Coast to Coast Revisited

Random Thoughts

2009-01-03T15:36:00.000-08:00

There are many extended walks in the UK, some just as scenic and varied as the Coast to Coast Walk. None, however, have its sociability: the camaraderie between hikers, from diverse ages, backgrounds and nationalities, is beguiling and addictive. The mix is magical. My third crossing was just as enjoyable as the previous two.

Despite the multiple crossings the bug has not yet been laid to rest. I’ll be back for another go before I finally pop my clogs (all being well), but not just yet awhile.

The stages were about right.

The Borrowdale to Patterdale section could be walked in one day, but why rush through the Lakes? It’s much too good.

On a future attempt I would consider adding an extra day between Patterdale and Kirkby Stephen, as I’d done on the earlier walks, if time permitted (Patterdale – Bampton Grange – Orton – Kirkby Stephen). The chosen itinerary, although tiring, wasn’t too demanding though.

The master stroke was the overnight at St. Giles Farm, near Catterick Bridge. I’d no compelling reason to stay at Richmond, fascinating as it is. By walking through the town I equalised what would otherwise have been an overly short leg from Reeth, followed by a near marathon day to Ingleby Cross.

The other route conundrum lies between Ingleby Cross and Eskdale. The accommodation opportunities dictate days of disparate length: whether to stop near Clay Bank Top or press on to the Lion Inn at Blakey Ridge?

Of the Clay Bank alternatives (Urra, Chop Gate or Great Broughton) Urra demands the least diversion from the established route, without disrupting the flow of the walk. Maltkiln House is also a very good B&B. The disadvantages, however, are the two longish days to Robin Hoods Bay (but at this point of the proceedings the extra miles come easily).

Pressing on to the Lion Inn involves rushing the delectable Cleveland Hills escarpment, but has the reward of well-spaced walks to the coast. Pay your money and take you choice…

Of the B&Bs all were good in their individual ways and there’s nowhere I wouldn’t happily stay again. Of special note are the aforementioned St Giles Farm and Maltkiln House, together with Gillercombe at Rosthwaite and Brookfield House at Shap.

I used the Coast to Coast Packhorse service and found them to be quietly efficient and well worth the modest cost. Apart from a couple of particularly short days, my bag beat me to the B&B.

I was pleased with my physical performance: no back or foot problems of note and all the walks were well within my reserves of stamina and strength. Don’t rely on the exercise for long-term weight loss though. Even if you can resist the daily breakfast fry-ups the enhanced appetite persists well beyond the boots being ditched: any modest loss is quickly squandered in the following weeks of indolence.

Glaisdale to Robin Hoods Bay

2008-11-10T15:04:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-10T11:40:00.000-08:00

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)

2008-11-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-09T15:39:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-08T14:51:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-07T13:50:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-05T14:00:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-01T14:47:00.000-07:00

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.

Grasmere to Patterdale

2008-09-30T15:39:00.000-07:00

Monday 8 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 9 miles)

Tongue Gill & the Vale of Grasmere

Waterfall, Tongue Gill

Grisedale Tarn

Dawn & Lesley, "The Canadians", Grisedale

Striding Edge

Grisedale

Nearing Patterdale

Breakfast at the Glenthorne was reminiscent of meals in a Youth Hostel – but the food wasn’t as good. I half expected to be asked to give a hand with the washing-up.

I ate with the Canadians, sharing the table with an ancient, half deaf, couple. The lady reminded me of Jilly Cooper’s imagined granny: upper class, talkative, likeable and scatter brained. Dad’s Army were also staying. They confirmed the details of their adventure above Black Sail and admitted to have been rather shaken by the experience: the terrain was proving harsher than their Cotswolds training ground.

Breakfast was late and slow. It was 09:30hrs by the time I left Glenthorne and, after a saunter through Grasmere, was on the Patterdale track beside Tongue Gill by 10:00hrs. The weather was fine, dry and clear, other than occasional mist drifting on and off the high tops.

It’s a long pull up to Grisedale Tarn along the good, clear and, unusually for this trip, dry path. I’ve been on this track many times over the years, on more than one occasion being under-flown by RAF jets, but it is always a grand parade.

I sat at the tarn for a break. For a few magical minutes I had the place to myself, before being joined by a Geordie lad out for a morning’s exercise from his current home in Penrith. I was on my second cup of strong, tepid instant Nescafe before being joined by the Canadians. Inexplicably they declined my offer of a cuppa: obviously British Columbians don’t know good coffee when they see, or smell, it…

We debated which route to take to Patterdale. Although I didn’t fancy Helvellyn and Striding Edge, a walk along the St Sunday Crag ridge had seemed appealing from the comfort of my armchair. The day was now fine, clear and dry, not too hot with only a light breeze: perfect conditions for a high level walk. Off we headed down the valley.

I had never appreciated the extent of the rivalry, not to say animosity, between Canadians and Americans; it makes the competition between the English and, err, well…I guess most anybody else, seem positively friendly. To my ear, and I suspect that of the majority of British people, North America accents are just that: North American. To take the issue of nationality beyond doubt Dawn and Lesley had large Canadian flags sewn to the top of their rucksacks.

Living near the border with the USA and having to make frequent visits across it, the random vagaries, not to say ignorant bloody mindedness, of Homeland Security personnel in recent years has done nothing to improve the assessment of their neighbours.

I wandered ahead before Ruthwaite Lodge and took the wilder path on the north of the beck. The valley route might not be as grand as the high level alternatives but it’s still a tremendous walk. Where the path joins the one to Striding Edge I met an elderly Australian (that is to say older than me) resting beside the track after climbing Helvellyn. We walked together to Patterdale; strangers enjoying a few moments of companionship in a shared enjoyment of the hills.

I beat my bag to the White Lion. I was in Patterdale well before 15:00hrs, enjoying the luxury of a long, cold drink whilst quietly perusing the papers. It had been wet over the past few days apparently; flooding in Gosport…

I was back in the bar for a very tasty trout supper by 19:00 hrs. I was beaten to the table by the Canadians, the Aussies and Dad’s Army. The Aussies compounded my guilt by extolling the quality and grandeur of their visit to St Sunday Crag.

The weather forecast for tomorrow was for yet more rain. There was some debate as to which route to take. Dad’s Army were adamant that it would be foolhardy to go over the High Street ridge – the fright above Ennerdale was still fresh in their minds – everyone else decided on the high route and agreed to meet at nine.

Accommodation:

The White Lion Inn
Patterdale
Penrith
Cumbria
CA11 0NW
017684 82214

The White Lion room was cramped, scruffy and expensive. The pub, company and supper were excellent, but the chef obviously wasn’t working in the morning when the breakfast was, at best, adequate.

Rosthwaite to Grasmere

2008-09-30T12:36:00.001-07:00

Sunday 7 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 9 miles)

Eagle Crag and Greenup Gill

Far Easedale Head

Easedale

Easedale and Helm Crag

The breakfast was the best so far: both for the food on offer and the company.

The Aussies, Christine and Peter, were staying at Gillercombe. They’d been walking with their daughter and her husband, who were also over from Australia and were walking the first few days before taking off to Ireland. They’d also met up with English friends who were accompanying them today. They’d had a good day yesterday with no real problems.

