Wainwright's Coast to Coast Walk

Contents

Day 1: St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge
Day 2: Ennerdale Bridge to Stonethwaite
Day 3: Stonethwaite to Grasmere
Day 4: Grasmere to Patterdale
Day 5: Patterdale to Bampton Grange
Day 6: Bampton Grange to Raisbeck
Day 7: Raisbeck to Kirkby Stephen
Day 8: Kirkby Stephen to Keld
Day 9: Keld to Reeth
Day 10: Reeth to Richmond
Day 11: Richmond to Ingleby Arncliffe
Day 12: Ingleby Arncliffe to Clay Bank Top
Day 13: Clay Bank Top to Blakey Ridge
Day 14: Blakey Ridge to Grosmont
Day 15: Grosmont to Robin Hood's Bay
Appendices

Why would two geezers, old enough to spend their time relaxing in rocking chairs, walk almost 200 miles across northern England through some of the toughest terrain in the country?

The short answer is that it promised to be more enjoyable than walking 500 miles across northern Spain. The longer answer is that for many years Alan had expressed a dream of doing something like this, and Gordon called his bluff.

And so one evening we arrived in the small town of St Bees in Cumbria, on the Irish Sea. We were ready to set off on Alfred Wainwright's Coast to Coast Walk , finishing eventually in Robin Hood's Bay on the coast of the North Sea.

St Bees is an interesting place in its own right. The school dates to 1583. It had most recently been a private boarding school, but sadly closed this year for financial reasons. It's future is uncertain.

The parish church, formerly a priory, is even older. Its magnificent west door is 12th century Norman. Opposite the door is a stone cross, the lintel above dating to 1120. Other features of the church point to a history that is older still.

But now St Bees is best known as the starting point for the Coast to Coast walk. The walk was the brain child of a curmudgeonly loner who had a deep love for the countryside of northern England. It is 42 years since Wainwright published his guide to the walk, and it now attracts thousands of pairs of human feet every year.

We had allocated 15 days to the walk, an average of almost 13 miles a day. We contracted with Coast to Coast Packhorse to book the accommodations and transport our overnight bags from one B&B to the next. They would also provide a lift in their van if we should need it. Fortunately we never did.

We came prepared for a strenuous, exhausting, amazing adventure. We got far more than we expected.

15.3 miles, including half a mile from our lodgings to Mile 0. Starting elevation 30 ft. Max elevation 1150 ft.

Traditionally the walk must begin by christening one's boots in the Irish Sea, and collecting a pebble to deposit upon arrival at the North Sea. (One has visions of northern England slowly moving west to east, one pebble at a time) Near the beach is the official starting point. From there one has a sharp ascent to the top of the cliffs of St Bees Head..

The general idea is to walk west to east, so that the prevailing wind is at one's back. Nevertheless, the first few miles take one west and then north, providing magnificent views from the coastal path. Unfortunately, with a very strong wind blowing from the west, we soon realized the walk might be harder than we expected.

We took frequent breaks to look back towards St Bees, or to admire the view across the sea to the Isle of Man. Near the most westerly point of the walk is St Bees' light. Part of the cliff below the coastal path is a bird sanctuary. The wind was fierce enough we did not pause to take stock of the birds.

After almost five miles the route turns inland, using mostly narrow country lanes. It was a great relief to have easier footing, with the wind now behind us. And the weather seemed to be clearing. The route took us through small villages and expansive countryside.

We encountered many sheep, including a pair of quite colorful ones. In the village of Moor Row is a statue dedicated to Wainwright, with a sign, St Bees 7 miles, Robin Hood's Bay 184 miles. Over 3% of the walk now completed!

Part of the walk took us along a bicycle trail that featured numerous sculptures on posts. Sculptures also served as mileposts for the trail, one of which was a hiding place for a geocache. Of course Gordon had to stop and look for it.

After nine miles, as we made our way along an aptly named lane, we saw up ahead the major challenge for the day, Dent Hill, a climb of 1000 feet in a little over a mile. The ascent began with a stretch of pure mud - deep, boot-sucking mud. The trail then mercifully turned to grass, but became even steeper.

Finally we reached the top, and could admire what we had accomplished. That's another walker far below, struggling up behind us. The Irish Sea is in the distance, with the south west coast of Scotland just visible.

The view to the east, though, was the real reward. For there was the Lake District, one of the most beautiful places on earth (when the weather cooperates). There lay our route for the next four days.

We started down the other side of Dent, over a ladder stile, to a view of a beautiful hidden valley with the charming name of Nannycatch.

The descent to Nannycatch is extremely steep, and we discovered something else for which we were not prepared - how hard it is to walk downhill on very steep slopes.

Eventually we came to Nannycatch beck. Beyond that a path gave a closer view of Ennerdale, perhaps the most secluded part of the Lake District. Ahead lay the village of Ennerdale Bridge, where the Shepherd's Arms was our lodging for the night. We were welcomed to the village by two of the inhabitants. We were exhausted, but the view gave promise a a grand day tomorrow.

