Manchester greeted us with its usual grey skies and rain. At the time, we never suspected that England was about to enter a heatwave and we'd be #sunburntinYorkshire. Ann picked us up from the airport, driving to Oughtibridge through some familiar and lovely northern scenery. She hosted us beautifully for a few days while we de-jetlagged, feeding us with some particularly special delicacies like pork pies, cheese and onion pasties, Yorkshire curd tarts, Red Leicester cheese, and prawn cocktail crisps, washed down with John Smiths ale.
From South Yorkshire we headed north to Peter's sister Julie in Ripon. We reminisced through the streets of Ripon city - my childhood home and where Peter lived out his late teens and twenties. Many places unchanged like the cathedral, but also heaps of new structures and roads that were disorientating. Julie dropped us off in Kirkby Stephen - the start of what was to be our Not-Quite-Coast-To-Coast walk. We'd completed the full version of this Wainwright walk over 30 years ago, and remembered only too well the hiking agony of the first few days in the Lake District. Starting at the western edge of the Yorkshire Dales close to the Cumbrian border meant an overall reduction in miles as well as elevation. So yes, the Coast To Coast for wimps. Last time we carried full packs and camped. This time every night a B & B, so considerably smaller packs. Even wimpier. At least we didn't take the final step of having our bags transported by 'pack horse', though there were times when we wished we had.
Day 1 was supposed to be a 12 mile trek from Kirkby Stephen to Keld via Nine Standards Rigg. The first stretch to the Rigg was a short sharp ascent of 450m, across pennine-style bogs to the top. We had planned to take a longer though lower level route, but signs indicated that it was important for the environment that certain tracks were taken at specific times of year. So up we tramped to the top, where we were rewarded with great views in every direction. There were other walkers up there, and we made our first rookie mistake of following the route that a group had taken down the other side of the fell. The joy of downhill walking and speedy progress came to an abrupt end when we realised we didn't recognise where we were on the map. A helpful gamekeeper from a grouse-shooting party kindly directed us back up to the Rigg and down in a different direction. It was gutting to lose so much height and time, and no-one to blame but ourselves. Back at the top we met another couple from Keld who were taking a day-hike, and they were happy for us to follow them down. This had the advantage of avoiding the huge waist deep bogs that we'd heard about, but the disadvantage of taking us an even longer route. We parted company at a road, and had just worked out that Keld was another 4.5 mile walk when a car pulled up. It was the same couple and they offered us a lift into Keld. What - cheating?? On day 1??? Of course we gratefully accepted and later found our way to the Keld Bunkbarn, our accommodation for the night. Keld is famous for its many waterfalls, and the Bunkbarn even had its own private waterfall.
Day 2 took us from Keld to Reeth, another 12 mile trek along the River Swale. There was another high route alternative passing relics of lead mines. Wainwright says that though 'there is a fascination for those with imagination who can picture in their minds the scene as it was a century before (...) there is no beauty in these sorry remains'. Low cloud pretty much sealed the deal and we opted for the lower route. Peter's mate Steve Green lives in Barrow-in-Furness and he joined us for the first few miles of the route with his dog Poppy. The route went alongside the beautiful Swale for much of the walk. There was even a lovely stretch of path along the top of a wall. It was our only wet day, more of a drizzle at that really. We had a brief lunch in a Gunnerside pub where we met a couple, Jackie and Eamonn, who amazingly had also done the Coast to Coast 30 years earlier. Numerous stiles and gates wreaked havoc with our untrained knees and hips, and we were very weary when we finally arrived at the Ivy B & B in Reeth, praying silently for a magical boost our fitness.
Day 3 took us to Richmond, a slightly shorter and relatively easier 10.5 miles. Marrick Priory was our first break stop. We had camped there during the last walk, and recall nearly losing our tent's flysheet to some persistent cattle who were having a ball licking off the dew. We also remembered the small village of Marske, who's namesake also exists as a small town on the north east coast where Peter went to school. The day's walk took in gorgeously classic Yorkshire Dales scenery before emerging into the lovely town of Richmond, in enough time and with enough energy to explore a little.
