Progress!!

Turns out the impellar on the water pump was spinning uslessly on its shaft when the engine got to temperature... fine when cold but once warmed up the coolant wasn't circulating as it should! This could have been done sooner, but I was told there was nothing wrong with it! The continuing process of elimination meant it could only be the water pump after swapping the head. So all's well with the support car now, though back-up (a 4x4 this time) awaits collection in Surrey... so looking forward to the new year to get back in shape.

More reliable..?

This pic was taken in Muker, Swaledale (outside the Peter Brook exhibition) on the day after the last leg... got me thinking - of the two which is currently the more reliable..?



...though the Panda didn't let us down... and still keeps going! Removing the thermostat (again...) has increased her range and she's still usable, but the cracked head needs replacing.
I've managed to source a later head which will fit, but it has no mechanical fuel pump facility - there are several options - the easiest being to fit an electric fuel lift pump...
Looks as if a December weekend is off though for days 4&5 to St Bees...

Panda blues...

The support car is poorly... maybe it's just the head gasket. Delivered head today for 'crack test' and skim. Fingers crossed the head won't be cracked... hopefully will have it sorted for the next sections... using van for work - it's fun getting the ladders on and off -at least I got a roof rack!

Takes a while to get my head round it...

Of course at this time of year I'll have enough time to collect car with van and deliver it to StBees... could take about 3 hrs all in - so would have enough time to get back to site to get some rest before the last leg... got to be some good take-aways in Keswick. Christmas catalogues have just arrived from CP - thanks Julie!

Lakes next...

Well, I'm really looking forward to the challenge of getting through the lakes. It'll be a challenge logistically too without support... The thinking is to site the van at end of Day 4 (Stonethwaite) - get an early start from Shap - back to van - set off from van for St Bees. With car at Shap would have to find an alternative back to van though... can't see me getting a bus to Shap late on...

Surrender to Shap...

What a fantastic setting this is... Upper Swaledale - not a cloud in the sky, with little earthlight the Milky Way is very clear with billions and billions of stars in the night sky. I've come up the hill behind the site with small stove and coffee making stuff for the morning. The Coast to Coast route is about thirty yards up the road and this will be my coffee stop. I've tucked the stove and bag of essentials behind the grit bin... should arrive here for around 8am. After a brew I'll head up for Ravenseat and the Nine Standards enroute for the first support stop at around lunchtime in Kirkby Stephen.

Surrender Bridge: 5.55 am

I'm trying to decide whether to keep the jacket on, after all, this light drizzle could become heavy rain yet... should be light enough to see by the time I get to Gunnerside.
I wave off the support - she's going back to bed... ahead is a wide stony landrover track that heads onto a moor ravaged by lead mining... not that I'll see much of it. The head torch penetrates a small circle of light in the gloom with slivers of streaky light from the drizzle.

It's a short stage with around 8 miles to the coffee stash... ah... but then I realise my bottle pouch is empty - goodness sake, do I need a checklist for everything these days? I'd put it on the side... last job: fill water bottle... doh. Now I'll have to nip back down to the van anyway... still the night sky was worth it. It's only a few hundred yards off route anyway... ah well 'many a mickle'... 'aft gang agely' and all that.
Quite spooky up here at this hour - no stars now, just low mist and light precipitation - but the forecast is a good 'un.
At the first smelt mill I pay silent homage to the hundreds, if not thousands of men, that must have passed this way to work with maybe nothing more than a candle..? - if that. Difficult to imagine all that industry in such a quiet isolated spot but industry there certainly was that brought much wealth to the surrounding area at God knows what cost to the lives and health of the miners, especially at the smelting process. Where there was lead there were probably Romans too...
The bridge across the beck is soon crossed and ahead lies dark forbidding territory and, what seems like, a perilous descent into Gunnerside... well it could be if it doesn't get light soon.
There's an inkling of pre-dawn blue to the clouds in the East now... and the abandoned stone crusher is over there... somewhere... So in a hundred yards or so I'll continue round on the wide track and ignore the route down Bunton Hush.
I'm looking for a gradual descent that forks left... and there it is..? Is this it? It has to be...
When it comes, I need to take my time on the rocky descent - no slips or stumbles, Freudian or otherwise here...



The approaching dawn gives outline to the Blakethwaite mine and from the single slab stone footbridge the pull begins up to the open moor and the half-way point of the whole route.



The section down to Swinner Gill mine is particularly attractive - beyond the old miner's bridge the track climbs around the hillside to come upon the delightful ruins of Crackpot Hall with stunning views of Upper Swaledale.



Keld and my second breakfast are not far away now as I join the Pennine Way as it heads North, away from Keld for West Stonesdale and Tan Hill. The affair is short-lived though and I continue westward from the next farm and along the track that meets the road at Park Bridge.



I'd left just enough water in the kettle in the bin liner tucked behind the grit bin... originally I'd put some in a bottle... the decision to leave the bottle out sees me trotting back down the hill where so many stars had lit the night sky not 8 hours before.
I've got half-hour max! Doh... the door's locked and I've to knock her up... she won't be happy...

I could have changed to waterproof socks and ponder the decision not to as I squelch my way up to Ravenseat... still, the wet feet will be a good test for the Superglue. I've only had dry feet so far on recent trials. Clearly it's rained up here more in the last week than elsewhere and I'm anticipating even wetter feet by the time I reach the Nine Standards somewhere up there...



Out of interest I try the door to the shooter's hut. It's locked... must have been lucky on my last attempt then - though this is not the recommended route at this time of year. Last time from here I headed straight onto the open moor - this time I've discovered (thanks to Google) a better track about a quarter of a mile past the hut, that makes a clearer line for Coldbergh Edge and the stone pillar. It really is a grand morning to be up here with good views in all directions...





...but what's this mist doing rolling over the hill?



With the low cloud comes a lone walker who tells me he did the Coast to Coast 30 years before but was forced to use the road route in bad weather and now he's returned at last to complete his missing link. We point and shuffle as we discuss the route across - and there's the peat...
The mist clears as suddenly as it appeared and the cairns come into view and my thoughts turn to the support Panda.













The Nine Standards

The run down off the moor is as delightful as remembered from the last attempt and the legs and feet feel much fresher.
Five bars - good signal: 'Wr r u?' goes flying off. No response. Nothing.
By the road section that skirts the quarry my legs begin to feel the descent and I make a concerted effort not to 'slap' my feet onto the tarmac.
If there's no signal, we'd arranged to leave a message at the tourist information, and as there is no response to the next text I'm thinking this is going to have to be the way and meet up at Brownber beyond Smardale. Suddenly there's walkers galore and walkers that don't look like walkers... so the road must be coming up then...
One of these days I'm going to try Ronald's suggested footpath alternative as mentioned in his Coast to Coast guide. On meeting the road a footpath is taken to Ladthwaite and another to skirt Birkett Hill to follow Ladthwaite Beck and pass Yewbank Scar, though I emerge at Franks Bridge by the more conventional route and find the back alley that delivers me to the main street.













Franks Bridge - Kirkby Stephen

Walking's like pregnancy (like I'd know!) - craving being the similarity - I spot the Co-op and dive in for all manner of sweet and savoury goodies.
Making for the counter I spot the passing Panda and down prospective purchases... a text message reads: 'I'm here w r u?'
Parking's not good, so the support stop is right outside the Co-op. Me downing Gatorade, a pork pie a scotch egg and sandwiches - trying to cram in as many calories as possible with hot sweet tea.
With time enough to apply another layer of Superglue the decision is made not to visit the toilets up by the tourist information.... and maybe it's not such a good idea to set-up the emergency folding affair right there in the main street.

