It’s a butterfly!

Just look at this little beautiful little bugger, spotted on a reccy walk around the Simonside Hills near Rothbury in Northumberland. I’ve no idea what it is, other than it’s a butterfly…  I just thought I’d share it before I do the propah blog posts.

In the meantime, it seems that Lucky has discovered that he can hear mice and voles in the grass and can leap on them and kill them. I must get him an MP3 player….

Bimbling Breezily Around The Breamish

It is with some trepidation that I start typing this blogpost since the recent wobbles between Livewriter and Google which started just as I wrote a huuuuge blogpost about the Coast to Coast walk and had to redo the whole thing again because Google said it didn’t recognise my password. If I have to do this again, I might just have to take refuge in our local Clinic For the Emotionally Distresses, cleverly, in my view, disguised under the name of The King’s Head.
Here goes anyway…

I collected Dawn from her seaside hideaway and we progressed to the car park just to the left of Ingram in the rather lovely Breamish valley on the edge of the Cheviot Hills. The day was sunny and bright and stupidly windy. I should have had a Plan B , really, but I didn’t.
However, we bashed off up the road to bag our first bag of the day – Hartside Hill – a 90 metre climb up a lovely, green hill with an ancient settlement on the top. Hartside Hill is a 285 metre Tump and today was tops for Tumps.
We headed off into the headwind to find a calm spot for lunch. Not too taxing so far.

According to the map, there’s a permissive path going alongside the river to a crossing quite near to Alnhammoor farm. Due to a hole in my map where the bridge should be, there was no bridge. (There was one a bit further on, though) (dhuhh) – and the line of the path was hard to decipher – so some scrambling was done and, indeed, some paddling. Some deep and very cold paddling. This didn’t seem to bother Lucky too much despite his apparent hate of getting his little paws wet. On the upside – it was good practise for river crossings and was also extremely refreshing for sweaty toes – in a refreshingly painful kind of way. Dawn did say that she thought there should be a bridge a bit further on. And she was right. She’s often right about stuff like this.


But never mind – a nice, green bridleway pressed on through a wood and up and over a hill and further past a little glen and on up to a hillfort where a brief diversion brought us to Cochrane Pike and back down again juyst for the tick. There’s a “hillfort trail” hereabouts which looks attractive and would bag some of the same hills but, according to the local signs, has a ban on dogs. In fact Lucky pointed out one or two of the signs indicating such a ban as we passed them. (whoops…. sorry..)
Cochrane Pike is a 335 metre Tump.


Next up was Ewe Hill – easily bagged from the fort and just 313 metres high, followed by a tramp (have you ever been followed by a tramp, by the way?) over a nice, green moor to Brough Law which isn’t a Tump but has a large and fairly well-preserved hillfort on the top with rings of drystone walls and a dominating position over the Breamish.
A short but steep descent brought us back to the knipemobile which was still where we left it.

About 9 miles and 1500 feet of friendly contours.  But the thing is, that the countryside around here is specially green and beautiful at the moment and the hills are small and friendly, particularly when, on such a windy day as this, the higher Cheviot tops would be a trial. In fact, they’re a good Plan B when Plan A looks uncomfortable.
Finally, a BIG knipetowers TA! goes to Jakki who, between this post and the previous one, bunged some hard-earned spondoolies into the virgin money-giving account. Thanks Jakki.

Click the logo!!!  Gwan!!

A Test to Confirm a Rumour

I’ve walked from Cow Green to High Cup NIck twice in the last few days – once as a reccy, in the company of Lucky The Dog, and once with a dozen or so walkers on a Durham County Council guided walk. This involved passing this very lovely Bird’s Eye Primrose four times. And I thought Birds Eye did fish fingers.

This is a test to see if Windows Livewriter and Blogger really have sorted out their differences.

Incidentally, and more importantly, thanks go to Oldmortality for the donation to Mind. We (and I really mean me, here) are grateful.

Coast to Coast Folks

CoC-ers ahead

It's probably with some relief for you that I announce at the start of this thread that it's my final words on the subject of Lucky and Me's Coast to Coast walk.

This is about other people; people I came across on the way. Some, most, good, a few dozy, nobody bad, really...

First, a word about other walkers.

