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Scafell Pike – Henry the Highest Hound

05/05/202607/05/2026 r1chmay

26 October 2024

It’s October 2024 and Henry asked if he could go up a big hill again. A proper big one this time. Who am I to argue with a dog? With that request in mind, I decided that we should give the big one a go.

We set off early on the Saturday morning have packed a rucksack the night before, and drove across the A66 to the Lake District. Through Keswick and then south to Seathwaite. There were already a number of cars lining the road but we headed into a farmers field and handed over £5 for a day ticket. Farming in this part of the world isn’t easy and I’m more than happy to help farmers find new ways to be able to continue maintaining their farms and the land.

Seathwaite Farm is almost entirely surrounded by some of the highest hills in the country; though the highest of them remains hidden from view for now. It’s a beautiful setting for the start of a monster walk.

We set off with an easy first mile following a good path alongside Styhead Gill as far as the pretty Stockley Bridge. For the first part of the ascent we would be following the gill. Crossing the bridge brings the start of the proper climbing up onto Greehow Knott and then following the gill up towards Styhead Tarn. The views are already breathtaking at this level (less than half the way up) and we stopped a few times to make the most of them.

An early look back down to Seathwaite Farm — Stockley Bridge

As beautiful as it was, we didn’t linger at the Tarn despite it looking like an inviting location to pause. Rather, we continued on to Styhead, passing the Mountain Rescue Equipment Store, and then turned to the east following a path heading towards Sprinkling Tarn, and from there up and onto Great End. Not that we were to be heading all the way to either of that lake or hill. Instead, we could see the path that we were to take, snaking its way around, and up, the side of the hill to our right. This is the famous “Corridor Route”.

We could make out a couple of other people some way along the corridor, but it was a lot more empty than the other routes. The start was easy. We follwed the contours up and around, with a stunning view down Wasdale below us.

The first tricky part of the corridor was at the crossing of Skew Gill. There is nothing particularly difficult about this section of the route, however crossing the gill includes a drop into, and then a scramble back out of, a small gulley. Going down was easy enough and the scramble up was straightforward for me – but for a small dog the clamber up had the potential to be a bit more hard work. I needn’t have worried about it though. The Springer part of our cut-and-shut Springador made short work of it.

The path then continues along and upwards. For the most part it is straighforward with just a few points where you need to hold onto a rock or two to assist you. That is until you get near to The Bad Step. There is a build up across an increasingly stony part of path until you get near to Greta Gill where everything gets a lot more rocky – both immediately in front on the path, but also all around you. There is something of a drop off the side of the corridor route in places, and ahead the scar of Piers Gill cuts an impressive sight into the hillside. And then you get to the Step; a drop down a part of the rock face of about 20 feet.

Looking across to the scary looking Piers Gill

Again, this isn’t too difficult a section, although it might be an extra level of interesting when the rocks are wet and slippery. It wasn’t so much fun for Henry though. He normally likes to be in front at all points on our walks but as we decsended here he was happy to follow my lead and settled behind me. For most of the decsent we just needed to take some short measured steps down; however in a couple of spots (most notably right at the last drop down back onto the path again) there is one bigger drop which requires a scramble down making as many points of contact as possible. I climbed my way down and then helped Henry down – lifting him and lowering him down beside me. We were all good and ready to continue on our way.

Once down from the Bad Step we were back on our way along the corridor. Despite this section still including some quite steep climbing, the path was easy enough going and the next half mile or so only really comes to mind for the great views from it to the West and South.

When reading up in preparation for the walk, I’d managed to miss the note that one should continue on the corridor route until meeting the path coming up from Wasdale Head over Brown Tongue (stop sniggering). Apparently the distance added is more than made up for by the easier final approach. We, however, took the more immediate route up following a path that runs between the summits of Broad Crag and Scafell Pike.

