Sunshine and Sore Feet

It is always a relief when you reach a turning point.  The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  No – we didn’t inadvertently walk into a railway tunnel (again). We crossed over (so to speak) from Cumbria to Yorkshire.  In other words, we bid the rain farewell and said hello to the sun.  Hallelujah.  Life is infinitely better when you no longer have wet feet.

Day 9 – Keld to Reeth – 23.1 km

Growing up I had two careers in mind – fireman or veterinarian.  I have absolutely no idea how, at the age of 7, fireman became an occupational consideration.  But I do remember why veterinarian came to be – James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small.  I challenge anyone who has read the books or seen the series to not want to heal large livestock in fields of green.  If that didn’t put you over the edge into large animal husbandry then being here will.  The journey from Keld to Reeth puts you right in the epicenter of James Herriot’s memoirs – with a little Tour de France thrown in.  When I imagined what the Wainwright Coast to Coast “would” be like it was this – undulating green pastures, gurgling streams, shaded woodlands etc.  All this would be dotted with pubs run by ornery dwarves and teahouses owned by elves.  Fairies would sell cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles out of little caravans pulled by unicorns.  Everyone would be wearing tweed and own at least 6 yorkies.  Today’s walk came pretty damn close to giving me all that.   We awoke to a glorious sunrise beaming into our bedroom window.  After a breakfast of kippers and poached eggs it was time to lace up and bask in the glory of all that is not rain soaked and wind battered.  Taking the low route we reached the cross roads of the Pennine Way and the Coast-to-Coast.  This is where Wainwright flipped the Pennine Way the bird and said, “No peat bogs for me!  I am off to Muker for lattes, scones and to mingle with elite road cyclists!”  (Ok – maybe I am making up the bit where AW wants a latte…)  Muker is a tiny little village with a teashop, a wool shop and a church with the Ten Commandments carved into its walls.  We had the most amazing lattes served in wedgewood china cups surrounded by sweaty road warriors.  It was pretty  obvious from the amount of Lycra on display that serving anything less than real espresso would result in a village lynching.  Then it was a delicious saunter through the valley checking out riparian wildlife and trying not to break a leg or ankle navigating the stiles.  These are very narrow gaps between rock walls for humans to pass through (theoretically…reality is much, much different) You have to climb up and over and pray to god your backpack or upper thigh doesn’t get caught  because then you are in the Aaron Ralston Wainright Experience and that just takes the walk to a WHOLE new level of intensity.   Ken was a bit gleeful about this since 1) it proved to him how slim, trim and agile he was and 2) with their full camping packs on, this meant a serious loss in lead-time for Team Holland.  Coming into Reeth we were greeted by a plethora of dogs out with their humans for good times in the fields.  We met a couple from Whitby – The Doves – who are both 90 and still walking (says a lot about the Wainwright…read into that what you will.)  They invited us for tea when we are done as we pass their way heading to the Farne Islands.  If I haven’t had to gnaw my leg off from a stile mishap I plan to take up their offer. 

Day 10 – Reeth to Richmond – 18.8 km

A few words about Reeth:  It is the capital of Swaledale and was used as the location for the TV series “All Creatures Great and Small.”  It was also one of the villages the Tour de France passed through in 2014.  This explains the abnormal amount of white with red polka dot décor on buildings as well as yellow bicycles welded to  sign posts and roof tops.  There is also a very grand and ostentatious hotel, which we did not stay in or eat at.  Instead, we stayed at the Buck Inn across the road where a meal is one one hundredth of the price and dinner dress is not enforced.  Now it is off to Richmond!  Again we had amazing weather and vistas.  We continue to be astonished at the farm animals we see.  They genuinely like to have people around and to be honest, we don’t think they are under the influence of any human domination.  For one, we never actually see a person on these idyllic farms and two, these animals look and act far too happy to be future food or labor.  So perhaps Swaledale has been colonized by sentient farm animals that build annoying stiles to keep humans in check…  If the stiles don’t get you then the 375 “Nun Steps’ from Marrick Priory will.  This is about as idyllic and spiritual as you can get – 600 yr. old stone steps laid out in a forest taking you up into the heavens (top of a swale but close enough.)  Other than the intense machine gun fire and low fighter jet fly overs it was all very serene.  Along the way we met a troop of soldiers who just sort of appeared out of no where in full combat gear and a group of very eccentric British walkers who had even less of a clue what they were doing than we did.  To be honest, any time you meet an actual Brit on these walks it goes without saying they are eccentric.  I don’t think they allow locals access to the trail unless they score high on the Asperger’s scale.   We crested the hill into Richmond just as Team Holland was pulling up from the rear (they claim they beat us but WHO TOUCHED THE SIGN FIRST?!?! )  I was going flat out because our guidebook said there were two places in town that served lattes and I was going to hit both even if I broke a leg on a stile and had to crawl my way there.  Richmond is an actual town – population of 8000+ - and has a lot of steep cobble stone streets – perfect for cyclists and walkers with bad knees.  Many we had met on the walk were taking a rest day here.  Team Holland quit here (they said something about having to get home and go to work but I am deluding myself into thinking I intimidated them with my deft tortoise racing skills.)   We did not have a rest day because we were over confident in what our legs could accomplish and completely unaware that “The Mikado” was playing at the restored Georgia Theatre.  So there was no foot massage or riotous Gilbert and Sullivan to soothe my aching bones. 

