October 12, 2023

The Pennine Way

October 12, 2023/ Sarah Lock

“Here’s an idea, why don’t we walk the Pennine Way!
“Err, OK???

Had the conversation continued, the next question would probably have been “WHY?” The obvious answer to that being “Because it’s there!”. After all, why else would you follow little white acorns for 256 miles (412km) along one of the toughest paths in Britain, through remote landscapes in a country renowned for its unpredictable weather and, over the course of the walk, climb approximately 40,000 ft (12,000 m) with full camping packs?

Most walks of this nature require a reasonable amount of planning unless you have the sense to use one of the many companies that will organise a self-walking holiday for you. At least, I assume there are many companies offering these services, although nearly all of the walkers we came across were using Brigantes and, from what I could gather, were more than happy with the support. Whether or not we are lacking in sense is, fortunately, not up for debate as planning a walk with Leroy, our 50kg Rottweiler, demands that we make our own arrangements.

One of the things that makes the PW so challenging is the limited accommodation available in some areas and one of the huge advantages of using a company like Brigantes is that they will come and collect you from the trail, take you to nearby accommodation and drop you back the following morning. Lacking this option and adding a dog filter to our search for a bed for the night, we soon realised that we were going to have to take a tent, something we had recently purchased to replace the one that was stolen in Morocco. Booking whatever dog-friendly accommodation we were able to find, our final itinerary had us in a bed for 14 nights, and the tent for the remaining 7.

The next issue was organising Leroy’s food for the duration of the walk. We worked out roughly what we thought he would need each day and parcelled up biscuits, dehydrated mince and protein bars into daily portions. We would set off on the walk with 4 days-worth of his food, the rest, which weighed just under 10kg, was divided up and posted to various points along the way, a system that proved to work surprisingly well.

It was now time to address the logistics of starting the walk. Rightly or wrongly, I am paranoid about Bob being stolen whilst we are in the UK and leaving him unattended for three weeks was concerning at best. The PW starts in the ancient and beautiful Peak District village of Edale and our first thoughts were to leave Bob at one of the two camping sites there. Wrong – parking in the UK has become a bit of a nightmare and neither campsite could offer us a pitch, nothing was coming up on JustPark, an app that we had used previously where you can park in someone’s driveway for a pre-arranged fee, and the more we widened our search the closer we were getting to the cities of Manchester, Sheffield and Leeds. No way was Bob going to be left to fend for himself in such dubious parts. We shifted our search to the end of the walk and after too many phone calls managed to secure accommodation for our final night and parking for Bob at the Templemead Hotel, a pub in the quiet Scottish Border village of Morebattle just a few miles away from Kirk Yetholm, the official end of the PW.

It took about four hours to drive from the Little Thatched Cottage Airbnb where we were staying in Derbyshire up to the Scottish Borders and, after dropping Bob off, another four hours back to Edale in the hire car. Leaving Ian at the Fieldhead Campsite, where he could struggle with the dynamics of a new tent without helpful comments from me, I returned the hire car to Enterprise, Buxton. Two hours later and it was definitely time for a drink. Luckily, the Old Nags Head was just down the lane and sitting out on the back patio, as the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, we raised a glass to the Pennine Way.

Edale to Crowden – 27.4km

We were up in good time and would have made a quick getaway had it not been for the individual who had arrived into camp late the previous day and set up his tent barely a metre from ours. A surprising move given that we were in a large flat field with just three other tents but as we were packing up it became apparent that we were just the captive audience he was looking for as he downloaded his extensive knowledge on hill walking and gave us a full run-down of all the equipment he owned which, believe me, was extensive. Feeling rather inadequate, and wondering just how much inferior gear we had in our bulging packs, we eventually managed to haul ass and make a slow escape. With packs weighing in at 20kg, 14kg, and 2.5kg, two of us were going nowhere at speed. With the knowledge that there would be no opportunity to purchase food for the next couple of days, we had shopped for provisions the previous day, but preoccupied with the logistics of the walk, neither of us had paid much attention to the actual detail and as we headed back to the Old Nag’s Head, the official start of the PW, were blissfully unaware of what was to come…..

….. hell, literally!

Under any other circumstances, a blast of hot weather throughout the UK would be more than welcome, but weighed down and struggling over rough terrain for nearly 30km during a mini heatwave that had temperatures soaring into the high 20°C’s, was less than ideal. Conditions marginally improved when some cooling air started moving around as we made our first climb of the day up the series of stone steps that go by the name of Jacob’s Ladder, but by the time we were gasping our way up to the towering Edale rocks the breeze had turned into a gale force wind. The classic edge walk around Kinder Scout, a moorland plateau and the highest point of the Peak District, was a multi-tasking battle to stay upright whilst also trying to make some sort of forward progress.

As if this wasn’t enough to contend with, Ian had other issues. Having discussed this particular topic at length over the years, we have come to the conclusion that Ian probably died of thirst in a desert somewhere in a former life. Consequently, he is preoccupied, to the point of being paranoid, about having access to water, of which he drinks copious amounts. Being the only team member to actually carry any and being a gentleman at heart, he shared what he did have but with limited opportunities to refill his water bottle and the high temperatures sucking the moisture out of him at an alarming rate, he was not happy.

As the day progressed, we crossed huge expanses of moorland before navigating Snake Pass, Devil’s Dyke and the steady ascent of Bleaklow (a low is a hill or burial ground). If we hadn’t already got an inkling of what we were in for during the days ahead, the names of the features we were encountering would surely have given it away. The final drag of the day was following Clough Edge, a high rocky path carved into the side of the hill that descended steeply through the thick heather. It was at this point that David and Joe suddenly appeared behind us and strode past leaving us with the realisation that we were moving at a snail’s pace. It was another couple of hours before we finally arrived at Crowden campsite, a mere 10½ hours after leaving Edale. Also just arriving, having taken a wrong turn, were David and Joe – we were officially a couple of tortoises!

Crowden to Standedge – 18.1km

Our packs were a bit lighter this morning with much of our food provisions depleted, not only by us but also D&J who had wrongly anticipated that the campsite shop would be open for business. We palmed off as much food as we could in their direction as we were under no illusions that today was going to be anything other than another classic Peak District walk of remote moorland, reservoirs and plenty of hills. On the plus side, almost half the day’s total ascent was going to be achieved in the first 3 miles or so - what more could we possibly want?! We had just finished climbing up to Laddow Rocks and were having a breather beside Crowden Great Brook when we came across Paul, a solo walker who looked decidedly the worst for wear, seemingly suffering from heat exhaustion. Unlike the day-pack Brigantes walkers, he was carrying a full pack plus a few extra kilos about his person and in his own words was “not sure, I can go much further”. We left him dipping his bandana into the stream and placing it onto the back of his neck in an attempt to cool down and hoped that we would see him faring a bit better further along the trail.

The long climb up to Black Hill was made a lot easier due to the slabs that have been laid as part of a recent transformation, through replanting and sheep control, that has seen the previously barren, black wasteland of peat bog turn into a green and lush landscape. Dropping down the other side, we again stopped for water at Dean Clough when a more determined looking Paul appeared. Apparently, we were about to cross the A635 where there was a chance that the resident food truck might be open offering up food and cold drinks. He muttered something about cold cans of Coke as he shot past and about 10 minutes later D&J also appeared and as we passed on the information re possible refreshments they also continued without stopping. We later learnt that Paul had indeed reached the truck before it shut shop for the day and had drunk 4 cans of coke in quick succession. D&J hadn’t been so lucky and arrived just in time to see the truck heading down the road.

The rest of the day was spent on gravel tracks running through the man-made landscape of reservoirs that were built in the 1800’s to supply water for the mills and subsequent towns downstream. Although the walking was not particularly arduous, the constant pounding on a hard surface whilst carrying a pack soon lets you know how well your boots are holding up. In my case, not well at all. By the time we arrived at Standedge carpark, where we had arranged for Bill to pick us up and take us to his B&B in Diggle for the night, the soles of my feet were burning and blisters were forming on the inside of both heels, both little toes and the two big toenails were rapidly turning black. Ian was faring much better with just a blackened little toe.

Bill was a revelation. With his wife seriously ill in hospital he was running the B&B on his own as well as tending to his small flock of sheep. Well into his 80’s he drove his similarly aged vehicle along narrow, high-hedged laneways at a speed worthy of any good F1 driver and after dropping our gear off he pointed us in the direction of the Diggle Hotel where we could get something to eat.

Pleased to find D&J already in residence we settled in for a good whinge about the heat, the weight of our packs and the state of our feet. After exhausting these topics we found out that they were both physiotherapists, having become friends during their time studying in Newcastle Uni, now walking 3 days of the PW as something of a reunion as Joe was currently living in Norway. We were disappointed that they were not walking the entire way, as they were easy and entertaining company but sat at a table just behind us were Nyall and Matt from Australia and Craig from Canada who we would see a lot more of.

Standedge to Hebden Bridge – 24.9km

Bill kindly drove us back onto the trail after providing a substantial breakfast and packed lunch. Having lived in Australia for much of the last 25 years, I am more than delighted to be back in the land of Branston Pickle and the thought of it nestling alongside a slab of English Cheddar between two slices of bread was nearly enough to take my mind of my throbbing feet which were now so bandaged up that I’d had difficulty just getting my boots on. Pickle aside, there was a highlight on the horizon today, Nicky’s Foodbar, a white shipping container sat on the side of the A762 where, for the first time since leaving Edale, we would be able to get some coffee and snacks. Edging ever closer to the North Pennines and Yorkshire Dales, the morning’s walk was uneventful, and we made good progress towards the white shipping container that we could see in the distance. Arriving just in time for elevenses our hearts dropped as we realised that Nicky had decided to take the day, just today, off! Struggling back into our packs we trudged despondently back onto the path that took us past the closed White House Pub and would eventually take us into Hebden Bridge, a wonderfully eccentric town.

NM&C were also staying at Hebden Bridge and over dinner we all got to know each other a bit better. Nyall and Matt were long service members of the Australian Police Force, whilst Craig was an artist. They had all walked the Coast to Coast a few years ago and were now tackling the Pennine Way and like us, they were struggling with the heat. Nyall confessed to jumping out in front of a passing motorist the previous day and refusing to get out of his way unless he gave him a lift to Standedge, a bold but successful move!