As we started along it, this looked to be a reasonable decision. Although steep, there was a decent path to follow and we could start to see the summit appearing above us to our right. As we progressed things got a little less “easy” however. The upper part of this path is a rough scramble up a scree slope. It was increasingly rough going each step seemed to be on looser ground. It is also a narrow path. We weren’t the only ones stupid enough to be coming this way. For the first time since nearer Skew Gill there were other people; all descending. We had to take it in turns to progress at a number of places. The forced opportunity to grab a breather was welcome!

Eventually we made it up. Not to the top, but up. The top of the scramble brings you out to meet the much more well trodden path from Broad Crag and Ill Crag, and we found ourselves amongst a whole new set of people approaching from various other routes. After an hour or two of near solitude we were suddenly in amongst a whole lot of people.

We turned 90 degress to our right and onto the final approach to the summit of Scafell Pike. There was probably only another quarter mile of walking to go from here, but it included another 100m of ascent in that short distance; all over rocky ground.

There is little or no grass on the summit (nor the approach) here. Wainwright describes the top of Scafell Pike thus:

“The surrounding area is barren, a tumbled wilderness of stones of all shapes and sizes, but it is not true, as has often been written and may be thought, that the top is entirely devoid of vegetation: there is indeed a patch of grass on the south side of the cairn sufficient to provide a couch for a few hundredweights of exhausted flesh“

A view from Scafell

As on the way up, we were taking it in turns on some sections as we waited for others to descend the narrow sections of “path”. It was tough going but eventually the slope levelled out and the cairn and trig point hoved into view. We scrambled our way to the top. There was a lot of people up here; mostly approaching from Wasdale Head, but we got to the cairn and took our pictures at the trig point and the summit cairn (and had some taken for us). Our heads were in the clouds now literally and metaphorically. What’s more a glance around confirmed things. At this time, Henry was the Highest Hound in the Whole of England!

Made it! On the cairn at the top of Scafell Pike (thanks to the fellow walker who took the pic)

We were definitely due a bite to eat by now so we wandered away from the cairn to find one of those patches of grass that Wainright promised, and got ourselves refreshed. We had made it. Now all we had to do was to get back down; via a few other summits.

It's like Picadilly Circus at the summit cairn — It’s like Picadilly Circus at the summit cairn

We started off initially by retracing our steps. It was going to be a while before we were on a proper path. I’ll hand back over to Wainright again:

“It is an exaggeration to describe walkers’ routes across the top of Scafell Pike as paths, becuase they make an uneasy pavement on angular boulders that are too unyielding ever to be trodden into subjection”

This is the terrain we would be trversing for a while. We dropped back down to the bottom of the V shaped drop between Scafell Pike and Broad Crag. However this time rather than turning off the V and dropping back down the scree to the Corridor, we continued on our slow way over the boulders up towards Broad Crag. It was tricky going with a dog who still had too much energy and wanted to bound from rock to rock whilst I carefully watched where I was placing my feet. It also wasn’t always immediately obvious the best approach to take and there were a few times we headed back and forth on the way up Broad Crag.

As for Broad Crag itself. Did we strictly hit the top? No, I’ll be honest here and say we didn’t quite reach the summit. I got so carried away with trying to find a path that I somehow managed to avoid the very top by a few metres. I’m still claiming it though! It doesn’t properly count as a Wainright anyway: Broad Crag and Ill Crag (which I also traversed without standing on its highest point) were marked by him as being a part of what he called the Scafell Pikes (plural).

The rocky road would continue off from Broad Crag and across the northern side of the “top” of Ill Crag. It was only as we dropped off from that hill, and leaving the Pikes behind us, that the path started to return to grass.

I took a small diversion a short way up Great End with a possible view to hitting the summit there; though the legs were starting to feel tired and there was quite a way ahead of us still. So we chose to leave that for another day and continued to drop back down the hill towards the cairn at Esk Hause pass.

The rest of the descent was beautiful walking with the typical array of stunning Lakeland vistas; each turn in the path provides changes in the landscape in front, and each one is as welcome as the last.