And the decision is regretted as I go hot and cold enroute for Croglam... fortunatley a man is welding up a trailer outside his garage and yes he does have an outside toilet and yes I can... I down sack and leg it through his back garden... very long back garden at that...
...and it's not until the Settle/Carlisle railway underpass that I get chance to sort myself out properly... but as soon as the leggings are down and the baby wipes are out there's voices behind... where the hell did they come from?? There was no one on the path behind me... trainspotters? Maybe they were out of sight viewing the nearby settlement? Oops... indecency charges pending..? It only makes it worse when I ask a couple coming down the next field to pass on my apologies to the walkers behind... eh? They don't seem amused...
Well it's all part and parcel. And there's still no sign of anyone coming up... behind...
Next comes delightful Smardale, well, eventually... I must have entered some kind of time warp across the fell, 'cos I jus can't seem to get there and where's the signpost I came upon last time? I'm just thinking I've got it wrong and headed off in the wrong direction at a sign that says 'Smardale' is a good way over there, when a second fingerpost confirms Smardale Bridge 1m - dead ahead. A bit of downhill trotting then and there it is - the valley bottom and the bridge.













Delightful Smardale


Today my route is straight on for Brownber via Friars Bottom... oh shut up now will you! All right, Vaseline - now get over it...
It's delightful crunching through Autumn leaves after Home Farm and a short uphill minor road stretch leads to the moor crossing beyond Brackenber where the afternoon sun becomes uncomfortably warm. As there's little breeze I unleash the brolly and the track is a good one... but it deteriorates somewhat round the back of Sunbiggin Tarn into a quagmire around where the O/S map tells me there's a ford. A timber bridge plugs the gap, but it's well boggy and it's wet feet to the cattle grid and the road... and then those sheep that I thought were the Panda really are sheep, but I have a signal and just maybe she'll turn out up the road as all the Kirkby Stephen calories have gone and I'm feeling very much overdrawn in the calorie account. Where is that 'bank' manager? Again, there's no response...
I've worked out that this route to Orton is shorter and has roughly the same amount of road walking as the Mazon Wath option... thing is, now all the road has come together and it's all there is now into Raisebeck and Orton. The support arrangement - loosely - was to meet up in a layby between Raisbeck and Orton but I need to see that Panda sooner rather than later...
I'm trying hard not to weave about... but a straight line seems impossible - for runners this is 'hitting the wall' - for walkers, serious 'hunger bonk'... but I don't feel hungry, nor thirsty for that matter, but the miles are beginning to tell - just have to hang on... 'Where R U?' A 'ding dong' reply tells me she's in a layby near Orton, then another that the stove is hissing but won't light. So I'm thinking if there's an explosion and a large plume of smoke I'm going to be spurred on...
The road section becomes a determined slog, though part of me wants to get as near to Orton as possible before refuelling, the other wants to stop ASAP.
The plan is to get over Crosby Ravensworth before it gets truly dark which I've calculated will be 6.40pm max. With sunset at 6.03 - by applying the half-hour rule and taking into account the conditions, to catch the light, at end of day pace, I need to be leaving Orton at around 5.00.
A bend and dip in the road to cross a stream signals Raisbeck... and at the road junction the thought crosses my mind that the support could have misunderstood my instructions - 'come out to meet me', and she's missed this turning...
After a further 1/2 mile and 111 miles from Robin Hood's Bay (by my reckoning), the white Panda slows... coming from behind... what? 'You must have been on the wrong road' I protest as I reach into the car to push the choke back in... she doesn't reply. I sort the stove and she drives off, with me pointing to a farm pull-in ahead, which she drives past... what the? can't she see I'm about to keel over?
But her chosen layby's a good 'un and that bit nearer to Orton just by the junction with the B6261.
When I get there Claire has a chair out. She throws her arms around me, which is most unusual since a hasty divorce 15 yrs back... turns out she'd been pestered while parked here earlier. A man had pulled up alongside and, having tried to gain attention, followed when she'd driven off - hence coming the wrong way from Raisbeck! I decide the best plan is to go straight for Shap and a pub where she can feel safe... er, though I did suggest the Bull's Head...
13 minutes later at 17.28 - refuelled on hot sweet coffee and flapjack, I start again for Orton. The support drives alongside until we reach the main road where she speeds off for Shap. My route takes me past the church and follows field paths and stone wall stiles uphill past Bullflatt. I don't usually do competition but the race is on now to get over the fell. It feels like flying through the lovely narrow heather path until I remind myself it's also rocky in parts... not dark yet... but getting close now and a misplaced footing could be bad... Before Robin Hood's Grave there's a landrover track crossing and I decide to go with it expecting to come out to rejoin the path nearer the wall farther on... but it doesn't. It just might join up with another track somewhere nearer to Black Dub, but I can't be sure... nor do I have the luxury of time to stand and study the map... no, I know where I am, and that's more important and I can still see where I would have been had I stuck with the original route... if I make the lone boulder I feel sure that I can find the path that cuts over the limestone pavement. With a convenient gap in the clouds to the west the last of the light becomes reflected off the low clouds above and it's just light enough to read the map without flicking on the head torch or the LED - thing is once artificial light gets in your eyes your pupils react and it'll seem much darker thereafter. No, memorise the route... boulder, right, to left, to right - head down to corner of trees...
A breathless pull up to the isolated glacial deposited boulder shows a post marking the way... another post hole just visible tells me I'm on track and the disturbed ground is evidence that stone is still being robbed here for garden ornament use. I can just make out the outline of the next post and I'm over the top... I decide to switch on the headtorch as it's becomes uneven underfoot from the Wicker Street Roman Road crossing, and suddenly it's very dark outside of a circle beam again and the world around diminishes dramatically... that taxi-ing aircraft off ahead turns out to be a junction of walls and those dancing fairy lights around are small groups of worried parting sheep... Just follow the rough track past the trees now to Oddendale.
As the object of the excercise is to know that I could get to Shap (as opposed to actually arriving in Shap) I decide to take the boring but more sensible road option from Oddendale and I release a few sure arrows of texts in the direction of the nearby support. Though it seems Shap has low signal... for there is no response... so it's a trudge on towards Scar Plantation. Surely she'd check to see if she has a signal? The loose agreement was to meet at 7.30 somewhere on the road to Crosby Ravensworth, and it's only ten past...
Scar Plantation seems a long time coming and turning the corner I can see headlights passing on the Crosby road ahead. I'm off map now but know the narrow road I'm on will lead me to it... but it could be gated... It may not even be signposted. Coming to the road junction I call her number... 'So..one's just ..ught me a d..nk...' - 'Well, no rush, finish your drink...' - the conversation breaks up... I ring back ' ... 'OD-DEN-DALE not HAR-DEN-DALE' 'O-D-D...' 'No n..d to s..ut!' after a few minutes she can't find a sign for Oddendale... I tell her to look for a sign to Crosby Ravensworth... and I can see the lights on the M6 now...
A call tells me she's passing the cemetery, which was the originally arranged last meet up point... but I thought it not such a good idea to ask her to wait outside a cemetery after dark... anyway: 'I can see your headlights now - just keep coming straight up this road. '
Seems she'd quite enjoyed the atmosphere in the Bull's Head... and we stopped to pip and wave before setting off... 'I found him,' Claire shouts. 'Hurray!' they shouted back... I think.
The drive back seemed a hell of a way... but there was a good choice of take-away in Kirkby Stephen, and a Chinese warms up much better than fish and chips, beansprouts or not...