Hebden Bridge to Haworth – 22.3km

Hebden Bridge is not technically on the PW but as it offers much needed accommodation and supplies, the Hebden Bridge loop is incorporated into most itineraries. It sits astride the Rochester Canal and the path out of town and up to Heptonstall Moor is a steep ascent along lanes, steps, passages, through farms and across wet fields. Once on the moor the air was a bit cooler and it was nice to regain a sense of isolation after the crowds at Hebden Bridge. Dropping down to the Walshaw Dean reservoirs, we were sitting on our packs watching Leroy swim up and down when a day walker appeared and stopped for a chat. She was meeting a friend who was walking the PW with the intention of completing the entire walk in just 7 days?? She then went on to say that her husband had competed in the Spine race???? A race devised by two Arctic expedition explorers in 2012 which is now one of the toughest endurance races in the world. A non-stop 268-mile race with pit stops every 40-50 miles where the competitors are able to grab a block of sleep. The time limit for the event is 168 hours (7 days), but the fastest time is held by Jasmine Paris who finished in 2019 in just 83 hours and 12 minutes. And the best part – it takes place in January, slap bang in the middle of winter. jasminfellrunner.blogspot.com/2020/01/spine-race.html

We set off again wondering just who are these people that do this stuff, surely not from the same planet as us, but were soon distracted by our approach to Withins Height, Bronte country and the inspiration for Emily’s classic novel Wuthering Heights. Top Withins, an abandoned stone farmhouse right at the top of the moors and perceived as Heathcliff’s home, received no more than a cursory glance as we staggered past to reach the small fresh-water stream located about 80m further on. It would have been too easy to rest a while, but our day wasn’t going to stop until we reached Haworth, yet another detour off the PW, but one that we were looking forward to as we were booked into the Ashmount Country House where we were hoping to enjoy a bit of luxury and pick up one of Leroy’s food parcels.

Well, the food parcel was waiting for us but the bit of luxury was not. The dining room was closed, breakfast was served so late that we wouldn’t have time to hang around for it, there were no hotel staff after 6pm and the packed lunch offered was egg sandwiches - really?!. Our confusion over the ***** awarded by the AA was cleared up once we spotted a hot tub squashed into the tiny back yard and despite the temperature still nudging 30°C, we sat sweating in the hot tub for as long as we could bear before wandering the cobblestone streets of Haworth, wearing the thoughtfully provided white slippers, to find somewhere to eat.

Haworth to Earby – 24km

Leaving Haworth we picked up the PW again at Ponden Reservoir and, as had now become the norm, began to climb. At the top of Cowling Hill we were overtaken by Craig who was intent on reaching the road into Ickornshaw where he hoped to find a taxi to take him into Malham. Unlike us, the guys had a huge day ahead of them and Craig had wisely decided to jump ship until it was over. The scenery was slowly changing away from the dark gritstone and black peat of the Peak District to the light grey limestone and green grass of the Yorkshire Dales. The heatwave was still going strong and heading down into Lothersdale we could see the Hare & Hounds beckoning below us. Collapsing onto a couple of squashy sofas Ian set about continuing his beer research whilst I was just as occupied on Amazon, trying to decide which boots would enable me to continue and ultimately finish the walk.

There is plenty of contemplation time on a multi-day walk and my thoughts had, for the most part, been consumed by my sore and aching feet. My existing Salomon boots had probably clocked up more mileage than was sensible to start walking the PW and I had also come to the conclusion that, like many other products these days, they weren’t really made to last becoming less and less waterproof and losing their rigidity and support. I now hated them with a passion and regardless of the fact that I have worn this brand for many years I clicked on some Merrell, Boab 3’s, addressing them to the White Hart, Hawes where we would be arriving in a few days time.

With a couple of hours still to walk to reach Earby, we set off up onto Elslack Moor where we admired the views before, once again, detouring off the PW to Earby, where the local youth hostel had kindly agreed to put us up. Unlike the YHA which tends not to accept dogs, many of the smaller independent hostels are a bit more flexible and we were delighted to have not only an entire dorm to ourselves but, baring one other occupant and his bicycle, the whole house to ourselves.

Earby Hostel has a long history as a refuge for socialists in the 1920s-1950. Renowned socialist activist Katharine Glasier moved into Glen Cottage in 1922 and after her death in 1950, her friends began a memorial fund which raised enough money to turn the cottages into a hostel. In 1958 the Youth Hostel was officially opened and in 2016 ownership was transferred to Earby Town Council. Since 2019, Matt Oddy and his family have renovated and continue to run the hostel.

Thornton-in-Craven to Malham – 20.7km

Facilities such as the Earby hostel are a godsend for walkers and cyclists and this morning Matt gave us a lift back onto the PW saving us at least an hour’s extra walking which, out of context doesn’t seem that much, but believe me made our day.

Just past Thornton-in-Craven we reached the Leeds-Liverpool canal with its famous double bridge, and as we strolled along the pretty, level tow-path we were briefly reminded how pleasant walking could be. Of course, it didn’t last long and all too soon we were back labouring through never-ending, soaking wet fields. The weather had finally broken and as a result we were not going to have dry feet again until we reached Kirk Yetholm.

Nearing Malham, the scenery was again changing as we were now on the edge of limestone country not far from the attractions of Gordale Scar and and Janet’s Foss Waterfall. Reading our guidebook there was a suggestion that on reaching Malham, we should dump our bags and make the 3½ mile (5km) detour required to appreciate these impressive sights. They have got to be kidding, the only sights we were interested in came in a glass or had a clean white duvet and fluffy pillows, all of which the Listers Arms was able to provide.

Malham to Horton-in-Ribblesdale – 18.5km

Feeling only slightly guilty that we hadn’t made the effort to visit some of the local attractions, we emerged from the pub swamped in waterproof gear and proceeded in the pouring rain towards Malham Cove, a huge curving amphitheatre shaped cliff formation of limestone rock. The climb up the steps beside the Cove had us gasping for breath and once at the top we only briefly acknowledged the Limestone Pavement where Harry and Hermione had pitched their tent in The Deathly Harrows. The way down was treacherous as the persistent rain had made the rocks super slippy, but it wasn’t long before we were heading up again on the 155 steps out of Watlowes Valley and up to Mallham Tarn, England’s highest marl lake. Formed during the Ice Age by a glacier scraping away the limestone rock right down to the ancient impermeable slate layer, the Tarn is a haven for many upland waterfowl including Moorhen, Great Crested Grebe, Teal and Coot.

It was another uphill hike to Fountains Fell, the climb difficult enough to keep our attention away from the slightly worrying signs that were in place and on to the base of Pen-y-ghent, meaning “hill of the winds”, one of the “Yorkshire Three Peaks”.

The YTP Challenge is a classic 24 mile (39.6km) circular walk that takes on the peaks of Pen-y-ghent (694m), Whernside (736m) and Ingleborough (723m) in under 12 hours. Combined, these three peaks contain more ascent than Ben Nevis and draw in hundreds of thousands of people each year. Relieved that the circuit hadn’t been incorporated into the PW we turned towards Horton, wincing down the steep, knee-jarring, rock path that has been laid to withstand the footfall of the “Three Peakers”.

Limestone blocks above Malham's Cove.jpg

Unable to find any accommodation in Horton, we were spending the night at Holme Farm Campground but first we needed a ride into the village of Settle where we could replenish our food supplies. Whilst waiting for the taxi to arrive I chatted to the campsite owner, an 87 year old retired sheep farmer whose family had been in the area for over 300 years. He commented on the Peregrine Falcons at Malham Cove, one of the most successful nesting sites in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. The fully protected falcons, that can reach speeds of more than 186 miles (300km) per hour, are not only the world’s fastest bird but also the world’s fastest animal and have been nesting in the area since 1993. Unfortunately, over that time the population of robins, skylarks and starlings has reduced to such an extent that morning birdsong has sadly become a thing of the past.

Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Hawes – 22.4km

Despite the rain, today was the best so far as it followed wall-enclosed stony paths and numerous old packhorse trails over the wild limestone moors. The use of packhorses to carry goods and particularly salt, goes back to medieval times and continued until the construction of turnpipe roads and canals in the 18th century. We were walking along just a few of the many routes that crossed the Pennines between Lancashire and Yorkshire and by the time we reached the old Roman roads of Cam High and West Cam, we were high up above the moorland and surrounded by hills under a huge, admittedly wet, sky. The market town of Hawes came into sight long before we reached it and we almost skipped towards it in the knowledge that tomorrow was a day off.

We checked into The White Hart Inn where my new boots were waiting. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of sliding my feet into comfortable boots. Off came the triple-layered strips of sports tape, wound pads and plasters that had become welded to my feet and the grubby white slippers were throw in the bin.

Hawes to Keld 20.2km

swaledale, coast to coast path down below

As slowly as some of the days had been passing, our day off flew by, and all too soon we were packing up and heading off – once again in the rain. Leaving the limestone of the southern Dales behind us we headed back into a bog-peat environment. Today was a bit of a milestone as we would reach Keld, the halfway point of the Coast to Coast and somewhere we were familiar with from our walk last year. All the way up Great Shunner Fell all I could think about was the Rukin’s Park Camping café in Keld where I had strong recollections of good cafetiere coffee and excellent chocolate cake. Please, please still be there!

As we were descending off the Fell, the Swaledale Valley opened up below us and we could clearly see the Coast-to-Coast path gently meandering alongside the river. It was a bit like meeting up with an old friend, a softer, more easy-going character than the one we were currently with. The last section of narrow, rocky path down into Keld was tiring as the rocks were slippy and the descent was steep but we arrived at the campsite around 3pm and headed straight to the café which was where we needed to check in and right there, under its glass dome, was a rich, moist chocolate cake.

Once the tent was up, and leaving Leroy flat out on his bed inside, we headed up to the Lodge. The place was absolutely packed and our hopes of purchasing dinner were immediately dashed. Still full of chocolate cake we weren’t terribly concerned and after purchasing some drinks we headed into the lounge. We heard them before we saw them, NM&C relaxing on the settee with an elderly gentleman walker that they had picked up on the trail into Keld. Although they were staying at a lodge a few km down the road they hadn’t been able to resist the lure of a couple of pints and it was good to catch up whilst we charged our phones.

Dinner for us ended up being yet another Co-op sandwich in the tent.

Keld to Bowes 19.7km

It was misty as we climbed up to Tan Hill Inn, the highest in Britain, and we were almost through the front door before we were able to see it in the gloom. It was only mid-morning, but the bar was open and coffee was being served to NM&C who had arrived shortly before us. Stood in isolation on the edge of Stonesdale Moor with a steady stream of friendly locals arriving, it was a fine example of a British pub. Conversation was mainly about the imminent crossing of Sleightholme Moor which promised to be the boggiest and wettest section so far and whilst by this stage we were all becoming proficient at wading through shin deep peat bogs, the prospect was still daunting. The guys had decided to take the road instead, justifying their decision on advice they had received from their landlord over breakfast, and headed off. We followed soon after, but not before a warming shot of Sambuca and a pair of dry gloves which Craig had thoughtfully left behind.

