3 people and a dog, 198 miles, 2 weeks
When Mike first suggested it, back in the summer of 2023, the idea of doing the Coast to Coast (C2C) walk sounded good. We (Mike, Richard, Jack the dog and I) had done the St Cuthbert’s walk in July ’23 – a week’s walking from Melrose to Lindisfarne) – and hadn’t fallen out.
The C2C walk was devised in 1971 by Alfred Wainwright, of the Lake District fame, as ‘an encouragement and inspiration’ to all walking enthusiasts to create (“with the aid of maps”) their own long distance trails. The length of a daily trek is dictated by available accommodation along the route (unless you camp, and I’d rather not).
Mike organised the logistics over the months while I was traipsing around the ‘Stans’ of Central Asia: route, maps, train tickets, accommodation that will accept Jack… We agreed on the use of a Sherpa company to carry some of the weight and lighten our backpacks. The charge of £15/per person/per bag /per day was prohibitive and we compromised: each of us put in a third of the 18 kilo allowance, thus lightening the daily carrying load.
The Seacote Hotel in St Bees is busy from May to October – it is the base for the C2C-ers and bird watchers. The beach is shingle, and above it is St Bees Head, the start of the C2C.
We took a small pebble from the beach at St Bees (as do all C2C walkers), and each of us carried it for a day, passing it to the next person at breakfast. The idea is to then throw it into the North Sea at Robin Hood’s Bay, thus linking the Irish and the North Seas (and, as someone said, confusing any future geologists). I couldn’t throw it away – it is pretty, and a wonderful memento. I did deposit it on the wet sand at Robin Hood’s Bay for a moment; it is now on my dresser :))
The first day’s walk: St Bees Head to Ennerdale Bridge, 17 miles. It started well, even if the path did take us north-west (not east!) to start with, up from the beach to high on the cliffs, with views of St Bees behind, the sound of the sea below and the cries of guillemots, kittiwakes, gulls, above. Soon after the St Bees lighthouse (the light of which is visible at sea for 25 miles) we turned south-east, and then properly eastwards to Dent, the hill that “offers an excellent viewpoint” of the Cumberland plain and the Isle ofMan… The day was intermittently wet, the path overgrown and all the greenery dripping with rainwater. We did manage to look up occasionally: seeing the Fells in the distance is always a wonderful sight. The hawthorn was still in full bloom here, bridal white and smelling sweet.
Despite a couple of guide books and the downloaded OS maps, the path is not always easy or obvious to follow. Signposting is of the ‘feast or famine’ variety: too many or none. We made mistakes, but we got to where we needed to be in the end.
Ennerdale Water is beautiful, long, peaceful, surrounded by Fells and Crags, a Lakeland joy. We stayed at the Wild Wool Barn (basic but better than camping) on the north shore, which made our next day’s tranche to Rosthwaite easier – there is a proper road track, rather then a rocky, slippery-in-the-rain path that is on the south side. We stopped for lunch (a protein bar, some nuts and fruit, a cup of tea) at the Black Sail, England’s oldest and remotest hostel. It is a former shepherd’s bothy, that, like some stone age Tardis, can sleep and feed 16 people.
The five days of the C2C spent walking in the Lake District were wonderful, tough, exhilarating, blister-inducing, wet, spectacular, challenging, breathtaking, tiring but thrilling. I remember the Honister Pass from other times (when “doing the Wainwright”); the steep, steep ascent, the slate mine, the good feeling when you are past the worst bit.
Patterdale to Shap was a tough 18 mile stretch, mainly because the weather turned poor soon after we left Patterdale. We did have beautiful views of sunlit Ullswater while climbing up towards Angle Tarn, and we turned to look often. Just as well, as once on the ridge, the wind blew a gale – strong enough to blow me off the path every now and then. The rain was just an additional meanness, stinging the face. Jack did not like it one bit; neither did we.
Haweswater reservoir is very long, and after the scramble down the steep, wet and windy Kidsty Pike, the last of the Fells east, it felt even longer. The view of Shap Abbey was most welcome. Though we still had a few miles to go, the toughest bit was behind us. (And, arguably, the most beautiful, rugged and thrilling part of the C2C. )
We stayed in a very nice, warm and dry Airbnb house in Shap, right opposite the Coop supermarket; that was fortunate as the local pub laughed in our faces when we asked if we could have a meal – it was after 9 pm. Pasta and wine from the Coop were wonderful, and our clothes and shoes slowly steamed away and dried.
