The Lazy Cherub Enigma: No Pain No Gain

We are now at the moment on the Wainwright Trail where we fully appreciate there really is no such thing as “leisure walking.” The past few days in the Lake District were all an elaborate ruse to get us to Patterdale in order to begin what our guide book says is “the toughest day in the whole trek and it remains tough even if you opt for the bad weather alternative route.” That’s right people – time to “Woman Up” and feel those hip flexors in action.

Day 5 – Patterdale to Shap – 28.4 Km.

This was the day we were dreading and why Ken needed his beauty sleep because, man, was he stressed out. He must have stared at the contour maps for 4 hrs. the night before trying to work out how in the hell we would make it to our next destination without search and rescue being called out. To make matters worse, we were expected to arrive in Bampton Grange to be shuttled by car to Shap for our lodgings. Our trip notes told us that the driver was expecting us between 4 and 5 pm. At our current rate of slogging up and down the fells, we knew we had not a hope in hell of reaching Bampton before 6 pm and that was if we never stopped to eat or heed the call of nature. If Ken had his way we would have started walking at 6 am but thankfully, the White Lion did not start breakfast service until 8 am so I got to have some beauty sleep! Again – another surreal pub moment. NO ONE WAS AT BREAKFAST in the morning! This completely freaked Ken out. He was convinced everyone else who was walking had forgone food and left at the crack of dawn. The waitress thought it was hilarious we were even up this early to start. Needless to say, we were on the trail by 8:30 and, thankfully, doing so in good weather. Another good thing – the epic climbing was at the beginning of the route and not at the end. It was a steady ascent up to Angle Tarn – the half way point to Kidsty Pike –, which is the half way point for our day. I was feeling pretty good now that I had trekking poles but still, I was not a mountain goat like Ken. This would have been fine except “Team Holland” (a young Dutch couple doing the Coast-to-Coast for their honeymoon) passed us (again) and Ken’s competitive streak came out. “ Team Holland passed us AGAIN. You need to pick it up if we are going to make it in time for our taxi ride,” he tells me. I burst out crying. “We just had this talk last night about how bad I feel I can’t keep up with you and you said it wasn’t an issue. Now you’re saying it is.” It does not help that during this time another couple who are RUNNING this route pass us as well. This is when I realize that Ken has been gauging our performance for the past 4 days based on our ability to keep ahead of people half our age. “A.W. SAYS YOU NEED TO MEANDER AND SAVOUR THE DAMN WALK!!,” I sob, “THIS ISN’T THE GOD DAMN TOUR DE WAINWRIGHT!” Then Ken hands me a Snickers bar and we hug because what else can you do when there is still 20 km to go and you’re trying to race the rain clouds. We summit Kidsty Pike along with a dad and his 5-year-old daughter (day trippers mind you so it really doesn’t count). It’s freezing cold plus we realize that the descent down is a steep vertical drop covered in boulders. Most sane people go back the way they came in but being Coast to Coasters, what goes up must come down and what you gain on one end you lose on the other. I was never so happy to have trekking poles as I was this day. After what seemed like forever we made it to the bottom and begin our “stroll” along Haweswater. Not much to report on those 4 hours. Just more undulating rocky terrain and quiet sobbing. Eventually you come to a very eerie "model village” called Burnbanks. Honest to god this place was straight out of a Twilight Zone episode. It only ever existed for workers to live when the Haweswater Dam was being built in the 1930’s. The look and feel reminded us of a Hutterite colony. As we pass “Aragon Campsite” we see a forest carpeted in blue bells – and an “honesty box” filled with treats. Lured in by candy bars and soda, we get a second wind and decide we can push straight through to Shap. Who could resist a walk through “The Hobbit Forest?” It was well worth the diversion. It was exactly what you’d expect a Hobbit forest to look like. There were even Oreo Cookie cows! Then reality set in and we realized that Shap was still another 2 hrs. walk and it was approaching 6 pm and the 25 km mark. It seemed like forever until we reached Shap Abbey where holy upon holies – ANOTHER HONESTY BOX! This one even had Budweiser, Strongbow and Mars bars! I honestly needed about 8 Mars bars and 6 Strongbow at this point. Then it was into Shap - the longest most boring village ever. Main Street went on for an eternity and of course, our lodgings where at the very end in the Kings Arms, the pub where “common people” congregate to drink heavily and curse loudly over games of pool. Upshot – the next day of the walk began right across the street. We had 20 minutes to get food before the kitchen closed and the heavily intoxicated bar brawling began. Thus ended a 30 km day and Ken’s realization that I am – in fact – a god damn fell walking machine of awesomeness.

Day 6 – Shap to Orton - 14.2 km

Because we marathoned our way to Shap we now had a more humane 12 km to get to Orton – “a quaint unknown village with a number of surprises for walkers.” I won’t kill you with suspense. The surprise is chocolate and you will be reminded of it constantly by all the little placards that dot the route from to Shap. This area is also known for its ancient stone circles and Robin Hood’s Grave which isn’t even his grave and is impossible to find so no one bothers and heads straight for the chocolate. There is also an interesting geological feature that looks like ancient pavement stones laid out by giants as well as warnings to keep dogs on leash at all times lest they be shot for disturbing ground nesting birds. And just to prove how serious you need to take those warnings there are also more signs letting you know there are CCTV cameras watching you. I almost wanted someone to release their dog just so I could see what sort of drone technology the Wainwright Trail employed to protect its ground swallows. Arrived in Orton by mid afternoon and stopped at a cafe for what was the worst latte ever but the best carrot cake ever. Small rant: Brits cannot do coffee and they definitely cannot do a latte. Lattes here are coffee flavored hot milk. No one actually uses espresso beans – just a shot of regular coffee. How can a café catering to cyclists and very bitchy walkers NOT have espresso beans? I did find a copy of Alfred Wainwright’s biography on the take-a-book shelf so again; I was clearly meant to be here. Though why A.W. would want me to swallow a crap latte for enlightenment purposes is beyond me. Or is it? Crap lattes means one has to load up on dark chocolate at the shop…. Hmmmmm….. Dinner was lamb burger topped with blue cheese and mint sauce. Sounds good doesn’t it? Wrong. It was a lamb patty from Tesco on a white hamburger bun that I have not seen used since 1973. Blue cheese was a giant slab cut and put on the bun – not melted. Like the latte it was one of those “just how much can I not try in making this” dining efforts. What was lost in the dining experience was gained in the bedroom. Size does matter. We had a room that had 6 beds in it and enough empty floor space to hold a German Techno Rave. Team Holland got the closet.