14.8 miles, not including half a mile's back tracking looking for something that turned out not to be lost. Starting elevation 350 ft. Max elevation 1980 ft.

We had been chastened by yesterday's walk, but set off from Ennerdale bridge towards Ennerdale Water with renewed energy. The trail along the south shore was rocky in parts, with sections that are definitely hands on. Nevertheless the going was in general fairly easy, through woods adorned with mossy mounds.

At the eastern end of the lake we came to a broad grassy meadow. We crossed the River Liza and encountered a field of foxgloves. From there we began a gradual ascent along north bank of the river, with views of Pillar mountain up ahead.

We climbed higher without great effort, passing below Pillar, and had our first view of Black Sail youth hostel hut. This was the starting point for the section we knew to be the toughest of the whole walk. We arrived at Black Sail and took a well deserved rest in preparation for the next stage .

To leave Ennerdale we had to ascend Loft Beck, a climb of 1000 feet in half a mile, roughly two thirds of that in quarter of a mile. We settled into a rhythm: Climb a little, stop and look back, climb a little more, stop and look back, repeat until done.

The views from the top were sufficient reward: A deep valley containing a string of lakes: Loweswater (barely visible), Crummock Water, and Buttermere.

A little further and the character of the landscape changed. The earth mover was working at a slate mine, once a major operation but now employing just a few men - an economic story that was repeated often across northern England.

We followed the remains of a tramway, with the beautiful valley of Borrowdale below us. The tramway had been used to transport slate from the mine to the cutting sheds. In many ways this was harder on us than the ascent of Loft Beck - increasingly steep and hard to negotiate.

At the cutting sheds we saw examples of decorative uses of slate - rock pool and sculptures for example. Probably not to everyone's taste.

The rest of the walk should have been about three miles of fairly easy going. Some of it was pleasant enough, but there were long stretches of abusive rock paths, and one section that was especially tricky to cross.

Finally we crossed the River Derwent, arrived in Borrowdale, and limped to our lodgings in Stonethwaite - exhausted once again, but not quite so discouraged this time.

7.4 miles. Starting elevation 340 ft. Max elevation 2290 ft.

This was to be a relatively short walk, although some hard climbing was involved. As we left Stonethwaite we saw a sardonic reminder of the local climate. And indeed we set off into a heavy morning mist with threats of rain in the air.

We climbed the trail beside Greenup Gill. The rain did not materialize, but the mist remained evident as we looked back to Borrowdale.

The trail grew steeper, and waterfalls along the gill became more numerous. Here some other walkers were taking a break.

At one point, 50 yards off the trail, there is a touching monument to a 15 year old student, Chandravadan Parekh, who died of exposure during a school expedition in 1968. Very few walkers know of this simple marker, and we knew of it only through geocaching - a cache is placed beneath the stone. It prompts rather sobering thoughts.

We climbed higher still, looking back down Greenup Gill. At one point a series of drumlins reflect the influence of the glaciers in the valley.

Finally we reached the last steep ascent to Greenup Edge, around Lining Crag (ahead). On the far side of the crag the Easdale valley leads down to Grasmere - Wordsworth country. It was another tough climb, though not as bad as Loft Beck.

Greenup Edge itself was a place to rest and take stock. Now we were surrounded by mist, although it soon became evident that the mist was going to clear. We set off across the open fell, encountering occasional streams that demanded some agility.

We checked our GPS frequently - it's easy to lose one's way here - and started along the high route to Grasmere. This route is a roller coaster series of ups and downs that provided increasingly dramatic views as the mist rose.

We could look down on Far Easdale, or forwards to a view of Grasmere. One by one we surmounted the series of crags, with views east towards Helvellyn, our route for tomorrow.

The final climb on the high route is Helm Crag, the highest point of which is known as the Howitzer. It was impossible to pass it by without climbing to its top.

Helm Crag provides a fine view of the town of Grasmere. All that remained now was the descent. Although parts were very hard on the knees, some of the walk down was on delightful grassy tracks. The trail led past a mossy grove, to a stony, walled lane, and finally by road into Grasmere. A short walk past charming cottages, and we were done.

There was one final event of interest that evening. A local farmer had acquired generations ago the right to drive his cattle through the town. And now he still insists on exercising that right each evening so that it will be maintained.

7.6 miles. Starting elevation 260 ft. Max elevation 2760 ft.

Day 4 offered three alternative routes. All three begin with a three mile climb to Grisedale Tarn. From there one can follow Grisedale Beck down into Patterdale, or take one of two high routes. One possibility is to continue climbing to the summit of Helvellyn, the third highest mountain in England, then descend via Striding Edge, a stunning but rather intimidating quarter mile knife-edge walk. Or, one can climb not quite so high to St Sunday Crag, on the other side of Grisedale Beck. We decided to postpone a decision until we reached Grisedale Tarn.

Day 3 ended with the parade of cows. Day 4 began the same way. Our route out of Grasmere was blocked for several minutes by a herd heading out to pasture. After that we could begin the serious part of our walk.