The river Swale near Keld
















One of the many waterfalls around Keld

Be warned...

Legs now fully recovered... still got some Nine Standards peat around toe nails though - like ink... needs to grow out I think! In her absence Bev allowed me to leave a Cats Protection collection box in reception yesterday - thanks Bev! (Bev has a rescue cat) ...er, should be thanking Tracey really!
Awaiting catalogue from CP as we will be getting Christmas cards (with cats on!) from them this year - be warned, you will be pestered...

Upper Swaledale it was then...

Delightful site at Keld turned out to be a good choice - not too far for a pre-dawn start and just off route for a second breakfast. A good way from Shap but a take-away from Kirkby Stephen on the way back - reheated in oven - went down well! 6am start with a 7.30 pm finish - just got over Crosby Ravensworth Fell before losing light... phew...

Ingleby Cross to Surrender

I should have stayed on the A684... why on earth am I on the A19? We're passing Mount Grace Priory... Dammit, it'll soon be light and I'm not even on the hill...
Plan was to start before dawn from up the lane at Osmotherley and be at the A19 by 7.00am. I should have been more assertive...

Maybe we would have enough time to get to Osmotherley and recce a coffee stop meet-up point with a 5am start...
...and we just might had the second alarm gone off. But no - no wailing bitch... just a dim flashing light that gradually brought me to consciousness. Nothing from the support in the far corner of the van either - and no response to: 'C'mon! it's time we were going!'
Kettle on. Cereal, Superglue... no time for toast. Where ARE those socks...
Still no response... nothing, not even a grunt... she's expired surely?

'SERVICES 1 MILE'... no, no... we need to be back there. I've somehow gone onto the A19 instead of staying on the Osmotherley road... doh...
'Face it,' she says. 'You don't know where you are.' 'Yes I do,' I reply, '...not where I want to be.'
I swing the Panda round to cut for the A172 and Ingleby Cross. This is a change of plan but will put me on schedule, and I know that if this were a 5 day attempt I've only to come down a broad gravel track through those trees up there anyway...

6:52am
There's a tent behind the Blue Bell - happy campers indeed - fast asleep...
Maybe I could fit in a quick coffee stop with some toast and bacon and eggs - a proper breakfast... but no it's Saturday isn't it... and they don't open till 8 on a Saturday. I should get some tatoos done - opening times - Grosmont... A19 Services... dear oh dear, my organisational skills need honing, nay grinding...
I'm trying to work out where this wind is blowing from... if it's south, which it appears to be, it'll be better than west... but it's so blustery it seems to be coming from all directions. Otherwise, underfoot, the going looks good...
On Low Moor Lane I get a text from the support... she's lost and can't find her way back to the van. I text back a suggestion...
The field of youngsters get a bit frisky at Wray House. A bit of 'whey up!' and 'Giddon,' works a treat - what a load of bullocks.
In fact there's really nothing to write except that the wind is keeping the rain off and should it drop a bit it would be a glorious morning.

I come to the Danby Wiske road at 9am and stop to take a picture of a massive rainbow... good job I did, because as I approach the railway bridge not 20 yds away a large dead branch crashes onto the road ahead and breaks up into convenient sized kickable pieces.
Aye aye, a motorcaravan is moored at the back of the White Swan... something tells me that this is home to the new owners until the pub's finished. A sign indicates they are open in a limited way - good news for Coasters then.
Well, I'm under an hour away from our recce'd coffee stop... and so begin texted negotiations... She'll set off when she's had her breakfast - and not before it seems...
Doh, now I've missed my turn onto the footpath section to Streetlam. There are lots of branches littering the road and I'm wary of impending unconsciousness.
I really want to know where the footpath emerges at Streetlam. Hmm, I wonder if it goes between... CRACK! Bloody hell - fence's just collapsed on me nearly disposing me in the ditch. 'Whistle whistle' - just tuck the jagged bit back together... no one will notice.
I'd planned on pumping up the volume hereabouts but I doubt if I'd hear anything anyway and I leave the headphones be - can't hear the odd approaching 4 wheel drive as it is... 'Sorry missus!' - pah, if it's not sheep, it's walkers...

And so I'm standing at the coffee stop - a wide enough pull in beside the footpath sign to Plumtree and Kiplin Hall.
Next text: 'Where r u?' No response, so I hitch up and onward. Come on, DING DONG you thing!
Nothing.
On the Whitwell corner there's a crackin' crab apple tree - bitter sweet, crunchy, juicy too... bit more bitter than sweet - perfect addition to sweets and sharps for cider making.
Assuming she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere thoughts turn to cider-making and crushing apples.
Before the bend to the wood a sign tells me I'm entering Richmondshire... hmm, Swaledale cheese and cider..?
Into the wood now, and between the trees the wind subsides... but what's this? I have my head down as a small white car slows, engine screaming... that poor little Panda. I signal for her to turn round and trot on to a gravelly pull-in. Yay, 'tis coffee time!
I've read that Mike Cudahy had a chair ready for him... I have to get my own out and put my own kettle on... Still it is her first time and this has taken a bit of, er, negotiating. But no, she hands me a mug of steaming coffee as I redo the Superglue.
Ah, 'tis good an' instant too...



So it takes a full half-hour before I'm on my way and Claire's disappearing round the bend. It's going to be a car park in Richmond - meet up at the garage. What was the response..? Sounded like: 'Your wish is my command' or something...
Well, apart from 3 backpackers this morning and the two guys I've just passed - (dissapproving glances at running shoes... old school maybe?) I've only seen the odd driver and more than a few cows. I like to think of this as the land of pork pies and sausages. Ah, the elusive pork pie. Oh, and here's an approaching couple - Coasters? maybe... thing is if you were to stop and have a word with the oncomers (when they do appear - usually in groups) it can add appreciably to that mile's pace...
Now comes the meadow riverside path - dog walkers with happy chappies, masses of Policeman's Helmet (Himalayan Balsam) and a sudden busy section of road to negotiate at Catterick Bridge, before the first climb of the day - up the bank and rather more steadily thereafter up to Colburn.




I'd expected some wayfinding difficulties on this stretch but a kind old lady points with her stick as I nod appreciatively and the map suddenly makes sense once again. It's up a field and over down to Hagg Fm ruin where the outside toilet miraculously seems to have survived some kind of holocaust... and a whole tree lays on it's side... and then the path is closed ahead, according to a big red sign that states PATH CLOSED. I continue on into Iron Banks to find that the path is being repaired and much improved. Many branches litter the path and at the end is a delightful stretch that meets the river.