Three Californian ladies, half of a party of six, were also staying. They were a wonderful source of gossip.

It seems that the Israeli lads were struggling yesterday and the American ladies had had to help and encourage them along the trail. Apparently one was taking a bus today, whilst the other intended to walk to Patterdale. No more was heard of the Israelis, so they probably jacked it in.

It also appears that Dad’s Army had gone astray yesterday at Black Sail; wandering up to, what sounded like, Tongue Beck to Gillercombe Head in the thick mist. A momentary breach in the cloud eventually let them get their bearings and head back down towards the Honister Pass.

Today was the fourteenth anniversary of the start of my first Coast to Coast walk in 1974, with Rita and American friends, Larry and Laurie Lofton and their baby Lita.

For the first time in the walk the day started fine: misty on the tops, but dry. I left at about 09:00hrs and met the Aussie party and the Canadian ladies, Dawn and Lesley, for the walk up Greenup Gill. I dropped behind before entering the cloud on the approach to Lining Crag and continued alone.

It also started to rain but it lasted just long enough to climb into waterproof gear, before dry conditions returned and the clothing was peeled back off again.

Lining Crag is steep, almost a scramble, with the restored path today doubling as a waterfall. The view from the top was none existent.

The path from the top of the crag to Greenup Edge disappears for a fair distance into ground too wet for the formation of a trod. The route is marked by cairns, but they were too well spaced in today’s conditions: when a cairn was reached its successor wasn’t visible through the gloom. By a combination of using a compass bearing to get the general direction, looking for traces on the ground of previous walkers (not an infallible tactic: they might have been lost) and peering into the cloud for the next pile of stones, I gained the summit of the pass and the much clearer track without mishap.

These little triumphs of navigation do increase one’s hill walking confidence mightily.

I’d considered taking a circuitous route to Grasmere from here, via High Raise, Sergeant Man and Blea Rigg, but the conditions ruled that out. On I went, still in thick mist, down to a very boggy Wyth Burn and back up to Far Easedale Head.

Here I paused, had a coffee, devoured a battered turkey butty carried thus far from Ennerdale Bridge and made the second navigational decision of the day. The route over to Helm Crag, along the ridge to the north of Easedale is glorious – one I’d taken with Rita on our second C2C. With the cloud still thick I headed down the valley, itself a magnificent though occasionally boggy walk, towards an early finish and Grasmere.

Once committed, after the loss of a couple of hundred feet, the cloud cleared leaving blue, almost cloudless, skies (but the prospect of an afternoon off in the village was still welcome).

I was pleased to note that I’d had no foot or back problems thus far and that my pace and stamina were better than I’d anticipated. Too early to gloat, but I might save my deposits and finish the walk yet.

Despite dawdling I was in the Glenthorne Guest House by 14:00hrs; some time before my bag was dropped off by the Packhorse service. After laundry duties and a shower I turned up for the establishment’s traditional afternoon tea and cake in the lounge, but soon made my excuses and escaped to the village.

Grasmere was at its touristy best. I whiled away a pleasant couple of hours pottering in the shops, galleries and church. I wondered, not for the first time, where the residents of places like Grasmere bought the essentials of life – washing powder and potatoes. Paintings and sculptures are there aplenty, but toilet rolls…

Whilst buying an Alan Bennett (I’d omitted to bring any none C2C reading) I bumped into the Californians and spent a few minutes exchanging notes and gossip – it was the last time I saw them, they had a slower schedule from Patterdale onwards.

Later I met up with the Canadian ladies, Dawn and Lesley. They were also at the Glenthorne and had walked the ridge route: they’d set off in mist, but were rewarded by clearing skies and the splendid views. We ate together at the good, but expensive Jumble Room .

I’m getting used to early nights now. I was in bed with the book by ten and snoring sweetly by eleven.

Accommodation:

Glenthorne Guest House

Easedale Road

Grasmere

Cumbria

LA22 9QH

015394 35389

The Glenthorne is a slightly unusual spot: a Quaker establishment with comfortable, en-suite accommodation and drying and communal rooms, yet with a hostel-like feel. The breakfast reinforced the collective feeling, with a queue forming in the hall waiting for the breakfast bell and cereal course. The remainder of the meal was indifferent.

Ennerdale Bridge to Rosthwaite

2008-09-27T15:48:00.000-07:00

Saturday 6 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 14.5)

Ennerdale

Ennerdale from Loft Beck

Haystacks and Dubs Bottom

Two further guests had arrived late at The Cloggers last night. Two Israelis, in their early twenties, had turned up at 20:30hrs after spending the best part of twelve hours walking from St Bees. They’d been carrying over-heavy packs and navigating, not too accurately it seems, from a guide book. Still, they were young, fit and cheerful.

The weather forecast wasn’t good but proved accurate. The only positive spin was that it would be even wetter in the Northeast.

The walk started at about 09:00hrs accompanied by lashing rain and strong winds. It stayed that way much of the day. I strode out of the village with Dad’s Army (the blokes from Cheltenham) but gradually pulled ahead: the waterproof hood, noise from the elements and my incipient deafness weren’t conducive to conversation.

I took the less demanding path along the north shore of Ennerdale Water and made reasonably quick progress along the valley. The views to the high fells were limited by mists but Steeple Rock was impressively displayed. Ennerdale is not as heavily forested in the past and is much more attractive for it.

I’d been looking forward to a break at the Black Sail YHA but it had been taken over for the weekend by a private party. I’m not sure why I still pay the YHA a subscription; their new commercial ethos seems at odds with that of the organisation I joined many years ago. They’ll soon have all those unprofitable hovels in remote places sold off to finance nice, big, shiny, city hostels.

I sat outside during a lull in the rain eating my apple and banana.

Climbing up Loft Beck, still ahead of the pack, I found that the old loose, slippery path has been improved. It is now a much easier, if no less steep, proposition. It lead into the wind and mist below Grey Knotts, with only occasional views over to Haystacks and down to Buttermere.

Honister Hause has a café at the slate mine. It has a mixed clientèle of hikers, passing motorists and tourists taking a tour of the old workings. I sat chatting for half an hour to a car-borne, elderly New Zealand couple, eating my sandwich and supping my tea, whilst watching an ever expanding puddle of water drain from my clothing and spread across the slate floor.

Despite the fun I eventually went back into the rain. In any weather, however, Borrowdale is superb. It must be the most beautiful valley in England. On the bridleway down to Seathwaite I was passed by four mountain bikers heading down the hill at speed. I walked passed the group 100 yards later, just before where the path was blocked by a recently fallen tree. They were repairing a mangled and punctured wheel (or were they fixing water wings?).

I was first in at the B&B, arriving by 16:00hrs. Mrs Dunckley, no stranger to the needs of wet walkers, had my sodden clothes dried before I’d finished showering and a pot of tea and cake organised in the lounge shortly afterwards.

I wandered into the village in the evening for a tasty trout at the Scafell Hotel before another early night.

Gillercombe

Stonethwaite Road End

Rosthwaite

Cumbria

CA12 5XG

01768 777602

Gillercombe is a great B&B. It offers a warm welcome to comfortable rooms, has an efficient drying and laundry service and is reasonably priced.

