Coast to Coast Cafe’s Pubs and Route Comments and Diversions Pt 1



camp at angle tarn

Sorry – this has to be in two parts cos it does go on a bit. If you fall asleep or otherwise drift off into a reverie, I hope you enjoy it – the dreamy sleepy snoozy times, that is… anyway – Part 1 – The First Half up to Bolton on Swale.

And the other thing is that Livewriter's not working so this post, and probabky subsequent ones are written in Blogger. Which isn't as good.

The Coast to Coast walk starts off well at St Bees by heading roughly West for a bit before finally and, apparently reluctantly turning East. I suppose this is OK because the St Bees Head cliffs are interesting and, maybe, actually the start ought to be at St Bees Head…?

Mile Zero Dog 1 (so an away win for dog, there...)

 

Me and the dog went along with this oddity and ended up 12 miles later at Low Cock How farm where we camped in a beautiful semi-wild and superbly sheltered garden where we were entertained overnight by the antics of juvenile hedgehogs and the howling of the wind in the trees. 12 miles is more than enough for me on a first day and my alternative plan of camping by Nannycatch beck would also have been all right, but, maybe a touch breezy.


Camp near Black Sail



Pooch hides under a tree as I sort out the tent

The next section goes along the South Shore of Ennerdale Water and then either over the High Stile ridge or along the road past Black Sail Hut and over to Honister and Borrowdale. My plan was to camp near Black Sail Hut. The weather was foul – damp and drizzly and stupidly windy. The campsite owner advised against the South Shore path in view of the wind in favour of a more sheltered North Shore walk. I thought this was a good idea and so did Lucky, so that’s what we did. I was lead to believe that somebody died on the Ennerdale Fells that day (I can;t find any record of this by the way) and that somebody had also died recently on a CtoC walk along the South shore.(unfortunately this, though, is true) In any case, at Black Sail, I could barely stand up against the wind and my proposed camping spot was exposed to the worst, so I retreated back into the shelter of bits of the forest that hadn’t yet been cleared.


On the way to being demolished by the breeze

In the morning, I was blown over three times on the high crossing to Borrowdale, once into the beck and on another occasion the wind removed my specs for me. I took a Northerly route off the top and contoured round through boulder fields to rejoin the path near the drum house. This route was a lot les windy, which is why I did it. Honister mines provided a nice cuppa and a bacon roll to cheer me up.

I camped at Chapel House Farm and dined at the Riverside Bar where some of the staff remembered Lucky and made a fuss of him.

Eagle Crag Borrowdale (I once lost a pipe up there...)

Day three saw me follow the route properly over Greenup to Grasmere where I shopped at the co-op and found a nice camping spot high up Tongue Gill roughly where I’d predicted the otherwise tilted landscape would provide a place.

Angle Tarn camp

And then on Day 4, I followed the low route to Patterdale where the shop supplied a huge cumberland sausage butty, doggy bix and water for the dog and sweeties and whisky for my in-tent entertainment. I camped in a lovely spot by Angle Tarn along with some Taliban and Dave from Stoke. More of the Taliban later.

On the way to Rampsgill Head

 

Day 5 was a big diversion. I followed the proper path to the main ridge then diverted over Rampsgill Head and High Raise and High Kop, descending to the Haweswater Dam, thus having an easy and wind-assisted walk on springy turf whilst avoiding the rubbly switchback of the Haweswater shore path. Further diversions for speed, ease, and to avoid naughty-looking moo cows involved using the concrete water board road which goes almost to Keld and then by lanes and footpaths to Shap. Here was Dawn who somehow had predicted my Shap approach. The B&B, whom I won’t name for fear of embarrassing her, didn’t take dogs (Dawn had persuaded them to accept Lucky) and thought that Lucky was “smearing” himself on her carpet. Shap is generally very friendly, though, has an excellent chippy providing a high standards of fishy, chippy and mushy peasy delights and a special doggy mention goes to The Crown Inn which is very doggy friendly, where staff made a fuss of the pooch and provided water and where I could have had a meal had I not already been full of Fish and Chips and Mushy Peas. The Crown Inn had been dismissed by our landlady as being “villagy”. Whatever that means. Pah! I liked it. I’ll probably go back.