Richmond must produce a lot of sewage because the plant here seems to go on and on... though through the trees a carpet of fresh green leaves usher me to the former station. A not-so-friendly greyhound snarls and lunges for my nuts... I suggest to it's following owner that maybe the lead would be in order. He apologises profusely, but doesn't call it back... Bless, maybe it's a rescue dog. No harm done - good job I wasn't a mother with young kids though, eh?
The old man ahead potters along with his walking stick. I greet from behind - the old man potters along with his walking stick. Were it not for the dog I could be invisible... and here's the ruins of a priory. There's a cut through somewhere here... surely? But I'm soon at the road... and what happened to Priory Villas? Ah, there's the bridge... so, I need to be back up there. Beyond the two stables I ask the lady coming down if she's come past the cricket ground. Without hesitation she replies that she has... but I emerge onto the boundary to discover it's not and there's a Saturday game of football on. Football, cricket... they are remarkably similar... are they not? There are two girfriends leaning, watching with feigned enthusiasm... I say girlfriends... could be wives, but somehow I doubt it... hm, serious stuff this football.
Argh! What's this pain in my legs? A hill, Grasshopper, remember? I've sent a text to the support... no response. She'll be half way round the castle no doubt... I'm up on schedule and she's not expecting me yet... hope I don't have to hang around...
But there she is outside the garage.
She points across the road. 'Car park,' she shouts.
I could get used to having support... It's now ten to two... and I'm ready.
There's some cramping as I apply the next layer of Superglue and hope the salt from the crisps with the ham sandwiches will do the trick...
















The attendent in the car park toilets is keen - unnervingly so. As I'm drying my hands I nearly get a faceful of deodorant! She thinks I'm sweaty... she thinks I'm spoiling her toilets...
Plenty of kindling litters the way ahead up Westfields... and, oh yes, I noted the Chinese take-away at the bottom - open till 11pm (should manage to get back before closing time then... and a bottle of rose is chilling in the fridge)
These thoughts help me stride out, but what of a damp bivvy bag finish at Cringley Bottom as intended on a five dayer? Well, cross that Surrender Bridge when we come to it... be next year now... and then I'm meeting more approaching Coasters and dodging through storm-damaged Whitcliffe woods.
After Applegarth I stop to take some pics of the erosion that's exposing the roots of the yew trees lining the bank. The prevailing wind a reminder of just how much force whips down the valley.
The way descends at the stone built cairn and with some further cramping, awareness kicks in of the miles covered. I'd suggested a bit of afternoon tea earlier but the support decided otherwise and had headed back to the van to await a call as I get nearer to Reeth. On the hill, aptly named Hard Stiles, there's a pull-in where a cuppa would have given a boost, but I sucked on some water and continued up to the stile that would lead me to Ellers and Marrick which had been another suggested stop...
The wind fair whistled over the hill making forward progress difficult but as I descended to the Landrover collection at Marske Hall (well, 2's a start...) it became more sheltered and then Eller Beck is positively shallow compared to my last view of its turbulent waters back in May 2006.

Continuing past the hay meadow signs I emerge onto the road but vary from my last route by continuing over down the footpath that beyond a few fields joins the route nearer the Priory steps to emerge beside a barn. I don't fall down the steps this time nor do I linger in the hope of a fit waitress at the Outdoor Pursuits Centre. The road section highlights tired feet now but again not the burning sensation of impending blisters. How the Superglue will fare after continuous days out remains to be seen... but Reeth is not far away and a text to the support is off and away... and received. Good sign she gets it, but there's no response. Maybe she's driving over...
There's a tent beside the river and smoke from an open fire. There's a young kid weilding a sheathed hand saw... a joiner's hand saw no less. The campers are looking for wood it seems, but probably aren't prepared to scour too far away. These aren't coasters, backpackers either...

As I reach the bridge at Reeth, the Panda pulls up alongside - normal tickover - she's remembered to push the choke back in! Must say, she's getting the hang of it now... I send her on ahead to the village green. Ah, the orange juice will be good - no time for tea - it's 6 o'clock and there's about an hour of light left...

The little white car is parked just beyond The Copper Kettle:
'Orange juice..?'
'No, I took it out,' she replies.

Luckily I've got some water left and after a few mins I'm off again bound for the infamous Surrender Bridge.
Up past the school a Ding Dong text tells me: 'Im lost tuk last right turn at healulaugh and its a ded end at sum1s drive'.
'Try next', I reply.
Having turned onto the open moor and struggling now into a biting wind, I decide that should I see the car sooner than expected, I'm getting in it!

Doh, I've misread my own mind... Something's not right. The tracks here go off in all directions it seems, and though I've Googled this till my eyeballs ached, I've still managed to descend to Moor Cock and Thirns... maybe I just WAS hoping to see a Panda here... So I've to regain height. The light is fading fast now and I make an error in judgement in not following the gravel track but something that degenerates rapidly into a sheep trod and bog...
It's dark now but I know if I stick with the wall... I struggle through the tussocks and come up to the corner of the wall by the ruined barn. The PetzlE+lite throws little comfort... but I know this has to be right now and turn left. Boot prints confirm a better path and I trudge on into the wind. Not far now. I should have stopped to don the windproof shell but I've pressed on - I'd planned on running some, but my legs just wouldn't go... and now it's too dark to even contemplate anything more that a plod.

Just before the gate stile in the wall I get a 'Ding Dong' - 'How far off?'... and lose signal. Through the narrow gate is the five-day destination and there's a level bit right there that would be good as a bivvy spot. The thought of laying out a bivvy bag sends a chill through my already chilled self! Brrr, I've got a mere half-mile to go... It's well dark now and the low near-full moon behind gives little light to aid the descent and scramble up beyond Bleaberry Gill. Once at the top I can clearly see headlights heading up onto the moor... What the? It occurs to me that I never actually told her what Surrender Bridge actually looks like... Is the bridge obvious from the road? Is that the Panda even?

Turns out that she'd lost signal at the bridge and decided to head higher up the hill... up there for thinkin' or what, ey?
The path seemed to come and go and I decide to head for the moonlit shapes of the smelt mill but it seems to take an age and it's boggy here and there... surely there will be a better path from the mill though. The light on the camera phone adds as much again to the Petzl and then, sure enough, when I can see enough beyond the ruins, there is a better track... and that dim light down there is the interior light of the waiting support...
The road is gated, she tells me. 'I was on the right road, but when I came to the gate, I thought it was someone's drive. So I went back into Healaugh and found a man walking his dog...'

I hadn't realised how chilled I'd become - my hands are numb and it's embarrassing later in the Chinese take away as I shake uncontrollably... even after the warmth of the car's heater on the drive back to Richmond. I should have stopped to put on that wind shell...















(Surrender Bridge - taken earlier by Claire when walking Molly)

Petzl Zoom head torch!

An ex-climber sponsor has kindly donated her old head torch. Got a battery today and it works! Great. My Petzl e+lite is really only for emergencies and has been rather disappointing on the last two outings so thanks to Joan I'll be able to see better at the start and finish of the next leg. Many thanks!

Back!

Well the wind kept the rain off! Started from Ingleby Cross as I somehow missed the road to Osmotherley and ended up going up the A19! Struggled into the wind all day, but made it to Surrender Bridge... that little Panda was a welcome sight coming off the moor in the dark. The support was good - not bad for a beginner!

The day draws near...

Molly (Yorkie) accepted delivery of the sponsorship forms this morning - she's very helpful in snatching post out of the hand of the post lady as they begin to appear through the letter box! Luckily they are intact enough to use and the Cats Protection running vest escaped the snarling...
Wilbur has kindly chewed through my earphone cables... hmm, I was looking forward to listening to a bit of music again on the less exciting bits (which is about all of it through the flat Vale of Mowbray enroute for Richmond!), but unless I can fit a visit in to Tesco's for some more it could be more of the natural sounds of rain falling (as it seems it could be wet on Saturday... doh)
Ellen 'A' (the Panda) has had a new set of points since Tuesday... I should have left well alone - 'cos she's been running rough since. Just spent another £20 on a new distributor cap and rotor arm... Hopefully she'll now behave for Claire on Saturday who is already a bit nervous of the manual choke...
Thanks Julie btw - all arrived in time to give a me a boost!
Not sure what to think about the lady customer yesterday who thought that cats weren't a good enough reason to donate when there are so many starving people in the world... that's a pretty big issue to take in when you're only asking for a few quid!