It was pointless really taking a detour around Sleightholme as it wasn’t long before we were off the road and back wading through a sodden landscape. Forced to take the Bowes Loop to find accommodation, we added yet more mileage to an already overlong walk and eventually arrived at the Ancient Unicorn, wet through and covered in mud. Arriving in a similar state were solo walker Fireman Max and a couple of girls who were walking a third of the PW and who we had briefly seen the day before.

Bowes to Middleton-in-Teesdale 20.6km

It took us 2 hours to reach Baldersdale where we were able to rejoin the PW. Max had been in our sights most of the way eventually giving us the opportunity to catch up by taking a rather circuitous route through the long marsh grass just beyond Hazelgill Beck. Continuing on together, Max confirmed what we had already heard on the PW grapevine, his feet were in a diabolical state. So much so, that he was popping pain-killers every few hours in order to stay on them. After checking that he had no requirement for any of Ian’s thirteen pairs of socks, we left him rummaging through his pack, presumably looking for more analgesics, and continued through various farmland, crossed the half-way point and stopped for snacks at the tuck shop honesty box of Wythes Hill Farm.

Both of us were feeling pretty good at this stage. Leroy had finally worked out how to utilise the large flat pieces of stone protruding out of the high dry-stone walls in order to get over which meant we were covering the ground at a much more acceptable pace than earlier in the walk.

Middleton-in-Teesdale is an official ‘walkers are welcome’ town, an initiation launched in 2007 guaranteeing that in return for the deposits of mud you are trailing behind you, you will receive a friendly smile. This had indeed been our experience so far and one that continued all the way to the end.

Middleton-in-Teesdale to Langdon Beck 14.9km

Today was a short and pleasant one once the series of tedious styles between us and the River Tees had been crossed. We strolled beside the river past the Low and High Force waterfalls, the latter an impressive display of power and white water crashing down from a height of 21m. In stark contrast to other sections, the PW followed a well maintained, flat gravel path that came complete with boot cleaner. Taking advantage, we later arrived at the Langdon Beck Hotel without the usual kilo of mud and peat bog on our boots. This of course ensured an extra friendly welcome which helped to take our mind of the next couple of days which were going to be tough.

Langdon Beck to Dufton – 21.8km

Relentless rain accompanied us as we followed a straight-forward route past Widdy Bank Farm and back to the Tees where, rather than the lovely path of yesterday, we were now required to scramble over the boulder-strewn, ankle-twisting margins of the river. The going was torturously slow given how slick the surface was, a situation not helped when a sheep, having a bit of alone time on the wrong wide of the river, suddenly leapt out in front of us. Completely wrong footed, Ian let go of Leroy who immediately followed the sheep into the fast-moving river, a move that neither Ian nor myself felt inclined to copy. Our attempts at recall proved useless and out of options we figured our best bet at getting him back was to continue, which we did for about 20 minutes or so. If we were hoping to see that orange backpack come bounding round the corner we were out of luck and there was nothing else for it but to go back. The boulders had been hard enough to cross the first time, a second time was infuriating, particularly when spotting Leroy almost at the other side of the river facing-off with the sheep that had now made it onto the bank. No-one wants to admit that their dog is less intelligent than a sheep but seeing the sheep standing its ground and refusing to run away whilst Leroy was standing in the freezing cold water after being in the river for about 40 minutes, did rather suggest this to be true. There was nothing else for it, Ian was going to have to go in and get him. There was no point taking his boots off, as they were already sopping wet, and wasting no more time he waded into the river. His return, dragging a bedraggled Leroy, was not quite a Colin Firth moment, but the two girls mentioned earlier who had arrived on the scene did seem to be enjoying the diversion.

Back over the rocks again and we were soon at the base of the huge waterfall of Cauldron Snout, the only discernible path seeming to be an almost vertical exposed climb just off to the side. About half-way up and struggling, we were relieved to see an almost untrodden zig-zag path softening the climb, a path that was obviously missed by every-one else as they queried how on earth had we managed to get Leroy up to the top.

It took us a few more hours of plodding through all too familiar boggy moorland before arriving at Half Cup Nick. Rather magically, the rain stopped and the sun peered out just long enough to prevent us walking straight off the edge into the impressive u-shaped deep chasm, another demonstration of the aftermath of glacial erosion.

The remainder of the day was all downhill along an old miner’s track into Dufton. The rain had started again and ours was the only tent at the Grandie Caravan Park. There was no food on offer in the tiny village which forced us to cook inside a tiny, open-sided shelter before alighting to the pub where we met Joss, a retired head teacher from the Isle of Man.

Dufton to Garrigill – 25.2km

Fortunately, it is not too often that we find ourselves in a position that has us questioning the sanity of our decisions, but along with the four other people that came over the top of Cross Fell in torrential rain and a howling gale we did consider our situation to be verging on madness. The highest point of the PW, directly in the path of the Helm Wind, which must be mighty as it is the only wind in the UK that has a name, we reached the summit, where the views of the Lake District would have been a welcome distraction had we been able to see anything. Surrounded by thick mist we staggered blindly around whilst waiting for one of the giant waymarking cairns to momentarily appear out of the gloom before being engulfed back into the grey nothingness. We were also struggling to cross the deep peaty bog ponds which would have been a lot easier to navigate if the large flagstones, recycled from the floors of derelict mills, hadn’t been broken and partly swallowed up by the rich near-liquid peat. With the wind changing the direction of the rain from a constant hammering on the tops of our heads to a sideways stinging attack to the face we couldn’t have been more relieved to eventually reach the safety of Greg’s Hut, a most welcome and popular refuge already occupied by Joss and three other cold and wet nature lovers.

Corpse Road, so called because of its previous use as a coffin route out of Garrigill, is a 6-mile, foot pounding, constant descent and a part of the PW much despised. All thing’s being relative we rather liked it!

Garrigill is another tiny village with little to offer in the way of accommodation or food but it does have the marvellous Village Hall where we were booked to camp for the night. One look at our sorry state and Brian the caretaker deemed it totally inappropriate for us to pitch the tent and ushered us into the Hall which was a fully equipped hostel. I could easily have thrown my arms around him and kissed him as he showed us the showers, dry room, kitchen and lounge areas, all with radiators blasting out heat – it was totally unexpected and yet another example of the hospitality that we had received along the PW.

Garrigill to Alston 6.5km

After the trials of yesterday, we enjoyed a short stroll into Alston, the highest market settlement in England, with its steep cobbled streets and the terminus of the South Tynedale Railway, England’s highest narrow-gauge railway. It is a remote place, the nearest town being 20 miles away and the landscape surrounding the town is heavily influenced by centuries of mining for stone, lead, zinc and Alstonite, a mineral found in only a few places in the world. Any suggestion of exploring the area further was discussed at length in each of the town’s coffee shops.

Alston to Greenhead 27km

I’d like to say that we had a dilemma this morning, but honestly there was no justifying the allure of the PW over that of the South Tyne Trail that runs parallel. Whilst the PW follows a tedious meandering route through fields and farmyards, over numerous styles and through countless gates, the ST Trail is an unbroken, gradient-free amble through a tunnel of trees. It’s possible to stay on this trail all the way into Haltwhistle before a final push to Greenhead, but feeling just guilty enough after a morning of such easy walking we turned off at Lambley and rejoined the PW. On reflection, a strange decision as we waded across Blenkinsopp Common, probably the wettest and soggiest section of the entire walk, but it did feel more familiar and we were elated to get Leroy past the grouse beaters, dogs and guns without incident.

Every long-distance walk in the UK would surely have a cow story to share, but unlike our experiences on the Coast to Coast we had receive no more than a laid-back glance from the countless fields of cows that we had crossed. We were therefore a little taken aback, as we walked through another herd of these creatures, to lock eyes with a rather large cow with a ring through its nose. A quick glance underneath confirmed that we were less than 5 metres away from a huge bull! What do you do, run? Stand still? Make a noise? Keep quiet? As we cautiously inched forward he continued to stare at us and I can only assume, from the large number of females that surrounded him, that he was too doped up on Oxytocin to worry about us.

Greenhead consisted of a hotel and a tea-room, both of which were excellent. Over dinner we caught up again with Joss, another Brigantes walker, who still seemed to be a little traumatised following his assault on Cross Fell.

Greenhead to Once Brewed 10.2km

Out of Pennine country, the highlight today was following a section of Hadrian’s Wall, a former defensive fortification of the Roman province of Britannia. Begun back in AD 122 it took at least six years to complete, stretching 73 miles (117 km) from one side of England to the other. Constructed by around 15,000 men under the instruction of Hadrian, the Emperor of Rome, the wall included minor garrisons as well as larger forts built along its length, manned by up to 20,000 auxilliary soldiers on the lookout for invading Scottish Barbarians. The wall has been ransacked over the centuries but it is the largest Roman archaeological feature in Britain and relatively intact in parts. Walking alongside the wall through the Northumbrian National Park, officially the most tranquil national park in England, was a pleasure not detracted from by the rather chipper Hadrian’s Wall walkers, a stark contract to the contemplative, sombre walkers on the PW.

Looking for accommodation we again detoured away from the PW and down to the Old Repeater Station at Haydon Bridge. Previously used to boost the strength of telephone signals carried over long distances by copper wires, the Station was converted into a B&B in 2004. Run by Les, another octogenarian and one of the original £10 poms, it was home to one of the best model railway sets I have come across.

Once Brewed to Bellingham 27.3km

A long day that initially took us through Wark Forest and over Haughton Common, a rather desolate landscape following heavy damage by storm Arwen in 2021 and the subsequent piling up of felled trees. The only relief between us and Bellingham was the oasis at Horneystead Farm, a much appreciated pit stop offering hot drinks, snacks and somewhere to sit down out of the weather. Such places act as a magnet for walkers and we arrived just as Joss was leaving and also met Melinda, a young titian haired beauty who was walking the PW in the opposite direction with full camping gear and a schedule of just 15 days.

A sustained pace through pasture, farmland and quiet country lanes deposited us at the Cheviot Pub.

Bellingham to Byrness – 24.8km

What a tedious day, 4 hours through a sodden, unchanging bracken landscape followed by 4 hours along a harsh grey gravel forest track, but redemption did come by way of the warm welcome waiting for us at the Forest View Walkers Inn. It was a lively night shared with NM&C, Joss, Will - another solo walker and a Canadian couple.

Byrness to Kirk Yetholm 41.1km

No, this is not a typo. The last section of the walk is a demanding mountain marathon over the bleak but beautiful Cheviot Range. Aeons ago, cooling lava formed these distinctive rounded hills which challenge the walker with a quick succession of steep ascents followed by the inevitable steep descents. Up, down, up down, up down………….