 

According to Lucky, this is a limestone pavement. But I meantersay, what do dogs know about carboniferous geology?

Onwards and sideways – next day was a longish stretch over limestone countryside which is a touch on the dull side if I’m honest, for a camp at Smardale. I’d considered bashing on to Kirkby Stephen but Lucky voted for Smardale by curling up and going to sleep there. Its a nice place to camp anyway.

Stone Man. Fluffy dog

 

Nine Standards

I met Dawn again in Kirkby Stephen but stayed only long enough to shop before cracking on over Nine Standards to Keld. I stayed on Rukins campsite which was heaving with people camping by the river, but, by following Dave from Stoke, we camped in a sheltered spot in an empty field. Rukins sold beer and provided a bacon roll breakfast next morning and let the dog sit with me in the cafe. Ten points for Rukins is what I say. Woof is what the dog says.

Lucky smears himself on the caravan seat

A group of Australian CtoC-ers approaching Swinner Gill

 

Whichever day was next saw me and Lucky steaming over to Reeth the next day where we rehydrated at the King’s Arms, where they like dogs and are very friendly and the Orchard Caravan and Camping Park put me up in an old, battered but cosy caravan for the same price as camping, which was just as well because it siled down all night. Mrs Pieman attended with fresh undies etc and we dined back at the King’s Arms cos we like it there. There was farmer-style dialect talk of “snaw” on t’fells…. at the bar. (They can’t fool me by talking dialect coz I iz from Yorkshire, init?) (For southerners, the “t” is not actually sounded, but it does have a sort of sound which you can;t detect, but which northerners can, so we know when you’re trying to fake a northern accent see?)

Retrospect to Richmond

Lucky drags me through the wild garlic

There followed a long walk down Swaledale for another meet-up with Dawn and a cafe which let the dog in whilst we had teasted toecakes and tea – and provided water and a fuss for the dog. Unfortunately the name of the place escapes me, but it does have a “dogs welcome on the ground floor” sign outside. After shopping, I accidentally abandoned my walking pole outside the co-op and bashed on to Bolton-on-Swale. A chap walking his dog by the river continued along the riverside where the CtoC route goes off through some mud and up a busy main road and then back to the river, where this chap and his dog turned up again. It seems there’s a route along the riverbank and this would avoid car fumes and cow muck if taken.

More follows shortly…………

lick this clink

Click and give ( a quid will do….)

Wainwright’s Coast to Coast With Lucky The Dog

Observant Pieblog readers may well have noticed several hints in the Pieblog that me and Lucky have been walking the English CtoC route (the Alf (what’s that girl doing in my socks?) Wainwright one.

This went well – specially in terms of the fact that we started at the start and finished at the end and didn’t cheat very much in between.

And you’re expecting a trip report very much on the lines of the TGO reports – you know – Day One, got up, ate porridge, walked a lot, put tent up in the rain and went to sleep till ….Day 2…  got up, ate porridge….   But no, not on the Pieblog – based on the assumption that you can get details of the route and various accounts of people’s walks on line and that such accounts often, or at least, sometimes do go on a bit and there’s be fourteen days of it and , AND, mind you, I have a life and so have you.

So, instead, I just thought I’d do a few blog posts about Lucky’s adventures and the kindnesses shown to him, how friends and family helped with the canine feeding regime logistics; another post about the route and how good it is in some places and how absolute bollix it is in other places and a few small but useful diversions or alternatives; a selection of pictures and my adventures whilst meeting pillocks. All this whilst I get on with getting on with High Cup Nick, a return to the Ingram Tumps and walks at Rothbury.

Those considering taking their pooch on a multi-day walk might (or might not) find some of this stuff useful.