There was still another three miles or thereabouts from to go from Esk Hause and as I’m sure you’ll know, whilst leaving you less breathless than climbing, descending has its own difficulties and can be very tiring and slow going. We stopped a couple more times for a few more snacks.

Another Lakeland View - you can't get too many of them — Another Lakeland View – you can’t get too many of them

The top of Ruddy Gill — Another Lakeland View – you can’t get too many of them

After a while, with Sprinkling Tarn just visible to the side, we turned to follow first Ruddy Gill and then Grains Gill on the final drop back towards Seathwaite. Finally we could see Stockley Bridge in front of us. We had completed the loop up and around; now we just had that final, tiring and soul battering final mile back to the car.

What an adventure. I was incredibly proud. Both for myself but mostly for my little companion. According to my Fitbit, which had been recording our progress, we had been walking for 5 hours and 27 minutes over 9.84 miles with a total of 24,174 steps (presumably at least double that for my four legged friend) and with a total elevation gain of 3,386 feet. Exhausted we got back into the car and headed home. We both slept that well that night.

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Scafell Pike Route

Helvellyn, Nethermost, and Dollywagon

15/04/202605/05/2026 r1chmay

16 March, 2024

My longer rides have been fewer and less frequent in the past couple of years. This is no small part down to the emergence into our lives of Henry the Springador with whom I’ve been exploring the hills of the North Pennines, the Lake District, and the Yorkshire Dales. As a result I thought I should start adding some entries detailing some of those walks whilst you’re all waiting on more cycling adventures! I’ve got a number of walks in the North Pennines which I could write up but I thought I’d start with some of our ‘Wainright walks’ in the Lake District; of which this expedition was the first.

I’d been contemplating such an adventure for a while and as Henry and I got more used to climbing some of the bigger hills of the North Pennines (including a walk up the biggest, Cross Fell). Maybe foolishly, maybe not, I thought we’d start with one of the bigger hills of England; Helvellyn.

We packed our bags ready on the Friday night including putting some lunch into the fridge ready to pick out for an early start on Saturday morning. We were up and out of the house fairly early; stopping at a Greggs just west of Penrith for breakfast, and arriving at the car park at Wythburn Church at around 9am. The car park was already fairly busy but we managed to park up easily enough and got ready to start walking.

The walk started with warm up of a two hundred feet climb to meet the north-south path running through the woodland that sits along the east side of Thirlmere. Once on that path it was easy going. Not flat but the undulations that the track follows are mild and the first two and a half miles were a nice warm up for what was to come. The walk in amongst the trees was very pretty with some lovely views over the lake below.

The woodland path ends at Swirls Car Park. After the peace of the woodland path, which he had virtually to ourselves (save for some squirrels), the car park was full of cars decanting groups of people preparing to climb. A look to our right also showed a busy path heading straight up the hill covered with an ant like line of people.

We turned right and began to follow that line. We were on the hill straight away, although it breaks the walker in with an opening section following, and sometimes crossing, Helvellyn Gill around the top edge of the woodland from which we had just emerged.

Warmed up nicely, and with the gradient ramping up, the path leaves the edge of the woods and starts a more direct climb up the face of the hillside through a series of zig zags. Henry and I were in good form at this point and made our way up this first part quicker than the majority of our fellow climbers.

The Path Ahead - Looking Up Towards Browncove Crags — Henry Half Way Up

For the most part of the climb, the path is a good clear stone stepped trail ever upwards. At Browncove Crags the path is less obvious however. Its not a real scramble as such, but there are sections where one has to make your own route across the rocks. Although it requires a little more thought and care in places, it never gets too tricky and before long the crags lessen and you start to come out onto the higher reaches of the hill.

The upper stretches are on open ground; an almost flat scree landscape. We were also getting into the clouds now. The visibility wasn’t poor; but it wasn’t great. Also, although the contours are a bit more spaced out up here than on the climb up to, and through, Browncove crags there is still a lot more hill remaining. The path is marked by a series of cairns. It was easy to imagine how useful they would be when the clouds are even thicker at this level than was the case today. There were also some reminders that we were not yet out of winter; bunkers of snow were lined along some of the north facing pockets, hidden from the sun.

