Tennessee Trails Association - Highland Rim Chapter

From Sally Hubbard:

Day 5, 8-9-13 Click here for a series of pictures of the Wainwright C2C trail

"Our flights were painless and we met up in Manchester and had a “full English breakfast” (eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast) in the airport and then came by train to St. Bees on the west coast. Rather than having a rest day and then doing 14 miles the first day on the Coast to Coast (C2C) trail, we went ahead and did a 6-mile circle around St. Bees. It was the most beautiful hike I’ve ever had—maroon or mahogany colored high cliffs above the sea, with every pocket of dirt blooming with purple and yellow flowers. My nose started running like a sieve. Coming back through town we stopped at a boarding school (1500s) and watched a cribbage game, and a 1000-year-old church that was prominently ornamented with a five-lobed circle, like a five-petal flower, whether in stone tracery windows between the nave and narthex or stained-glass windows above the altar or needle-point hanging behind the altar. It had been a monastery chapel.

Yesterday we did the second half of the day 1 hike (!!!) including a steep climb up to the bare top of a mountain (1000 ft.) from which we could see 360 degrees—little village after little village after little village, the Irish Sea, fields with cattle or sheep, an atomic energy plant that’s being shut down because of a major problem a couple of years ago, mountains and coves blooming with wild flowers and green with fern. Sheep everywhere. Getting down from that mountain was challenging—we practically went straight down the grassy side, taking small steps with our feet sideways, placing our hiking poles carefully, creeping down. Annette turned around and climbed backwards since it was like descending a ladder. It was like a ski slope. At the bottom, sparkling creeks and stone fences. Our B and B for the night had been flooded by a river so we were directed to The Fox and Hounds where we had fish and chips and were picked up and driven to an alternative B and B.

In the cold wind at the top I had begun feeling really sick, so today I opted not to take the 15-mile hike around Ennerdale Water (lake).

We had heard the north side was closed for logging, and the south side was flooded, plus it may rain. Annette took a fall yesterday and she had decided during the night not to hike today either. So we are at the Stork Hotel pub, having the first moment so far to try to communicate by email. I can’t connect but at least I’m charging the battery. The hostess has arranged a doctor appointment for me near tonight’s B and B. That’s the magic in feeling terrible and having to ask for help—the people who have solutions and offer help seem like angels.

The innkeeper has just offered to help me connect so I'll close... Sally"

Day 7 8/11/2013 Sunday Link of the day http://www.byron.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/

"Annette and I enjoyed our day of not hiking—the doctor took care of my sinus infection and Annette rested her knees, which were badly swollen. I bought myself a pair of birthday earrings at a jewelry store where the owner designed and made jewelry named for four of the lakes, in a Celtic knot style. We had a chance to visit with the cook at our inn, who reminded me of Falstaff’s dame whose apron billowed like a ship’s sail in the wind. Large, earthy, high spirited.

Saturday we were back in the saddle, or rather backpack, and hiked up a magnificent valley for 3 hours, hopping from rock to rock, enjoying the sheep munching and chewing, and then got very disoriented at the top of the ridge. Suddenly there were no other hikers, we were alone at the top of the world and never found the two cairns our books said to look for to choose the downward trail. A moment of despair. We decided what had to be the correct valley and village, and started down the mountain toward it, and soon found the trail, and then other hikers appeared and reassured us. These mountains are much more like the Rockies than the Cumberland Plateau. Steep, bare, waterfalls bubbling down. There are very few trail markers, but occasional cairns or a little painted C2C on a tree. Annette’s knee was huge, but the innkeeper last night gave her ice and it is better today.

Today was our first day of rain. We spent a lot of time putting on and taking off rain pants, rain coats, ponchos. I crisscrossed a lovely fern bracken mountain side, like a yellow balloon with hiking sticks and feet (I needed the poncho to cover the backpack). This is Wordsworth country. We passed “Parting Rock” today where he bid adieu to his brother who was leaving for the war. At the top the wind was fierce at about 55 degrees but fortunately a tailwind!!! It actually helped push us up to the top. There was a huge cairn that we sheltered behind to eat our lunch. I had a can of smoked oysters among other more typical trail foods. Jerky, trail bars. Then a long lovely descent through stone fenced sheep pastures, and a few small slate stone farm buildings. The food has been fine so far—I had lamb and vegetables tonight. Lots of fish other nights.