Our ascent began by crossing Tongue Gill, then continuing on the west side of Great Tongue. We paused for a while to look back to Grasmere, at which point one can perhaps see why this fell is called "Tongue".

After reaching the upper section of Tongue Gill we started the final hard climb to Grisedale Hause, above Grisedale Tarn. The trail then drops down to the tarn itself. From there we had a clear view of St Sunday Crag, while Helvellyn appeared to be hidden in mist. We opted for the former as our next challenge.

Upon reaching the end of the tarn, where it empties into Grisedale Beck, we started a climb of another 1000 feet. Initially not hard, it grew steep enough to demand a serious push. At one point we were on hands and knees, pulling ourselves up through the heather.

Notice how the Helvellyn side of the valley remains cloaked in mist. The mist continued to swirl around Helvellyn and Striding Edge for much of the afternoon. We had made the right choice.

At one point a mountain rescue helicopter emerged from the clouds - a simultaneously disturbing and encouraging sight. Accidents happen. But the mountain rescue teams are very effective.

Once we reached the top of the St Sunday ridge, we could look behind us to Fairfield mountain, which was also very misty. The mist, though, never caught up with us. To the east we could see much of the eastern Lake District, and ahead we had a clear view of the summit of St Sunday Crag.

A little further on we reached the summit itself, from where there was a view to Patterdale, our goal for the afternoon. We also had a fine view of Ullswater lake.

We reached one more rocky point along the ridge, and then began another very steep descent. Especially discouraging was to meet fell runners coming up - somehow our own achievement seems less impressive.

As we descended we were treated to more views of Ullswater. The trail finally brought us into the town, right beside the White Lion inn. Only another 100 yards to our lodgings, but we could not manage it without stopping first for a pint.

12.1 miles. Starting elevation 510 ft. Max elevation 2590 ft.

This was to be our last day in the lake district, and for once the weather was more typical - a light misty drizzle. We left Patterdale and began a long climb towards Angletarn Pike.

We could barely see Patterdale behind us in the mist. We passed an old sheep fold, then descended to beautiful Angle Tarn - probably even more beautiful on the rare sunny day. We continued past rushing falls and endured a steep climb to The Knott.

A little further and we reached High Street, a high plateau that was used by the Roman legions in their marches to and from the northern limits of their territory. A sharp left turn, and we came to the high point for the day, Kidsty Pike.

By then the drizzle had stopped, and the mist began to clear. Below us was Mardale Beck and the head of Haweswater. We began the steep descent to Haweswater, and were treated to views of our route beyond Lakeland. As we climbed down into Mardale we saw a striking example of the dry stone walls that have been used to demarcate boundaries since the 16th century.

Haweswater was once a smaller, very quiet lake, but was much enlarged (flooding the village of Mardale) to form a reservoir for the city of Manchester.

Once we reached the reservoir we followed its length along a difficult trail for several miles. There were numerous attractive spots though - waterfalls, pretty groupings of ferns and rocks, and more waterfalls. Castle Crag is an elevated point that was a good place to stop and take a break.

Haweswater is also a great place to get sightings of the red squirrel, which is dwindling in number and is now protected (the insert is from a sign seen along a road near the reservoir).

We left Haweswater behind and were now in agricultural country. Rather than sheep the dominant animal was cattle. Most were were friendly, but we did come cross one rather irate bull - fortunately there was a wall separating us.

And so we arrived in the lovely village of Bampton Grange, our stopping point for the night. From now on the scenery would be quite different from what we had grown accustomed to. And the terrain would in general be much easier.

13.3 miles. Starting elevation 650 ft. Max elevation 1160 ft.

Now that we had left the Lake District the scenery changed dramatically. The morning was cloudy, with intermittent rain. We took a footpath behind Bampton Grange church, and crossed a number of fields where livestock grazed. We crossed a beautiful "packhorse" bridge, and continued uphill.

At the top of the hill we looked down on a scene like something out of a painting by Constable, or Turner, or Gainsborough. As we passed from one field to another, we encountered an increasing number of "slot" stiles, stiles consisting of very narrow slots in the dry stone wall. They can be a serious impediment to a walker with backpack.

Soon we came to the ruins of Shap Abbey, the last abbey to be founded in England (in 1199) and the last to be dissolved by Henry VIII. Today very little is left, but one can see hints of its former glory.

We passed through the town of Shap. Perhaps it was the rain, but Shap did not seem to offer much of interest (other than a general store where we could pick up a few supplies). A couple of fields later we came to a very modern bridge, the only way in which one can get across the M6 motorway.

Soon we were beyond the fields and up on the moors. We crossed an unusual limestone formation, a large expanse of low rocks emerging from the ground as if they grew there. We were now on Crosby Ravenworth Fell, an area largely unknown to anyone other than coast to coast walkers. As we crested one hill we saw a huge granite boulder, sitting isolated on top of the limestone.

By now we, and the terrain, were well and truly soaked. It was difficult to appreciate the more distant aspects of the scenery, but the rain did enhance smaller details such as the moss and lichen covering the rocks of a dry stone wall.