Day 11 – Richmond to Danby Wiske – 23.8 km

Another fine day weather wise but not so much walking wise.  After a gentle meander through the forests leaving Richmond it was time to pound the pavement and navigate the canola fields.  Wainwright considered this section of the walk to be the dullest and for the most part, he is right.  The upshot is that it is all flat.  Around half way, you get to a Bolton-on –Swale  - a small hamlet with a church that has treats!  You’ve got to love an old church that does pet services (as in, on Sundays at 11 am you can come to service WITH YOUR PET – and yes that includes spiders.)  It also has the grave of a certain Henry Jenkins who according to his head stone, lived to the ripe old age of 169.  Inside the church was a table with snacks, a kettle to make tea or coffee and a small fridge stocked with cold drinks. Beside that was a large world map and a box of pins for you to stick in the place you are from.  There is no one around except two red squirrels.  I am happy to report I did not burst into flames as I partook in the holy refreshments.  Then it was off to Danby Wiske and the White Swan – Wainwright's’ “Favorite” inn.  I say favorite because Wainwright actually though Danby Wiske was a bit of a s***hole and they have been trying to live that down ever since.  It is a funny little place.  Only around 40 people live here and every year they do a “class photo” on the green outside the White Swan.  There is also a large orange cat that lives at the inn who figures prominently in watercolors done by local residents.  The White Swan also has the most ales on tap I have ever seen.  They seem to have shed the Wainwright curse in that they have won three years running “Best Ale House in the Dales.”  Despite having an abnormally well stocked supply shelf, I did not see any Orc killing knives or magic potions to ward off sore feet.  I did spy dorritos.  I wonder if there is any Mountain Dew....

A little bird told me to walk this way

A bridge over non-troubled waters

Ken conquers the canola fields of doom

Mom and I got our ears pierced together

Hello!  My name is Marly.  How may I facilitate your check in process?

Herding sheep is so much easier with my quad!

Death by Dog Love

I moment to reflect on my lack of caffeine...

Gypsy Horses

I GOT NEW SHOES!!

Ken realizes his true calling is Horse Whisperer

What a coincidence!  I loved War Horse too!

Living in paradise

This is my good side!

Fresh born baby lambs are the BEST

Vogue for Wool

Another intense moment on the Wainwright

Ken making sure we don't take the high road into the bogs

Warm breath on gentle hands

Reeth!

Ahhhhh - a chance to rest my feet and eat some chips!

Richmond

More random sheep and cool old buildings

Team Holland - TOUCH THE SIGN!

Zombies have become a serious issue on the Wainwright

Walk on. Walk Hard.

There is no rest for the wicked and that is a good thing after all the chocolate and blue cheese.  Time to lace up and suffer for your sins!  I should have buns of steel after this trip…