The innkeeper, Ian, also is a professional C2C guide and recommended an alternative day for us tomorrow rather than the 17-mile one with a high mountain planned. We are going to walk to a boat dock and take an 8:45am ride up Ullswater Lake to the other end, and then start only a 10-mile hike to the next town. Ian has taken his daughters on the C2C. His 9-year-old successfully completed it three times before her 9^th birthday, and is publishing a book next fall of her journals, and collects donations to support the local rescue team.

Appreciating my knees and my amazing opportunity to be here, and my loved ones back home--Oh, speaking of loved ones, i.e. Sabina, there are lovely Border Collies on the trail and in the fields—so smart, so quick to traverse the mountainside, so business-like when they are assisting a shepherd to herd sheep where he wants them to go... Sally"

Day 9 8/13/2013 9:18 am Tuesday Link for the day Ullswater Steamers

How many times have I thought “this was a mistake. Why did I think I could do this?” Yesterday we skipped the fourth high mountain climb and took a boat ride instead, on a historic steamer converted to diesel, from Patterdale at one end to Pooley Bridge at the other end of Ullswater lake. I felt like my energy had just drained away, what with coughing and still blowing. From there we had just a 10-mile hike to Shap, (where there was a booking and luggage mix-up). It rained off and on during the morning, and began to pour when we tried to stop for lunch at a pub, that was closed. We crossed a stone bridge and saw an open garage, and asked the mechanic if we could eat our lunch in the shelter of his garage! He was surprised at first, but then found four chairs for us and offered water for tea. After at least an hour’s downpour, we were able to go on.

The walk was lovely through moors blooming with violet-colored gorse (?) and then between two stone walls that are said to date to the Iron Age. We stopped and walked around the ruins of an abbey that Henry VIII destroyed. A good pub dinner … a transfer to a different inn … tea by the glowing fireplace, and all was well. The new innkeeper, Margaret, asked if we were the American ladies who had had lunch in a garage? The story had reached her before we did. Seems her husband had been to the garage yesterday. The mechanic drove by us late in the afternoon and said “Still walking, Ladies?” The villages and villagers are straight out of the “Last of the Summer Wine” show on BBC TV.

Annette and I looked at the upcoming day mileages to decide what day to completely skip, or to take a taxi part way. It is discouraging to have couples, father and son pairs, two senior men, one solitary elderly gentleman come up from behind us, chat pleasantly, and then blow on by us. But today was EASY—just 8 miles of moors to a marvelous B and B where I am resting while they go into town to the chocolate factory. Annette continues to cheer me by chuckling and laughing behind me. We four ladies can be characterized as: the Planner who watches the guidebook more than the scenery; the good natured one who keeps our spirits up; and two old tortoises that just keep walking no matter what. Linda really does a great job of guiding us, but yesterday after we’d seen the abbey and climbed over several stiles and through several fields, she was determined to turn right back on the road to the abbey when we could see the next town in the opposite direction. I find Annette more kind and determined than I expected; and I find myself less so than I expected.

But instead of pooping out today I enjoyed it. We plan to walk tomorrow. But the next day is 21 miles and we may not. - Sally

Day 9 8/13/2013 3:40 pm Tuesday Another link http://www.lehigh.edu/~wwt1/C2C/c2c.html
Tonight at Orton , tomorrow at Kirby Stephens (Wednesday 8/14/2013). Maybe you can find them on a map, about a third (yes, a third) of the way across England up near Scotland, west to east. I think maybe we’re getting in the groove and enjoying the walk now more than planning the days off. The first four days were incredibly hard. The last two have been much easier. Helps our attitude! Hope your issues are working themselves out, one at a time. - Sally

Day 11 8/15/13 Thursday Halfway point - Butt House in Keld Example of downtown Keld

Wednesday started out brightly with a visit to a stone circle, about 60’ diameter, in a sheep pasture, supposed to date from Neolithic times. Then we met and visited with some adorable Shetland ponies, and eventually caught up with a German couple we’ve been socializing with who had finished their lunch on a verge shaped like a bench, and written out C 2 C for us with carrot peelings to give us confidence and cheer us on. Then a trudge began through moors that felt like moonscape and took hours more than expected. Following disappearing tracks across the grass. Sheep poop of course, but now also cow poop. Gorgeous big black and white satin-furred cows. We finally reached Kirkby Stephens two hours later than expected. Annette had had to wear sandals because her big toe hurt too badly to put on a shoe. She and I decided to skip the Thursday hike of 15 miles (high climb, sticky bog requiring Wellies, and rain) since we were for once in a real town with a mountain outfitter, closed by the time we dragged in. The inn was Edwardian, dark, crowded—but when we came down for breakfast Linda had a sore throat and digestive problems and she was ready for a day off too. We all were. The shop owner fitted Annette carefully with boots that are waterproof and don’t hurt; we spent a while in a 700-year-old church and in a couple of shops; we had fish and chips; then we came by blessed taxi to Keld.