Danby Wiske was the destination for day 4, some 14 miles walk from Richmond. Coast to Coast signposting is hit and miss, and though there are some signs that indicate you're on the correct path, it seems they're not usually around when you really need them. However, when we left Richmond we weren't convinced we were heading in the right direction. I'd just commented that what we really needed was some confirmation, we rounded a corner and allelujah there it was - a sign! Confidently we proceeded, and the route took us over the A19 (not a highlight), past the village of Catterick, across several fields, getting lost, thrashing through maturing corn crops, finding a puffball mushroom, until eventually culminating in the small village of Danby Wiske. There were no hills to climb and no views beyond farms to behold. Wainwright had plenty to say about this 'dullest part of the walk'. He describes Danby Wiske as 'less attractive than its name' and even takes exception to the River Wiske itself, it 'being destined to meander aimlessly and hopelessly around the countryside in a vain search for a contour that would give it an objective'. We found the village quite charming and no complaints about our stay in the White Swan Inn.
Day 5 was another relatively easy walking day. Only 9 miles and by then we were definitely feeling fitter anyway. Our destination was the Bluebell Inn at Ingleby Cross. We'd crossed paths with a few other walkers and decided to walk with Ann (engineering lecturer from Surrey) and John (amazingly born in Invercargill, worked in Port Hedland, now living in Victoria, Australia, and whose favourite place in the world is the Marlborough Sounds). Not only were they good company, they were great map readers, and Ann set a brisk pace, especially uphill, which stopped us from dawdling. Our morning tea stop was at a farm, where a table and chairs were set up in the shade (by then the heatwave was hitting) and a fridge full of chocolate bars, plasters and painkillers available for a donation. There were signs warning us to 'Beware of the Witch', and as we crossed the connecting stile, a recording of the Wicked Witch of the West from Wizard of Oz rang out. Very entertaining indeed. We had plenty of time for a restful afternoon and later enjoyed totally fabulous fish and chips in the pub.
Throughout the Dales, late summer foliage and berries were abundant. Back-to-back blackberries provided tasty snacks and some rehydration along the way. Elderberries, sloes and rosehips were also at their peak, and several types of wildflowers brightened everything up. Also en masse, and unavoidable in shorts, were nettles and thistles.
Despite being aware of his penchant for contours, we eagerly embraced day 6, described by Wainwright as the 'finest section of our marathon (outside Lakeland), a splendid high-level traverse along the escarpment of the Cleveland Hills'. This loosely translates as 'lots of ascent with fantastic views' and it didn't disappoint. Probably my favourite day even though it included no less than 5 steep inclines to a total of about 700m. Ann kept up a goodly pace, and when we reached the Wainstones rocks near Clay Bank Top, we called the Wainstones Hotel in Great Broughton to inform them of our imminent arrival. The hotel offer a very welcome pick up/drop off service from the route. We had a good meal there later, and a funny moment when Peter and John ordered what they thought was a glass of red wine each. Turns out they'd ordered carafes, not glasses, which explained the waitress's surprised response.
Day 7 took us to a blast from the past - The Lion Inn at Blakey. The track remained high over open moorland, the heather a little beyond its peak but still in flower. The easy walking was complimented by easy navigation as most of the route followed the well-marked Cleveland Way. It was very hot and the path was totally exposed without shelter. Nonetheless it was pleasant and efficient walking. When the Lion Inn came into sight, we remembered that it was still a long way off as the route traversed the contour of a former railway line. We arrived in plenty of time to enjoy the pleasures of the pub and its location. Our stay was in a tiny room in the loft, and needless to say it was a hot and stuffy night, requiring lots of cooling beer.
Day 8 took us through to lovely Grosmont, and we said goodbye en route to John in Glaisdale and Ann in Egton Bridge. The path had taken us along a stunning ridge between Great Fryup Dale and Glaisdale Head, and we crossed the River Esk via huge stepping stones at Egton.
The B & B at the Geall Gallery was the poshest of the whole trip, and we took full advantage of the in-room bath to soothe our weary limbs. We headed out to the only pub and eatery in the village, only to find it fully booked. We were just resigned to a supper of beer, crisps and peanuts when an unexpected table vacancy arose.
The final day should have ended in Robin Hood's Bay. Alas we had been unable to book any accommodation there, and instead booked a Whalebone Arch room in Whitby. We had originally planned to take the bus from RHB to Whitby, but it made much more sense to simply walk to Whitby instead. The route took us along the Esk Valley walk from Grosmont to Sleights, and then along a B road into Whitby. Steam trains had come and gone in Grosmont, and we were also treated to a passing steam train further along the track.
We arrived in Whitby with enough time for a pint of Theakston's before our accommodation was available. After a clean up and rest, we made our way up the 199 steps to the magnificent Whitby Abbey, resplendent in a sea fret. It definitely created a moody atmosphere, though the downside was that there were no views of the sea.
From Whitby we took a bus to Scarborough and a taxi to the pick up place of our car rental, then back to Ripon.
September 2023: the UK to follow...
Alfred Wainwright
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