Day 7 – Orton to Kirkby Stephen – 24.1 km

One thing I need to mention about Orton is their strange obsession with “scarecrows.”  Outside of every house and business are life-sized dolls that look frighteningly real.  Apparently, every year there is a contest for best scarecrow.  Since no crops are grown in this area I am at a loss to the significance of this.  That said, I seem to remember an episode of “Taboo” that profiled a man who lives nearby who has an obsession with silicone love dolls.  Maybe he is the village mayor?  But enough weirdness – time to hit the paths!  You know you are off to a good start when right away you take the wrong road out of town.   We walked 2 km before a man fixing his roof says “Are you walkers?  If so, you are on the wrong path.”  Great.  Just great.  I so need more useless kilometers to make my days meaningful.  Soon enough the day did turn out great because...PONIES!!! How can you not love a flock of little ponies to amble through?  There are still sheep but we’ve begun to transition into other loveable undulates.  We are now entering the world of James Herriot.  Sun shining.  Fields of buttercups. Farm animals that actually look healthy, happy and not covered in flies and manure.  Things were bright and sunny until mid-afternoon where we took a wrong turn (again) and shortly thereafter ended up in another rainstorm.  Thought we might get some respite in a tunnel under the railway but that turned out to be a vortex chamber straight from hell.  We arrive at our B & B in Kirkby Stephen as per usual – soaking wet and in need of tea and scones.  Thankfully, the landlady provides just that at 4 pm in the front parlor.  After we shower and change into our finest crap dinner trekking attire, we partake in the British custom of jams, clotted cream and awkward socializing.  Then it is off to dinner.  God I was SO HUNGRY. By now it was raining so hard I could barely muster the will to walk 20 feet to the Spar supermarket to get a sandwich.  We really wanted a hot meal and with Kirkby Stephen being an actual town that should have been an easy feat.  There were, after all 3 pubs, 2 chippies, a Chinese AND an Indian takeaway to choose from.  Well no – there actually wasn’t.  This was Monday and that meant pretty much every food place was closed except for one pub that only had one kitchen person.  My blood sugar was at an all time low and I was dealing with so much wind and rain that 5 minutes into our dinner search, I was soaked to the skin – again.  One thing you do a lot of when you walk forever in a day is fantasize about the fantastic hot meal you will have at the end of it.   One thing that tips you right over the edge is when you realize that said hot fantasy meal is just not going to happen.  So on the brink of hypoglycemic insanity I drag my soaking wet body back to the Spar where I see the shelves pretty much empty except for 2 bacon and cheese sandwiches and a couple of boil-in-a-bag stew packets for half price.  I have never fantasized about boil-in-a-bag stew and room temperature Strongbow but I guess I am now.  Get back to our room, which is now like a sauna because we had cranked the radiators up to inferno level to dry our clothes.  Can’t open any windows because the landlady has them all glued shut to keep the gypsies out.  It is so hot in the room the air is not moving so I have an anxiety attack and start ripping my clothes off.  Ken wraps me in bath towels soaked in cold water (yeah I know – I started out cold, wanted to be warm, now I want to be cold – IT’S  CRAZY THAT WAY ON THE WAINWRIGHT!).   So there I am on the floor of our room in my underwear, draped in a wet bath towel eating cold boil-in-a-bag stew, drinking luke warm cider.  Ken is so hot he decides to cool off by going back out into the storm to go to Spar and get a cold Diet Coke.  Problem is, the landlady won’t let him out because there really are gypsies in town and she wants to keep the doors permanently bolted until they leave.  Our night ends with us both having cold showers and realizing we have just lived a "Little Britain" skit gone horribly wrong.

Day 8 – Kirkby Stephen to Keld – 17 km

I can sum up this day in four words: Rain and road kill.  So remember that rainstorm from yesterday?  Well, it was thriving the next morning and we had to endure that for the entire 17 kilometers.  The route from Kirkby Stephen to Keld is where one can see the 9 Standards, an ancient man-made structure, featured prominently in Wainwright’s memoirs.  Problem is even on a good day, the trek up and out of there is seriously boggy.  So much so that in bad weather you are advised to not take that route lest you be swallowed alive by the peat bogs (and it happens – people sink up past their knees on a regular basis  and need to be rescued or worse, they sink and then fall over and suffocate.)  Our guide book provided us with an “extreme weather alternative” route which we took because dying in a peat bog was just not how we envisioned our last moments together.  This route was simply 6 hours of road walking in pounding sleet and wind.  Arrived at the Keld Hotel, which is the only place in Keld other than a yurt camp down the road.  Our bathroom had a parabolic heating fan above the toilet.  You pull the string and for 10 minutes it blast hot air onto you.  Then it shuts off and resets for 30 minutes.  Every 30 min we sat on that toilet together blasting ourselves with hot goodness.  When we couldn’t do that we sat in a fetal position leaning against the radiator.  It was one of those I love/hate my life moments.  I don’t even remember what we ate that night other than it was not boil-in-a-bag and there were warm buns involved.

Way to go, Bessie - another section of Hadrian's Wall bites the dust.

The Master at work

I can't even... So done with rain. So done.

My pretty pony

PONIES!

Red spotted wool is so in for 2015.