Eventually, after just a ltitle way short of 5 miles since we set off from the car, the hill ran out at the Ordnance Survey triganomatry point which marks the third highest summit in England. We stopped for some pictures and a bite to eat and looked down across the Swirral and Striding edges, and over Red Tarn towards Grisedale; all of which were intermittently visible through breaks in the clouds.

One of these days I’l like to come back and approach Helvellyn along those more famous routes up to it. For now though, as much as I love my long walks with Henry (and I think he likes them too) , I’m not sure I fancy the opportunity of being pulled over Striding Edge by him. Any walks together up to a Wainwright summits of the Lakes will therefore be made using the “easier” routes.

On leaving the summit of Helvellyn we turned towards the south and followed the ridge top path. The overall direction was downwards for the next two miles but its not all downhill as we follwed the path to tick off the summits of Nethermost Pike (the 13th highest point of England) and Dollywagon Pike (the 22nd).

Nethermost and Dollywagon — Looking Down Towards Grisedale

Its testament to just how many big hills there are in the Lake District that these other two hills are so much further down the rankings despite each one being only about 100 feet lower than the previous. The visibility was beginning to clear with longer gaps between the clouds. As such we were rewarded with some excellent views from the rocky tops of the crags.

View Down from Dollywagon — Dollywagon Pike in the Clouds

After leaving Dollywagon Pike we started the descent proper. We followed the path towards the west side of Grisedale Tarn and then turned due west to follow the steep path down, alongside Raise Beck.

The descent was a lot tougher than the climb. The path is less well trodden and involves more scrambling down. The strain on the legs is so much more on the descent and it was slow going. Henry wasn’t finding it anything like as difficult and he had to be asked to hold back and wait for me every few feet down.

The Top of the Descent — Get Orf My Laaand

Things didn’t get any easier until we were almost down to the level of the main road. We now had a small bit of uncertainty in the route. The maps all show that one simply crosses the beck near the road. Although not in full spate there is no bridge or other easy way across and the river wasn’t going to be passable without getting our feet fully submersed.

There is an option to walk alongside the A591 however we decided to go for it and cross the river. At the worst we’d have 1 1/2 miles to finish up with wet feet/paws and so that was the option we took. I wouldn’t recommend that option to everyone, and you should always be careful and monitor the level of water in the beck, but for us it was a good decision and we were soon across and on the path proper.

The final stretch of the walk involved a short way across a couple of fields and back into the woods along the same track back to the car which we had followed in the other direction. The last part was the descent back down to Wythburn church and the car for some refreshment before heading back across the A66 to home in the North Pennines.

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Way of the Roses - Day Three - Full SIze

Way of the Roses Day Three – 3 August 2023

09/12/2023 r1chmay

Brighter to Bridlington

After the persistent rain of the previous day, it was a pleasant surprise to open the curtains of my 8th floor bedroom in the Radisson in York to be greeted by a bright and cheery day.

The same view as yesterday evening looked even more stunning with a blue sky. I started to get myself ready. My cycling gear from yesterday was still wet. Fortunately I had two sets with me; and though I was putting back on the clothes from Day One, they were dry (and only a little bit stinky – day one was a shorter day’s riding after all). The wet gear got double bagged (I’d picked up some bin bags the previous morning in Settle. Past experience of a wet day riding between the Somme and Agincourt had taught me the value of double bagging). With most of my kit ready, I headed downstairs for another excellent breakfast – admiring the even more stunning view across the Minster from the elevator lobby.

Breakfast was good; though apparently not as good as the one from the Golden Lion in Settle as I didn’t photograph it. Either that or I was so hungry I just wolfed it down.

After a quick retreat to the room to finally gather everything up I headed downstairs to check out and collect my bike from the secure staff parking area, then loaded it up and got ready to set off.

