Out of the Lake District and into the Yorkshire Dales.

Day 5 – Shap to Kirkby Stephen 30,51km

After a good night’s sleep in The Greyhound Pub, we were down for a luxurious breakfast at 8am with a few other Coast-to-Coasters. It was here that we learned 2 valuable lessons. The first was the concept of „variants“. When Alfred Wainwright wrote his book in 1973, he did not want to create an absolutely rigid route. In fact, in his introduction he points out that varying the route is to be encouraged. I wish I‘d paid more attention to that specific point beforehand. An Australian couple we‘d met had taken one such variant the previous day, descending from Kidsty Pike. The variant had saved them a nasty steep descent and a boring 6km stony walk along the Haweswater reservoir. Later conversations with guided groups confirmed that most people did this. From now on we wouldn‘t feel guilty about taking the odd alternative route.

I asked the Australian how he knew about the variant. That‘s when we learned our second lesson. There are lots of excellent walking apps out there that show all these suggestions. It‘s one thing having a map, but it‘s much more reassuring knowing exactly where you are on that map! I did have the Ordnance Survey app on my phone and discovered that even if I didn‘t have reception, the GPS still worked and showed exactly where I was. From then on, I hardly got lost. Or if I did, I knew very quickly we‘d strayed from the route.

We set off just after 9am in a good mood even though it was raining. We were dry underneath our jackets and had slept and eaten well. The forecast was for sunshine in the afternoon. We walked the first few kilometres with our new Aussie friends, Paul and Jenny. This was the first time we‘d walked with anyone else and we liked it. We spoke about the walk so far, other walks they had done and ended up chatting about anything and everything. Before we knew it, we had covered 10km without really noticing it, and the rain had stopped. In the strong wind we dried out in no time and were all in good spirits. The walking was quite easy along grassy trails and meadows. The only slightly negative emotion, was because I felt slightly „wimpy“. I was wearing long trousers and they were wearing shorts. Their logic was flawless: „legs dry faster than trousers“. I made a mental note. Yorkshiremen are supposed to be hardy outdoor people, and 2 Aussie pensioners were putting me to shame.

As we headed into one field, I had a look at my app and saw that we were off the route. As we were stood wondering where we went wrong an elderly farmer on a quad turned into the field and headed toward us. I expected that we were going to be told off for being in his field, but I couldn‘t have been more wrong. He smiled and shouted „Coast-to-Coasters?“. We nodded. He shook his head and pointed us in the right direction – he then wished us a great journey and continued good weather.

We were soon back on track, but Paul and Jenny were staying elsewhere so we said our goodbyes and continued to Orton for a treat – proper coffee and crumpets in the tea room there. I also took the opportunity to change into shorts. Of course, it then began to rain really heavily. But it was only a short shower and soon we were on our way again along small overgrown lanes and rolling hills. As the day went on the weather got drier and warmer.

At around the 25km mark we found an ideal spot with a stream to cool our feet. This had become a little ritual for me. The first small pleasure comes as I undo the boots and see the satisfying smooth grooves your laces have made in the leather. Then the boot is eased off and I feel the foot relax a little. Next step is peeling off the moist/sweaty sock which has left a deep weave imprint. The cool air is a joy. I walk around a little on the grass, put on my flip-flops and step into the cold stream. The water should ideally go up to mid-calf height. After a couple of minutes the feet go slightly numb and it‘s time to get out. I let them dry in the sun and give them a final wipe down with my travel towel. Hopefully, by this time, my socks (laid inside-out in the sun) have dried off a bit too. Now that the feet are cold, it‘s actually quite pleasant to put the socks back on. I lace up and feel like I can tackle another 10km or so.

While we were doing this, a large group descended into the valley and stopped to have a lunch break next to us. This is the first time we meet Dave, their guide. He asked how we were doing and where we had stayed. He was impressed with the wild-camping spots we’d found and recommended some spots for us further on. He joined the growing list of people who told us how nice the variant off Kidsty Pike was. „But the rest of the walk today is really easy, you’ll enjoy it. It’s just a nice stroll. We liked Dave.

The group set off before us and walked at a decent pace, but had to slow down at the frequent gates and stiles to keep everyone together. It wasn‘t long before we caught and passed them. Ariane was in front and I detected the „diesel motor“ kicking in again as we sped over easy fields to Kirkby Stephen, where I had booked us into the Pennine View Campsite.