St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge

2008-09-23T14:54:00.000-07:00

West Top, Dent Hill

Friday 5 September 2008
(Walking Distance: 10.5 miles)

Breakfast at the Tomlin was good. A kipper set me up for the day.

There were two couples in the dining room. I’d already met the Aussies, Peter and Christine, on the landing between the bathroom and my bedroom, whilst clad in a rather fetching damp towel. The sight had, surprisingly, failed to put them off their food. Another couple, from the Kirby Stephen area, were heading for the Gillerthwaite YHA, but were taking a more direct route than the one suggested by Wainwright.

Whilst walking the few yards to the seafront bus stop it began to rain. The rain eased for half an hour the following day, but didn’t entirely stop for the next 34 hours or more.

I was deposited at Sandwith for the soggy and intricate 5 mile walk across already saturated ground to Cleator. In fair weather the outline of the western fells adds a sense of anticipation to the walk across the old industrial belt, but today the views were limited and grey. Staying with the cycle track along the abandoned railway delays the short acquaintance with Moor Row, a somewhat sad relic of a more prosperous time.

Cleator, not by any measure a pretty spot, has an optimistic, friendly feel, typified by the Three Tuns and a village shop selling everything from delicious pies (bugger the diet) to the combe that I’d forgotten to pack. The pub was hard to leave. I was the first customer of the day and the coffee and chat were good. On such a mucky day it was easy to believe that some C2C expeditions got no further than the front bar.

Despite having climbed it before Dent Hill was a bit of a shock. Its 1155 foot summit might be modest, but it is a sharp, unrelenting thousand foot climb. It marks the entry to the Lakes and the more demanding terrain of the next few days.

Even in the murk the views from Dent were extensive, although the tops to the east were covered in mist. Recent tree felling has made it a doddle to find the overly steep path down to bonny Nannycatch; a total contrast to the country on the other side of Dent.

I meet my first walkers along Coast to Coast path in Nannycatch: a couple from Chicago who, like me, were just beyond the first flush of youth. They were labouring under immense packs, which they’d dragged from their overnight camp at Moor Row and were heading for the former, but now closed, campsite at Ennerdale Bridge. It appeared that they’d made the classic error of anticipating the “walk” to be a rather more sedate affair than “trail” with which they were presented. Following a damp night in the garden of the Fox and Hounds at Ennerdale Bridge they headed for the nearest station to catch a train south.

After several visits to the area on this occasion I actually found the Kinniside Stone Circle, a modern(ish) sham monument. In truth it wasn’t really worth the search.

I got to Ennerdale Bridge a bit too early to go directly to my digs, so stopped off at the Fox and Hounds for a snack and to allow some of the water to drain from my waterproofs. I was met in the bar by Dawn and Lesley, a couple of feisty and entertaining ladies from British Columbia. They’d made short shrift of the first day and were organising accommodation for the middle section of the walk, whilst harassing Air Canada for the delivery of a lost bag.

I’d booked into the B&B by 15:30hrs and luxuriated in a hot shower and a snooze before venturing out in the evening to the Ennerdale Bridge fleshpots. I had a fair meal at the Sheppard’s Arms and a chat with a couple of retired chaps from Cheltenham in the Fox and Hounds. One of the men somehow reminded me of Arthur Lowe; despite being not at all pompous I couldn’t help but think of him as Captain Mainwaring.

Accommodation:

The Cloggers
Tom Butt
Ennerdale Bridge
CA23 3AP
01946 862487

The Cloggers is a grand, good value, little cottage run by a pleasant elderly couple. The bedrooms are a good size. Although there is a shared bathroom there was no undue competition for the facilities during my stay.

To St Bees

2008-09-22T14:25:00.000-07:00

Thursday 4 September 2008
(Walking distance: 7 miles)

The start at St Bees

St Bees beach

South Head

The first step

Coastguard Lookout, North Head

St Bees Lighthouse

The drive, with a friend, from Bridlington to St Bees took about four hours, mainly in rain. The journey was uneventful, only the A1 bridge over the River Swale at Catterick Bridge hinting at later travels.

We arrived at St Bees at lunchtime in improving weather. By 14:30hrs I’d booked into the Tomlin Guest House, said my goodbyes to John, my lift, and was ready for a walk.

There’s a morning bus from St Bees to Sandwith. I figured I could walk a circular route following the C2C route to Sandwith, before using a back road and footpath to return to the lodgings. I could then return to Sandwith by bus the following morning, rejoin the route and get a head start for the walk to Ennerdale Bridge.

The afternoon had brightened considerably, with the Isle of Man visible out to the west. After the ritual boot dipping I set off up the path to South Head. There were good all round views with the western fells making a fine array to the east. The path, however, was wet, muddy and slippery. This didn’t present too much of a problem on South Head, where exposure to the cliff edge is limited, but would make the traverse of North Head interesting.

There were a few people enjoying the unaccustomed sunshine on the cliffs, but none on my mission - they'd have left the coast much earlier in the day.

At North Head Snaefell and Man faded into the haze, although the hills of Galloway, across the Solway, came clearly into view. Here discretion proved thge better part of valour: I avoided the slippery path along the more exposed cliff of North Head, instead heading inland along the lighthouse access road into Sandwith. Later conversations proved this to have been a good decision: quite a few walkers had found the combination of deep, slippery mud, cliff and air more than a little daunting.

A quiet lane through Rottington and a field path to the beach soon brought me back to my digs at Tomlin.

St Bees is a pleasant but unspectacular spot. But for Wainwright it’s unlikely that it would attract many visitors from outside the area. It has a fine church, a small public school, several pubs, the Platform 9 Restaurant and the dire Seacote Hotel.

I ate at the excellent Platform 9 and visited the pubs and hotel, without finding anything to distract me from an early night.

Accommodation:

Tomlin Guest House
Beach Road
St. Bees
CA27 0EN
01946 822284

The Tomlin is a good value, basic but comfortable B&B. It has a kipper option for breakfast.

Got Back Wednesday

2008-09-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

I finished the walk, blister and injury free and on schedule on Wednesday 17th. I've not been able to post since I got back - Talktalk is having a problem accessing Blogger.

It was a terrific walk and a great experience, despite a very wet start across the Lake District and saturated ground throughout the route.

I only managed a three or four pounds loss on the weight front and I've got a greatly enhanced appetite. It would be ironic if I gained weight in the long term.

All the gear performed well, except my expensive Meindl boots which are shot: the sole on the heel of one boot is starting to become detached and a line of stitching on the same boot's upper has failed. Although the boots are over a year old they've done less than 400 miles - at 33 pence a mile they're proved more expensive than if I'd driven the distance. I've have a whinge to Meindl via email, but I'm not anticipating any proper redress - it would be nice to be surprised though.

I'll be posting a page for each day of the walk over the course of the next few days. In the meantime the photos are on Picassa.

Ready for off (?)

2008-09-02T14:58:00.000-07:00

Well, I’m more or less ready for the off. It’s the last day at work tomorrow and, despite the gremlins conspiring to set eleventh hour cripplers, I’m hoping for a mid-afternoon flyer.