Near the town of Orton we left the moors and reentered farm country. Next to a small lane we passed an ancient stone circle, not much to look at but of some archeological interest. The circle is middle or late neolithic, and the stones were originally upright.

We arrived at the tiny hamlet of Raisbeck, much earlier than we had told the owners of the B & B to expect us, and dripping wet. Our hosts could not have been kinder or more helpful in their treatment of us.

11.5 miles. Starting elevation 820 ft. Max elevation 1120 ft.

The rains had stopped, and although it was cloudy the weather promised to remain fair. We left our Raisbeck accommodations, impressed not only by the hospitality, but by the work they had expended on a beautiful garden, framed by a fine stone wall.

As we headed east we paused to make friends with one of the locals, then noticed a quite unusual sheep. Or was it a sheep? By now we had seen hundreds of sheep, but none like this one.

We had good views of our objective for the next two days, the Pennine mountain chain that forms the backbone of central England. We headed past Sunbiggin Tarn, a small pond, undistinguished looking, but apparently an important sanctuary for water birds. From Sunbiggin it was an easy climb to Ravenstonedale Moor.

In one field we discovered an interesting difference between sheep and cattle. When approached, sheep will generally move away, more or less rapidly. Cattle prefer to remain where they are and have you go around them.

We descended to Scandal beck and into Smardale. On the way we passed an archeological site that is far more important than it appears to be. Here lie (unexcavated) the remains of Severals Village, of unspecified age but dating to pre-Roman times.

More recent remains reflect what was once an important railway that passed through the valley. An unoccupied hut had been part of the railway station, and a viaduct carried the railway across the beck. Smardale bridge is older, dating from the 18th century.

The skill of the dry stone wall builder is seen in the walls that crisscross the moor. Where a deep ditch exists the builder found ways to handle the uneven terrain.

Trees on the moor are uncommon, but they became more numerous as we neared the town of Kirkby Stephen. This tree served as a poignant reminder of how old we felt at a few points on the walk.

We reached a Northern Rail railway line connecting Leeds and Carlisle, and took the tunnel to pass underneath. On the far side of the tunnel we encountered our second holdup due to livestock - shearing time for a large flock of sheep.

And so we reached Kirkby Stephen, an important market town and a place of great charm. The parish church was large and impressive, and the market square is of historical interest.

We arrived in town too early to check into our B & B, a good excuse to stop at a local watering hole for some refreshment. When we did reach the B & B, the first thing we saw was another reminder of how we had felt a few days ago.

But not now. The walk this day had been relatively easy, and now we felt quite prepared to tackle the remaining eight days.

11.8 miles. Starting elevation 650 ft. Max elevation 2170 ft.

Day 8 promised some interesting challenges. There are in fact three options available for this part of the walk. Choice of option should be based in part on time of year, and in part on weather conditions. We opted for the standard July route, the "Red" route.

Leaving Kirkby Stephen we crossed the river Eden by Frank's Bridge, an 18th century "corpse lane" bridge supposedly named after a local brewer. A directional sign reminded us we had not yet come half way.

We were now in the Yorkshire Dales national park (which meant among other things the absence of directional signs). We began a three mile climb to the highest point along the route outside the Lake District. The weather was perfect, and we had magnificent views back to Lakeland itself . Beyond a pretty walled pasture we could also see the southern part of the Pennine chain. A bench provided a convenient place for a brief pause.

A little further we came across a sheep shearing operation, and stopped to watch for a while. The farmers did not seem to mind.

Soon came within sight of the first objective for the day, Nine Standards Rigg. "Rigg" means "ridge", and the nine standards, barely visible on the horizon, are nine stone cairns of unknown origin.

A second bench offered a chance for another pause before we made the final push to the summit. Those are gaiters on Gordon's legs; their purpose will become clear soon. Shortly after our brief rest we met the first of the bogs that trouble walkers on Nine Standards Rigg - and indeed on much of the Pennines. We met many more later that day. Here's where the gaiters were to be valuable.

Without too much effort we reached the top of the rigg, from where we enjoyed amazing views in all directions. Each standard is roughly 10 feet tall. Hypotheses about their construction range from an attempt to intimidate invading Scots (!) to a way for bored shepherds to amuse themselves.

The bogs are much worse on the decent than they are on the ascent. A great deal of scouting, and long detours, are necessary to avoid the worst of them. Somewhere among the bogs we crossed from Cumbria into Yorkshire. If there was a sign, we missed it.

Fortunately, it had been a dry summer. We had heard horror stories of walkers sinking to their waists, but that day we mostly remained dry.

From the bottom of the rigg it was about four miles to our lodgings - a relatively easy four miles. This is grouse country. We passed several grouse butts, or hides. The large number of these prompted Wainwright to apologize in his guide to every bird along the route.

We crossed fields and valleys, and saw a lovely farm called Ravenseat nestled in the valley of Whitsundale. As we came closer it began to look even more attractive.

At the entrance to the farm was a stately shire horse. A little further along we met poultry and a peacock. And here in the middle of nowhere was a large crowd of tourists, all being served tea and scones by the cheerful farmer's wife - accompanied by her three week old infant, youngest of eight.