Lucky, of course, had been kitted out with a set of panniers, in which , almost every day, people declared him to be “cute” and go “ah, look, has he got all his stuff in there? What he did have in his panniers was up to four days supply of Bakers doggy kibble (1.2 kg in all), some empty poo bags – occasionally one full poo bag (care required!) a spare short lead and some dentasticks, bonios, and a cycle lock to be used as a security device, as suggested by Geoff Crowther who is currently cycling from Land’s End to John O’ Groats. He also carried two fabric doggy dishes – one for dry food and one for water. The water dish leaked, unfortunately but he seemed to prefer slightly warmed water from my Primus kettle thingy anyway and this was easier and more stable.

Each day several people commented on the dog with the panniers and how cute and/or lovely he was. This did get a bit wearing after a couple of days. Several made a fuss of him (he liked this) and others donated their own dog’s doggy treats (Lucky liked this, too). He also attracted the attention of other dogs who could easily detect his food supply. The most persistent were spaniels (who would have guessed?). This almost lead to several fights. One farmer stood in the middle of the road on the Flat Bit In The Middle and asked if the bags were where he kept his money. At least a dozen people took photos of him.

I was careful not to load him with more than 10% of his body weight. This was just a guess, but it meant that anything over 1.6 kg was carried by yours truly. This is four days food, the panniers and the other stuff.

And one person, after we’d entered the Lion Inn at Blakey to drink beer and enquire about camping, was, apparently greeted and tail-wagged by an exhausted Lucky – after 20 miles and 3800 feet of contours, gave him half of his T-Bone steak – food which he didn’t quite recognise as food at first and which he spat out, but ate after I’d demonstrated what to do with it.[koff]

A woman in Robin Hood’s Bay appeared from her bungalow with a bowl of water for Lucky

For scoff, he had 300 grammes of doggy food per day and he didn’t eat all of this at once, but “grazed” during the night, once making me think we had a badger in the tent due to the snuffling and crunching in the dark night.

Cattle were a problem on a few occasions. Some were uninterested, specially the galloways on the moors. Dairy cows were over-interested and sucklers were a nightmare. We took a few diversions and some sneaky routes just out of sight. On a few occasions, the cattle just happened to be looking the other way. We enjoyed bullying our way through a herd of calves.

Lucky wasn’t really very fit when we set off and would be running out of steam by early afternoon. When this happens he digs nests when we stop and curls up to have a nap. By the second week he was bouncing around in the mornings, clearly enjoying the trip. He was pretty quiet for the first few days and I think he was a bit stressed about what was happening, but by the end he’d really got into the routine and emerged two weeks later with no apparent damage at all, apart from , maybe half a kilo or so of weight loss.

I carried a piece of karrrimat and he slept on this on my Rab anoraky thing and underneath a Berghaus down gilet. He likes the tent and once in place on his bed, doesn’t move again till he’s dragged out next morning.

Dog food is a problem for the unsupported walker. 14 days at 300 grammes per day would have been a huge 4.2 kg – too much for either me or the dog to carry and re-supply in buyable and carriable amounts would have been a problem. This was solved by Dawn who brought pre-packed bags of dog food to Shap, Kirkby Stephen, Richmond and Grosmont, where she joined me for the last day and a bit – plus other essentials such as gas and dehydrated food. Mrs Pieman also delivered dog food, plus fresh undies, socks, fleece and legging thingies to Reeth and The Bro, Mrs Bro and June (with whom I attended New Road County Junior School Earby and nostalgicated with about the eleven times table ) visited Shap for the drinking of beer and some jollifications.

During the walk he learned that if he ignores sheep and lambs properly, he gets a tasty treat, so he put on a special “I am ignoring those lambs” expression whenever we came across them. He failed to ignore rabbits, grouse and pheasants, though, barked and growled at cattle and horses and randomly got quite feisty with dogs, or playful with other dogs, with no apparent reason or logic which was humanly detectable.

 

Without some kind of logistical support, this walk would have been quite difficult, I think, and it may be, that unsupported, I could manage four to six days.

Bur I’m chuffed, and, even gruntled to have done the walk, and so is Lucky. And I’m grateful, specially to Dawn, who put a lot of effort and thought into the supporting role – and extra specially for the additional supplies of fine malt which were more than appreciated.