The baggage is ready for the pack, the maps and guides are sorted, the boots are clean and the lift to St Bees is arranged. Using the C2C Packhorse service simplifies the task of preparation with far fewer constraints: just bung life’s little luxuries (shirts, pants and socks) in the bag. It’s much easier than back-packing proper.

I should be in St Bees by early afternoon on Thursday, so hope to walk the first four miles to Sandwith before tea. If I do, I’ll catch the morning bus back to Sandwith on Friday, making for an easy first day to get into gear (I googled for the local bus timetable).

The preparations seem to have been reasonably successful.

My feet and boots are now on speaking terms. After lots of experimentation with various types of walking socks, footbeds and the like, the combination that works best is liner socks matched with low-tech Odour Eater inserts (when I think about it I used a similar permutation on the Pennine Way some years ago). It also helps my toes enormously if I stop every five or six miles to take my boots and socks off and air my feet. Not a pretty sight for passing innocents, but effective.

I was chastened by last year’s sciatica attack, but haven’t had any worrying twinges of late – walking was recommended to improve back health, but I was cautioned against compressing my spine carrying too heavy a rucksack.

My weight remains stubbornly at around 14st 10lbs, but I feel much fitter than I did a couple of months ago. It’ll be interesting to see which wins out, big breakfasts and pub suppers or the increased exercise. I’d like to think the latter, but guess it will be a draw.

As a concession to ageing I bought myself a pair of Pacerpoles. I’ve used a single trekking pole for years now, but only recently tried twin poles; and Pacerpoles at that. The handles are of an unusual design and call for a completely different technique. I’ve just about mastered them now, although it’s not recommended to get too close when I’ve got them fully deployed or when I’m attacking a stile. I’ve not actually tripped over them of late and they do seem to help on longer walks. They exercise the upper body too.

The weather forecast doesn’t look too promising for the weekend. It seems my wet weather gear will be getting an outing. I still hope to try one or two of the more adventurous alternatives, but only if the conditions are suitable. I was rather hoping that September might tilt the rainfall statistics back towards the average. We’ll see…

I don’t have the technology to post on a daily basis during the walk but will catch up when I get back.

Bridlington, Bessingby, Wilsthorpe and Fraisthorpe (31/08/2008)

2008-08-31T06:02:00.000-07:00

All things considered I decided to have a short morning walk from the front door today. Rain and thunder was forecast for later. There was also a lot to do at home on the last few days run-up to the start of leave from work on Thursday and beginning the C2C walk on Friday.

I and the dog set off into a sea-roke, heading through the outskirts of Bridlington to the old estate hamlet of Bessingby, before heading back to the coast at Wilsthorpe. Testifying to the lack of summer sun and a surfeit of rain the harvest is far from complete.

Despite having used these local paths frequently over the years for dog walking, and, in spite of there being plenty of evidence of use, I’ve seen more deer than people on the track between Bessingby and Wilsthorpe. Today was not an exception people-wise.

The cliff was a good bit busier with a camp at the Royal Yorkshire Yacht Club dingy club (there was some sort of event over the weekend) and a Caravan Club camp at Fraisthorpe. I kept to the eroding, low, glacial till cliff to Fraisthorpe, before dropping to the wonderful sandy beach and turning back north to Bridlington and home.

The mist never did clear, so no photos, but, as is often the case, it seemed not to penetrate too far inland.

Although this walk passes through or near urban housing, an industrial estate, sewage works, recycling plant, caravan site and holiday chalets, the walk is surprisingly pleasant, particularly on the beach at Fraisthorpe. It was a hot and humid seven miles, the last walk before my hols.

North Wolds Walk (North): 25/08/2008

2008-08-25T13:44:00.000-07:00

Unusually, I was out and about and walking, through Thixendale village, by 10:15. The weather was dull, but warm and dry. Today’s walk was loosely based on the northern segment of the North Wolds Walk, with the two legs linked, between Bishop Wilton and Wayrham, via the Manna Green open access area.

The walk began with a gradual ascent through a typical Wolds dry valley to Thixendale Grange, followed by a descent down the escarpment to Kirby Underdale. There are extensive views from the edge across the Vale of York, but, in today’s dullish weather, they didn’t extend quite to the Pennines.

I practically stepped on a leveret laid in its form in the rough pasture on the descent to Waterloo Beck, near Mount Pleasant Farm.

Rita was brought up in nearby Bugthorpe but, despite knowing the area well, I haven’t walked the local paths much. I hiked the Chalkland Way several years ago, which passes nearby, but the paths between Thixendale Grange and the Yorkshire Wolds Way at Bradeham Dale, were new to me. They don’t disappoint: it’s magnificent walking. Perhaps because of the scenic qualities hereabouts, the proximity to York and the fact that today is a Bank Holiday, plenty of other walkers were out and about.

Kirby Underdale is pretty, but was closed. Not a soul was to be seen or heard. The green lane up from Kirby to Garrowby Hill top, however, is a gem – a long, steep steady pull, with ever-widening views across the flat lands beyond. After defying death crossing of the A166, another entertaining path hovers over Bishop Wilton, before heading over the Wold top to Manna Green.

It’s 35 years or more since I was last at Manna Green. Rita’s father rented the dale to graze and condition cattle. My one and only shooting expedition was here. The dale at that time was overrun with rabbits (not a one showed today, so I must have been a pretty good hunter!). I remember taking careful aim with a .22 rifle and watching the poor creature sat six foot from my intended victim keel over dead. I still feel guilty. I’m afraid that if I’d got to kill my meat I’d have been a vegetarian years ago.

The dale is as bonny as I remember it – and the sides just as steep. The pull up from the dale bottom though is relentless. I was pleased to gain the top with just one photo break. Looking from the path across the dale there are a series of circles etched into the vegetation on the opposite slope. The dale is too steep to be cultivated, or for the marks to be traces of structures; the circles seem too perfect to be the result of natural growth(although some sort of fungal growth seems the most likely cause); nothing is marked on the map.

A quick skip back across the A166 at Wayrham deposited me in another system of dales, eventually meeting the Yorkshire Wolds Way, which accompanied me back to Thixendale.

Today’s walk was of about thirteen miles with plenty of ascents and descents. The circuit took about four hours, including a half hour refreshment break. I had no foot problems and was fresh enough at the end to have comfortably walked another five miles or more.

Fordon Circular (24/08/2008)

2008-08-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

I’d originally planned to walk a fairly challenging route in the Thixendale/Kirby Underdale area today – a chunk of the North Wolds Walk – but, by the time I got myself organised and through various chores, it was a little late to venture too far in the Bank Holiday traffic. I postponed the longer hike and settled for a toddle in the Fordon area – a repeat of a five mile walk I did at the back end of June.

By way of a contrast, this time I walked the circuit anti-clockwise. This had the advantage of getting the mile or so of road walking in East Dale done and out of the way at the start.

Someone had decorated the bridleway up to Danebury Manor with a couple of old ‘fridges – with no more effort they could have been taken to the amenity site. This desecration was matched by a large bag of builders’ waste, dumped at the side of Flixton lane. I bet the culprit was really proud of having avoided paying for proper disposal. Some people don’t deserve to be in business.