As we’d spent the previous night in a hotel, I wasn’t sure that I needed another shower „so soon“. I was happy to sit in the sun next to our tent. Ariane did, however, go for a shower and when I asked how it was she just said „Gamechanger! I feel so much better.“ So I took her advice and also had a shower. She was right, and from then on we always showered whenever there was a chance. We were getting better at recovering. Even though the terrain that day had been kind, it was still a long walk, our feet hurt and we were carrying the cumulative tiredness of short nights as well as a 10kg rucksack. A little barefoot walk and a shower worked wonders. After beer and a pizza in the Engine Shed, which was on the campsite, we slept very well.

Day 6 – Kirkby Stephen to Nowhere 15,44km

It had rained in the night and were not up quite so early, but we weren‘t worried because on paper we had an easy day before us with just over 20km to Keld. We had no campsite booked and were planning to wild camp somewhere in the valley beyond Keld. I had read that the going was quite boggy on the moors and that it is foolish to underestimate this section. I underestimated it.

Before we set off we needed to stock up on supplies at the supermarket in Kirkby Stephen and also find some insoles for Ariane‘s boots which were still giving her trouble. Ariane‘s cap had also fallen apart, so we needed either a sewing kit or a replacement cap. We managed to find everything we needed, ate our breakfast on a roadside bench and just after 10 we were on our way up on to the moors towards Nine Standards Rigg.

It was a long but fairly gentle climb up to this strange summit, which is marked by 9 large cairns (piles of stone) whose purpose and origin are not really known. The weather was cool and overcast but it wasn‘t raining yet. It looked like showers were imminent so Ariane and I were in our new outfits of waterproof jackets and shorts.

At the top of Nine Standards we caught up with Dave and his group again. He gave us some advice on finding our way on the next section. We didn‘t like being just behind or just in front of the group, so we left the summit quickly and strode onto the bleak and boggy high moorland towards Keld.

At first we noticed a few boggy patches, but they were easy to avoid and there were some flagstones laid out at bad spots. Then a rain shower hit us. It was very hard rain accompanied by a strong and cold north west wind. It happened so suddenly that we didn‘t have time to put warmer clothes on under our jackets, or our waterproof trousers. The visibility also worsened as cloud drooped onto the moors around us. At the same time, conditions under foot deteriorated. It was bog after bog and I had to pick my way very carefully to not go in up to my knees. The constant diversions to find a drier route meant that we were making very poor time. We lost sight of the cairn on the horizon we had been aiming for and my map book was getting pretty wet.

The shower wasn‘t a shower. It was non-stop heavy rain which would in fact continue for another 12 hours. I was also aware that the tent in my rucksack would also be getting wet after this pounding and the thought of wild camping didn‘t seem so good any more. If you wrote a list of how to get things wrong on the Yorkshire moors, then we ticked all the boxes. Unsuitable clothing? Check. Nowhere to shelter? Check. Lost the route? Check. Cold and worried? Check.

I was pondering all this and trying to keep my spirits up (and not let on to Ariane how worried I was) when I finally did manage to fully submerge my boots in a deeper bit of bog. I felt the cold water coming in the top. There was nothing to do but carry on and hope we‘d stay warm enough by keeping moving. I did know that if we kept going downhill we would eventually hit the track we needed and worst case was we had another two or three hours to Keld where we would at least find some sort of shelter. The cloud lifted for a minute and we saw a cairn with some people by it. At least we weren‘t completely lost. They headed off before we got there but we soon saw two other Coast to Coasters in front of us on the path. Due to the wind and driving rain, they couldn‘t hear us behind them and had no idea we were there. We recognised them. They were 2 girls who had just done their A-Levels and were also camping. They were using a luggage transfer service, so their rucksacks weren‘t too heavy, but I was impressed by their energy and constant good nature every time we saw them. They were also smart enough to have put on all their waterproof gear before the rain started.

As we got closer to them, one of them tried to jump a small stream and ended up slipping and falling to her knees. Knowing how miserable this must have been, I felt very sorry for her. Her friend, however, just burst out laughing. A second later the girl who fell was also laughing. She got up and marched on as if nothing had happened. We then heard them both singing Disney songs at the top of their voices – they were having a great time. They looked around briefly and saw us (I don‘t think they recognised us as we were all hooded up) and rather than cringing with embarrassment, they just went on singing. The girl who had fallen, had her tin cup swinging from the back of her rucksack. It made a „clink clink“ noise with every step and somehow added to the joviality and „we don‘t care“ attitude of the scene. Nearly everyone we met had seen „those girls“ somewhere on the route and they were an inspiration to us all.