Next Stage Recce

Booked onto a site nr Richmond which is around half way. Claire has kindly offered to do support, even though she doesn't like driving the Panda. I'll need to cover a section at either end in the dark, and am wondering about a brighter head torch (though it's a full moon on the Sunday). Hopefully the weather will be kind...

Cats Protection

Spoke to a tired-sounding Events Fundraiser this morning - Julie, who explained she's been busy with an event over the weekend. More sponsorship forms and a CP vest are on the way.

Small Folding Bikes...

It's occurred to me that I could swap the pack for a small folding bike as I pass the parked Panda in Reeth... as it's only about 4m max. then to Surrender Bridge. Really small folding bikes ain't cheap though... so this has put the brakes on this one a bit...

Next Stage Recce Preps

For another solo run, current thinking is to employ the bike secured in the region of Surrender Bridge and leave the car at a safe place. There appears to be a layby at nearby Healaugh (and it's all down hill for a bike ride in the dark) But safer Reeth isn't too far away either... don't want to be going too far after covering 40m on foot though, for sure! Passing the parked car in Reeth won't be easy though as the last few miles are the hardest... There's still the option of support yet though.
Must ring Cats Protection for more sponsor forms...

Super Glue!

As blisters were a problem on the 1st attempt (as on on other routes in the past) and as blister plasters hadn't worked as prevention on the June attempt, some drastic action was called for...
A layer of Superglue was applied to the forefoot before setting off, again at coffee stop and at again at lunchtime. Although it 'crazes' it still seems to provide the equivalent to an extra layer of skin. It dries with a smooth (waterproof?) surface with perhaps a more friction friendly surface(?)
Interestingly, at the end of the day - once back at the van - it all flaked off and left the ball of the foot clean for a further application should it be required next day. As an early attempt at this secured a finger to my foot, a latex glove was used for application (cut-off fingers would suffice) and the glue is smoothed out quickly - it has to be left to dry for a minute or so before putting foot to floor of course otherwise you'll add a layer of debris that you'll be walking on all day !

A 2 Day Superglue recce with Van and towed car...

There are no car parks in Osmotherley and the 'Googled' spaces are in fact outside the pub as there is no pub car park as such. Not wanting to leave one of these spaces occupied, I opted for a little farther on along the main street that didn't seem to be over-used by residents.

Setting of with the van then for Whitby, I pulled in for a quick lunch on the Cod Beck road - this being a haven for families with fishing nets with free parking to boot...

The road drops steeply from here down Scarth Nick and the guy coming up in the Range Rover didn't seem amused at me coming down, taking all the road up - I did try and reverse but the old girl just shuddered and said 'No Way!'

It's the long way round then to Whitby via Guisborough... but as I'd planned for a 6pm start (for the daylight) I had plenty of time to book in, site the van and unfasten the bike etc.

I'd hastily assembled the bike and set the saddle too low the week before and feared for my knees on the way to the start at Robin Hood's Bay... er, it's not actually all downhill... but when the downhill comes... wheee... I could smell the brake blocks!

24/8 Day0
So, having locked the bike to the railings in the car park (for easier access later) I set off on foot down the hill with knees already like jelly.
With only a minute to spare then, I try to put myself into the zone as if I were actually starting another 5 day attempt and foolishly dip a toe in... ha ha, but the tide's in and it seems a right and proper ritual...
I definitely think the start from the sea wall is better than the main street with it's August hordes and steps. This way soon delivers the intrepid traveller to the roundabout... and yep, bike's still there...
As the light rain becomes heavier, and noting other umbrellas about, I unleash my own new addition to the kit list and use it along the cliff path. Even in the breeze it stands up okay. Two approaching tired-looking finishing Coasters both carry big umbrellas too I note. My own use of the umbrella is something of a try-out as one would definitely have been a big help on my last June sojorn... so we'll see how it performs... at 150gms it could still come in handy for twatting pesky dogs with, well, maybe...
As I ascend the NT owned Bay Ness, coming up to the old railway track, I hear a snatch of conversation through the bracken: '...four miles an hour.' Hmm, interesting...
The two lads explained that it was Whitby Regatta week, and as the pubs get busy they walk down to the Bay for a quieter drink and take a few bevvies on the way back via High Hawsker... Hawsker. Now, being somewhat pedantic by nature I noted that he'd not said Hawkser, but Haw-sker*. I thought it was a local pronunciation, but didn't say anything. Explaining my mission to get across the moor before lights out I scurry on...
Not forgetting that disastrous very first Graystone crossing I head up the Intake Road with a little trepidation but the moor crossing is without problems and is much drier than in June. After the road the next shorter section is self-explanatory too - (I'd stopped the van here earlier just to suss it in case I arrived at this section in the dark) - the many Coaster's have kindly left their mark - the path turns immediately left over the stile and in 20 yds turns right to follow the line of the former wall to a tree which I noted would make a better bivvi spot than the site hastily chosen on my last attempt in June...
On reaching the May Beck road a right turn soon delivers me the few hundred yards to the caravan site.
A short drive then back to the car park at Robin Hood's Bay to collect the bike (which comes in handy again as the chippy stays open till 9pm in August) And even cold fish and chips would be worth the climb back up the hill with the two year old vintage home-made cider I'd discovered in the toilet compartment in the van (and that I'd remembered to put in the fridge!) than the alternative of a bowl of cheese and chive Smash.

Though the old girl did struggle back up the 30% hill at Fylingthorpe - 1st gear an' all... phew!

*(Hawkser/Hawsker confusion is due to error on Footprint maps)

25/8 Day1
I'd set the alarms (3 in all) for 4am - an alarm becomes necessary with comfort! But as the first sounded, I slid down the blind to see, well, nothing, other than pitch darkness. Not even a glim. This is something I could have paid more attention to, and with the next alarm (watch this time) I rolled over knowing that I'd have to actually get up when the mob. phone alarm sounded as I'd sited the damn thing at the other end of the van!
The 'opera' setting on the Sony Ericson W800 would wake the dead... with a scaled increase in volume it just cannot be ignored - 'wailing bitch' comes to mind...

Birdsong begins at 5.40, but I don't actually begin the big day until 6.05 to depart a sleepy caravan site wondering whether a pork pie will be available in Grosmont and expecting a strong likelyhood of completing the last few miles of the day in the dark...

The Co-op opens at 7.30 in the week - milk, sandwich, flapjack and 1/2lbs of liquorice allsorts it is then... but no pork pies! Delivery, he tells me is imminent... the baker's van arrives... but the Ford's delivery van arrives just as I'm setting off - and it's first drop is at the station cafe anyway... doh.