We’re all refreshed and willing to hike tomorrow. It will get more and more level, with villages being the focus rather than scenery. I have new supplies for mucus and cough, a relief to everyone I’m sure. We’ve just had tea in our cozy farmhouse with a lesbian couple from Tasmania, who did manage to do this difficult foggy day! But they’re doing half rather than all of the C2C trail, and did not do the Lake District mountains. We’ve left Cumbria and entered Yorkshire. There are still some steep hills ahead in the Pennine range. But we have permission not to kill ourselves trying to do too much. I’ve washed out some clothes, rolled them in a towel and walked on it, and hung them in a “drying room” that’s very warm from the water heaters. Nap. Supper. Bed... - Sally

PS: Here is their itinerary for the remainder of the trip: Click here a full layout of the c2c walk http://www.walkingenglishman.com/coastb10.htm

Tonight at Keld
8/16 10 miles to Reeth
8/17 11 miles to Richmond
8/18 12 miles to Ingleby Cross
8/19 13 miles to Great Broughton
8/20 14 miles to Glaisdale
8/21 15 miles to Littlebeck
8/22 16 miles to Robin Hood’sBay!!!

Monday August 19, 2013 Richmond - Georgian Theater

We have been thinking about Charles all day and making a few notes to share after supper when we get a quiet moment. It was Charles who introduced me to hiking, though he was never able to do as much as he would like after I met him. So I thank him today for opening up the outside world to me, outfitting me with shoes and backpack, walking 40 miles with me in Cedar Mesa Utah the year before we moved to Colorado. Today brought Annette and me to our to the 152^nd mile of the trail, but to be honest, we have had to rest three days so will have to subtract those miles at the end.

We had a good hike into Richmond two nights ago but I got into a coughing spree that lead to a full-fledged asthma attack. I made noises I’ve never made before, trying to get air in between coughs. Ruth asked me if I could swallow, which I could, so she spooned warm tea into my mouth and it began to relax. Whoa. My diaphragm hurt the next day so Annette and I tried to go to a doctor but failed. We met up with a couple of young people from Heidelburg and went to Richmond’s castle and the Georgian Theater for a tour, and then had lunch with them outside before we needed to get the taxi to the next B and B. We actually picked up Ruth and Linda a mile from our wonderful inn for the night. In Ingleby Cross, Yorkshire, we were served Sunday roast, peas, boiled potatoes, carrots, rutabaga, and YORKSHIRE PUDDING. Then homemade rhubarb and blueberry pie. Today we did 12 miles across the high moors, purple with heather, and from the top we could see our destination, the North Sea. The wind was cold so we hunkered down in the heather to eat our lunches between peaks. Practically every time we stop in confusion about what trail to take next, a local couple come by and tell us what to do, even tell us about short cuts! There has been only one rude person so far—the hostess of a tea room who was way too much like Ivy on The Last of the Summer Wine. The people, the food, the inns are wonderful.

We have three more days, amazingly. We have less than 50 miles to go. 19, 8, 11 to go. Time for supper.

Saturday August 24, 2013 Little Venice London Little Venice

We are safely at Patricia and Marek’s in a lovely 1850 townhouse in the Little Venice part of London. Last night we went to an amazing play about Tiananmen Square, called Chimerica at the Harold Pinter (1881) theater. A rainy day today—we slept late and then went to the Tate Modern by subway to see an African exhibit by a Sudanese named Ibraham El-Salahi, and walked across the Millenium Bridge toward St. Paul’s in a serious rain, skipped the second exhibit we wanted to see and headed home in the warm underground for tea.

How to sum it up??? We learned that we really could get up all those hills, one step at a time. We got along together and each had skills to offer. Ruth notably was instinctively kind and helpful to me when I had coughing fits—she was my trip angel. Annette and I are still friends! We learned that when the physical demand is that constant for that many days, other concerns seem a world away. (Today in New Yorkish-London the moors and sheep and north English folk seem a world away.) Annette says we still love and like each other, which she never doubted a minute. All but two people we met were enthusiastic and helpful.