There are no facilities at all between Byrness and Kirk Yetholm so our options were to walk the entire 41km in one go, make use of the pick-up and drop off shuttle offered by the Walkers Inn which involved an additional 9km of walking over the two days or wild camp. Disinclined to add any additional mileage, we opted to wild camp not quite sure what to expect weather-wise camping so high and a little trepidatious about the lack of fresh water.

So close to the end, we covered just under 30km before struggling to pitch the tent in strong winds not far from the lonely and rather exposed Auchope refuge hut. We had been told there was water just below the hut but this turned out to be just a shallow pool of brown peaty liquid and we just weren’t that desperate. Sleep was fitful as the wind didn’t abate and the tent was flapping around so much that the roof kept hitting us on the head. It was a relief when morning eventually arrived and we emerged out of the tent just 5 minutes before six young cows arrived to investigate – nearly another cow story!

With only 11 km to go, nearly all of it downhill, we strode towards Kirk Yetholm. Just on the outskirts of the village we were stopped by a fit-looking guy who asked us if we were finished the PW. After confirming this to be the case he became quite animated and was full of congratulations which did serve to remind us of what we had been doing for the last three weeks. Five minutes later we were at the official end, the Border’s Hotel.

If you have made it to the end of this overlong blog, you are equally deserving of the free half pint and certificate of completion that was offered to us. We declined the certificates, Ian had my half pint and I took a seat as the landlady popped the cork on a bottle of champagne.

July 04, 2022

Reflections After a Year on the Road (from Ian)

July 04, 2022/ Sarah Lock

Sarah asked me the other day, after just over a year of travelling in our Land Rover, whether I had any regrets. My immediate answer, without giving it any thought, was that the idea of having missed everything we’ve experienced in the past year, if instead I’d chosen to stay longer at work, absolutely horrified me. We’ve seen and done so much that the thought of having missed out on it doesn’t bear thinking about. You only live once, after all. My answer prompted Sarah to suggest that I write a short blog on the subject.

If you’re approaching your mid to late 50’s you probably start contemplating what ‘life after work’ might look like.

I was definitely one of the lucky few in this world. I’ve had a fantastic career, worked with some of the brightest people imaginable, had a business partner that never once complained about my numerous shortcomings (we never had a partnership agreement and never had anything approaching a falling out). Our practice was extremely profitable, intellectually both stimulating and rewarding, and when I left the practice the business was in as good a shape as it had ever been. So why leave? Well, the simple answer is that we figured we had enough to indulge our passion for exploring the world.

When contemplating leaving work, the first question you will inevitably ask yourself is “how much money do I need to be able to retire?” No matter where you do your research, all the answers are along the lines of ‘there isn’t a fixed number, and it depends on… blah blah blah’ - and then they list all the things which you already know.

In my mind, I reflected back to when I started work and what I then thought was a good salary (for the purposes of this article let’s say $100k). It would be unrealistic to envisage being able to save half of that, so if accumulated savings/net worth were to reach between $1m - $1.5m over a period of 20 or 30 years, even after taking inflation into account, that would be amazing. Yes, some people have more than that, but common sense says that it must be enough.

Having determined that one (probably) has enough money to retire, the next big question is ‘when should I take the plunge, and what will I do to occupy my time?’ - hopefully quite a lot of it.

Well, my philosophy (since the age of about 25) is that the only real treasures in a person’s life are their experiences. In my life, all my most treasured experiences so far are travel-related. Whether touring around Europe with my twin sister as a teenager, trekking in the Andes or the Himalayas with Sarah, cycling from Paris to Monte Carlo, bungee jumping off the bridge at Victoria Falls or anything in between. These are the things that have always brought me the most pleasure and satisfaction.

The fact that Sarah enjoys travel as much as I do, if not more, and on top of that has an incredible ability to organise unusual and exciting trips, meant that it was easy for the two of us to identify indefinite travel as the way to start off our post-retirement lives.

After one year of travelling we haven’t even scratched the surface. Basically, we’ve done the outside of Australia (the Big Lap) and some parts of the UK (we didn’t get to Ireland this time). There is no realistic prospect of us ever having enough time to properly travel the whole world, or even a large part of it, certainly not at this rate. Accordingly our aim is to focus on enjoying and properly exploring the places that we do go to, happy that when we move on to the next adventure we haven’t left unfinished business behind.

We’re having a ball, not for one second regretting the choices we’ve made, and genuinely excited about what the future holds. I don’t think those sentiments would quite hold true about the last year if I’d stayed behind a desk, no matter how rewarding the work.

June 21, 2022

UK Part II - South of England

June 21, 2022/ Sarah Lock

icome, one of many pretty cotswolds villages

Arriving in Southampton ready to welcome Bob into the UK (ETA 15th May), we were disappointed, but not really surprised, to be advised that his ETA had been put back to 12th June. Although frustrating, it was not too much of an inconvenience as it gave us more time to explore the UK. Extending the car hire was quick and easy and it wasn’t long before we were heading to a cottage in Thorncombe, a small village in the north-west corner of Dorset. The cottage was situated on the grounds of a beautiful Georgian farm formerly part of an Abbey and we enjoyed a few days walking around the area and planning our next move.

We had originally intended to stay in London once reunited with Bob but decided instead to drive up to the Cotswolds where a couple of long-time friends, visiting from Australia, were staying. The Cotswolds is England’s largest area of outstanding natural beauty (as marked by AONB on Google maps) and, after the Lake District and Yorkshire Dales national parks, is the third largest protected landscape in England. A soft, green, rolling countryside of almost 800 square miles characterised by charming small towns and villages built in the underlying, honey-coloured, Jurassic limestone. The name is thought to be derived from “Cots” – sheep enclosure and “wolds” – gentle hills, the sheep introduced by the Romans over 2,000 years ago as a wool source. Of course, the Romans left but the sheep remained and passed into the hands of local landowners, first the church and then farming families. The wool was extremely high-quality and many fortunes were made, which explains the grandeur of many of the country estates and churches. After a period of trading the fleeces, local commerce began to weave the wool and “By the 18th century, every gentleman in Europe wore a coat made of West of England cavalry twill” (Richard Martin, local wool trade expert). The local weavers were utilising power derived from the water mills until the industrial revolution in the north of England saw steam power triumph and the center of textile production moved farther north leaving behind a piece of rural quintessential English countryside that escaped modernisation and redevelopment, retaining a timeless, traditional charm.

Wanting to make the best use of our unexpected extra time, we mapped out a circular walk of the Cotswolds and, after a fun couple of days catching up with our Aussie mates, grabbed our rucksacks and set off on a five day, 75 mile (120 km), hike. The novelty of access to a never-ending web of footpaths and bridleways had not worn off and we mostly* loved tramping over the green fields and along narrow, hedge-lined country lanes. As on our Coast to Coast path, we rarely came across anyone else walking and were able to enjoy much peace and quiet broken only by the musical birdsong and occasional farmyard sounds.

*Despite its sheep farming history, we rarely saw any sheep in this area, most of the fields were being used to grow a variety of grain and vegetable crops. Apart from a couple of fields ….. We entered a large field aware that there were a number of cows in the far corner. Great, plenty of time to get to the exit gate, or so we thought. The stampede was started by one young curious cow which started running towards us, soon to be followed by the rest of the herd. Unfortunately, the size of the field meant that we were only half-way across and, to make things more interesting, two young girls on horses had caught up to us and were now also very much in the mix. One of the horses had only just been broken in and was out for the first time and spotting the cows approaching was jumping up and down on the spot which was agitating the other horse and had Leroy in a state of high excitement. The girl on the young horse seemed to be expecting us to do something and so Ian leapt into action and, with arms outstretched, did an amazing job of holding the cows back long enough for the rest of us to eventually make it to the gate. Not easy when both horses were more interested in going backwards rather than forwards and Leroy had no intention of coming calmly with me when the option was to stand on his hind legs straining to get amongst the horses or cows or possibly both. It never sounds like much of a deal when you hear of someone’s experience with cows but I promise you it is one of the more challenging aspects of countryside walking and although amusing in hindsight, not terribly funny at the time.

One particular bonus of spending additional time in the UK, is that we are here for the Platinum Jubilee, a celebration of HM’s 70 years on the throne and whilst this on its own is worthwhile add in the annual Gloucester Cheese Rolling and we couldn’t have timed it better. This unusual world-famous event takes place on Coopers Hill, Gloucestershire where, according to local family recollections, it has been held since the mid 1700’s. The race is started with the words…

"One to be ready!", "Two to be steady!", "Three to prepare!" "and four to be off!"

…at which point a weighty 8lb Double Gloucester cheese is rolled down the steep hill. With a brief head start, the daredevil contestants hurl themselves after it at breakneck speed aiming to be the first person to cross the line at the bottom of the hill. Whilst most of the field tumble head-over-heels down the slope, the few that do manage to stay on their feet hope to be caught by one of the “catchers” as they cross the line, as their speed is such that stopping of their own accord is not an option. Not surprisingly, some competitors don’t make it all the way down, with the highest injury toll in recent years occurring in 1997 when 33 competitors required medical attention.

We arrived and parked in the small town of Brockworth before joining the thong of spectators on the muddy, mile long, walk up to Coopers Hill. It was a good turnout and a real party atmosphere as everyone waited for the first event to start. There are seven events in total, two men’s races, two women’s races, one open race and two uphill races for the kids. A bit away from the start line we were made aware of the off by the huge cheer that went up, quickly followed by the appearance of the cheese with the crazy competitors close behind. Watching in disbelief as bodies were thrown down the ridiculously steep slope, we then witnessed about two-thirds of the field making their way from the finishing line to seek assistance in the first aid tent. The remaining third, suitably bloodied and covered in mud from head to toe, jubilantly made their way through the crowd to be met by equally jubilant friends and family. What type of person participates in such events? This one was only too happy to pose for a photo. What an excellent way to spend a Sunday afternoon although it is a shame that previous events such as shin-kicking are no longer on the schedule – can’t think why!

As we made our way once again towards Southampton, we briefly reflected on our time and observations whilst in the UK. Travelling through Wales, and Scotland in particular, we were struck by the number of wind farms dotted about and were interested to learn that there are now more than 11,000 wind turbines on and offshore that produce nearly a quarter of the UK’s electricity. This figure puts the UK as the 6th largest wind energy capacity country behind China, USA, Germany, India and Spain. Renewable, sustainable and with zero emissions hopefully another step in the right direction to protecting our environment.