So it's a lively pace to Glaisdale and I'm prepared for a coffee stop as I ascend the Rigg. The shooting butt at the side of the track provides some shelter from the wind. But this little luxury saps a full half-hour...
The camera phone has a Walkman and I've decided to use it for the boring bits... and this is the 3rd time I've covered this - 2nd time this year even...
As I take the turning for the head of Rosedale at the head of Fryup Dale a spritely looking gent is coming down through the heather. His heart is 30% less efficient than it used to be he tells me, but he's happy to be able to get out and takes things steady these days at Eighty!
It's a good sign as I descend to the former railway trackbed before Dales Head Farm as my legs don't feel as punished as they did just a few months earlier.... and what's this? A flapping makeshift sign is forlornly pinned to a post 'Tea and Cake' with a scribbled arrow. I've not noticed this in the past and decide to see if a sandwich is available as it may save on time to miss the Lion with a straight cut up the hill in the direction of the Ironstone trackway. Besides, such enterprise deserves support and no doubt the Lion will not miss my few quid and it is lunchtime and ten past one already...
A dairy cow is grazing the lawn. A face briefly appears at the window... I'd best knock...
Yes, of course I can have a sandwich, cheese all right? though she'll need to check the bread she says...
An older farmer and younger man come to usher the cow from the lawn... I feel bad about disturbing her grazing...
Sorry, out of bread, but the tea loaf is very good she assures on her return... okay, tea loaf and cheese it is then.
It's sunny now and the parasol is handy. Last time cutting through here the sun blazed down with not a gasp of breeze and a brolly would have been ideal. No wonder I had problems on arrival at the Lion. My only concern this time was whether the cake and cheese lunch would provide sufficient sustenance to get me to Lord Stones.
She and her partner are off to Dublin later in the year to do the marathon it transpires. We agree they are very lucky to have such delightful surroundings to train in. They are planning on doing B&B here in the near future, and I suggest they contact Sherpa as a detour from the established route would be well worth the effort to stay in this secluded spot and yes they still do camping here. We both squint and sheild our eyes as she points out the line of the railway trackbed on the other side of the valley. I feel fortified enough now to start for the Lord Stones.
As I set off I'm reminding myself that I have come without my map sections and Footprint maps... she at home will keep tidying up after me! Suffice it to say that as they weren't on the table, I must have packed them... Well, I hadn't - she'd put them upstairs... Though, I do have the 1" NYM Tourist map and had I paid more attention to it I wouldn't have assumed that the trackbed I'd arrived at would join up with the one that continues to Bloworth. So a good 15-20 minutes is lost in getting back on track, literally... I should have crossed the 1st railway, continued up to the road and across to set points for the Bloworth Line... and now it seems like an age till I get to the back of the Lion Inn... doh.
In the Coast to Coast series on TV, Wainwright is shown being interviewed at Bloworth on an earlier screening - he describes a fast pace for the section to the Lion as 5mph (12mm pace) so I'm going to test this - I plug in the headphones and notch up the volume!
After 3m of steady running (more of a lope really) I remind myself that if I keep it up I'll burn myself out and fail again at Lordstones and drop back to a walk pace just to be sure.
Although it's quite breezy I use the umbrella when the sun pops out from behind the racey clouds. The afternoon is warm but not hot and the clinker of the trackbed doesn't burn the feet, but now is the test for the Superglue for this is where the tell-tale burning sensation began back in June.
The final bend and cutting come into view and by Bloworth I'm 1/2 way through second listening to ye olde Chemical Brothers... which gives me a definite time point of 1hr 18mins, and that's including some running...
At the 'seat stone' at the Cleveland Way turn off I munch on a cereal bar and a few liquorice allsorts. I consider the stove but swig some of Dale Head's own natural spring water instead, as a brew could add an inconvenient half-hour.
I hadn't scheduled for passing conversations and especially Matt from California... he was keen to take a photo and couldn't believe the size of my sack (it was necessary to carry what I would usually take on a 5 day attempt as an unladen trip would have been a pointless excercise) - we must have spoke for a good 20 mins - he was heading of to Corsica and the GR2 on completeing the Coast to Coast...
Still feeling fit I toyed with the idea of missing the Stones and keeping on, but the decision to include the big 3 changed things...
On the June attempt I'd felt so knocked that I'd opted for the lower bridleway route... so here would be a test for the cheese and cake of Dale Head Farm. The uneven paving from here comes very harsh on tired feet also.
I'd hoped (and scheduled) to arrive at the Stones sometime around 6pm, but the decision to include the 3 climbs (Hasty Bank, Cold and Cringle Moors) this time definitely slowed me down and the calories had certainly been used up as the last of the three had me gasping and pausing almost every other step.

If you want to see motorbikes and mingle with bikers then Lord Stones is the place to be on a Tuesday night. It occurs to me that many of them are older because they couldn't afford the bikes in their youth... though for me it's 7.40pm and I don't have much daylight left to get to Osmotherley... and, I'm only a half-hour up on my last attempt!
At 8.00pm then I'm off again, sloshing around a pint of tea and cake, knowing that I might just have an hour of useful light left, especially on the tops, and fully aware that Scugdale could be challenging in the dark...
I've already passed the fell runner who's coming down. We feel some mutual kinship and chat for a while - turn's out we share reading material - he's been reading Matto's book 'Life on the Run' and would like to have a go at a crossing in a similar fashion. He's young and fit... and my legs just won't go any more - 'I can't run', I tell him, 'my legs are gone.' He uses the hills here he says for Lake District style training - they are the only hills he has. I commiserate as the only hills I have to hand are grassed over colliery waste tips...
As I head up to the trig point there's a couple taking in the views - she smiles and he tells me that it's more than I'd calculated to Osmotherley. I press on aware of the impending dusk.

It certainly seems to go on for longer than remembered, and on approaching Sheepwash Bank I adjust the LED torch in readiness. I've tested it out at home, but this will be its first proper trial. Approaching the final descent through the trees I reach to switch it on and as I do I hear a curious sound ahead - like a kind of groan - which startles me enough to misplace my footing. Again the steps here are fashioned any old how, and I've managed to jar my right knee - the sharp accompanying pain winds me for a while and I stop to take stock. I assume there are walkers coming up ahead, but there is nothing other than softwood trees sighing in the breeze. I can flex the knee and feel confident to continue but I remind myself of my fall here on my first attempt and feel suddenly vulnerable. Cursing aloud at the step builders then, I descend slowly and cautiously through the pitch blackness as the 'e+lite' throws threatening shadows.
I'm on memory now as the 1" map shows little detail.
After Huthwaite I remembered there's a footbridge, but for the life of me I could not find it. I knew it must be close to the river (no surprises there... ) Looking for tell-tale bootprints I began to scour the ground... knowing full well that mind mist was beginning to creep in... then there it was! The Cleveland Way acorn as a white pin prick ahead. Soon I was at the gate and crossing the field. I knew the route went off to my right but also a Right of Way that cuts up to a tree and a gate that is marked by posts. Nearing the trees the trapped sheep on the other side of the fence frantically charged at the fence terrified by the light. But I was through the gate now and picking a way through deep mud... then the commomerative seat ahead is where the Cleveland Way meets the fence - damn, of course it is. Now it was just a matter of forging ahead to the road at Scarth Gap and being guided by the Cleveland Way acorns. The thought enters my mind that I can do this... but then could I? Climb Scarth Moor and bivvy or put a tarp up? At least I knew if I could make it too Osmotherly I could certainly have made it to the top of Beacon Hill which is Day1's destination. But I would need a longer day and still a better level of fitness. And then there's the 38m to complete on Day2...
The stiff climb up through the trees becomes cruel and it seems to go on forever to actually reach the road. Damn it, where is that bloody road!?
Eventually I begin to see a few stars and emerge onto tarmac. It's road from here no question! I should have remembered my lunch stop on this road from the day before... was it only a day ago..? I'd sat out with a sandwich as the kids had played with fishing nets... only to retreat back into the van as the midges gathered... yes the MIDGES. Damn they're attracted by the light and sweat no doubt... I put the shell jacket on but probably trap a few in the process and itch and scratch my way onward...
Passing where I'd parked-up for lunch I passed a VW camper that I'd parked behind in Osmotherly - I'd told him about this secluded spot and he'd clearly decided to overnight here. Maybe I should knock him up and ask... nay beg, for a lift.
Beside Cod Beck Reservoir an eerie mist hangs low about the road and I remind myself it'll soon be Autumn - season of mists and mellow midge bites...
I've never managed to start a walk yet where I've finished at the same pace... and this is no exception. The final mile becomes a drudge but the thought of a drink spurs me on... drink? Nay can't have a drink - I've yet to drive round the moors back to the van...
There's a father telling his kid off coming up the street. It's 10.30pm. I ask if the pub's still open - I must look weary as he wants to know how far I've come - "Bloody hell, aye?" he says. Still be open yet, he tells me and he calls out "get yersel' a pint!"
I'll manage a half, I think... yeah, I'll manage a half, and some crisps. And there's the pub... and turning the corner there's the car - still there, and intact. 'Bloody hell, aye' indeed, I made it, Superglue an' all!