These grumbles aside the walk was again very pleasant (and litter free). Butterflies and birds were out in abundance, together with the odd rabbit.

On the descent into Lang Dale I had twin sightings of much rarer creatures; walkers on the Yorkshire Wolds Way. I chatted for a little while with two elderly men (i.e.: older than me), who were walking the route in stages. Resuming the descent into the dale I exchanged greetings with what looked like a mother and daughter backpacking the trail. The Wolds Way is underrated; perhaps it is less taxing than other long distance paths, but it truly is a very good walk.

After attacking the jungle of nettles and briars on the path into the farm yard at Fordon, it was back to the car and home.

Flamborough Head circuit (17 August 2008)

2008-08-17T13:28:00.000-07:00

The morning was wet and windy – more like late September than mid-August. I was beginning to settle down to a lazy Sunday with the papers, but saw that the weather was forecast to improve in the afternoon: and so it did.

Because of the late start I headed to Flamborough to repeat the walk I did four weeks ago around the Headland. A jolly good walk it is too.

I didn’t have my camera with me today. I’m still waiting for number two son to return it following a trip he’d had to York.

The paths were wet and soggy, but quiet, away from the car parks. The rain stayed away with the afternoon proving warm and humid.

The afternoon featured sightings of most of the common butterflies: Tortoiseshells, Red Admirals and Painted Ladies. In addition to the usual seabirds I watched a Sparrow Hawk hunting along the cliff. I didn’t see any Gannets today though, and no mammals were around; I didn’t even see a rabbit.

The car park at North Landing is a litter-strewn mess. The lighthouse area seems somewhat better, but both attract too many slobs and people happy to picnic in the detritus of others’ slops. The cliffs, by contrast are generally pristine.

I varied the walk a little bit by trying a new (to me) permissive path along the eastern fringe of Dane's Dyke. The path shaved a couple of hundred yards off the distance, and steers clear of people and traffic.

I was pleased with today. In the month since I last did this ten mile walk my fitness must have improved. Whilst it’s difficult to be totally objective, I didn’t consciously alter my pace, but walked the circuit more quickly, with less effort and reduced fatigue.

The circuit is a good walk by any standards, with plenty of interest, both out to sea and along the cliff, ever-changing views and an abundance of bird and insect life. Shame about North Landing…

Carnaby, Boynton, High Caythorpe, Rudston Walk

2008-08-10T12:39:00.000-07:00

The weather was windy, changeable and frequently wet, so I opted for another local walk today. It’s one I could start from my front door but, to avoid wandering through town and not wanting to walk along the busy A614 road, I drove a couple of miles to begin at Carnaby.

I got kitted up just in time to catch the beginning of the promised rain. It accompanied me, on and off, all the way the High Caythorpe.

I passed Carnaby Temple, an 18th century folly, and walked through Boynton, with its Hall and church, before taking the lane towards Grindale.

I optimistically decided to use a route to High Caythorpe marked on the map as an “Other Routes with Public Access”. As I’d feared, the route did not exist on the ground. I had to improvise a course, following field edges and rough tracks, before eventually joining a bridleway, which brought me to the farm at High Caythorpe. In this process I got thoroughly wet and muddy: but at least the weather was improving.

On the way to Rudston, now in grand Wold country, I caught sight of a fox running across the track.

I took a breather in the churchyard at Rudston, after reacquainting myself the impressive monolith, the tallest standing stone in the UK and the centre of an extensive system of earthworks. A family wandered into the yard: they sensibly give a wide birth to the suspicious, scruffy, mud-stained old tramp, sat barefoot, scoffing fruit and swigging coffee.

An attractive path leads out of the village, through woodland, gaining height to meet the Woldgate Roman road. Another “Other Route with Public Access”, this one extant, leaves Woldgate, dropping through large arable fields with wide ranging views over Holderness, to eventually join a lane just outside Carnaby.

The walk was eleven miles or so. Despite the weather it was very enjoyable and full of historical interest. It’s all too easy to drive miles for a walk whilst ignoring the countryside on one’s doorstep. I didn’t see any other walkers out today, but saw plenty of evidence of path use - muddy boot prints aplenty.

Bessingby, Wilsthorpe Walk

2008-08-05T10:35:00.000-07:00

I took leave today: we’ve got the builders in making a conservatory. I had a couple of hours spare to fit in a short afternoon stroll in the rain with the dog. The advantage of today’s route was that it began and ended at my back door.

After passing through a housing development, an industrial estate, allotments and playing fields, the scene becomes quite rural. I went first to Bessingby, an old estate village. The path then heads for the A165 and the cliff at Wilsthorpe (caravans, chalets and small farms) using overgrown, wet tracks and quiet back lanes.

I’d intended walking along the cliff (here a low clay affair) down to Fraisthorpe and back on the beach, but the dog was looking distinctly soggy and the rain looked set for the rest of the day. We headed for home.

The walk was about five miles.

Hutton-le-Hole, Rosedale, Lastingham, Spaunton Walk (03/08/2008)

2008-08-03T11:53:00.000-07:00

I had an early (for me) start. I had driven the forty miles or so to Hutton-le-Hole and was on Spaunton Moor before eleven: just in time to be soaked in a heavy shower. The heather was just beginning to flower; adding interest to what can be a bleak scene.

I had intended to take a beeline over Access Land, from the point where the trail meets the Rosedale road, to visit Anna Cross. Whilst the cross is quite close, I retreated from the attempt, driven back to the road after floundering in rough and boggy ground.

Chimney Bank was busy with car and cycle borne visitors and a smattering of other walkers. I took the old sled way, associated with long gone iron stone mining, down into Rosedale. The track gets lost in a jungle of bracken in the lower section of the descent at this time if the year but the course is obvious, if a little awkward.

I joined a bridleway which took me downriver. It is a glorious trail through the moor and bracken, staying well above the western bank of the River Seven. The eastern side is thickly forested with the road hidden from sound and view. There were plenty of rabbits about, but I’ve seen deer and a fox in this area on previous visits.

The path passes the site of an Elizabethan glass works, marked by a plaque. A reconstruction of the works can be seen at the Ryedale Folk museum at Hutton-le-Hole. To the untutored eye, however, there's nothing much to see. Like the ironstone industry the remains have melted back into the landscape. It is fascinating to consider, though, that this lonely and peaceful spot was a hive of industry in the sixteenth century and that the whole dale, surely one of the most interesting and scenic of the Moors valleys, was riven by mining and industry up until less than a century ago.

Just beyond Hartoft I left the bridleway to take the Lastingham path over the moor and into the village. Lastingham is a pretty village with a good pub and a fascinating church. I visited neither, but took the steep woodland path up the Tabular Hills escarpment and on into Spaunton.

The geology of the Tabular Hills is limestone, as distinct from the sandstone and shale of the moors. The land is sweet and productive, growing barley and wheat at a similar elevation to much of the lower moorland. The contrast is complete and sudden. From a walker’s viewpoint, however, the interest around Spaunton is entirely in the view across to the moors.