Rather more iconic symbols of the UK are the red double-decker buses, post and telephone boxes, all designed in the 1920’s by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott. In their hey-day there were over 90,000 of the distinctive red telephone boxes and surprisingly, in this age of the cell phone, it is estimated that around 10,000 are still in use. Some of them are still being utilised as originally intended but a scheme run by BT in 2021 saw 4,000 boxes up for grabs at £1 each. Many local communities took advantage of the offer and we saw numerous phoneboxes used in a variety of new and ingenious ways. Many now house defibrillators as well as mini librarys, mini art galleries and mini museums with some more unusual ventures offering coffee, salad and sandwich bars, cocktail bars, an iPhone screen repair shop and a very enterprising double kiosk in Brighton selling hats, sunglasses and beachwear. Not too sure what the one in the picture is offering???!

And, talking of British icons, possibly the best of them all….. we have at last been notified of Bob’s arrival at the Port of Southampton. Woo-Hoo, here we go!

May 19, 2022

UK - The Other Side of the World

May 19, 2022/ Sarah Lock

VIEWS FROM DRUIDS CIRCLE, PENMAENMAWR, NORTH WALES

It’s hard to believe, but here we all are in the UK. Ian and I arrived into London a day before Leroy touched down in Manchester and Bob is still at sea and expected to dock at Southampton later this month. After what seemed like an age to organise, one moment we were in Sydney and within 74 hours we were all standing on wet British soil. We weren’t sure what to expect after all the travel restrictions that have been in place for the past couple of years but, aside from showing our Covid vaccination certificates at check-in, the process was quick and easy. We paid $3,000 each to fly Premium Economy with Qantas as $6,000 for a Business seat was a bit of a reach, but a week before the flight we tried our luck and bid an additional $1,000 each in an attempt to win an upgrade. We weren’t particularly optimistic as a quick look online at availability showed that although seats were still available, the price of a business ticket one-way had now increased to $10,000! On the morning of the flight we were advised that our bids had been unsuccessful and on boarding, a quick look into Business showed every seat was occupied. I wonder who paid $10,000 or, alternatively, how much higher was the bid that had secured the upgrade. Premium Economy was also full but poking my head round the curtain into economy showed the section to be less than a third occupied. I guess the demand for flights is still low which would explain why Qantas are only flying the small Dreamliners instead of the big Airbuses on their flagship route to London. An uneventful flight touched down at Heathrow and we were amazed to be out of the airport with all of our checked bags half an hour later. Missing Bob already we picked up a hire car and headed up to North Wales where we would be staying for the next week.

North Wales is where I grew up and a beautiful part of the UK. Eager to prepare ourselves for our up-and-coming Coast to Coast walk, we donned our hiking boots and hit the hills. It was nice to show Ian around and even though we only had a short time, we did see quite a bit of the area, particularly Snowdonia and Anglesey and, after Australia’s tough policy in regards to dogs, couldn’t quite get over the extent of public footpaths and bridleways that we now had access to. In fact, everywhere we went seemed to be sporting a ‘dogs-welcome’ sign.

Before heading up to the Lake District, the start of our planned walk, Ian went for a quick zip on Velocity 2, the worlds fastest zipline. Set in the Snowdonia National Park, four 1.5km parallel lines whiz you over Penrhyn Quarry at speeds up to and over 100 mph. Having enjoyed this experience a few years ago I was probably more keen that Ian have a go than Ian was himself, although he did make me laugh when I watched him striding out at the front of his group intending to head towards the smaller warm-up lines but instead leading all 30 of them off in the wrong direction. Watching from the viewing deck of the main hub it was so windy that getting a good shot was near impossible but I can confirm that Ian was way out in front, a fact that pleased him enormously!

Leaving Wales we headed north and up into Cumbria, home of the beautiful Lake District. Driving along we were surprised to see so many bright yellow fields breaking up the traditional green, English countryside. A bit of googling informed us that these crops of oilseed rape are UK’s third-largest arable crop after wheat and barley, covering an area of 1.5 million acres and worth around £700 million a year. Globally, rapeseed is the third-biggest source of vegetable oil after soyabean and palm oil and, with agricultural subsidies from the EEC many British farmers in the 70’s and 80’s were quick to introduce this crop which has proved to produce high yields and high returns. Known as a break-crop, a crop specially planted to give other crops a break, rapeseed fertilises the soil by adding nitrogen and is recognised as a high quality vegetable oil with a good health profile. However, being a member of the mustard family Brassicaceae, and true to form as anyone who has grown broccoli or cauliflower will know, oilseed rape is particularly vulnerable to attack by insects and often receives three sprayings of herbicide and fungicide per crop. This has obvious disadvantages such as polluted run-off into waterways, an adverse impact on populations of honey bees which are strongly attracted to the high pollen flowers and recent studies are showing that it emits nitrous oxide which is nearly 300 times more powerful than carbon dioxide as an agent of global warming. Initially, we though the splashes of canary-yellow were quite beautiful but, armed with a bit more information, we now have a very different view.

It took us 15 days to complete the long-distance Coast to Coast walk, and it exceeded all of our high expectations. No wonder this is one of the most popular walks in the country and for anyone wondering whether or not to do it, absolutely, you won’t be disappointed! We were a bit concerned as to how Leroy would cope with the rigours of unrelenting day after day walking but once he got over the initial shock he was an absolute superstar and definitely played his part in contributing to a fun trip. April in the north of England can be cold and rainy (sometimes not unlike the rest of the year) and although we weren’t expecting to see many other walkers, were surprised at how few we did come across. For the most part we enjoyed our own company and were encouraged that even in the UK where there is such a dense population there are still plenty of opportunities to find areas of quiet, hopefully a good omen as we travel through a busy world. Settling more and more into our nomadic lifestyle, we are able to clearly identify the components that make us happy and, it is a relief to find that, for the most part, it is as simple as eating healthily, getting a good night’s sleep, being physically active and enjoying the peace and quiet of nature. We do not miss owning our own home, actually quite the opposite, although we are looking forward to being reunited with Bob and the independence he enables us to have.

On finishing the walk we still had some time before we needed to head south and collect Bob, so we continued north and crossed over into Scotland. As we had found in Wales, many of the original large property estates are now renting out their gate houses and out-buildings on Airbnb and we stayed at the delightful North Lodge at Balcarres, just outside St Andrews. It was the perfect place to recharge with log fires, tartan throws and a huge free-standing copper bath, all set in private woodland complete with red deer. We were sorry to leave but also wanting to see a bit more of Scotland we drove higher into Aberdeenshire and then west over to the Highland council area and Loch Ness.

Loch Ness is one of four lochs linked by the 60 mile long Caledonian Canal, a project devised by Thomas Telford that took 19 years to complete and cost £910,000. The purpose of the Canal was to connect the Scottish east and west coasts thereby improving communications and trade lines along a route that allowed ships to avoid the dangerous waters around the north of the country. Unfortunately, when it opened in 1822, 12 years later than planned, sailing ships had been superseded by powerful steam ships which could easily navigate the passage around Scotland and were too large to use the canal anyway. However, following a well-publicised trip along the canal by Queen Victoria in 1873, the canal gained popularity as a tourist attraction with people wanting to travel along this most scenic of waterways with its 29 locks, 10 bridges and 4 aqueducts.

For me, Loch Ness has always been associated with the Loch Ness Monster and I was interested to read about Steve Feltham, better known as the NessieHunter and a self-professed patient man. In 1992, at the age of 28 he left his home, job and girlfriend to become a full-time monster hunter and on days when he is in residence can be found in his, now, immobile van which is parked in the village of Dores on the shores of the Loch. I love this excerpt from his webpage http://nessiehunter.co.uk/about

“Film crews and journalists from all over the world turn up on a regular basis, and I answer all their questions, but they are invariably focused on one subject: is there a monster, or isn’t there? Which is perfectly understandable, but it frustrates me that I never have the chance to get an equally important point across: that if you have a dream, no matter how harebrained others think it is, then it is worth trying to make it come true. I’m living proof that it might just work. Have I ever regretted my decision? Never, not for one second. I love my life, it’s an adventure.

It is impossible for me to put into words all that is Scotland but it is indeed a majestic country of towering mountains, lush forests and vast lochs. Once up in the Highlands, everywhere you look there is a scene that evokes a ‘Wow’, the scale and beauty of the landscape is almost overwhelming. The small hamlet of Fort Augustus, situated at the south-west end of the Loch, provided us with a base to explore the area and hike some of the local trails. One of the more popular walks was to the top of Meall Fuar-mhonaidh, otherwise known by the less enticing name of Cold Rounded Hill, the most prominent summit in the area with fantastic views over the Loch. And, of course we hired a couple of kayaks and went looking for Nessie but sadly there was no sign.

Continuing west we drove over the Skye bridge and onto the Isle of Skye, a place famous for its rugged scenery, rich Clan history, varied wildlife, challenging rock climbs and stunning walks. It was also home to some of the best coffee that we have had since arriving in the UK. Being short on time we were only able to scratch the surface of this largest and best known of the Inner Hebrides but it’s size of 50 miles / 80 km long and 25 miles wide meant that we managed to get around most of the main attractions including The Old Man of Storr, Fairy Pools, Quiraing, Fairy Glen, Kilt Rock, Point of Sleat and Black Cuillin – how could you not want to visit with names like these?! Some required a bit of a hike to get to whilst others were more of a drive-by, all a part of the island’s dramatic landscape which is intermittently dotted with pretty white-washed cottages topped with grey slate roofs that accommodate a population of around 13,000. As is often the case with island life, you can’t help but absorb the serene, almost transcendental energy and this is definitely a place to savour and one I would love to return to.

We had one more stop before leaving Scotland – climb Ben Nevis! It wasn’t originally part of the plan but we were so close to Fort William, the nearest town to the UK’s highest mountain, that it seemed foolish not to stand on top. There was no luxury of waiting for good weather, so we were relieved that the morning we set out was relatively fine although bitingly cold. Everything we had read, recommended 7-9 hours to complete the climb and 7.30 am seemed a good time to set off. The trail up is easy to follow although, with the exception of 500m of flat ground about half-way up, the uphill climb does not let up. Not far from the top we passed a few people descending which was reassuring as until then we had only seen two other people climbing up which seemed a bit strange given that upwards of 10,000 people are reported to go up each year. As we approached the top, the cloud was too thick to appreciate any views that might be enjoyed on one of the 14 days a year when the weather is clear, but it was fun to make our way up through the snow which covered the last part of the climb. Once up on the plateau we found ourselves in a white-out and were only able to continue by following the footprints left by those who had gone before. We followed them until they ran out, at which point we figured we were at the top, however, I have since learnt that there is some sort of stone pillar on the actual summit and I have to confess that we definitely didn’t see it. Surely a small detail and given that we were completely unaware, it didn’t mar our thrill to be on the top and after a bit of adrenalin fueled jumping and running around we started to head back down. As I started retracing our steps and looked behind to check on Ian and Leroy, I was amazed to barely see Ian heading off into the mist in completely the wrong direction. Shouting to get his attention there was a bit of a stand-off as to which way to go before he grudgingly followed me down. As world trip navigator, it looks like we might be in for a few surprises. It was nearly midday when we started our descent and we passed lots of people making their way up, so I’m guessing that such an early start was probably a bit overkill.