Click logo for karma repair service (small donations welcome)

Test Post–Lucky on the Coast to Coast

This is just a test to see that things are working – cos I have a new computer and everything has had to be re-set…

A picture of Lucky on the CtoC appears below:  (hopefully)

Here, Lucky is waiting for his teatime dentastick. The inside of the tent is a shambles, as you can see.

If all this works, I’ll be blogging away again shortly.

This Is me and Lucky Off To Try the Coast to Coast Walk

Yes, folks, as the UK finally starts to crack up in the face of a divisive general election and members of the NHS throw themselves off nearby bridges  whilst the TGO challengers arrive at their starting points on the West coast of Scotland, me and Lucky are off to St Bees to have a good old try at walking across England over the next two weeks.

We’ve practised. Lucky has a pack which holds six days food – although this would be far too heavy, so we’ve settled for four days food and my pack is stupidly heavy but should get lighter if I eat all the food in it.

We have support visits from family and friends and we have boots and kit and scoff and everything necessary for the setting off….

And tomorrow, we (me and Lucky) are catching the train from Corbridge to St Bees and whatever happens will be down to a combination of luck and determination.

Oooer

And bugger.

Pics and video taken from recent walks in Teesdale

Saint Aebbe’s Head (Five foot from her toes)

On returning from visiting the new Grand-child at Dunbar, Lucky suggested that we could visit St Abb’s Head, which has a whole bunch of Tumps – the only climbable ones being Kirk Hill and St Abbs Head – the others being wave-washed sea stacks covered in seagull poo and lots and lots of squawking birds, all of which mitigates against any kind of attempt to get to the top.

So we did, we went to St Abb’s Head.

Our ramble began at the visitor centre car park (two quid for parking) and wanders down the lane for a bit before hurtling off towards beetling cliffs with huge drops into the crashing waves far, far below. The rock scenery is superb and there are subsidiary grassy lumps to be climbed at will – each one giving a different but dramatic view of the coast and , of course, the surf smashing against the spiky rocks.

 

After a few ins and outs, we left the main path to climb Kirk Hill. This was the site of the seventh century  St Aebbe’s Nunnery-cum-monastery and was short-lived, having burned down shortly after St Aebbe’s death. There’s not much left, apart from some indistinct earthworks, but it’s a cracking place for any kind of institution, and this one seems to have occasionally played an important role in the politics of the aristocracy of Northumbria. Bamburgh Castle is only 25 miles or so down the coast and was visible when we visited. And it was here that St Cuthbert, being spied on from above, spent some considerable time immersed in the sea whilst praying (to ward off any licentious feelings he might have) (I can confirm that this strategy works by the way) was seen to be accompanied by two otters as he emerged from the briny. This is recorded as a miracle and regarded as evidence of Cuddy’s empathy with wild animals and birds. He could have just kept a few pets, innit?

 

After a steep drop, we rejoined the main path and climbed up to the lighthouse and the summit of St Abb’s Head. The summit furniture is a view indicator, indicating places such as Denmark and Aberdeen…

Just in case any of the local subsidiary lumps and bumps are ever promoted to Tump status, we visited them all. The rock scenery is even more impressive hereabouts, specially a huge gash in the hillside, occupied by thousands of birds teetering on rocky edges. Lucky they’ve got wings, really, or it..er….. could er.. be a bit ..er…..risky…  koff.  

Anyway, we returned to the start on a quiet bit of tarmac.

The whole thing was just under four miles.

And , apart from visiting the new sproglet, me and Lucky also bagged Edgerston Rigg near the border at Carter Bar, Gersit Law just by Ancrum Moor and sporting a fine mausoleum, Fans Hill West Top (just a few yards from the gate) and Stoneshiel Hill – another roadside easy bag – apart from the barbed wire fence…  plus, plus, mind you, Dunbar beach, High Street (John Muir statue) and the garden centre next to Asda.

Here’s a map of the St Abb’s walk. Just goes to show that even very short walks can be more than rewarding. if you do this one, take your time and keep your kids and dogs on a lead in case they fall off something.