There are few better places to start a cycle ride than going through the heart of medieval York. I headed past the Minster and up through Goodramgate and out of Monkgate Bar. I was so happy to be cycling through the city gates that I was 100 yards through them when I realised my cycle computer was flashing to warn me that I was off route. I wasn’t actually supposed to have ridden through the bar so I had to double back and ride through it a second time!

Back on the correct route I left the City by crossing over the Fosse and found my way onto the former York to Beverley railway line.

A mix of railway path and quiet roads and farm tracks would take me through Dunnington and into Stamford Bridge.

More flat country lanes led me nice and steadily on towards Pocklington. I was taking it easy but the riding was easy and lovely. It was so much nicer to be out and about in clear blue skies.

Low Slung Finger Posts – Not that Bolton

Pocklington would mark the start of riding into the Yorkshire Wolds. It was also going to be biggest settlement I’d be in for a while so I decided to stop for a second breakfast. I pulled over at the first place I came across, Swirlz Gelato. I parked up, ordered a smoothie and a sweet crepe and settled down at an outside table. It was a good break and though barely two hours on since breakfast it was certainly a good choice.

A short way after leaving Pocklington on one its busier roads, a turning to the left and onto country lanes marked the start of the Yorkshire Wolds. The fields started to open up and the road rolled up and down (mostly up) into Millington and slowly and gradually onward and upwards. Around a corner the views opened up further to reveal a lovely valley ahead and the road dropped down to meet its floor.

From the valley bottom I now started to follow it back uphill. The climbing was largely gentle and never beyond mildly steep; although the valley on either side rose up steeply; reminding me of the chalk hills of Wilshire and Sussex I’ve spent so many years riding up.

Climbing up a Valley in the Yorkshire Wolds — Into the Wolds

I was briefly distracted by some fine looking highland cattle but got on my way and climbed up and out of the back of Millington Dale.

At the top, the landscape flattened back out into wide rolling views as I headed through Huggate and onwards towards Tibthorpe. Somewhere along this stretch a small but threatening looking cloud lived up to expectation as it opened up right above me with a sharp but short shower. I stopped to put my rain jacket on; and stopped again only another mile or two further on to take it back off again as the cloud passed over and the sun came back out.

I passed through Tibthorpe and into Kirkburn, and that was the Yorkshire Weald done and dusted. There was one last set of small hills before the coast, but the Weald had been the last proper set of hills of the whole trip and they had been steady going, but tackled without incident.

From Kirkburn its only about 4 miles into the centre of Driffield by the most direct route. However that route is along the busy A614 and so the Way of the Roses takes a detour along some country lanes in a loop to the south of the town, adding an additional 6 miles riding. These miles were pretty close to pan flat across some open arable land and pretty easy going, albeit with a fair breeze from the north west which the twisty turning route did head into for a fair part of the way.

At a junction before Hutton Cranswick the Way of the Roses joins with cycle route NCN1. NCN1 was a regular part of my riding in Kent when living in Sussex as it starts at the Port of Dover and heads around the Kent North and then northwards up the country. I’ve encountered it in a few other places, most notably in the North of Scotland and Orkney. I’d love to complete the full distance of the route all the way to the very top of Shetland; even if done in stages over many years. Adding a few miles of the route in Yorkshire was therefore something of a bonus.

At Hutton Cranswick, and again on entering Driffield, I’d also cross the Bridlington to Hull line on level crossings for the first two times. The last few miles from Skerne into Driffield were a bit tougher on account of being almost fully into the wind, but I kept pedalling and soon found myself turning into the Driffield main drag on a lively market day.

I found a bench at the top end of the high street, got a sandwich and some pop from a bakers and had a pleasant rest watching the world go by whilst sitting under some colourful, ornamental, umbrellas.

I enjoyed the rest but chivvied myself along into getting back onto the bike. I still had another 20 miles or thereabouts before I’d see the sea including one last final set of hills (even if they were the lowest on the route).