So, what went wrong this time?

on reflection:
1) Lack of sleep. With packing-up, didn't get to bed till 4am on night before travelling - planned to catch-up by sleeping on coach. Bad idea - Yorkshire Coastliner (after National Express from Leeds) is more like a service bus that literally goes 'round the houses' at Tadcaster and York.

2) Thinking maybe that my bivvi arrangement is currently too basic. Need to be more weather confident.

3) Need to be more self-reliant. I wasn't sure whether the shop in Glaisdale would be open, and I forgot to re-check opening times at Grosmont after moving start date 1 day fwd. (this was to ensure arriving at A19 Monday morning where services open at 6am)

4) Ineffective insect repellant. Need some sort of midge netting for head end of bivvi bag (or go back to a tent!)

5) OTMA - on the move accessibility was poor. This made me irritable! eg. I had lip salve - but couldn't find it!

6) Too hot in June for covering country quickly (for me at least, where most of my training involves trying to keep dry through winter and spring) Have actually weighed sm. folding umbrella since... (160gms)

The plan of blister prevention by using blister plasters taped on from the start proved useless as they wouldn't stop on for more than about 3m with either wet or sweaty feet and arrived at Lord Stones in only marginally better state than last time...

June 2009 attempt (from Sherpa Van site post)

Day0 - 8pm start. Arrived off the bus 6.20 (too early - you can only mill about RHB for so long...)
The forecast is for cool and overcast with windy conditions developing towards end of week - sounds good. With time to kill managed to find a pebble this time... how do I know it's not from St Bees?
Found a better route out of RHB - half way up King St. some steps lead down to the sea wall from here a path brings you up to the roundabout (less steep I thought?) The path at Bay Ness climbs up to quickly connect with the former railway trackbed. This is still an 'ethical' line I feel, as it still allows for a clifftop start and the trackbed helps if there is a need to get across the boggy bits before dark. Wet feet from the top of the overgrown intake road, but the moor crossing is much more civilised in the light. (In retrospect this is the only advantage I can see in a June attempt to this schedule) After the road the second shorter bit of moor is much wetter and I'm wishing I'd packed those Seal Skinz now as I've started on a slightly wrong line - but again because it's June and still light I can see where many other Coasters have come the other way as I head more to my left. Coming off the moor a little breeze is welcome and I do think about dropping the landing gear, but it's still light and I'm not yet aware of just how bad the midge population is yet down at the car park! When I arrive there I realise I'd probaly be eaten alive and reluctantly trudge back up to the open moor (now with daylight gone) to try and find a level spot. I should have gone with my 1st instinct! Even up here the breeze seems to have dropped and the little blighters are forming a cloud. My insect repellant wipes prove useless and are more effective when I set light to them!
The site is not as flat as first judged and it turns out to be the worst ever night in the bag... and that's before it starts to rain...

Day1 - May have got some sleep but delayed getting up from 3.30am for an hour. Feel like a damp corpse in a body bag! Down sleeping bag is wet. Off for 5.18am. Pre-bagged muesli goes down a treat with cup of tea! Manage to dress avoiding midges by darting from place to place...
Steady to Grosmont. Pleasantly surprised to find Midge Hall (hmm, how'd it get it's name I wonder...) refurbished and lived in! Arrived Grosmont at 7.20 to find Co-op not open till 9am on Sunday (this is after sitting on bench opposite till after 8pm!) Planned food stop. So waited using the opportunity to further dry the sleeping bag on fence. This turns out to be a disaster looking back - and no better than last attempt, as though I haven't learned anything... at this hour should only be quick wash and water stop. So arrive up on schedule but leave an hour down!
Coffee stop at rd. turn off after Glaisdale Rigg. Discover I've added orange tab. to only water carried! Still it's sunny and there's a bit of breeze that helps to further dry out bag. Arrive Lion Inn knackered and slightly dehydrated with heat - feel ill here and can't eat food ordered - on return from toilet find it's been cleared away...
Trackbed is a bind in the heat of the afternoon - an umbrella would have been great as there is little breeze. The high point is being buzzed by an angry curlew! For the first time I think a companion would be good to help pass the miles. Rant at resting walkers on how pointless it all is... they laugh...
On descending to the road at Clay Bank Top a misplaced footing jars back badly on drainage stone channel built across path. Arrive Lord Stones okay though but with v. sore feet - mentally I've had it with heat and previous nights lack of sleep! Realise 5 days is off - too easy with mobile phone to book taxi...
If, on marking, my last effort would be: 'Could do better.' This effort would have to be marked: 'See Me!' in red ink...

June 2009 attempt

"Ah... of course! Midge Hall... not got its name for nothing then... The little blighters have hung back until I thought it was safe to unpack, and now, kneeling on my Ridgerest I'm quickly trying to stuff it all back before retreating to the minor road that will return me to the moor where I'm hoping the bit of breeze I noted as I came down will act as deterrent..."

It is now after 10.30 and I'm kicking around for that elusive bit of level ground on the edge of the moor, reluctant to switch on the head torch as this just might attract even more flying friends! Of course, the breeze has dropped now and I have insect repellant wipes hanging from my hat like Crocodile Dundee corks. The citrus floor wipes seem to keep 'em at bay for a while as well as I scrape at the layer of sweat accumulated in the last few hours from Robin Hood's Bay, though a quick flash-on of the Petzl reveals a cloud of excited and curious hungry critters. Well, I've got my Pocket Rocket this time and I'm going to make a cup of tea...
Once the stove is lit I begin to set light to my useless insect repellant wipes and this proves to be more successful as deterrent. As I'm unlikely to set a wet wet moor alight I'm surrounding myself with smouldering wipes! This, albeit temporary solution, proves most effective though the only hope for the bivvi-bagger who wishes to sleep is to breathe through a small scrunched-up hole - they don't like the moving air (or so I'm told...)
It soon becomes hot and clammy in the bag and this level patch isn't as comfy as first thought... in fact there's a nasty lump right in the small of my back... doh... this is going to be a long night...
It's after midnight... either it's started to rain, which was forecast for Sunday morning, or the critters are dancing on the bag trying to get in... this 1st night has become most unpleasant indeed and the sleeping bag is beginning to feel more wet than damp now. Still, nobody dies of hypothermia in June... do they?