Much refreshed, we walked on through upper Swaledale, a beautiful region of fields and moor, becks and waterfalls. The River Swale itself came into view, and we now had only a mile or so to go.

Along the way we stopped to visit Wainwrath Force, a major waterfall. A little further on we thought for a moment we had stumbled on a Mongolian outpost, but apparently this is the latest fashion in camping.

And around the next bend was the village of Keld. "Little has changed for generations" , said Wainwright. "A sundial records the hours, but time is measured in centuries" . A perfect place to relax. And we were now halfway.

12.1 miles. Starting elevation 1100 ft. Max elevation 1210 ft.

Before leaving Keld we stopped at the Countryside and Heritage centre, a small but intruiging museum devoted to the local history.

One has a choice of two routes between Keld and the next town, Reeth. The high route offers a further view of local history. It takes one through the former lead mining area, which until something over 100 years ago employed thousands of men and boys in the mines. The mining left behind scarred landscapes and ruined buildings, which can be quite depressing, but of immense historical interest.

The two photos shown are but minor examples of the impact of mining. We chose instead the low route, which for the most most follows the River Swale. We were beginning to feel the cumulative effect of over a week's serious walking, and the river route offered an easier alternative.

Small tributaries of the Swale pass over secluded waterfalls. The route also offers its own version of ruins that reflect a more prosperous era, for farming has suffered too. However, we did encounter lovely examples of occupied farmhouses as well. There were many old barns, some abandoned, some still used.

At one point we saw what seemed to be construction for a new road, with tall poles and strings of flags connecting them. It seemed odd for such an isolated area. Then we saw someone working with a shovel and stopped to ask what was happening. It turned out that a new water line was to be laid, and he was working for an archeology group, excavating items like the stone work behind him that might be a wall or a roadway. The poles and string were to warn heavy equipment that it was passing beneath power lines.

One factor that made for an easy day was that much of the walk was across meadows or beside the river. An unusual sign indicated that farmers prefer to minimize foot traffic on their pastureland. The only unfortunate feature of the meadows was a large number of narrow slot stiles.

The countryside through this section of Swaledale added to the sense of relaxation. On the far side of the river was an unusual enclosed pasture, perhaps formerly a sheep paddock.

We headed uphill to reach the village of Gunnerside, where we knew there to be a pub. We reached the Kings Head to find five Americans, whom we had come to know well, had made it there before us. (This group had managed to get lost almost every day, and took it with astonishing good humour. They had already taken a wrong turn that day). Since we still had 5 or 6 miles to go, we thought we should settle for a half pint each

At Gunnerside we deviated from the prescribed lower route, which actually takes on up again onto the moors. We decided to stay close to the Swale. The further we walked the slower and broader the river became.

We passed a handsome bridge over the Swale, and followed a patch of woods that ran along the river. At one point we had to cross a tributary using stepping stones. The route then led to an unusual walking path that was in fact the top of a wall, part of the flood protection system for the fields.

And so we reached Reeth, a village unusual in that region for its expansive village green. We were early, so added the Swaledale museum as a second bookend to our day. The route had indeed been easy, and now we felt quite rested.

10.5 miles. Starting elevation 660 ft. Max elevation 1020 ft.

When we left Reeth it was market day, but we did not hang around to explore the market. We did note one strange episode as we left, what appeared to be a police raid in progress. Again, we did not wait to find out more, but it did seem strange a little further on to see what might have been part of a SWAT team. (In a used car lot! Was it for sale?)

Life became quieter as was walked on through lower Swaledale. It was a little unnerving to see in quick succession the boot then a sock, possibly abandoned by a terrified walker. Perhaps the nearby narrow slot stile had finally proved to be too much to take.

Perhaps we could find peace at last at Marrick Priory, founded in 1540 for Benedictine nuns. But no - the tour bus should have warned us. The priory is now an outdoor recreation center, and it was full of recreating youngsters.

We continued on our way, climbing the nuns' steps, 375 stones supposedly laid down by the nuns.

In the village of Marrick we passed a charming English cottage and garden, then found easy walking across meadows and pastures. The skies were now clearing, and the sight of cattle taking their own time out brought us the sense of peace and quiet we were seeking.

We enjoyed the bucolic English countryside, and admired the strange beauty of the farm machinery.

We began to move away from the River Swale, although we would meet it again later. We approached Applegarth Scar, a rough cliff in the middle of cultivated fields. From here we had a fine view of Swaledale.

We entered Whitecliff Wood, the last stage on our approach to Richmond. On exiting the wood we were treated to views of the city laid out before us. It was also possible to see across the Vale of Mowbray (tomorrow's long, long walk) to the Cleveland Hills beyond.

Before reaching Richmond we entered an interesting area of natural parkland, here tended by a couple of volunteer workers. Then we entered the city itself.

By far the largest town along our route, Richmond was a little intimidating for someone accustomed to nothing noisier than a flock of sheep. We had arrived early, so stopped at the first pub, across the street from the elegant Victorian public toilets.

