Catterick Bridge to Ingleby Cross

Sunday 14 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 19 miles)

The Jenkins Memorial, Bolton-on-Swale

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accommodation:

The Blue Bell Inn

Ingleby Cross

Northallerton

N Yorkshire

DL6 3NF

01609 882272

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

Reeth to Catterick Bridge

Saturday 13 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 15 miles)

Reeth

Below Applegarth Scar

Swale Falls, Richmond

Richmond

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After messing up a Sudoko I was asleep by eleven.

Accommodation:

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

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

Keld to Reeth

Friday 12 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 13 miles)

Keld

Swaledale near Crackpot Hall

Ivelet Bridge

Meadows near Gunnerside

Walltop path, near Isles Bridge

Reeth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accomodation:

Buck Hotel
Reeth
N Yorkshire
DL11 6SW
01748 884210


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

Kirkby Stephen to Keld

Thursday 11 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 12 miles)

The Aussies, Peter & Christine, at Nine Standards

Nine Standards Rigg

Kirkby Stephen from Nine Standards

Whitsundale

Ravenseat

Wain Wath Force

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accommodation:

Keld Lodge
Keld
Richmond
N Yorkshire
DL11 1LL
01748 886259


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

Shap to Kirkby Stephen

Wednesday 10 September 2008
(Walking Distance: 21 miles)

Crosby Ravensworth Fell

Orton and the Howgills

Rayseat Pike

Smardale Bridge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accommodation:

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

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

Patterdale to Shap

Tuesday 9 September 2008

(Walking Distance: 16 miles)

Ulswater from around Boredale Hause

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

Haweswater in the rain from Measand End

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Accommodation:

Brookfield House
Shap
CA10 3PZ

01931 716397

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