Hutton-le-Hole had got busy whilst I’d been away. Fortunately most don’t wander too far from the cafes and pub and Folk Museum. There had been others walking and some mountain biking, but, for the most part, I’d had the paths to myself.

The walk was about eleven miles, including my aborted attempt to visit Anna Cross, and was mainly on good moorland tracks, but with added interest from a couple of wooded sections. It presented no fitness, foot or stamina problems. I should be increasing mileage on my walks though; the C2C is only a month away.

Forge Valley, Hackness Walk (27 July 2008)

2008-07-27T12:56:00.000-07:00

Probably the hottest day of the year so far saw me heading for the nearest chunk of the North York Moors National Park – Forge Valley.

I parked at West Ayton, a village about three miles west of Scarborough. I saved the path by Ayton Castle for the return leg, to use the higher way along the top of the western side of the valley. The path runs pleasantly above the steep valley, dipping into the edge of the wood.

Rather than constantly referring to the map I used my preferred method of scanning the route at the start of the walk and keeping the map in the rucksack for occasional reference at points of doubt. The problem with this approach is that it is easy to be beguiled by clear well-used paths which wander off the intended right of way. And so I was…

Forge Valley is a National Nature Reserve and furnished with tracks off the established rights of way. I happily wandered along one such track before realising my mistake. Not to worry, there were other, wilder and narrower ways, one furnished, initially, with duck boarding, heading in my intended direction.

The next half mile took the best part of an hour. I traversed the steep, in places precipitous, side of the valley, constantly deviating around fallen trees and branches, patches of deep mire and loose, muddy and unstable ground. It was an entertaining interlude in the hot, humid air, beset by voracious insects intent on feasting on my now bloody arms. It was a training walk after all.

I eventually rejoined the main track and continued on a more sedate course towards Hackness, passing the idyllic hamlet of Wrench Green. The Derwent valley, from the river’s source by the Fylingdales Early Warning station, to Forge Valley, is probably my favourite Moor’s dale and certainly one of the area’s most scenic.

After flirting with the river for a short while I took the path high behind Hackness Mere and Hall. I sat for a while with my boots off, socks steaming, munching a banana and apple, making a fine contrast to the pampered souls lounging in the gardens of the house below.

After dropping down to the valley bottom at Hackness, the path annoyingly climbs through a narrow, tree-lined gully, to regain the considerable lost height. Near the top a large tree had recently dropped, blocking further progress along the path: another inelegant jostle, up, over and round the obstacle ensued before gaining the hill top.

The path down to Mowthorpe Farm is a delight, dropping down through more woods and pasture to the road. There is no real alternative but to use the lane back to Forge Valley, but it is quiet and in magnificent surroundings. It is hard to believe that Scarborough, no doubt heaving on a hot summer Sunday, is only two or three miles to the east.

After a mile or so the lane is abandoned and the river is crossed by a footbridge to take an easy duck-boarded path downstream, through the woods, passing Ayton Castle, back to the village and car.

The walk was about ten miles long. It was much more demanding than I’d intended because of the heat and the adventure in the woods, but highly enjoyable nonetheless. Apart from the valley bottom path at Forge Valley, where there were strollers aplenty, I didn’t see another walker all day.

Flamborough Head (20 July 2008)

2008-07-23T09:36:00.001-07:00

I stayed local today.I really must get up earlier n a Sunday morning. A short run in the car took me out to Flamborough for an afternoon saunter around the headland. Th coast paths are popular with plenty of options to vary the route.

I took the path from the village to North Cliff along a path that runs for a distance along the edge of a large static caravan site. The path is pleasant enough, shielded for the most part from the caravans. Unfortunately, its other function is as a venue for the campers to empty their dogs. There are no constipated pouches in these parts...

It was a day that alternated between heavy, cold showers and hot sunshine: chilly and drenched one moment, hot and sweaty the next. Despite the unsettled weather there were plenty of people walking and bird watching on the cliffs.

It's been a year or two since I was last on this part of the headland. Erosion has eaten into the cliff causing some path diversions, particularly near to Thornwick Bay and on the approach to Danes Dyke further south.

Both North landing and and Flamborough Head were busy with car-borne visitors. Fortunately the bulk of tourists tend not to wander too far from the car parks or beach, concentrating the litter near to the roads.

In addition to the golf coarse, beach, cliffs, bar and cafes Flamborough Head boasts two lighthouses, one dating from the mid seventeenth century, the other from the early nineteenth. The new lighthouse can be visited at times and is well worth the climb up to the light.

South of the lighthouse the foot traffic thinned considerably, with only occasional hikers and sea birds for company. I had a couple of sightings of gannets from the colony up the coast at Bempton.

South Landing provides an early escape back to the village, partly along a lane. A better, but slightly more energetic, option is the path, a little bit further south, at Beacon Hill. I continued a another long half-mile further south to Danes Dyke, forsaking the cliff for the woods. The path passes an ancient earthwork, which extends across the headland and gives its name to the otherwise natural ravine of Danes Dyke.

The path from the Dyke to Flamborough was once attractive. At first it follows a field edge, then enters an old pasture before decamping onto a lane in the village. The path over the pasture is now channelled through a barbed wire enclosed passage. Electric fences further carve up the field into enclosures for pigs and horses. An ugly, partly constructed, agricultural building, with an associated access track, also adorns the field.

I do not understand why such desecration is sanctioned on agricultural land, without discussion or appeal, when any development in the adjoining village is, quite properly, subject to close scrutiny. If the culprit is subsidised in any way by my taxes, I want my money back.

Although the coast isn't my preferred walking venue, I enjoyed another good hike of about ten miles, with plenty of short, sharp ascents. It did not present any problems or difficulties.

Firefox v Internet Explorer

2008-07-22T13:03:00.000-07:00

Why does Internet Explorer make such a hash of things? After setting up a simple blog page, consisting of a few photos and a bit of text, the resulting masterpiece displays well enough in Firefox, but is completely mangled in Internet Explorer.

I'd be grateful to anyone who would point me in the right direction to fix the problem. In the meantime, if you really want to see Flamborough Head walk in all its multi-media glory, use Firefox (IE is a load of >expletive deleted< anyway!).

Wharrem Percy - Thixendale Circular (13 July 2008)

2008-07-13T12:30:00.000-07:00

Because of the appalling recent weather and some other commitments, it’s been a couple of weeks since I was last able to get out for a walk. Not to worry, only moderate showers were forecast today. The plan was to rise early, park at Wharrem Percy by nine and to be back at home in time for a late lunch. It didn’t quite work out that way: the ample consolation for a noon start was listening to a rerun of an edition of “I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue” on the drive over.

I was lucky to find a space at the small Wharrem Percy car park. The scant remains of the medieval village were attracting plenty of visitors on what was now a very pleasant day. I left the modest throng and headed up a lane for a short distance before joining a bridleway along a ridge.

Faced with alternative paths I left the main route, for no better reason than it avoided retracing my steps for half a mile on the return leg. I’d never used the path before but, whilst it was clear enough on the ground, it was a bit overgrown and took a rather roundabout course.