OK, there is much more to Richmond than this. Founded in 1071 by the Normans, it proudly displays its long history. The history is on display in the museum (previously a church). Its centerpiece though is Richmond castle, around which the town grew. It was the first thing we saw on our approach, and the dominant feature in the town center.

22.5 miles. Starting elevation 470 ft. Max elevation 470 ft.

The last two days had been relatively easy, with manageable distances and not many hills of significance. We needed to be rested for today, for a walk that was double in length our daily average so far.

The good news: no hills to speak of, and no sole destroying or soul destroying rocky trails - but plenty of meadow. Wainwright and others have found this stretch boring- What, no hills? "Those who believe the earth is flat" , wrote Wainwright, "Will be mightily encouraged on this section" . But if approached in the right frame of mind (There are no hills!) it has its own charm.

Our overnight B&B was located at one of the highest points in Richmond, so it offered a good preview of the day's route. We bade farewell to Richmond, and set off along a tree-lined path.

As if the route were not long enough, road construction had necessitated a detour that added an extra mile. The detour took us by an area that looked for all the world like a southern Illinois strip mine, drag lines and all. It was part of the construction site.

The detour also took us by Catterick racecourse, over 200 years old and of some renown.

We crossed the Swale for the last time, after following its course for several days, to enter the village of Bolton-on-Swale. We were now in the heart of agricultural Yorkshire. The red brick of the rural cottages was a contrast to the grey stone houses we had seen until now.

We passed Bolton church, but did not stop to visit the grave of Henry Jenkins, who supposedly lived to be 169. Beyond the church were a pair of very fine trees that marked the beginning of many miles of rural walking.

We carried on, left, right, left, right. Near the village of Streetlam we passed an impressive tree house, and a little later the trail led through a pasture occupied by a mare and her foal, who turned out to be very friendly.

Instead of offering dramatic distant views, the scenery was more intimate - small streams and inconspicuous small bridges. There were no rocky trails, but on several occasions we were faced with very narrow passages through fields of barley (or perhaps it was wheat, or rye). Where there were no crops, we might have to hack through weeds of some kind.

A little over half way we came to Danby Wiske. Wainwright was especially scathing about this village - "the lowest point between the coastal extremities of the walk. Verily a slough of despond" . Nevertheless, we found the village green charming, and the pub provided all we needed: half pints of bitter to fuel the remaining nine miles of our walk (note the handy resuscitator in case the walk, or the beer, be too much). The pub was also a good place to meet with other walkers we had come to know well.

Although Wainwright disparaged the attitude of local residents to walkers, we found a number of examples of friendly support. One farmer had gone out of his way to provide some amusement. The rat squeaked as we climbed the stile to which it was attached.

A little further and the Cleveland Hills, our route for tomorrow, came into view. There were only two more problems to deal with. We had previously crossed a number of railway lines, either by bridge or by tunnel. This one demanded some alertness from the exhausted walker.

Then, with less than half a mile to go, we came to the A19, a road that carries streams of very fast traffic. Somehow we summoned enough energy for a final sprint across the highway towards our goal.

12.4 miles. Starting elevation 260 ft. Max elevation 1260 ft.

We were both tired from yesterday's long walk, but there would not much rest today. The route began with a steady climb through Arncliffe Woods, and at the top we could look back to the route of yesterday's flat trek.

On edge of the woods we noted an old horse wagon. We emerged on Live Moor, part of the North York Moors national park, which is the third national park crossed by Coast to Coast.

Coast-to-Coast signs disappeared once more, but this was not a major problem. The route now followed the Cleveland Way, a well marked trail that is paved for much of its length. The paving is especially helpful on the steeper slopes, which makes the trail suitable for bikes, as well as for runners.

The northern extremity of the moor is a steep escarpment that drops sharply to the Cleveland Plain. From the escarpment we had views to the industrial area of Teesside (just visible), and beyond that to the sea.

We crossed from Live Moor to Carlton Moor, where the wind was now picking up in force, making it rather nerve wracking to walk close to the escarpment. Here we noticed that the heather was beginning to bloom. Heather is the dominant vegetation on the moors. It blooms in August, but we were fortunate to be here for the first signs.

At the top of Carlton Moor the views, and the wind, were at their most impressive. Teesside and the North Sea were now easily seen. The views became increasingly dramatic, and shortly we were able to see the town of Great Broughton, where lay our lodgings for the night.

We left Carlton Moor and stopped for a half pint at the Lord Stones Café, a popular rest stop for walkers and other tourists. With only a few miles left to go, we continued across the rolling hills of Cringle Moor. The escarpment north of Cringle Moor is Kirby Bank, where one attraction for Gordon was a very satisfying, and very large, geocache.

A dominant feature of Cringle Moor is the Wainstones, a rock formation on the western edge of one of the hills. We bypassed the Wainstones, since we planned to take a short cut through a quiet wood to our lodgings two miles away.

In fact, we could not find the trail we sought, so we pressed on until we reached the main road and a car park. It is common for owners of B&Bs in the area to provide lifts to walkers, so we took advantage of our own host's kind offer. She arrived in short order and took us to her home.