Other CtoC-ers near Littlebeck

It happens on almost all long distance multi-day walks that you keep coming across the same people, one day after another. You soon get to recognise their approach by their kit and their company and a comment, a joke, a bit of banter, bordering on camaraderie develops day by day. I met parties of Americans and Australians and people with dogs - there was a black lab, for instance who kept turning up with her owner, and a collie dog. There is no class distinction, we're all in this together (who said that...?) But it's not entirely true.  I met Dave, from Stoke, for instance who, like me, had a big pack and was camping - in fact, our itineraries coincided closely between Borrowdale and the finish. It took me a while to remember his name (I have a problem remembering names) - which is why I can't remember the other lad who had a slight Edinburgh accent and usually arrived just after me and Dave had put our tents up. What glued us together was that we weren't using a luggage-carrying service or other support which most of the walkers were doing. So , despite our friendliness to these lesser beings, there was a certain sense of superiority. I guess it may have worked the other way too, - courier service users may well have doubted the wisdom of carrying such big packs when it wasn't necessary at all....

Outward Bound putting their tents up next to mine

Then there were other walkers on other missions.

Take the Howtown Outward Bound peeps, for instance. Me and Dave had erected our tabernacles widely apart - a bit more than 100 metres, I would suggest, when half a dozen chaps turned up. Relations were friendly at first and we jokingly suggested that they find their own patch of Angletarnside over on "The Island" They weren't allowed to do that announced the Rupert in charge. They had to camp where instructed, which just happened to be next to my akto. In wasn't happy, but put up with the increasing amount of noise and their failure to get a tent up in the space of an hour or collect any water or have a wee, or anything. Then another half dozen arrived, along with a blind lad. And so the process of swamping the akto with little brown tents began. I wasn't happy. Rupert's boss came over to where I was ranting at Dave and said "I understand you're not happy"  And, readers, it was at this point where I had to explain to Leaderess that this statement was indeed, very true. They decided to move. Luckily, representatives of the local mental health emergency on-call team, aware of this urgent development, and leaping into action, went shopping in Penrith (This is what NHS mental health teams do in emergencies)


Outward Bound new camp - apols for the tilt - they sell scotch in Patterdale y'know...

Next, I met a Geordie with a poodle on High Raise. The poodle hated Lucky and Lucky wanted to kill the poodle. The thing was that the poodle had a backpack just like Lucky's. And the Geordie was just as scruffy as me and was off on a few days backpacking. We had a long, long North-Eastern-style chat and then, still strangers, but somehow connected, we parted in a marginally happier mood than before. Except for the dogs who still wanted to fight.

No need for this - loadsa room on the site

And it seems to me that the farmers I met were general tuned-in to coast-to coasters. Some were making some money from it by selling refreshments and so on - and some were doing it in some style - specially Ravenseat who do cream teas, Rukins at Keld, and Intake Farm whereas on the other hand, a couple of the campsites didn't exude friendliness. My impression of Cote Ghyll was of misdirected snootiness where a camping and caravan-site attempts, a bit pathetically, to be posher than it really is, even though its infested with rabbits crapping everywhere and teasing my dog and eeejits who put their tent up too close to mine. And there was that unfortunate incident at Middlewood at RHB involving their refreshment van.

I don't have a pic of the tea-van!

We'd dined there the night before - I'd had some Thai fishcakes and chips - an ideal accompaniment to a gut full of beer, and Dawn had some protein/fat/lard in a bun thing and in the morning whilst off to seek a bus to Whitby, I decided that a breakfast bun at £3.50 would be Just The Thing. And I could use their bin to dispose of the container from the Thai Fishcake thing. I was attempting to get the bin lid off  when a dark and mysterious face appeared saying "Don't put that in there, there's a skip down there"...pointing vaguely towards Middlesbrough.  The boss-lady said it was all right to put the stuff in the bin, but our minimum-wage Saturday-morning job friend glowered darkly in a murderously, seething fashion that, had this been a restaurant, would have had customers walking out. He seemed to be almost growling and he was certainly snarling in a way I'd only seen previously on this walk by a Geordie poodle carrying a set of Ruffwear panniers.. Even Lucky picked up the vibes and raised a hackle or two.  So I walked away, dragging Dawn with me. The breakfast bun is still being fried as far as I'm aware.  I feel marginally guilty about this and should the owner of this franchise contact me, I would gladly submit to her the sum of £3.50. I will increase this to a full fiver if she gets rid of Heathcliffe and sends him back to the job centre,. He's really not cut out for customer service. He'd be better off working in a benefits office dishing out sanctions to people who missed their bus. Or he could do wheel clamping. Or slaughterhouse work. I'm trying to be helpful here.