The longest stint – 20,25 miles on paper – is from Shap to Kirkby Stephen. The path crosses the M6 motorway via a pedestrian bridge (unlike later on, going to Ingleby, when you have to take your life in your hands and run across the busy dual carriageway of the A19 – the safe crossing exists, but it is a couple of miles away…) The annual Appleby Horse Fair was coming to an end (we arrived on a Sunday evening) and all the pubs in Kirkby Stephen were closed to avoid any brawling. But the horses and caravans we saw on the move the next morning were beautifully kept and attractive.
There are two ways to get from Keld to Reeth along the Swaledale, and thence to Richmond: the easier one, along the picturesque river Swale, with watermills and photogenic cattle, or the high, scrambly one, passing the abandoned mines, the hushes and ruins of smelting mills. No prizes for guessing which we took.
Richmond has a lovely position on the Swale. A pretty, prosperous, charming town, with enough history to warrant a several days’ visit.
There were times when tiredness and slogging made us all a little short tempered and tetchy; it certainly got the better of me when we arrived at the village of Danby Wiske (14+miles – an “easy” day) and it became clear our accommodation was still 2,5 miles away… Directions for a shortcut path to Lovesome Hill Farm were obtained; shame on the farmer who not only has not cut the nettles, brambles and chickweed on the path, but has also placed barbed wire fence really close to it. Then the path completely disappeared -just acres of green wheat fields. This was day 11, and fatigue, weather, painful blisters and achy back took their toll. When we finally made it to our destination, we were all relieved – including Mary, our hostess. My “being awkward” prompted a suggestion that the next day I might be better off taking a taxi to Osmotherly, our next destination… This, of course, was never going to happen. We set ourselves a challenge, and WE would complete it. Not least because I was hoping to raise £1000 for the NSPCC charity (link at the bottom :))
The Yorkshire Dales and Moors have a beauty of their own. Wide, open, mysterious, perilous, inviting, undulating towards the sea. The path along the disused Rosedale Ironstone Railway Iron works seemed interminable. Even when we could see the Lion Inn, alone on the High Blakey Moor, it looked unreachable… One of the longest 21 mile days. Not to mention the hail, which made Jack hide under the heather canopy, looking up at us perplexed, wondering why we were not doing the same. Jack is lovely and lively, enjoying the countryside and rolling in the heather. He has been a real helpmate when going uphill (he pulls), though less so if there are sheep to stalk, or holes to stick his head in, or water to bark at…
Rather than stay in Grosmont (limited accommodation), we took the evening train to Whitby and made our way back on Sunday morning to complete the walk to Robin Hood’s Bay. Those last 15 miles are very varied: a long haul of more than a mile uphill from Grosmont, then through dreamy looking woodlands, past a Hermitage, along the Little Beck and the fairytale gorgeous Falling Foss waterfall. More forest trails (and muddy, muddy paths) until the road is crossed, then heather and bog. Even the guide book says it is ‘boggy, then very boggy and it gets boggier still’. For 3 miles. And of course it rained. But as we approached the Coastal Path at Hawsker that eventually took us to Robin Hood’s Bay, the sun came out. The sea was blue, the views marvellous.
The fish-and-chips supper at Whitby, some bubbly and the prospect of no more than a mild sightseeing of the Whitby Abbey the next day before travelling south. What a journey; we shall not repeat it, but I’m glad to have done it. The countryside is beautiful, even in the rain and hail; the physical challenge is fairly major, and completing it gives a great sense of achievement. We met interesting people on the way – Dane, who was doing the walk for 2 charities and had only brought with him shorts (‘I’m from Exeter!’), while the weather barely reached 15 degrees on most days; Mark, who had to take his walking boots off every 3 miles or so and air his feet, else he had real trouble; Nicole, who was doing it on her own, as her 40th birthday treat (!!! – and I dislike the excess of exclamation marks)…
On the trains back, we talked about what could we do next. The West Highland Way was mentioned. It is only 96 miles…
Above is the link to my Just Giving page for the NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children), should you feel able to contribute. I am immensely grateful to all who have supported me with good wishes and the charity with donations.
Maribibi_travels 