9.1 miles. Starting elevation 840 ft. Max elevation 1480 ft.

This was the easiest day of our walk. Two days had been shorter, but they were very mountainous. Today, after a hard climb of about half a mile, the route was quite gentle.

Our host at the B&B gave us a lift back to the same car park . We climbed to the top of the moor, and looked back to Cringle Moor, where we had been yesterday. We were now on Urra Moor, much flatter terrain than yesterday's.

Along our route we passed several boundary markers, including some that had been enhanced with odd engravings. In some ways the route was rather monotonous, but we found it relaxing, and we could maintain a brisk walking pace.

We noticed again some areas in which the heather was blooming. An attractive contrast was provided by occasional patches of cotton grass.

To the south was the lovely valley of Farndale, which appeared to expand as we moved east. Then we rounded a bend in the trail, and saw on the horizon ahead of us a large building, standing in isolation.

This was the Lion Inn, built in 1553, making it one of the oldest in England. It is located miles from any town or village, but has served for centuries as a source of food and lodgings for weary travellers. This was to be our accommodation for the night.

We celebrated our arrival at the inn, just in time for lunch. Noting the numerous cases of low headroom in the inn,we developed a protective stoop when moving from room to room. For the first time on our walk we had an afternoon free to relax and take care of incidental tasks. Later we enjoyed a beer in the old bar, considering ourselves to be seasoned wayfarers, resting up for the final two days of our voyage.

13.6 miles. Starting elevation 1290 ft. Max elevation 1380 ft.

Our journey continued across the North York Moors. From the Lion Inn we had a view of our route for the day. More than a mile along our route we could see the inn behind us.

In this section of the moor there are a number of carved stones, the best known of which is Fat Betty. It is traditional to leave a food offering with Betty, and to take one in return. We skipped the second part.

Perhaps Betty's chubby form reflects the name of the nearby valley, the Great Fryup Dale. (In fact, the name derives from "Frige-hop", hop being a small valley and Frige a Norse goddess) Anyway, regardless of Betty's origins, it appeared that some other stones had been carved by nonhuman agents.

Our route lay across Glaisdale Moor, where we were entertained by a flock of grouse. Larger and larger patches of heather were in bloom. From the moor we descended to the valley of the River Esk, an area of farms and small charming towns.

The first town we came to was Glaisdale itself, which was either welcoming us or trying to scare us away. A little further along we saw a strange parade of bicycles that did nothing to answer our question.

We felt more comfortable after our usual half pint at the Arncliffe Arms. From there we sought out the Beggars' Bridge, built in the early 17th century by a wealthy Glaisdale resident. Before leaving home to seek his fortune he had planned to visit his beloved on the far side of the Esk, but was thwarted by floods. On his return he built the bridge so that future lovers would not suffer the same fate.

We continued through Arncliffe Woods (two days earlier we had seen another woods of the same name). The trail took us by mossy rocks to a lovely spot where we found a bench overlooking the river, a memorial created by a local man for his dog.

After passing through the village of Egton Bridge, we came to Grosmont, where we were to spend the night. Grosmont is best known as a center for the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, home to some of the last steam engines in the country.

We agreed that a trip on a steam train must be part of our adventure. First, though, we checked into our B&B, less than 50 yards from the station, where we found the landlady cleaning coal dust from the bench in front of her house. She was unsparing in her abuse for the steam trains and the damage caused by their pollution.

Notwithstanding, we returned to the station. While waiting for our train we explored the railway sheds. Then, with a blast of steam, the train pulled into the station. We greeted the engineer, boarded the train, and were shortly under way.

Relaxing in an elegant old carriage was a different way to see the countryside. The train took us as far as Whitby, where we had a good view of the abbey and St. Mary's church. The train then returned to Grosmont, where we arrived in time for dinner at Station Tavern.

15.4 miles. Starting elevation 170 ft. Max elevation 950 ft.

Our last day! And what a nasty way to start it, with a very steep hill as one leaves Grosmont. We paused frequently to look back on Eskdale, and after almost a mile the road deposited us on Sleights Moor.

The moor took us to the village of Littlebeck and we entered Littlebeck Wood. The wood contained a number of features of interest. A cave was a remnant of the alum mining industry. The Hermitage is a small room carved out of a boulder. Falling Foss is a lovely water fall.

On emerging from the wood we saw a herd of "belties", and were then on the moors for the last time. Approaching the Graystone Hills, we encountered a final stretch of bogs. So far we had avoided any serious encounter with bogs, but this time Alan managed to step in an especially slimy section that easily topped his boots, necessitating an emergency cleanup.

Now we were in farm country, with a clear view of the North Sea and Whitby Abbey. We were close to the end. But not quite as close as suggested by one road sign. Wainwright had found a way to add a couple of extra miles to the last section.

In the same way that the walk had begun along the cliffs of St Bees Head, so the walk would end on a path above the North Sea. The path was deceptive. Each time we rounded a bend we expected to see our goal, without success. Finally,with less than half a mile to go, we came over a rise and before us lay Robin Hood's Bay. We could then watch our goal coming closer and closer.