But most of the pubs and cafe's "get it" and special mentions must go to the village store in Patterdale, The Crown at Shap, Rukins at Keld, The KIng's Arms at Reeth (bless 'em)whatever café it was at Richmond (!), The Lion at Blakey,  Falling Foss Tea Gardens, and, specially Intake Farm at Littlebeck.  There's probably lots of other good places, but they just didn't feature on my walk.

Well, that's about it for the CtoC. In the morning I'm off to High Cup Nick to reccy a guided walk.

But finally, I must add some thanks to Dawn and Andrew and Little Brenda for their donations on the virgin giving site. It all adds up. I'm ever grateful.

Coast to Coast Cafe’s Pubs and Route Comments and Diversions Pt 2







Lucky approaches one of the tops. Not sure which one! Roseberry Topping in the far distance, though





There’s a huge and miserable diversion around the A1 roadworks at Catterick Bridge and I avoided some frisky beef by sneaking around them in another place. Eventually we rolled up at Laylands Farm which, according to the guide, does camping, but they’ve stopped because they want to build a new kitchen where the toilet and showers are. Happily, they let me camp on their lawn, but they probably won’t do this for anybody else, so my advice is not to go there (although they’re quite friendly).

Lucky finds the way

And if you have a dog, it's a dairy farm with lots of inquisitive cows, which you might not enjoy anyway.

I took more cow-avoiding diversions the next day, principally by sticking to the road in a couple of places. I took advantage of the pop left out at Moor House farm and went into the shed for an ice cream – which was lucky because this is when the big hailstorm hit. So me and the dog stayed dry.

Lots of Cows to be avoided

Lucky suspects he's being watched

A1 Motorway upgrading

 

Eventually, I rolled up at Ingleby Cross, after hitting an unusual break or hiatus in the fast-moving stream of A19 traffic, but where the Bluebell Inn was closed for another two hours. They allow camping, apparently, but I was impatient, so pressed on to Osmotherly where I presented myself at the Cote Ghyll caravan and campsite and hostel and bar and other stuff. They chucked me out of reception because they served food (they had some tinned pop in the fridge). My impression was they they were quite a long way up their own bottoms but I accepted a spot Pitch 61 which turned out to be groundsheet-damagingly stony. I did manage to squeeze the akto up to the edge of the pitch. Shortly after pitching we were visited by the campsite’s wildlife in the form of Mrs Duck and her brood of little brown ducks. Lucky considered these as a pre-chewstick snack and bolted after them. Back under tent-arrest, he decided that the cute population of baby rabbits which also infested the place (you can guess than I’m a bit grumpy here, probably..) would also make a fine post-chewstick snack and….

I zipped up the tent and tucked into the fine malt provided by Dawn at Richmond. I had the radio on and ,,drifted…off… and …..  more of this later, too.

Pooch at Lordenshaws

View Indicator shows direction of Pietowers (Weardale)

Joining the ridgewalk/Cleveland Way

 

The next day was the hardest. The task was to follow the Cleveland Way till it turned off for better things and then walk along an old railway line to Blakey Ridge, some 20 miles and 3800 feet of upness later. The first half of this walk is beautiful and lumpy and I could almost see Crook from the hills. A view indicator indicated the direction of Weardale and the Cross Fell/Dun Fells hills could clearly be made out.

And Lord Stones Cafe has bacon rolls, tea and beer and water for the dog – although he can’t go inside. The staff were friendly and helpful, though and I stayed a while even though I got rained on a bit. A bit of a shelter like the have outside some popular Lake District pubs would be a cracking idea for this place.

Retrospect towards Crook

Wainstones for Weaselling

Another retrospect. Never look back or you'll be turned into a pillar of salt. A poor do unless you have a bag of chips

Lucky looking knackerd

 

At Wainstones, the walk gets a little bit rocky, but there's no time to be scrambling about unlike the school party who were, apparently doing some "weaselling" This involved squeezing through holes between the boulders. This is just the kind of thing the Pieman likes to do, and, would have liked to do whilst at New Road County Junior School. But it's too late now. Another group of sproglings out on a school walk enjoyed making a fuss of Lucky and having their faces cleaned of any sweet and sugary substances that may have been smeared there. Lucky is quite good at that.