Provided everything goes to plan, i.e. Bob arrives on schedule and without any issues, our time in the UK is nearly over. A few more days in Wales and then some time spent down south catching up with family and friends before catching the ferry to Calais, France.

May 18, 2022

The Coast to Coast Path

May 18, 2022/ Sarah Lock

A LONG DISTANCE HIKE ACROSS ENGLAND

The Coast to Coast Path is a 190 mile (320km) walk that spans the north of England, from St Bees on the Cumbrian coast of the Irish Sea to Robin Hood’s Bay on the coast of the North Sea, and is considered to be the most popular long-distance footpath in England. Devised by Alfred Wainright, more than 40 years ago, it is a joining of various footpaths and byways that provides a magnificent snapshot of the natural beauty that this part of the UK has to offer. Around two-thirds of the walk is spent in the national parks of the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales and the North York Moors, the dramatic scenery taking walkers from high fells to peaceful lakes, woodlands and bleak, bare (but eerily beautiful) moors.

Despite revisiting the question a number of times over the 15 days we took to complete the walk, I cannot for the life of me remember where the idea of walking the Coast to Coast Path came from. I do know that preparations were taking place back in January when we were lounging around in the tropical sunshine of Port Douglas and well recall numerous long distance phone calls in an attempt to secure dog friendly accommodation along the route. But why this particular walk, escapes me.

We arrived in St Bees late afternoon on a grey rainy day. The Sat Nav had directed us away from the motorway about 45 miles previously and for the last hour and a half of the journey we had been chugging along narrow country lanes with an occasional top speed of 30 mph. It didn’t take us long to find our accommodation for the next couple of nights, as The Stonehouse Farm B&B was situated slap bang in the middle of the High Street. The white-washed building, surrounded by a motley collection of out-houses, sheds and yards was very much a working farm although, following the devastating foot and mouth outbreak in 2001, the sheep farming had been replaced with hay farming which was delivered all over the area by a large and very speedy tractor. We were welcomed inside by Carole and introduced to her daughter, ten dogs (six of whom were just two weeks old) and four cats. Feeling quite at home we hauled too many bags into one of the additional buildings and set about separating items that would be accompanying us on the walk and items to be delivered to Robin Hood’s Bay where they would hopefully be waiting for us on our, also hopeful, arrival.

A topic not discussed but undoubtedly niggling at the back of both our minds, was the fact that we had not undertaken a multi-day walk for some time, it was actually 6 years ago that we last hoiked on our rucksacks and hiked through the Spanish Pyrenees, but it was probably a bit late in the day to start doubting our abilities now, added to which Ian has been given two replacement hips since then which will, no doubt, stand him in good stead. We were also a little concerned about Leroy’s feet as the last 10 months in Australia on hard, hot surfaces has left his front pads dry and cracked, something we have been trying to rectify with copious amounts of Vaseline. How unprepared we are for a major hike revealed itself when it came to packing our rucksacks, as we were both having difficulty identifying essential, as opposed to absolutely non-essential, unnecessary weight, items. In hindsight, the hair-dryer should have been replaced with my reading glasses, not purely because of the weight factor but also because the small writing in our only guide book was now only readable in the brightest of light whilst held some length away – fingers crossed we won’t need to reference it in bad weather! And, Ian’s twelve pairs of socks – really!! Despite the repeated shifting of items from one pile to another, we eventually had two packed, relatively organised, rucksacks as well as Leroy’s bright orange paniers weighing in at 16.4 kg, 14.6 kg and 2.5 kg.

The Coast to Coast Path is well serviced and as well as arranging for C2C Packhorse to transport our surplus luggage to Robin Hood’s Bay, we had also packed three small bags with dry dog biscuits and dehydrated mince (each weighing 5kg) which would be dropped off at strategic points along the way for Leroy. All of these bags were collected the following morning after which, on the advice of Carole who I think was trying to get us out of the farm, we walked the first 6 miles of the Coast to Coast before looping back to St Bees. After a quick visit to the Manor Hotel for some pub grub and a tasting of the local cask ale, we were early to bed and excited/apprehensive to get started on our attempt to walk across England.

DAY 1 – ST BEES TO ENNERDALE BRIDGE (14 miles/22.5 km)

st bees head, beginning of coast to coast walk

We woke up to a perfect walking day, the sun was out and there was no wind. Aware that today and tomorrow were going to be challenging given the uphill nature of the landscape and the mileage to be covered, we were ready to leave Stonehouse Farm at 8am and head to the official start of the C2C which was half a mile away. Despite having practiced wearing his pack when it was purchased back in Port Douglas, Leroy is emulating a reluctant child heading off to school and is lagging behind looking most unimpressed.

Mile Zero is a C2C monument facing the Irish Sea and we arrived moments before a group of two girls and a guy who were also undertaking the walk, although unlike us, they were planning to camp with their single tent??? After the obligatory photos, we repeated our steps of the previous day which, a little frustratingly, followed the heritage coastline north for about 6 miles before turning east and heading in the right direction. That said, the walk along the top of St. Bees sandstone cliffs and the views stretching away both ahead and behind us was a superb taste of what was to come over the next couple of weeks.

Passing through the small villages of Sandwith, Moor Row and Cleator we arrived at Blackhow Wood and our first ascent of many up to the summit of Dent Hill. It took about an hour to reach the top from where the clear weather permitted us to see the Lakeland fells that we would soon be tackling as well as the Isle of Man and Galloway across the Sollway Firth.

From the top it was a steep descent and another couple of hours before we reached the pretty village of Ennerdale Bridge and the Fox & Hounds pub.

DAY 2 – ENNERDALE BRIDGE TO ROSTHWAITE (15 Miles / 24 km)

We were both feeling a bit stiff this morning but, otherwise, surprisingly ok and a quick look out of the window confirmed that the weather was again going to be perfect. This was good news as the route today would be heading towards Sprinkling Tarn, a spot which records the highest rainfall in England, an average of 196” (over 5m) of rain a year.

The fine weather meant that we were able to walk along the preferable southern pathway of Ennerdale Water and as we approached I could hear Ian chuckling away to himself. Who knows whether this was an indication of his enjoyment of the walk or a temporary lapse in rationale but either way he appeared to be most content.

Anyone that walks the Coast to Coast will pretty much tread the same path and whilst the weather will vary, the surrounding scenery, whether sighted or not, will remain the same. What will differentiate one walk from another is the personal experience and for us this was largely provided by the people we encountered en-route. Today we met a couple on holiday from the Pennines who had two spaniels and a little black terrier with them. Expecting only to exchange a quick hello, it was unexpected that ten minutes later we were deep in conversation about ticks. Even more surprising was our knowledge on the subject. It turned out that the spaniels were picking up around a dozen or so ticks a day in the Lake District and the owners were spending more time than desired de-ticking. Having been in Northern Queensland and aware of the Brown Tick which carries ehrlichiosis, a deadly dog disease, we had purchased a couple of Seresto collars which Leroy has been wearing for the last six months. We also have him on monthly tablets of Nexgard Spectra which offers broad-spectrum protection against all parasites and the fact that, up until this point, we hadn’t given a second thought to ticks nor found any on Leroy would appear to be a big thumb’s up for these products.

Leaving the water we followed a forest track for some time before climbing up alongside Loft Beck to Grey Knotts. The path was steep and barely discernible and our foresight to input the C2C route into Gaia GPS was probably the best decision of the trip. Whilst there are infrequent waymarkers along the entire route, they are not always easy to spot and that is on a fine weather day. We could only imagine what it must be like in these areas in mist, sleet and/or rain. Whilst it was hard work hauling ourselves and our essential items in a near vertical ascent, this was soon forgotten as we finally landed atop a Cumbrian fell. The word fell depicting a high and barren landscape feature such as a mountain or moor-covered hill and pertains to areas such as the Lake District, Scotland parts of Norway, Sweden and Finland. Unlike a peak, once you are up on the fells there is a vast area to explore whilst maintaining higher ground and with no one else around, the feeling of isolation and freedom whilst surrounded by such natural beauty was worth every uphill step.

It felt all to soon before we were starting the long descent towards Borrowdale Valley and our destination, the Scafell Hotel in Rosthwaite Village. Rosthwaite is one of three villages that make up this valley and with its slate-roofed, white-washed stone farm cottages is an iconic Lake District hamlet.

DAY 3 – ROSTHWAITE TO GRASMERE (9 miles / 14.5 km)

After what turned out to be the best breakfast on the C2C, due in part to the excellent kippers - a culinary delight not enjoyed for many years, we decided to take the ridge-walk alternative route to Grasmere. The light morning mist carried quite a bit of moisture in the air which suited us well as we were going to be faced with some serious climbing in order to get up Calf Crag, Helm Crag and onto Gibson Knott. As we now know, a crag is a steep, rugged rock or cliff as opposed to a knott which is a mountain and the highest point in a given region.

Whether choosing the low-level or ridge route, there is no avoiding the climb up Lining Crag and we were up 600m at about the same time that the sun appeared. It was a straight-forward climb apart from the continuous tramp over ground covered with large sole-mashing stones and rock. As you might expect, ridge walking is a seemingly never-ending trudge up ascents that are as steep as the descents and if that isn’t tiring enough throw in saturated peat bogs which have probably claimed more than the occasional boot. But the outstanding views are enough to revive even the weariest of walkers and we were once again grateful that we were not battling against the elements and able to fully appreciate the splendour.

Ian has been a bit quiet today which could indicate some aches and pains but he is still putting one foot in front of the other and there is no denying that we are both physically exhausted having not yet found our stride. On the plus side, Leroy was happy to have his pack put on this morning which is good news and his feet, whilst not perfect, are no worse.

Our final descent of the day dropped us into Langcrigg Woods and along Poet’s Walk, a tranquil path amongst a variety of trees planted, in part, by many of the Lakeland Poets that so loved this area.

DAY 4 - GRASMERE TO PATTERDALE 8.5 miles (13 km)

Given that our short day yesterday had taken us over 7 hours, we were not going to be tempted by either of the two high alternative routes today and would stick with the standard C2C path. Leroy is definitely feeling the pace and he looked most disappointed when his pack was put on and we headed out of the luxury of the hotel. Reluctant to get going he did perk up as we climbed up to the pretty mountain lake of Grisedale Tarn, which was entirely due to the large numbers of sheep and lambs that surrounded us.

