosby Garrett. We nearly fell in. The Whitby Duo were walking a couple of hundred yards ahead and missed the turnoff to Smardale. Deep in conversation we trotted along the same route. Fortunately, the previously navigationally challenged Geezers were close behind and whistled us back on course; the Duo were less lucky and went seriously off route – the last thing needed on an already long day.

We had a late lunch at the wonderful Packhorse Bridge at Smardale, set in a secluded valley traversed only by paths and a long abandoned railway and surrounded by ancient mounds and earthworks.

Once atop Smardale Fell the cairns on tomorrow’s first objective of Nine Standards Rigg were clearly visible. The walk down to Kirkby Stephen was long but easy in pleasant surroundings, enlivened by an enormous, if placid, bull in a pasture. I felt Peter pushed his luck when he advanced towards it, camera in hand, for a close-up.

We arrived in Kirkby Stephen at 17:15hrs after a walk usually given as 21 miles: the deviation to Rayseat Pike added to the quality and variety of the day and might have knocked a mile off that distance, but with little saving in time and the cost of extra effort. I was pleased to find myself only mildly footsore, in good spirits and blister free.

My accommodation at Redmayne was in a beautiful, rambling old house. Whilst the welcome felt a little distant and remote, the facilities were good: the room was large and comfortable and tea, with excellent cake, materialised in the lounge.

I met the Aussies in the Black Bull for a very good supper: the beer looked good too. The pub was deservedly busy with both walkers and civilians. I half noticed a group of perhaps eight or ten, mainly young people, sat on one side of the room. They were enjoying an easy rapport, chatting and laughing. One was a thin, striking young woman, with vaguely south European looks. If I paid them any attention at all I assumed they were on some sort of Outward Bound course.

Dad’s Army were in the bar with a chap who’d been walking with his dog. The dog had had to retire with blisters after being ferried by a compliant, non-walking, spouse to the Vet at Penrith. She’s driven over from South Yorkshire for the privilege.

Dad’s Army had got to Shap without undue incident the previous day. I think it was they that confirmed that the Canadian ladies arrived safely at Shap after walking over the High Street ridge, but were very late and had got a taxi from Burnbanks. The ladies had only intended walking to Orton today: pity we’d never got round to exchanging email addresses, I’d like to know how they fared later.

After a long but satisfying walk I retired to bed shortly after ten.

Accommodation:

Redmayne House
Silver Street
Kirkby Stephen
Cumbria
CA17 4RB
017683 71441

Redmayne is a comfortable stop in a beautiful Georgian House. The rooms were large and comfortable and the food was fine.

Patterdale to Shap

Tuesday 9 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 16 miles)

Ulswater from around Boredale Hause

Christine (half of the Aussies) and your man, at Angle Tarn

Haweswater in the rain from Measand End

Breakfast provided the necessary sustenance for the day, but little by way of pleasure.

Dad’s Army were set for the long walk around the High Street ridge along the shore of Ulswater and over to Shap by way of Askham and the Lowther valley. We’d used the same way on our first Coast to Coast walk for much the same reason: a foul weather forecast. Today though, as on our last C2C, it was to be the high route albeit, on this occasion, by way of a variation on Wainwright’s suggested path.

Patterdale is one of the places on the walk where differing schedules impact on the faces seen along the trail. Some take three days for the walk over to Kirkby Stephen, others two. Furthermore, a few walk over to Patterdale from Rosthwaite in one session instead of the two taken by the majority. The Californians and the Canadians weren't seen again.

I left Patterdale in the company of the Aussies, Christine and Peter, shortly after nine. The rain had just begun to fall. They’d been a loose arrangement to meet up with the Canadian ladies, but we assumed they’d either gone on ahead or would catch up later.

The conditions deteriorated as height was gained. When the ridge was crested, at the Straights of Riggendale, visibility was limited to twenty metres or less. The rain was driven into any exposed flesh by ferocious winds. Only once did the curtain of mist momentarily part to reveal the deep trench of Riggendale.

I’d decided in the planning stage that I didn’t want to repeat the steep descent from Kidsty Pike and the interminable trudge along Haweswater. Instead the drop to Measand End, a mile or so south west of the Haweswater dam, via High Raise and Low Raise looked more attractive. There isn’t a path recorded on the Ordinance Survey map. I knew, however, from internet diaries and forums (Sherpa and Walking Places), that a faint track exists on the ground.

In daunting, cold conditions we started along the clear path to the rocky, 2631' summit of High Raise (73' higher than Kidsty Pike). With the stony ground in the vicinity of the summit and the poor visibility it proved impossible to locate the beginning of the track down to Low Raise. We took a bearing over the rough and occasionally wet terrain, once or twice confirming our position by GPS.

I must confess to a fleeting doubt about the prudence of leaving the established route to Haweswater. After a half mile trudge across the trackless moor, however, we happened on the promised track: two shallow, parallel depressions in the ground heading along our bearing. The path guided us to the big cairn on Low Raise and thence, down the declining ridge, towards Measand End.

We passed an area of peat hags. Les Brunskill, at my Shap B&B, later told me that the track originated to service diggings on the moor when peat was taken for fuel. He remembered the moor was still being harvested in his youth.

Suddenly Haweswater appeared out of the gloom. After a short, sharp descent we followed the beck, passing the waterfalls, and onto the Haweswater shore. In stark contrast to the conditions on the hill the lake shore was still and calm. The rain, however, remained constant and heavy.

Burnbanks was built in the thirties by Manchester Corporation as a model village for the workers constructing the dam. It was redeveloped a couple of years ago, the houses remaining faithful to the original design; the prices for the remodelled homes, however, when checked during my last visit to the area in March, were well beyond this worker’s price range. We sat on the bench next to the ‘phone box eating a soggy snack before the final push to Shap. I wonder if the residents can get a Council Tax reduction…

I’d never walked between Burnbanks and Shap Abbey before. On previous C2Cs we’d stayed at Bampton Grange. Although the way appears intricate and complicated on the map, today it was merely a case of following the distinct, muddy trail through the pastures and woods.

It was along this stretch that we first met the Geezers, a couple of men, one with a strong London accent, powering along the trail. After a brief exchange they disappeared over a crest, only to be spied half a mile later trying to regain the path from an adjacent field.

The final miles of the day became a bit of a plod in the rain. My boots gave up any semblance of water resistance. The jacket design had long since been probed for weaknesses and found lacking. Shap Abbey was a welcome late highlight.

I left the Aussies in the village at about 17:00hrs and went looking for my digs. Brookfield House is the last house in Shap. On the long walk down the village it could be mistaken for the first house in Kendal.

The welcome at Brookfield was efficient and thorough. I was directed to the yard to swill the mud off my waterproofs, deprived of my wet clothing and shown my room, a free upgrade to a large, comfortable, en-suite double. After a shower my mucky washing was handed over for laundering and I settled in the lounge for cake and tea.

I watched the local news on TV: the flooding in Gosport had got worse...

The nearby Greyhound provided a tasty supper before I settled down for a great nights sleep. It had been the toughest day so far.

Accommodation:

Brookfield House
Shap
CA10 3PZ

01931 716397

The Brookfield has got to be just about the best value accommodation on the walk. Large comfortable bedrooms, an excellent lounge, terrific food and a drying and laundry service combine to make this a "must have" stop.