Dull walking point and fire and turn off the brain

Route by-passes the nice places

 

The second half of the walk is dull. Dull, dull dull. Its like having the Lion Tamer job then being promoted to Circus accountant's part-time clerk. It drags on and on with hardly a contour to disturb the steady blister creating plod. The never-ending plod. It must be horrible, just horrible in the rain and fog. Who’s idea was this? Shirley there must be a better way. Enticingly, there are beautiful dales to be seen to the right and to the left of this brain -devastating tramp. But the route speeds through the countryside as if to try to get it over with. I suppose that diversions into valleys might add a day or two..  and some contours... but also, probably , some more cake and tea...

 



Camping at Lion Inn

Finally; eventually, and only just in time to save the last few braincells from wasting away due to the Lack Of Stimularion  we arrived at the Lion Inn which was heaving with car-borne customers all tucking in to huge meals. They allow dogs inside and they allow camping for £2.50, so I dined there after puttiing up the akto next to Dave's tent and a Dutch bloke's tent. This is where a customer donated half of his T-bone steak to the dog. They’re very efficient at the Lion at dealing with massed customers and the meals have BIIIIG portions and are good value. Its a bit windy, but hey…

In the morning, the tedious road walking in a tedious brown landscape that God seems to have forgotten, or at least given over to chinless ha-ha's for the grouse shooting, continues ever onwards. There are short sections of bridleway but final relief only comes when a path down to Eskdale is taken. In Eskdale, things get much better. The locals are friendly , the sun warms the meadows, the flowers bloom, insects buzz busily and there are shops and tearooms and pubs and tea and cakes and beer and, yes, chips too. I met Dawn in Grosmont and we had tea and cakes at Hazelwood house tearooms which have an outdoor bit where the dog can go. The cake was nice.

Tea and cake welcomes campers at Intake Farm

Playtime 1

Playtime 2

Playtime 3

 

We left for Littlebeck over yet more roadwalking. Eventually, tiring of the tarmac we spotted a bridleway which cut over a heather moor and was a bit shorter than the official route. It was a bit hard to follow at first, but eventually dumped us back on the A169 where another diversion on farm tracks took us to Intake Farm – an oasis of sanity and civility where we camped on the lawn and were greeted with a tray of tea and cake. I meantersay, other places could take a leaf out of Intake Farm’s book on this. I meantersay, tea and cake…. They do B&B too.

Falling Foss

 

The last day started well with a ramble through the woods to Falling Foss waterfall and tearooms where yet more scones and tea were had. They’re very friendly and helpful too, and , being outdoors, it's doggy friendly.

Miles of flat brown

 

After the woods, though, more roads lead to some fairly flat and dull moorland traipsing and starts to cone very close to Robin Hoods Bay before rushing off past it for some cliff-walking. We decided just to go for RHB, and turned up there shorlty afterwards, even after some navigationally incorrect shenanigans on my part which saw us approaching the same point from two different directions. It was soon over. We camped at Middlewood then took a stroll down to the beach and the Bay Hotel, where almost all the customers were sitting outside in the sun. Hard Northern children were immersing themselves in rock pools (brrr) and one tough lass came down the hill on her bike using her bare feet as brakes on the tarmac. Never pick a fight in a Robin Hood's Bay playground is my advice. Just a tip, there, for you.

And that was that, More about Middlewood later, though….

...and rest

 

There’s a few places on the “official” route where improvements could be made, I think. The last thirty miles are sub-standard in my opinion. They’re pretty dull. And hard on the feet. And the choice of Robin Hood’s Bay as a finish seems odd.  Saint Bega – an Irish princess, apparently has no link with St Hilda, who was a member of an Anglian royal family – but an early Christian church link between St Bega of St Bees and St Hilda of Whitby Abbey seems logical and a finish at Whitby abbey with a nice ramble down Eskdale instead of that damned railway line and the driech and flat moors would seem to be a much more attractive proposition. And, as Alf Wainwright suggested – you should really be inventing your own routes.

Dawn takes our picture - RHB, the end

 

But all in all, I enjoyed the walk even though I may never return to it. It has, usefully, confirmed my view that the North Yorkshire Moors aren't really worth the effort of navigating the knipemobile through Middlesbrough to get there and one walk every three years on NYM is quite enough for me, ta.

Maybe, next year, I might try to return to May's TGO Challenge - anhd, for CtoC-ers who have carried their own camping stuff across England, I would say that the CtoC compares well with a TGO chally, apart from the availability of tea and buns on the CtoC.