With an 8pm start again I'd found a slightly nicer route out of Robin Hood's Bay - up King Street, turn right up a few steps to descend to the sea wall. This alternative was confirmed by the curator of the Old Coastguard Station when I'd phoned a few weeks earlier after zooming in on Robin Hood's Bay via Google. It looked as though the path to the roundabout through the 'park' must come out somewhere, and indeed it does. And an alternative to the route up through the caravan site below Hawkser can be tried by cutting up the hill at Bay Ness (2 miles from the start) - a short uphill pull brings you to the old railway track. Here I came upon a lady shepherd wondering whether to try and round-in two strays on the trackbed. Wise woman she... 'I'll leave 'em be,' she said thoughtfully. 'If we're not careful, we could have sheep everywhere.'
The detour onto the railway was not without forethought. It may well be June but the memory of being caught on Graystone in the dark on the last attempt has left a permanent scar. The very thought could induce a facial tick and accompanying nervous stammer to this day...
But the boggy bits are negotiated with relative ease this time and all was well until descending to the May Beck...

It's Sunday now: 3.30am and I have a raging thirst. There's some kind of grey light out there and the rain has stopped. At some point in the night I realised I could breathe through the silk bag liner but the night terrors become a sleepless blur. In late packing-up the night before setting off I'd not got to bed till 4am... so now I'm 2 night's sleep down. The idea of catching-up on the coach journey didn't work out either due mainly to the Yorkshire Coastliner being nothing more than a double decker service bus that 'went round the houses', literally. The fish and chip treat in Scarborough this time was no better than Robin Hood's Bay's very own last time. I'm thinking we must have a very good local chippy at home.
The first stage today is to Grosmont, and there's no rush. No point in arriving before the Co-op opens. The toilets at the NYMR will most likely be open and my schedule puts me there for 7.30. Plenty of time. The pre-bagged muesli goes down a treat and a cup of rosy lea is nice. Darting from spot to spot keeps the gathering cloud of early risers busy too and when I get going they'll be on the losing end.

I'm off down the minor road (again) then at 5.18am, but there's no rush. The woods are still very muddy but the ford is passable and I'm soon climbing steeply out of Littlebeck toward the open moor.
By 7.18am I'm sat on the bench at the Steam Railway. The dedicated staff are busying around like they've been here for hours already and probably have. My down bag is drying on the fence and socks soaked from the top of the Hawkser Intake Road onward from the night before. Quite civilised to have a wash and shave too... but as 8am approaches there's still no sign of the Co-op opening... cars keep pulling up, with drivers who also seem mystified at the closure. At ten past I'm thinking it a good idea to check out the opening times. This just to confirm the obvious... I rang last week to check the times... argh, hang on, it's Sunday.... Of course I slid the whole schedule forward a day to land at the A19 Monday morning and so now it's Sunday... and there it is in black and white: SUNDAY 9am...
The long and short of it is that I don't get away from Grosmont until 9.20! Once again... But I've not got much food and not sure if the shop in Glaisdale will be open either, so I just downed my second breakfast to fuel me on to the Lion Inn.

Beyond Glaisdale as the sun gets higher it becomes very warm and the pull up the Rigg turns into a slog.
I've scheduled for a coffee stop at the top of the Rigg, and it's here I discover that I added an orange tab to my only litre of water and have no plain water to boil up... The sun's out and so is the sleeping bag - to catch what little breeze there is.
I repack and set off for the Lion... I'm about an hour down on schedule now. I've had to tape some Spenco to the front of my left foot too as the shoe has rubbed and the tendon area has become tender and swollen. The NewBalance 1100 running shoes have a built-in scree cuff and the Velcro fastener has pressed the tongue against the forefoot - why didn't I realise this earlier? And why is it only the left foot that is affected?
The cut across Rosedale is shorter in map miles but longer in effort I fear and the sun is banging down - there's no breeze... an umbrella would have been worth its weight - the climb out of the Dale head leaves me feeling a bit knocked to say the least.
I arrive very sweaty at a very busy Lion Inn - hmm, 'course, it's Father's Day. The steak pie cloys and I have to leave two thirds of it as I begin to feel sick - I even leave half of the iced lime cordial, to make a swift exit to the toilet... when I return it's been cleared away, ah well, there you go, I should have left word...
I've been applying blister plasters at every stop since the start, but after around 3m I can feel them bunching up to my toes - they just won't stick for long enough to sweaty feet despite cleaning the area well with alcohol wipes.
The plan is to cover the old railway quickly, but the sun is still out. With little breeze any running is in short bursts of 20-30yds. I'm thinking it's better to have the mist down than see the endless miles ahead now (I thought this coming up the Rigg too...) Two Coasters (or ramblers) are sat on the bank enjoying a flask as I near the final bend and by now I'm talking to myself. 'Pointless!' I call out, 'this is bloody pointless!' They laugh in agreement.
At the stones that make good seats for Coasters and Cleveland Wayers just after Bloworth, I stop to try and sort me sore feet - the cinder track-bed seems to have made them all hot and the plasters put on at the Lion soon bunched up against the toes. I'm mad at myself now, I'm mad at New Balance... I'm just plain MAD! and it's angry mad...
It doesn't help when I misplace a foot descending to the road and jar my back quite badly...
I feel as though I've some form of chemical imbalace somehow - out of sorts. As though I'm only firing on 3 cylinders... 5 or 11? no, only ever been a 4 cyl model me... and not many cc's at that...
I can't believe where the time has gone... have I been abducted by aliens enroute or what? The thought of the three climbs over the tops seems a nonsense and I skirt by on the lower route - even the permissive bridleway that delivers straight to the Lord Stones door.
It is now 8.10pm! I've not made any progress on the last attempt... And angry clouds are gathering with spots of rain. If I leave here on foot I'm commiting myself to another night in the bag whatever the weather. I know I could make the next 6m physically, but mentally I'm done. It's the thought of another night in the bag that finishes me... it has all become a pointless excercise... 6 months training for nothing! I look at Robin Hood's small pebble and just know it won't get to StBees by Thursday. My better judgement tells me that if it is as hot again on the morrow - I just won't be up to covering the 38 miles to Cringley Bottom - I could maybe make it to Richmond... common sense prevails: this 5 day attempt is off...

May 2006 attempt

link to 1st attempt - full 2006 account
Had I not pulled the muscle and Fleswick Bay not got the better of me it would have been a 7 dayer...

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Welcome!

As the five day Coast to Coast is becoming something of a quest, and with good people coming forward with hard cash for my chosen charity (Cat's Protection), I'm thinking that a blog is the best way to keep track of progress (or lack of it!)
Why 5 days when most people take 10 days to 2 weeks?
The inspiration for a 5 day crossing came from Ronald Turnbull's account 'Three Days to Kidsty Pike' in the (now out of print) book 'Coast to Coasting' co-authored with John Gillam. Ronald is an accomplished outdoors writer and the only author to write a book specifically for the use of a bivvy bag aptly called 'The Book of the Bivvy'. The use of a bivvy bag makes for lightweight and swift travel with early starts and late finishes.
Alfred Wainwright's very popular Coast to Coast route (the subject of a recent TV series with presenter Julia Bradbury) traditionally starts at St. Bees in Cumbria, leaving behind the Irish Sea and finishing some nearly 200 miles farther on at Robin Hood's Bay on the Yorkshire Coast and the North Sea.
Ronald argues that the route is better followed East to West and with a large dollop of artistic license likens the journey westward with the ever approaching high point of Kidsty Pike in the Lake District to an assualt on Everest where the British blister becomes far worse than 'mere frostbite'!