A couple of tracks in the vicinity look like they’ve been diverted in the past, probably to preserve the privacy of a large farm, Raisthorpe Manor. As is frequently the case when an often ancient way is abandoned, the resulting diversion cuts across the grain of the land and is never quite as pleasing as the natural route. I’m sure a route could have been devised which avoided the environs of the farm building, whilst retaining the integrity of the way. Still, the residents of Raisthorpe Manor are spared the sight of occasional plebs.

The high Wolds are an extremely attractive part of Yorkshire, largely unknown outside the area, and, even on a sunny Sunday afternoon, the paths were unfrequented. Thixendale was positively humming with people, however; there was an open gardens event in full swing. The village isn’t pretty, but is full of character and has a terrific setting. Although I only popped in for a soft drink, the pub’s pretty good too…

The remaining route back to the car was along the Yorkshire Wolds Way and begins with a steep pull back onto the tops. As befits its National Trail status a few more walkers were now in evidence. Fortunately, none were about when I performed my party piece. It could have been the walking poles, or the long grass, or simply tripping over my own feet. Whatever the cause, I dived headlong, greeting the earth with a Glasgow Kiss – the bruise is developing nicely.

The Wharrem Percy Medieval Village site was moderately busy with visitors. The old fish ponds and the ruined church sit in a scenic little valley, surrounded by the humps and bumps of the abandoned settlement. It takes a leap of the imagination beyond my admittedly limited abilities to visualise life here in the fifteenth century.

And so back to the car after a grand walk of about nine miles without any foot or stamina problems. I must get up earlier next Sunday though…

C2C Route Alternatives

2008-06-30T16:36:00.001-07:00

There were some significant route variations between my two C2C crossings: some determined by the climate, others by inexperience.

Our earlier crossing was in often appalling weather and saw us generally choosing lower level routes: going around the High Street ridge by Ullswater, Moor Divock and paths along the Lowther valley; taking the Nateby to Keld road across the Pennine watershed; ambling along the valley route through Swaledale.

On our second crossing we varied the way through Ennerdale, selecting the path along the north shore of Ennerdale Water and that along the River Liza (much better than the trudge along the forest road). With good weather we tackled the glorious walk along the ridge above Easedale, climbed over Kidsty Pike and explored the high level route above Swaledale, through the old lead workings.

On the first C2C there was much more road walking between Orton and Sunbiggin Tarn and, if my recollections are accurate, a little more on the traverse across the Vale of Mowbray.

This time, weather, stamina and inclination permitting, I hope to be a little more adventurous. The following are variations I’ll consider when on the ground (and, in the case of the more demanding routes, maybe reject):-

1) Leave the Ennerdale valley by the path up to Scarth Gap, afterwards continuing over Haystacks to Honister.

2) At Greenup Edge leave the main route and proceed to Grasmere via High Raise, Sergeant Man and Blea Rigg.

3) Take the St Sunday Crag route over to Patterdale. The Striding Edge alternative is probably pushing my tolerance of exposure too near the limit.

4) From Rampsgill Head aim for the Haweswater shore at the Measand Beck outlet (via High Raise, Low Raise, Long Grain and Measand End). It appears, after some discussion on the C2C forum, (hosted on the Sherpa Van site) that this route is viable and carries a faint track. As a bonus there is a small saving in distance and it avoids much of the rather tedious walk along Haweswater.

5) In the section between Shap and Kirkby Stephen I may follow an approximation of Wainwright’s original route (A Coast to Coast Walk, First Edition) over the Orton Fells, from the B6260 road to Sunbiggin Tarn, crossing what is now open access land. There is no distance saving, and there may be a time penalty, but a contributor to the C2C forum recommends this option as by far the most interesting.

6) Similarly the onward route, following Wainwright’s original way from Sunbiggin Tarn, by Rayseat Pike, to the Mazon Wath/Newbiggin lane, crosses what is now Access Land. This would avoid a fair bit of road walking and saves some distance on a long day.

7) On the two occasions I’ve walked over Nine Standards Rigg to Keld I’ve used the Whitsundale Beck alternative. I’d like to vary this by going by Ney Gill, but I guess I’ll take whatever is the recommended route on the day.

8) Having walked both suggested routes between Keld and Reeth I’ll probably take a low route, but vary the walk by crossing to the south bank of the Swale at Gunnerside and improvising an onward route using lanes, tracks and available field paths.

Sunbiggin Tarn to the Mazon Wath Lane

2008-06-29T04:46:00.000-07:00

I've dug out an old edition of Paul Hannon's "The Coast to Coast Walk". The original route from Sunbiggin Tarn is shown in full.

Walk Itinerary

2008-06-23T12:04:00.000-07:00

I assumed that the C2C's accommodation bottlenecks would be at Keld and Ennerdale Bridge. Lodgings were secured at Keld before I booked leave from work and got down to planning the walk in earnest. Ennerdale was less critical, I reasoned, being within a reasonable taxi ride of larger towns; in the event lodgings were quickly secured in the village.

What I didn't anticipate was the shortage of decently priced rooms in Grasmere, other than Hostels. Even booking three months in advance it took four or five emails before finding a vacancy at the Glenthorne Guest House. Although it wouldn't have been a killer blow to either pay through the nose at a classy hotel, or catch a bus to Ambleside, the hiccup did come as a surprise.

The remaining itinerary was settled without any difficulty.

Date of Arrival	Location	Accom.
04 September	St Bees	Tomlin GH
05 September	Ennerdale Bridge	Cloggers
06 September	Rosthwaite	Gillercombe
07 September	Grasmere	Glenthorne GH
08 September	Patterdale	White Lion
09 September	Shap	Brookfield
10 September	Kirkby Stephen	Redmayne
11 September	Keld	Keld Lodge
12 September	Reeth	Buck Hotel
13 September	Catterick Bridge	St. Giles Farm
14 September	Ingleby Cross	Blue Bell Inn
15 September	Urra	Maltkiln House
16 September	Glaisdale	Arncliffe Arms
17 September	Robin Hoods Bay

Fordon Circular Walk

2008-06-22T13:45:00.000-07:00

Today’s walk was a five mile circular from the tiny hamlet of Fordon, high on the Yorkshire Wolds. Fordon is an isolated little spot, accessible only by narrow lanes, ten miles north-west of Bridlington. The afternoon was blustery with rain threatening, but never quite getting organised.

I parked near the bonny little church of St. James, just above the confluence of Fordon's three dales, innovatively named West, North and East Dales. Most of North Dale is access land, although it always did have a footpath running along its length. After negotiating the first fifty yards of nettle infested weeds the path materialised and broke through into the dale: a typical flower rich, Wolds chalk dry valley, grazed by cattle and sheep: unspectacular but very attractive. The Wold tops, in contrast, carry intensive crops of grains and rape.

Lots of birds were in evidence, with an old hollow tree being occupied by noisy chicks of unknown species. At one point a stoat ran across the path and plenty of rabbits and a single hare made appearances.

After the dale becomes Lang Dale the Yorkshire Wolds Way was met. There followed the only significant climb of the day: a 150 foot haul to a lane on the Wold top. The Wolds Way shortly peels off the road heading for the coast. I took the Danebury Manor Lane track down into East Dale.