We had been climbing for over two hours and not far from the top when we were startled to hear deep voices shouting completely unintelligible words proceeded by the appearance of large, rugged men running up and down the surrounding fells. It was then that we noticed sheepdogs running in all directions and it dawned on us that we were about to see a rounding up of hundreds of sheep. It is hard to be accurate as the scene was chaotic, but there were at least eight men and twenty to thirty dogs and, as we watched, they did what shepherds and sheepdogs do. It was an amazing spectacle and really did make ‘One Man and His Dog’ seem a little pathetic in comparison.

Still barely able to believe what we had just witnessed, we climbed over Grisedale Pass and were immediately confronted with the beauty of the Tarn. The Lake District really does take your breath away and it is easy to see why visitors from all over the world continue to flock here.

fundraising for macmillan cancer support

The opportunity to break up the days with a pub or café stop has been a bit thin on the ground so far on the walk but as we were making our way down in the general direction of Patterdale, fellow walkers climbing towards us were telling us of coffee and cake just a bit further down. We were a bit sceptical given our remoteness but understandably delighted when we approached the lone mountain hut to find local volunteers raising money for Macmillan Cancer Support. Hot drinks and an extensive offering of home-baked cakes were available for any donation and we were more than happy to hand over all of our loose change in exchange for some energy-boosting sweetness, the weight of which we could carry on the inside.

DAY 5 – PATTERDALE TO SHAP (18 miles / 30 km)

Today is going to be our longest and not wanting to still be walking at 7 or 8pm we skipped breakfast in order to get going. Poor Leroy looks exhausted but probably no more than we do and we are now motivating him with sausage rolls and pork pies. We left quietly through the fire door of the very welcoming White Lion pub to the accompaniment of glorious bird song and the first and only rain of the entire walk.

The slow uphill climb to Kidsky Pike, the highest point on the C2C at 784m, started almost immediately and we quickly fell into our preferred climbing positions of Ian leading the way, me bringing up the rear and Leroy in between. Leroy seems to have resigned himself to this new pastime and now plods along in single file with a determination that is providing us with quite a bit of amusement.

By late morning we reached the Pike (summit, mountain or hill with a peak) and yet again enjoyed clear 360° views across the surrounding countryside. The earlier rain had long since stopped and we were once again enjoying England at a time when less than half the average monthly rainfall was being received. The big descent, best navigated in parts on bottoms, delivered us to the shores of Haweshead Reservoir where we were only too relieved to stop beside one of the many streaming gills and make a cup of tea.

The stony path alongside the reservoir undulated for at least an hour and a half before reaching a patch of quiet woodland followed by flat, grassy farmland. The relief of walking on such soft, level terrain was soon forgotten though as we quickly grasped the fact that this particular farmer, whose fields we were currently crossing, was obviously a bit disgruntled at the constant stream of walkers making their way over his land. Consequently, he had padlocked all of his gates leaving only high styles to clamber over. Challenging enough for us with our heavy packs but almost impossible for Leroy to get over. Ian was left with no option other than to man-handle him over and we continued for the next three hours shoving him over, through or under far too many stiles, fences and gates.

To say we were making slow progress towards Shap would be a massive understatement as we wearily made our way from one sheep filled field to the next. Leroy was obviously very aware of the sheep but, as a rule, had been quite good at walking through them quietly. That was until a frisky group of sheep decided to start running which proved too much for Leroy who suddenly lunged forward and managed to break both the metal clasp on his lead and the waistband of Ian’s rucksack to which he was attached. He charged off after one particular sheep as we watched with our hearts in our mouths. No amount of shouting at him to stop or come back was having any effect and so it was a little astonishing when he suddenly come to a standstill about 400 yards away. To his surprise and ours, he just didn’t have any more fuel in the tank. We quickly grabbed him and exited the field as quickly as our sore feet would allow putting as much distance as we could between us and any irate farmer that may have been around.

We knew our destination, the Black Bull, was at the bottom of the High St in Shap and our relief at eventually turning onto the main drag was quickly replaced with disbelief as we found ourselves at the top end of what would have to be the longest High St in the country. It was another 30 minutes before we made it to the door of the pub where we gratefully tumbled inside.

DAY 6 – SHAP TO TEBAY (11 miles / 17 km)

Today was our first taste of the Dales National Park and we were more than ready to replace the prolonged gradients and rocky trails of the Lake District with soft grassy moorland. This was to be a short recovery day with lunch at a café in Orton before taking a bit of detour from the official C2C path to end the day at Tebay. Our fitness levels are slowly increasing, our packs feeling much more manageable and Leroy is beginning to look like he is enjoying himself. Wearing tee-shirts and enjoying the warm sun we were all feeling pretty good.

We arrived at Orton just as the church bells rang out which was nice and whilst I was inside the café ordering, Ian struck up a conversation with two local men who were sat outside. Ian had been relaying our incident with Leroy and the sheep from the previous day and it transpired that one of the men had also owned a Rotti with similar sheep chasing tendencies and despite having tried a number of different training tactics the owner had been unable to change the dog’s undesirable habits. That is, until he ended up fostering a couple of orphaned lambs. Apparently, the lambs had tried to suckle on the Rotti’s willie and the dog had been scared of sheep ever since!

Cheered by the news that maybe we weren’t the worst dog owners ever, the only thing left to do with our day was walk the 3 miles to Tebay, a pleasant stroll alongside a flat, quiet country road. With no stiles to navigate and no opportunity to head in the wrong direction, it was an easy finish to a comfortable day.

DAY 7 – TEBAY TO KIRKBY STEPHEN (12.5 miles / 20 km)

We picked up the C2C route after a couple of hours on small country lanes and followed a signpost directing us across the heather clad Ravenstonegate Moor. This part of the trail is also a section of the Dales Way, an 80 mile walk from Ilkley Moor to Lake Windermere, a trail we had hiked over a long Easter weekend some 20 odd years ago. We remembered that walk very well as the weather had been horrendous and we had spent the entire time struggling to remain upright whilst heading into a wall of continual horizontal sleet, up to our calves in mud. Today, however, the Moors were presenting a very different picture as we sat with our backs against a stone wall, enjoying the morning sunshine.

Being early in the season, there didn’t seem to be too many other walkers around. We were aware that an elderly couple with their adult daughter and dog Poppy were a way in front of us and we had crossed paths with a couple of other pairings whose itinerary seemed similar to ours. There was also a lone mystery person that we never did see who, regardless of how early we were out walking, had already left a clear path in the damp morning grass. Paul and Liz, were one of the pairings, a young couple from South Africa, who had come over to the UK partly for work (he was working as a lawyer but now involved with setting up crypto-currency companies) and partly to walk the C2C. They both seemed to be extremely fit and, I guess, enjoyed a lie-in, as we mostly saw them as they overtook us at speed.

The other pairing, Ian and Nigel, we had first encountered on day 2 when they naively followed us the wrong way down through a rock crevice, this wasn’t too much of a problem until Leroy got stage fright half way down and refused to move. With a bit of manoeuvring, the guys managed to squeeze passed us and continued to slide down the face of the rock before reaching a point where they were able to clamber back up to the path. We weren’t able to extract ourselves quite as quickly as it was impossible to get Leroy back up the way he had come and it was a good half hour before we were able to persuade/push him down the remaining steep rock before being able to head back up to the path. Bumping into them again today, we learnt that Ian was a recently retired accountant who had been working for Toyota, whilst Nigel was an engineer/shop floor manager working for a company that made steel skips. They had been friends since University and did a fair bit of walking together as, in their own words, their marathon running days were clearly over given their propensity for beer and the effect it was having on their midriffs.

The rest of the day was uneventful and we arrived in the market town of Kirkby Stephen and the King’s Arms. Looking for a reprieve from hearty pub grub we opted for dinner at the Mango Tree, a popular curry house that had been recommended to us by about half a dozen people and are pleased to report that it did live up to its reputation.

DAY 8 – KIRKBY STEPHEN TO KELD (11.5 miles / 18 km)

The section of walk today is notable, not only because it crosses the half-way point but also because the path passes from the county of Cumbria into Yorkshire. The guidebook has promised kinder gradients from this point on and a suggestion that it is almost all downhill to Robin Hood’s Bay. The route also crosses the Pennines, the so-called backbone of the British Isles, where there are different routes to take depending on the weather and time of year.

The day started with a steep climb (so much for all downhill) along a tarmac lane, past a huge quarry and up to Hartley Fell where the path split into three. The colour-coded red, blue and green routes are an attempt to stall the severe erosion of the peat bogs which is being caused by walkers and not being rectified due to lack of investment. The notice board at the junction advised that the green (some might say easy) route be taken between Dec-Apr and we were more than happy to comply. Peat bogs aside, walking for hours across the moors, without a soul in sight, is a peaceful experience and, with the exception of Ravenseat Farm made famous by The Yorkshire Shepherdess, we enjoyed uninterrupted moorland before arriving at Keld.

Keld sits at the head of Swaledale, the most northerly of Yorkshire’s Dales and is a tiny, very pretty hill village comprised of solid stone buildings huddled together, a public toilet and a phone box. Apart from a couple of campsites and a B&B, Keld Lodge is the only accommodation available and so we weren’t too surprised to find Paul, Liz, Nigel and Ian already settled at the bar as we entered the Lodge. This really is turning out to be the most splendid walk!

DAY 9 – KELD TO REETH (11.5 miles / 18 km)

Much of today’s walk follows a path running alongside the banks of the River Swale, only leaving the river to pass through the small village of Gunnerside and to cross some moor and farmland. Although tired, we are progressing well enough despite being overtaken, yet again, by all of our co-walkers.

It would be impossible to walk the C2C without noticing the extensive dry-stone walling used to demarcate farm and field boundaries. It is estimated that Britain has 125,000 miles worth of these ubiquitous features, over 5,000 miles of which are to be found in the Yorkshire Dales, dating back as far as 600 years. They blend into the environment in a way that barbed wire cannot and possess a longevity that has passed the test of time due to the fact that they move and give with the elements. A rich habitat for a whole host of flora and fauna such as mice, voles, stoats, hedgehogs, bats and toads, dry-stone walling has no doubt had its heyday but what a beautiful thing it is.

Reeth is the capital of Swaledale and was used as a location for many episodes of the 1980s Yorkshire TV saga All Creatures Great and Small. At its centre is the village green, surrounded by tearooms and pubs, all overlooked by the Burgoyne Hotel, our destination for the night.