The route leaves Driffield heading east on a fairly busy road so I made the most of a shared footpath/cycleway alongside the route towards the pretty village of Nafferton at which point the route heads south again and over a third level crossing. Before too long a couple of left hand turns put me back northwards on an even quieter road bearing signs that the (fourth) level crossing ahead was closed to traffic. It is, but not to pedestrians or cyclists.

Once across the railway line again a couple of right hand turns around Harpham had me heading on another even more forlorn road to the fifth level crossing (cyclists and walkers only again) before almost immediately turning left onto a more open road and over the sixth (and final) level crossing; the last four of which had been crossed within 6 miles.

The final level crossing brought me into Burton Agnes and the start of the final set of hills. Some brown tourist signs at Burton Agnes suggested a couple of historic attractions in the form of a Hall and a Manor House. I stopped to look them up online and was pleased to see that the Manor House was a free to enter English Heritage property so I diverted into the car park to take a look. The advertising was a bit misleading. It is a ‘free’ EH property, but only if you pay to go into the hall in the grounds of which it sits. I didn’t have the time to properly get value for money on such a visit so I sadly headed back on my way and up into the final set of hills before the coast.

The climbing wasn’t difficult but I was quite tired now so it was also far from easy but I steadily made my way up the short climb to the ridge and onto the Roman Road heading towards Bridlington and Flamborough Head. The map shows a lot of potentially interesting historical and archaeological sites in this small area so I will have to come back another time and explore the area.

Heading East along the ridge I got my first look at the North Sea and the East Coast. The end was visible but I still had a few miles to go. Those are the hard miles when you know you’re almost there but not quite close enough. They passed slowly but pleasantly until the final descent to Bridlington.

Within Bridlington itself the route takes as long as possible to find a way to get you to the sea front. It is actually less than 2 miles from the Old Town around residential streets before suddenly arriving at the sea front. It felt longer.

Bridlington Priory Church – Almost there!

Once on the prom, the sign marking the end of the ride appeared and I was happy to pull up and mark the ride from Morecambe as complete.

Well, almost complete. There was the small matter of riding back across town, this time along the prom and past all the seafront rock and tat stalls, arcades, and chip shops back to the rather pretty station. I had made it back a couple of hours before my booked train so I decided to pay for an earlier alternative and was soon settled onto the train, passing over the same six level crossings and through Hull to York, and then on to Darlington to the car and back home.

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Stats:

Distance: 62.45 Miles
Ride Time: 4 Hours 57 minutes and 17 seconds
Average Speed: 12.6 mph
Ascent: 1,706 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9575252521

Way of the Roses – Day 3 – Timelapse Video

Way of the Roses Day Two – 2 August 2023

10/11/202309/12/2023 r1chmay

The Wettest Day on Two Wheels

Despite a very comfortable bed in a lovely room, the sound of the rain outside the window of the Golden Lion had been creeping into my sleep throughout the night. It was still sounding heavy when my alarm went off.

I got dressed into my cycling gear, half loaded the bags and headed downstairs for an excellent full breakfast. It was probably too much to have just before heading out into the hills that were going to be immediately in front of me. It was very good though.

I went back upstairs, finished getting myself ready, listened to the rain a bit more, and braced myself to head out into the wet and onto the hills.

As anticipated, it wasn’t long before I started climbing. I had pulled out of the Golden Lion, taken a couple of right turns around the town square, and was on the edge of the hills within about 1/4 mile. There was no gentle start. The gradient quickly headed into double figures and to add to the fun there is a nice stretch of cobbles as the road rises.

The cobbles soon gave way, but the hill just got steeper. There would be about 750 feet of climbing ahead of me in around two miles. That would be tough in any situation but add in

A heavy bike
Laden panniers
A massive breakfast
Unrelenting rain
A strong headwind

and it wasn’t going to be easy. When touring I try not to beat myself up too much if I have to get off and walk at any point, but it would have been nice for that to happen a little bit further into the day. The first 2.5 miles would end up taking me 35 minutes – not much faster than walking pace. I was in the saddle more often than I was pushing, but probably not by much.