We descended a steep hill into the center of town. Upon reaching the beach we dipped our boots in the North Sea, and helped promote continental drift by releasing our pebbles. Then we headed for the Bay Hotel, signed the book that is kept for those who complete the walk, and treated ourselves to a celebratory pint.

We felt justifiably pleased with our achievement. We had walked 192 miles across a terrain far tougher than we expected, and survived with only minor aches and bruises. We had enjoyed astonishingly good weather almost every day, but now it was raining. We were exhausted, and took a taxi back up the hill to our B&B.

The remaining material is for those who might be interested in more details about Coast-to-Coast, especially if contemplating doing the walk themselves. There are sections devoted to hazards and navigation, a link to maps of the route with elevation profiles, and a glossary of place names.

Anyone planning to do the Coast to Coast walk should be aware of the hazards they are likely to encounter. Some are obvious: Fatigue and low morale are not addressed here. Getting lost is the topic for the next section. But here are some of the less expected problems you may have to deal with, broadly sorted by category.

Animals: Supposedly, there are restrictions on the kind of livestock farmers can allow to have access to a public right-of-way. We were rather surprised to find this sign on the gate of a field we were about to enter. He (the bull) was apparently not home. There is presumably an important difference between a bull and a steer, but sometimes it is not clear what one is dealing with. And of course, dogs can be a concern at any time.

Vegetation: The thistle is a beautiful flower, but it comes with unpleasant attachments. The stinging nettle is ubiquitous, and does not even have the virtue of an attractive flower. Finally, trees are always a source of joy, but they too can present their own dangers.

Moving Objects: After one has spent hours walking at three miles an hour or less, meeting traffic that moves at 20 times that speed is unnerving. Even slow traffic is hazardous on narrow country lanes. Only one village, Danby Wiske, seemed to have taken steps to warn drivers of our presence. And once we had to cross unguarded railway tracks.

Miscellaneous: Perhaps we should have expected the possibility of electrocution in the fields, but exposure to live fire exercises was a surprise.

Medical: Other than aching knees and other minor pains, we did not, fortunately, have to deal with serious medical issues. We were rather surprised, however, to find that even in small villages there were potentially handy devices that might be helpful.

The Coast-to-Coast walk is notorious for being difficult to follow. Problems in finding the right route are compounded any time there is a heavy mist, which happens often in the Lake District and other mountainous areas.

Signposts for the walk are not permitted in the national parks, i.e., the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales, and the North York Moors (the walk remains unrecognized in any official way). These are exactly the areas where one most needs help.

Outside the parks the signs were welcome, but they were not numerous. On rare occasions the Coast-to-Coast intersected a route recognized by the National Trust, such as the Cleveland Way. Where this happened, Coast-to-Coast was able to piggy back on the recognized walk (see inset message).

Even so, signage was missing at some critical places. And some signs that are posted are rather redundant (this was clearly not a road for vehicles).

In mountainous areas there are many cairns that can be used as guides (if they can be seen in the mist), but you need to know what you are looking for. Outside the parks there are handmade signs that have been posted by area residents, often containing other messages. These were presumably posted by farmers to protect their property. Some of the signs, though, were confusing at best - where we supposed to go in this case?

They are not exactly sign posts to be used for navigation, but in some popular places information boards let you know where you are and what you are looking at.

There has been an attempt to increase signage, using blazes that bear Alfred Wainwright's initials. However, it may be best to assume that getting lost, and then finding one's way again, is just part of the total experience.

Almost everyone we met had made a major navigational error at some point. We did well. If we missed a turn, we never walked more than 100 yards or so before noticing. Our navigational saviour was a hand-held GPS receiver. We made frequent use of the maps in Stedman's guide (below), with reference occasionally to Harvey's topographical maps. But we had also downloaded a set of GPS waypoints for our route, and it was these that prevented us time and again from being seriously lost. For anyone planning a walk of this sort, we highly recommend such a guide.

Here are Google maps of our route using Google's satellite view. You can zoom in on the map for more detail. Click on any section of the route for a map of that day's route and an elevation profile for the day.

We used the following two guides. The Wainwright book is, of course, what created the Coast-to-Coast as an internationally known walk.

Stedman, H. (6th edition, 2014). Coast to coast path . Hindhead, Surrey: Trailblazer Publications.

Wainwright, A. (Revised edition, 2003). A coast to coast walk . London: Frances Lincoln.

Many place names in Northern England are of Danish or Norse origin, and can be confusing. Here is a brief list of common terms or suffixes used in place names.

beck : stream.
by : town, especially where Danes first settled.
dale : a broad valley.
fell : a stretch of high moorland.
force : waterfall
gill : stream.
hause : a pass or a region between two higher areas.
howe : mound or hill; sometimes a hollow or dell.
mere : lake
pike : a cone shaped hill.
rigg : ridge
thorpe : a secondary settlement by Danes.
thwaite : paddock or meadow.
water : lake

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