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!
No comments:
Post a Comment