Friday 30 October 2009
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!
Thursday 29 October 2009
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...
Tuesday 27 October 2009
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.
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
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.
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
Thursday 22 October 2009
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...
Awaiting catalogue from CP as we will be getting Christmas cards (with cats on!) from them this year - be warned, you will be pestered...
Monday 19 October 2009
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...
Tuesday 13 October 2009
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)
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)
Monday 12 October 2009
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!
Sunday 4 October 2009
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!
Thursday 1 October 2009
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!
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!
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