LionI was thinking this morning about how I’ve changed since starting this trip. A fortnight ago I was filled with anxiety about whether I was going to be strong enough, brave enough, good enough at navigating. Whether I’d bitten off more than I could chew, and wondering why I’d decided to do it. I was also worried about being on my own. Now I was just itching to get out on the hills, and wishing the walking was going to be longer today. As he drove me back up from Great Broughton to Clay Bank Top, the driver, who is also the hotel’s breakfast chef, was talking about the idea reported in the news today, that the Coast to Coast might be adopted as a national trail. We agreed that it would probably be beneficial to the many businesses on the trail, and that some improvements would be welcome, most particularly a road bridge over the A19. It seems I’m not the first one who’s had to run as fast as they’re capable of to get across the traffic - he feels an accident will happen there one day. But he thinks that the disadvantage of it being formally adopted is that it will become something people feel they have to complete exactly as Wainwright wrote it. Whereas in fact AW was very keen for the opposite to be true, that people make their own path (in much the same way that I planned the JOGLE walk). Today was a short day, and the only strenuous walking is at the beginning, climbing the slope up Urra Moor and Round Hill. After that it’s pretty level, clear easy walking. I passed my death metal friends who suggested I’d walk a lot faster than them and so let me pass, and shortly I was on my own. Looking back I could see a large group of walkers following me some way away. They were possibly the group staying at the hotel last night, an organised group of guided walkers going over the Cleveland Way and other areas - I heard the leader exhorting a member to stick it out at dinner yesterday evening ‘it’s not that you’re not fit enough, it’s because you’ve got the wrong clothes. Take my trousers and gilet’. I was left to wonder what the leader would be wearing this morning. But no chance of checking, I was way ahead and had all the peace and isolation. I didn’t see another walker all day. I have been thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed this solitariness. Yesterday I had unexpected calls from people who are very precious to me, and that was absolutely lovely. I really enjoy the company of others, and I will be very glad to see my friends and family again, but this chance to be with myself for an extended period has been fantastic. I watched helicopters with large loads swinging underneath them flying over the moor, reminded me of the bags of stone on the paths in Cumbria. That seems such a long time ago. And the weather is so different too - chilly and windy today compared to the baking heat of the Lakes. As the path moved out onto an old miners’ railway line there were large patches of burnt heather with signs of new life pushing up. I read later today that this is part of the management of the National Parks to help with the breeding of grouse. The new shoots are what the birds like to eat. An astonishing 28% of the North York Moors is given over to driven grouse shooting. That feels a lot. Along the route are various large stones, placed as guideposts in the 1700s to help with navigation. I particularly liked the Face Stone - it reminded me a bit of the Easter Island statues. The old Rosedale Ironstone railway track, although clear and level, is a bit dull to walk on, so I brought Mr Bryson on board today. I loved a moment where the Audible editor missed both his stumble over the word ‘gynaecological’, and his subsequent outburst of annoyance. But my takeaway from him today is that, due to the way our pelvises are different, women carry bags differently to men, with their palms facing the opposite way. I noticed the contrast between both being caught up with the immensity of the moor and the little things. The grouse hen and chicks nestling together near the sign for the grouse butts. The small bird of prey hovering and diving repeatedly. The larger one soaring above me, could it be an eagle? Wish I knew. The different types of grass as the walk progressed. And then the shepherd and his dog gathering his scattered flock together over this most inhospitable terrain. I told him I thought he was amazing - I was transfixed by it. He took my praise to be meant for the dog. ‘Aye, amazing when he gets it right’. After 5 miles or so of the very bleak wilderness of the moor, on the distant horizon pops up the Lion Inn, my destination for the night. It dates from 1553, and used to cater for the iron workers and coal miners. Now it’s mainly walkers and cyclists comparing notes in the bar. Having said earlier that the day was entirely straightforward navigating, I missed the path to the pub, so the 8 mile route turned into a 10 miler. But then it was a day for it, later in the afternoon I lost my bearings and managed to walk into the kitchen instead of the bedroom corridor. I walked up the road with high speed traffic enjoying the chance to put their foot down, with more than one boy racer. The tarmac was bedecked in roadkill. It was a bit sad looking at the different types of wildlife that live on the moor by examining their squashed corpses. One of the pleasures of being in a pub or restaurant on your own is being able to listen in on others’ conversations without being rude to your friends and family. An older woman talking to a younger man, very soon after the initial introductory pleasantries: ‘Have you got over your addiction? I can’t remember, is it that you’re an alcoholic or a gambler?’ His reply was indistinct. And then one of those lovely C2C meetings, Georgia, who I’d met briefly a couple of days ago, arrived as I was having lunch. She’d been walking with a man when I’d met her, but it seems he was just a walking buddy, and she’s on her own today. We had a lovely meal together, she told me about her career designing kitchens and I sorted out some antiseptic cream for an injury on her hand. And off she went, she finishes the path tomorrow. And at the end of the day David arrived! He’s looking forward to walking tomorrow, fingers crossed the weather is better than forecast….. Stats
Distance: 10 miles Total ascent: 954 feet Calories burned: 1200 Number of horse fly stings within a square centimetre on my wrist: 3 Hearty post walk meal with local tipple: Chicken parmo (this is a specialty of this part of Yorkshire - chicken breast covered in cheese sauce, covered in more cheese….) Jam roly poly pudding and custard (yay!!) with a pint of Yorkshire Golden. Video of the day is here: https://www.relive.cc/view/vmqXX2MBAoq
1 Comment
Carly
5/8/2021 22:58:58
You are so tanned!!
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