I reckon we walked for nearly 2 hours in this rain and covered no more than 4-5km. I calculated that we had at least another 2 hours to go before any chance of shelter and was feeling pretty miserable. Just then, we dropped over a small ridge and saw a black, corrugated-iron hut next to the path. We were just about to catch up with the girls, but I said to Ariane I‘d try the door. To my surprise and delight, it wasn‘t locked. I stepped inside to find a fairly dingy but dry wooden hut containing tables and benches. Ariane followed me in. We couldn‘t believe our luck. I opened the door again and shouted to the girls that we‘d found an oasis of dryness. But the wind and the rain meant they probably didn‘t hear us and they marched on, singing Disney songs.

It was not yet 3pm but with no let-up in the weather expected, we decided to stay and set up camp for the night. We got out of our wet gear and made ourselves two large cups of hot chocolate. It was still cold, and our gear wasn‘t going to really dry but at least things weren‘t getting worse. I wondered how Dave was getting on with his large group and I expected them to appear at some stage, but we only had one visitor in the hut. A lady from Dorset threw the door open about an hour after we‘d arrived. She had a hotel booked in Keld and was well kitted out but she wanted a short rest. We made her a cup of tea, had a quick chat and she headed back out into the rain. I kept an eye on the hills behind the hut, but there was no sign of anyone else.

We hung around, made ourselves a dinner of Uncle Ben‘s rice and some of our snacks. We moved tables and benches around and found a dry bit of floor to set up our mattresses and went to bed very early. The rain pounded on the tin roof and the wind whistled through various cracks in the walls, but we were warm and dry enough to get a decent night‘s sleep.

Day 7 – Nowhere to Nun Cote Nook 34.04km

What a difference a day makes. At some time during the early hours, the rain stopped. We could hear a couple of sheep having their breakfast just in front of the door. I opened the door to clear blue skies. It was still cold, but we hung our wet stuff outside in the wind and it helped a little. We had saved a couple of bananas and had them with our morning coffee. We wanted to get going early as we had some catching up to do, so we put on our wet socks and boots and made our way down to Keld. The first few kilometres were boggy, but after about an hour we were on good tracks and fairly energetic walking had warmed our feet up. Merino-wool socks really do stay warm even if they are wet.

Some time after eight, we reached Keld. A farmer on a quad raced past us on the road, with two sheepdogs expertly balanced on the back. We were opposite the pub and hotel where we suspected the group would be staying. Just at that moment, Dave popped his head out of an upstairs window and shouted a good morning to us. When the bad weather had come in, he‘d taken his group off the moor as quickly as he could and got them to a road in the valley – which is why we never saw them go past our hut.

For the next stage, we had the choice of taking a high route across the moors, or following the river Swale to the village of Reeth in the Yorkshire Dales. After the previous day‘s experience, we stuck to the valley. This was some of the most pleasant and easiest walking we had done so far. It was generally flat, usually on well-trodden grassy tracks and the weather was perfect for walking. Still quite cool, but dry with some spots of sun every now and then. The views were typical for the Dales – dry stone walls, gentle green slopes and curving streams. Along the river we saw lots of birds, especially oyster catchers and curlews. The only things slowing us down were the „squeeze stiles“. These are very narrow slits in the dry stone walls for walkers to pass through. They are preceeded by a couple of steps and sometimes there is a gate on them too. They keep the sheep in the right field, but they are a pain to get through if you are carrying a wide rucksack.

Mid-morning, a couple of walkers approached as we were having a snack-stop at a gate. We soon heard the familiar clink, clink, clink of a swinging cup. We‘d bumped into „the girls“ again. They‘d made it to Keld and the campsite owner had taken pity on them and given them a dry berth. They were in their usual smiley good mood and bounced off down the valley. They both had their sleeping mats attached to their rucksacks too, which must have made the squeeze stiles tricky for them. I wondered why, because they had a luggage transfer service. Strange.

We made it to Reeth by 3pm. This meant we had caught up and were back on the Wainwright schedule. We ate a delicious pub lunch at the Buck Inn and sat in the beer garden feeling pleased with ourselves. As it was so early, we decided to press on to a farm/campsite about 4 miles further on. This would give us a head start for the next day, and the online reviews were really good.

About an hour later we stopped in a riverside meadow to bathe our feet in the Swale. It was sunny and windy, so I unfurled the tent to dry as well. After half an hour everything was more or less dry and our feet felt excellent. Soon after, we met „the girls“ again. They had found a great spot near the river too and were stretched out on their mats enjoying a picnic. Aha – so that was why they took the mats with them.