The lane quickly loses its surface and sports a good selection of wild flowers. There’s a country road along East Dale which quickly leads back to Fordon and the car.

The south facing valley side, Fordon Banks, is also access land, as well as being a Yorkshire Wildlife Trust reserve - the land is, apparently, “a rare survival of herb rich downland grass, cropped by rabbits and cattle”. In addition to an interest in the flora and fauna, I had hoped to use the Banks to avoid a half mile of road walking but, whilst a small roadside notice boldly proclaims the land’s access status, entry was barred by a barbed- wire fence. Back then to the car to enjoy a coffee and apple on the bench outside the church, before exploring the interior – it was Sunday after all.

It was another good little walk. Not challenging enough to test stamina or gear but, at least, marking an increase in exercise levels.

Rosedale Outing

2008-06-21T17:40:00.000-07:00

I’ve had a critical review of my slim prospects for successfully completing the C2C without some serious preparation. A day off with fair weather prospects saw me Rosedale bound to renew acquaintance with a favourite walk using the old ironstone railway. After gear shopping in Pickering, I eventually set out from Rosedale Abbey at lunchtime.

My route lead up the small tributary valley of North Dale.

After crossing the Bell Top ridge, I progressed through woodland, arriving back into Rosedale proper.

The walk joins the track bed of the old ironstone railway near the remains of mining activity at East Mines and contours northwards towards the dale head. It’s over eighty years since the mines and railway finally closed after years of decline. What must have once been tremendous scars on the valley are now gently melting back into the hillside and remain as interesting archeological and historical footnotes; impressive, but seemingly as remote from today as Hadrian's Wall.

Farming, however, is eternal…

The track bed deteriorates for a mile or so around the dale head and the landscape takes on a bleak and barren feel.

The roads here cross the moorland plateau a couple of hundred feet above the course of the railway. Walkers, doubtless Coast to Coasters, could be seen walking on the road over Blakey Ridge, ignoring a perfectly good, marginally shorter path, across the dale head.

After passing a second track side ruined shed it was decision time: whether to visit the Lion Inn. In the event, I’d plenty of liquid and was running a little slower than anticipated, so I reluctantly plodded on.

I’d only met two pairs of walkers and a mountain biker before arriving at Blakey Junction, where the track nears the road. For twenty yards either side of the access track from the car park there was a veritable scrum of a dozen souls admiring the impressive views of the dale. A few paces later birdsong returned and only one further couple was met before Chimney Bank.

The miles to Chimney Bank go quickly, with little to divert one’s attention from the view until Sheriff’s Pit, a long abandoned mine. The shaft is said to be 250 foot deep and is protected only by a wire fence. The footings of buildings can be traced, but only a fragment of wall remains.

An alternative path, difficult to trace on the ground, but with an obvious course, leaves the pit to the hamlet of Thorgill. A mix of lane and path then provide a slightly shorter, but an arguably more varied, route back to Rosedale Abbey.

Whilst becoming a little tedious underfoot the main route doesn’t disappoint visually, with extensive views along the valley,

and across to the outward route through North Dale.

Eventually I arrived at Chimney Bank.

Somehow I missed the path down into the village and took the knee pounding 1:3 lane down the hill.

Today’s walk was my first decent walk for some time. It was very enjoyable. I averaged somewhat under 3 mph, including a couple of breaks, but did not have any serious foot problems. I experimented a bit with footwear and found that a Thorlos liner sock, worn only on my smaller right foot, under a pair of Thorlos Light Hiking socks was the most comfortable combination.

I tried my new Berghaus Freeflow rucksack, Thurlos flask and a Sigg water bottle, all bought en-route to Rosedale, and everything performed well. My Low Alpine dryflo briefs ensured that important little places remained comfy in what was fairly warm weather.

Milage: about 13 miles.

All things considered, not a bad day out.

Progress check

2008-06-21T15:38:00.000-07:00

Dates arranged: 4th to 17th of September 2008.

Accommodation: booked.

Packhorse: arranged.

Deposits: paid.

Weight: a shade under 15 stone (optimum weight about 14 stone).

Last day walk: can’t remember.

New gear:

1. A pair of Pacerpoles (bought largely as a result of a critique on a Lands End to John O'Groats blog (M & G Go for a Walk). The cheapest price I could find for a carbon fibre pair was from Kendal Sport. I was impressed by the service: an error was quickly resolved, with a pair of Thorlos liner socks thrown in by way of compensation.
2. A Berghaus Freeflow IV 25 Day Sack, a Sigg Water bottle and a Vango flask: all from Ryedale Rambler at Pickering. I called in at Pickering en-route to Rosedale for a walk and got the gear at the internet price – around 20% cheaper than shop price.
3. New Thorlos socks and Lowe Alpine Dryflo briefs.

Best get into shape or risk losing lots of brass.

Why the Coast to Coast?

2008-06-21T11:21:00.000-07:00

I’ve walked the C2C route before. That was in September 1994. I did it again a few months later, in July 1995. On those occasions I walked with “our lass”. This time I’ll be walking alone.

The 1994 expedition was our first really big walk. We’d got into walking two or three years earlier with days out on the North York Moors, Yorkshire Dales and the Lakes. Then we tried the Dales Way in 1993 and were hooked on Long Distance Paths: the camaraderie and the progression through a gradually changing landscape were addictive. We quickly notched up the Westmorland Way, the Cumbria Way and, in bits, the local-to-us Wolds Way.

What the other paths offered, however, the C2C did too, but in buckets!

Since then Rita’s health has deteriorated somewhat and now precludes serious walking. I, however, continued hiking with friends and wandered along lots of northern Ways and Walks, notably a route based on John Gillham’s “Lakeland to Lindisfarne” book, the completion of Paul Hannon's trilogy of Lakeland walks (the Westmorland, Cumberland and Furness Ways) and the daddy of them all, the Pennine Way (2002).

Then I drifted away from regular outings and got fat…

Last year I got a grip: went on the wagon, adopted a fish and plant diet and bought new boots. I had three respectable outings in 2007, revisiting the Dales Way and Cumbria Way, and improvising a three day circular outing in the Yorkshire Dales linking Hawes, Kirkby Stephen and Keld.

All these walks were done solo. I wasn't sure if I could tolerate my own company for extended periods, but in the event I rather enjoyed the experience. Solo walking happens at one's own pace and preference, with the opportunity to drop in and out fellow wayfarers company, on the trail or in the pub, more or less at will.

There were a couple of problems though: feet. All three walks produced blisters. I’d used Brasher Supalite boots on the first two jaunts and concluded that they were fine for the occasional day walk, but not up to extended use. The replacement Meindl Atlanta boots were taken virtually untried to the start of the Cumbria Way at Ulverston and saw me limping for the bus home at the Old Dungeon Ghyll a couple of days later with world class blebs.

Another unwelcome development was a bout of sciatica over the winter months, and the Physio’s predictable advice that carrying a 25lb pack for a week or two over rough and undulating terrain was unlikely to help.

So, where to go in 2008? An attractive route, doable in a couple of weeks, with a bag transfer service – I know, I’ve always said I’d go again; I’ll do the Coast to Coast.