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.
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 9th 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.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... - SallyPS: 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
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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 152nd 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.
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
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