Although we didn‘t have far to go, dark clouds were building up from the west and were getting closer. My weather app suddenly started saying rain was on the way. This added a little spice to the final half hour of the walk, as I definitely wanted to get the tent up before the rain. We were soon installing ourselves at Nun Cote Nook Farm campsite. The tent was up, we were showered and sitting in the dining room/conservatory when the rain finally came in.

Nun Cote Nook is a working farm, with a bit of camping for Coast-to-Coasters on the side. It is run by Elaine, a fifth generation farmer, and a great host. She was in a great mood as her daughter had been part of the national cup-winning Yorkshire rugby team at Twickenham the day before. The score was 37:7 against Surrey. I know this because Elaine had told us within about 30 seconds of our arrival. She made us sandwiches and kept us entertained for an hour with farming and walking stories (she‘d done the Coast to Coast). I asked her opinion on two things – Jeremy Clarkson and Rishi Sunak. To my surprise, she liked them both. Her opinion on the series „Clarkson‘s Farm“ was easily explained „I love it. It shows farming how it is.“ As her farm is near Richmond, her local MP is Rishi Sunak. Elaine was such a down-to-earth, no-nonsense, hard-grafting farmer that I couldn‘t imagine she‘d have any time for a billionaire politician. But she was adamant. „Rishi helped us out with a footpath problem. He listened and got it done. We like him round here.“

Nobody could think of anything to say after that, so we sprinted out to the tent in the light rain. We slept well.

Day 8 – Nun Cote Nook to Richmond 11.28km

We decided that it was time for half a rest-day and booked a hotel in Richmond. It was only a short walk and we looked forward to having a few hours where we weren‘t thinking of how far we had to go. The following day would be a long hard slog, so getting some proper food inside us and having a comfy night seemed like a good idea.

We were in Elaine’s tearoom for breakfast at 8. It was such a contrast to the modern dining experience where the menus are plastered with warnings and the waiters spend more time asking about allergies than taking the order. At Elaine‘s there were no questions asked, you simply got a magnificent home-made full English breakfast. In this case it really was home-made because the sausages were made with their own beef.

Elaine elaborated on the footpath story from the previous evening. A public footpath runs through a couple of their fields in which they keep cows. It would be easy to divert it into another field – just a couple of signposts and it would not even add anything to the distance. Over the years, they have had problems with dogs amongst the cattle. When dogs are on very long extendable leads, the cattle don‘t realise that they are on a lead. If there a calves around, the mothers become protective and can become aggressive. One such dog owner ended up getting „bumped“ by a cow and was slightly injured. They ended up suing the farm, and although they were not succesful, it pushed up the insurance premiums. So Elaine and her husband had been negotiating with the National Park Service to slightly divert the footpath, but made no progress. Finally, their local MP stepped in and got it sorted out quickly. Now there is no risk and everyone‘s happy. We met a few farmers on our walk across the country and they were, without exception, really friendly and helpful. Maybe we were lucky, but my opinion of the farming community has definitely improved.

We shared the breakfast room with Alice, Anna & Orla. Alice and Anna were mother and daughter, camping on the Coast to Coast. Orla was their little dog. On some days, Orla was too tired to go the distance so she had to be carried. I imagined they had some sort of doggie-rucksack with them, but we saw them later in Richmond and Orla was just resting on Alice‘s shoulders like a fur stole. They both seemed happy enough with this arrangement.

After breakfast, it was an easy couple of hours into Richmond. Our B&B was just off the town square and we checked in just after lunch. We had been having the odd shower but had been walking the same clothes for over a week and knew we were a bit stinky. Dogs always came up to us in pubs and when our own sense of smell had become more sensitive (except to our own whiff). The owner of the B&B met us at the door and I said we‘d like to check in. I apologised that we may be a bit smelly because we‘ve been on the trail for a few days. With a completely deadpan expression, he shook my hand and said „Well, I didn‘t want to say anything.“ It was an awkward moment. He then showed us that we could leave our walking boots on a plastic try in the hall. I took off my boots (barely dry from the boggy moor episode) and the smell didn‘t improve. Ariane saved us from further embarrassment by jumping in with „I think we‘ll take our boots to dry in our room.“

Other than the somewhat strange greeting, the place was excellent and we got down to the ritual of gear drying, sorting and resting. We visited Richmond Castle, walked up the tower and had a good meal with fresh salad and vegetables in an empty French restaurant, La Rustique. Our host had become more friendly and after doing a load of washing and drying for us, agreed to make packed lunches for us which we would find in the fridge when we set off at 6am the next morning. We knew that one of the longest stages lay ahead, and needed to make an early start.

To be continued… Part 3 is about the North Yorkshire Moors, no longer walking alone and finally seeing the sea.