DAY 10 – REETH – BROMPTON-ON-SWALE (14 miles / 21.5 km)

At this point in the walk most walkers would probably have Richmond in their sights for an overnight stop but given that would make tomorrow a whopping 22 miles (34 km), we would only be stopping in Richmond for coffee and cake before continuing on to Brompton-On-Swale, thereby reducing tomorrow’s distance by 6 miles.

It is another perfect day as we leave Reeth to cross Arkle Beck before passing through pastureland and on to Steps Wood. The path through the wood known as Nuns’ Steps is constructed with 375 steps, so-called because of the nuns that are said to have laid them as a walkway to Marrick Priory. It is always nice to walk through woodland and despite the steepness of the steps (uphill of course), today was no exception.

During the 18th and 19th centuries, this area of Yorkshire was at the centre of British lead-mining, at a time when Britain was producing over half the world’s lead. As a result, many in the area prospered until mines opening in South America produced cheaper imports and sent many British mines into bankruptcy. There are many relics i.e. rusting machinery left over from this era as well as the remains of peat houses and smelting mills and even 150 years on, waste lands of scree and stone continue to scar the landscape.

Arriving into Richmond we were once again struck by how dog friendly Britain has become. Dogs are welcomed into most cafes, pubs, supermarkets and anywhere else you think they might like to go. Keen to tuck into the afore-mentioned coffee and cake and not wanting Leroy to feel excluded from such treats, we purchased a huge piece of skirt beef from the local butcher which disappeared at exactly the speed you would expect.

Leaving Richmond, the final 6 miles of the day were no hardship at all. The sun was shining as we once again strolled alongside the Swale and we arrived at St. Giles farmhouse in what seemed like no time at all. As we walked up the drive we were met by three friendly dogs and Rosie, daughter of Jane who was hosting us for the night. We were ushered into the large farmhouse where freshly baked lemon drizzle cake was waiting for us and over which we learned that Jane had led a rather interesting life which included working as an au-pair to the Rainiers and other high-profile families as well as cooking for the likes of Captain Mark Phillips, Liberace and Elle MacPherson. She had kindly agreed to provide us with a three-course vegetarian meal, along with wine and beer which was, of course, delicious.

DAY 11 – BROMPTON-ON-SWALE TO INGLEBY CROSS (18 miles / 30 km)

Regardless of the head start we had given ourselves, today was still going to be a challenge and with this in mind we left at 7.30 am knowing that we had a long day ahead of us.

Up until now we had been surrounded by sheep and, being spring time, the cutest of lambs but as we approached the Vale of Mowbray the sheep disappeared and we were walking through fields of cows and horses.

Entering one particular area of farmland we found ourselves in a field with a number of large cows and quite a few new-born calves. The calves seemed particularly interested in Leroy and were intent of getting as close as possible in order to check him out. Although a bit disconcerted, we weren’t overly concerned and progressed along the hedged side of the field waving our walking poles around which kept the calves and now also their mothers at a distance we could cope with. We were relieved to spot our exit stile and hurriedly threw Leroy over before clambering over ourselves. Oh crap, we were now in a field full of 10 month old youngsters who had just that morning been let out of the barn for the first time – obviously we didn’t know this at the time. This bunch were not quite so easy to deter and all 40 or so of them, were rushing in our direction. We weren’t able to see a stile out of the field but there was a large double gate over on the far side which looked like an option and to this we headed with alacrity. Ian was leading the way with Leroy hot on his heels whilst I was bringing up the rear with arms and poles stretched out doing my best to keep the cows behind us. By the time we were almost at the gate the speed at which we were all progressing across the field was really quite impressive and had we been able to get through the gate all would have been well. Unfortunately, the gate which was set back from the fence, was bolted closed and we now found ourselves in a 3 x 2 m area with the gate behind us, fencing on either side and the cows crowding forward through the open fourth side. Being in such close proximity to them, I was, on the one hand, impressed at how healthy they all appeared to be but on the other was struggling to stop them pushing past me to get to Leroy. A quick glance at Ian confirmed that he was not so impressed with the general well-being of Yorkshire’s cows as he looked distinctly uncomfortable whilst trying to undo the bolts on the gate. Not a moment too soon, the farmer’s daughter appeared in shorts and wellies accompanied by three sheepdogs. Within moments, the dogs had moved the cows to the far end of the field and we were pointed in the correct direction to the stile in the corner. Although apologising for not having got to us sooner, I suspect there might have been an ulterior motive in delaying our rescue as she was studying for exams and was, no doubt, in need of some light entertainment.

Once again, Nigel and Ian overtook us and we compared cow stories before striding out over the remaining half of the Vale. Our last challenge of the day was crossing the four lanes of the A19 but making good use of a handily-placed central reservation we were soon walking towards the Bluebell Inn at Ingleby Cross.

DAY 12 – INGLEBY CROSS TO CLAY BANK TOP (11.5 miles / 18 km)

After the long mileage yesterday, we were giving ourselves a bit of a break today and rather than walk all the way to Blakey Ridge we were only going as far as Clay Bank Top where we had arranged for Wolfgang from the Buck Inn, Chop Gate to pick us up.

Apart from being a bit foot sore, we are all in good spirits and the continuing fine weather is a bonus as today would see us up onto the North York Moors National Park. A miserable, rain-soaked trudge, with all views obscured by a bone-chilling mist is hardly going to be anyone’s idea of a fun day.

As ever, we had barely left the pub before we were climbing, this time up through Arncliffe Wood and it wasn’t long before we joined the Cleveland Way, a trail that stretches over 100 miles from Helmsley on the southern edge of the North York Moors NP to Filey on the east coast. As we left the wood to emerge onto the heather-clad Scarth Wood Moor, we could see Nigel and Ian in the distance in front of us which meant that, for once, we were going to avoid the embarrassment of being overtaken. The day was getting better and better.

With fitness levels probably as good as they were ever going to get, we opted to take the more challenging route over the roller-coaster ups and downs that would eventually deliver us to Clay Bank Top. As promised, Wolfgang was waiting to collect us and also a couple of Dutch guys (father and son) who were walking the Cleveland Way in memory of their parents/grandparents who had completed the walk some years earlier. Bert and Walter arrived 10 minutes after us and we all piled into the car for the short drive to the Inn. Wolfgang turned out to be an exceptional German landlord and if we hadn’t known better would have believed ourselves to be deep in the Black Forest surrounded by 8” sausages and steins of beer. Everyone except us was talking in German and the whole experience was a bit surreal.

DAY 13 – CLAY BANK TOP GATE TO BLAKEY RIDGE (9.5 miles / 15.5 km)

With all of us re-packed into the car, Wolfgang took us back up to Clay Bank to continue where we had left off the previous day. For us on the C2C path we were faced with the penultimate climb of the walk up onto the top of Urra Moor from where the path was vehicle width and more or less flat all the way to Blakey Ridge.

The weather had now turned cooler and the wind was biting as we hiked over what claims to be the world’s largest expanse of heather. The going was easy and not wanting to stop in the cold we made good progress. Leroy has finally come to the party and is marching along very much part of the team.

It was a little after midday that we reached the isolated Lion Inn, sitting on the highest point of the Moors with commanding views over the surrounding valleys. Our early arrival meant a whole afternoon stretching ahead of us to make the most of this 16th century free house and, stepping inside, the heat from the open fires surrounded us like a warm blanket as we took in the dark time-worn beams and maze-like interior that didn’t look too far removed from how it must have looked nearly 500 years ago.

DAY 14 – BLAKEY RIDGE TO GROSMONT (13.5 miles / 22 km)

Today really was all downhill, and after a few hours of Moor walking we were strolling down the Esk Valley amongst the most gentle, rolling countryside dotted with quaint picture-perfect villages. The small village of Egton is especially charming and we stopped for lunch at the Postgate Inn aka ‘The Black Dog’ in the British TV series Heartbeat. An easy walk along the River Esk and under the railway took us into Grosmont.

Grosmont is a grittier version of village life, it’s main feature that of the railway crossing centrally placed on the high street. This is no ordinary railway, however, as it is the North York Moors Railway which runs across the moors and is manned entirely by volunteers. There are four stations along the moorland track one of which is Goathland which served as the original Hogsmeade station in one of the Harry Potter movies. Grosmont is at the end of the line and the station is 1952 themed with each volunteer dressed accordingly. The railway has a fleet of steam and heritage diesel trains that you can ride across 24 miles of National Park countryside whilst experiencing a taste of a bygone era.

DAY 15 – GROSMONT TO ROBIN HOOD’S BAY (15.5 miles / 25 km)

The Station Tavern overlooked the station and staying just one night it was a novelty listening to the steam trains as they continually arrived and departed. This was our last day and we were excited to know that barring some major catastrophe we would soon have completed this most incredible of walks. We were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves until, chatting to the landlord over breakfast, he mentioned that he had completed the C2C five times, one time turning round at Robin Hood’s Bay and heading straight back to St Bees. Turns out he was a former member of the Paratroopers, oh - and the novelty of the steam engines had well and truly worn off.

Heading back up onto the Moors for our final stretch, an elderly chap sporting a bright pink beanie ran towards us. Jogging on the spot he informed us that he had completed the C2C just five weeks earlier in a time of 72 hours which, good by any standards, was even more so given he was 67 years old. Somewhat deflated at being surrounded by such super-humans we continued on our way with a firm resolve not to engage in conversation with anyone else.

There is an element of sadness when finishing a multi-day walk but this final day had a few treats in store. Descending from the Moors we found ourselves in the delightful Little Beck Wood, a stunning 65 acres of woodland and the 20 metre Falling Foss, just behind which was the Falling Foss Tea Gardens which were as cute as their name suggests. Suitably refreshed, we followed a quiet road onto a final stretch of moorland before arriving at the small town of Hawkser where a signpost indicated Robin Hood’s Bay was just 3.5 miles away. Obviously, we weren’t going to take this direct route but it was difficult to be impatient as we finished the walk as we had started, following the clifftops of the North Sea and down into Robin Hood’s Bay.

It would be hard to find a more perfect place to finish such a walk than this quaint, cosy little fishing village reputed to have the best crab grounds in the north of England. Staying in the old part of town, a muddle of terraced cottages arranged haphazardly around a single steep narrow road amid numerous, cobbled inter-connecting alleyways, we found the Bay Hotel perched right on the dock. There was nothing left to do other than sign the book recording our success and order a celebratory drink at Wainwright’s Bar.

aroundtheworldin-definitely

aroundtheworldin-definitely

United Kingdom Blogs

aroundtheworldin-definitely

The Pennine Way

Reflections After a Year on the Road (from Ian)

UK Part II - South of England

UK - The Other Side of the World

The Coast to Coast Path

aroundtheworldin-definitely