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
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