The next to the last night on the trail was at one of the most marvelous B and Bs, an ancient functioning farm with ten barn cats where the wife cooks extravagant meals for up to eight guests at least six months of the year. –Shrimp cocktail, lamb, three homegrown vegetables, Yorkshire pudding, and she made me a separate meringue-topped lemon pie without any pie crust (she knew I was avoiding gluten). But she also spent hours after dinner with Ruth and Annette figuring out how to book our trains for yesterday. Thanks to her, we had reserved seats from Scarborough to York (though it turned out there were no reserved seats that day) and facing forward seats from York to London (but we faced back). The train runs on time but the online booking needs further development!

The last day we walked some of the time with a National Geographic group with a professional guide, and got many compliments for having succeeded in following the trail with only books and maps. We probably gained an hour and a mile by joining them across one of the moors. But they went at a pace we didn’t want to keep up, so we were glad to let them disappear over the next hill after we were back on a clear part of the trail. (Every day when Linda estimated our arrival time, I would add an hour and a mile for our mistakes and confusion.)
The last three miles on the cliffs above the North Sea was surreal because all the shades of blue hid the line where water meets sky. It was just a blue enormity. Robin Hood’s Bay is a bit touristy but still a charming Victorian fishing village, and we got certificates of completion that we’re going to ask Brother Waring to hand letter in his imitable way for the four of us. We put our toes in the North Sea and threw in the rocks we had carried from St. Bees, and had a birthday supper for the three of us who have Sept. birthdays (two 70s and a 73).

All’s well that ends well. Tomorrow we go to Manchester for the trip home on Monday. I promise not to attempt more than 100 miles, ten miles a day in the future. - Sally

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Eric Wilson

Eric Wilson - photo by Jim McBrayer

Making Things Better

By Rick Murphy

Rugby lost a treasure this week with the passing of Eric Wilson on Thursday. While much of the community was aware that Eric had very recently been diagnosed with untreatable cancer and might only have a short time, I think most of us were surprised that his death occurred less than a week after he received the final diagnosis. He will be greatly missed.

Folks in the community will each surely have their own different fond remembrances of Eric. But I think one common feeling in a small community like Rugby is that when you lose one of your neighbors you realize how much you will miss the special part they played in our day-to-day lives. And up until a few months ago, Eric was a very active part of our daily lives in Rugby – taking his daily walks or runs, volunteering with some building repair projects, visiting at the Commissary, helping to maintain trails …and so much more.

Eric cared a lot about the people of Rugby and worked to help make things here better. Many of us remember how Eric and Vi became early “pioneers” in helping to revive the Rugby community. They lovingly built “High Wray” in 1990, the first new house in what was to become Rugby’s Beacon Hill residential community. It is a house that very much reflects Eric’s talent as a wood worker and which has served as a wonderful model for how a new house can successfully reflect the architecture of the period of Rugby’s early days.

I would certainly not attempt to recite all the other things Eric has done for Rugby, but I will remind folks that he started this weekly e-newsletter a number of years ago. Since we took over the newsletter a few years ago Eric has been faithful about giving us helpful comments …and criticisms. He would frequently tell us that he liked a certain edition. And on occasion he would tell us what he didn’t like. We always appreciated his directness, because we always knew he wanted to help us be better.

In recent years I have had the pleasure of playing bridge with Eric once a week. He was very patient in sharing his knowledge about various rules and conventions used in the game – which helped us understand what a good professor he must have been. And I don’t know if it had something to do with his being a math professor or just having a very disciplined mind, but Eric was extremely good at tracking the cards that had been played. This could be a bit intimidating. When playing as his bridge partner, it was not uncommon for him to look up at you after a play and raise one eyebrow, as if to say… “did you really mean to play that card?” He was usually right! And more than once he would remind the rest of us that we needed to stop talking so much and “Play Bridge.” We didn’t mind too much because we always knew he just wanted to help us be better.

When Eric got to the point a few months ago when he was in too much pain to sit at the card table or focus on playing bridge, the rest of us quickly realized how important Eric was to our little group. As we played without him, we started to talk about what Eric would say at a certain point in the game. More than once we have reminded each other that if Eric were here he would tell us that we should stop talking and “Play Bridge!”

So while he will be sorely missed, in some ways he is still here …helping us be better.

Eric and Vi and friends

Message from Bob and Mara Trumbo:

I don’t have anything tangible of Eric’s to share except this story:

Eric sent out a request for any seamstress in the village that could tailor his torn jeans and make them into shorts. At the same time I was looking for someone to fix the side of the hollow tree trunk in front of the Cafe` to use as a planter. We traded services and we were both happy. Tomorrow I’ll buy a flowering plant to put in the tree trunk planter in his memory. May he rest in peace, free from all pain. Our love and sympathies for Vi.

Mara & Bob