Eventually the road levelled out and I knew that the next 5 or 6 miles would be largely downhill. It was a huge relief but it was still wet and windy and the views from the tops were not as stunning today as I imagine they can often be. Coming down was lovely riding to start with, but as things levelled off again, the roads got wetter and wetter with puddles crossing ever further across the width of the carriageway.

The view from Thorpe — Made it to the top

Not long past the small village of Calton things got wetter still. A short downhill section led me with little warning to a completely flooded section of road. With a long enough days riding ahead of me; not wanting to have to double back to add even more miles to the ride; having already got to the point of wet that a little more probably wouldn’t hurt; and with just a little bit of gung ho/sod it in me, I powered on and kept pedalling through, hoping that there wouldn’t be any hidden rocks or potholes, and praying I could keep going to avoid having to get off and wade. I made it. A car at the other end of the flooding had watched my progress and elected to make a u-turn.

Shortly afterwards I came to the hamlet of Winterburn. That’s Winterburn. Presumably named for the river that normally only shows itself in the winter months. Yet here it was in early August and the burn was not merely visible, but close to bursting its banks.

The way continued through Hetton and Cracoe, into ever narrowing lanes and into Thorpe before heading down towards Burnsall and a beautiful bridge crossing the River Wharfe.

The bridge at Burnsall — Crossing the Wharfe

Crossing one of the major rivers of the Yorkshire Dales could only mean one thing. Time to start climbing hills again.

The climb from Burnsall up to Greenhow Hill takes you to the highest point on the Way of the Roses route. The difference in elevation between summit and river valley is greater than the climb out of Settle; however it occurs over almost twice the distance.

It’s not without some very steep sections but it was nothing like as brutal and has plenty of easier stretches of road allowing for recovery between the sharpest sections.

It was a long slog though, and for the last mile or thereabouts the route joins the B6265. It’s not a particularly busy road, but much more so than any point in the ride up to this point.

The final drag up takes you past Stump Cross Caverns. It might have been nice to be able to stop and go caving, but I was still only a fraction of the day done and quite well behind where I would have liked to have been by this time so I carried on. The hill continues, albeit it a much reduced gradient, a short way further to the watershed between Wharfdale and Nidderdale.

I bet there are some lovely views from here. But for me all I could see was the cloud I was riding in. It was a relief to see the start of the downhill, although that soon tempered as the descent gets steeper and steeper. I was having to balance between keeping the brakes on to slow the descent, whilst preventing the blocks from overheating.

At the bottom of the hill, on the western edge of Pately Bridge I pulled over by a bakery and a garage for a short break. I climbed off the bike, squelching as I did so. I looked back up the hill. I was glad not be heading up it. I dragged my soggy carcass into the bakery for a decent slab of flapjack, and then filled up my water bottles at the garage next door. I didn’t fancy starting to get cold, and the garage forecourt was not the prettiest so I pulled my right leg back over the crossbar and headed back on my way.

The main part of Pately Bridge looked to be a rather pretty market town. However it was also busy with traffic, narrow, and climbed up away from the river valley with enough of a gradient to allow me such that I could feel the growl of the impatient cars behind me. I kept on as quickly as I could manage.

It was nice therefore, approximately a mile beyond the town centre, to see the signs pointing me back onto some quiet country lanes.

There was more climbing to do, but other than one short stretch at Smelthouses where the legs complained and forced a short walk, it was routine enough riding up the hill, then hang a left, and head towards the next (and final) summit by Brimham Rocks.

Brimham Rocks is a beautiful and wonderful (National Trust) site of stunning natural rock formations. I’ve been on a few occasions but not for over 20 years. On a better day I would have risked adding a further delay to proceedings but the weather was grim again and the low clouds would only have damaged my fond memories of the site. On. On.

At least I had now all but completed the climbing for the day and I had a largely downhill run in to Ripon where I was planning to stop for lunch.

Fountains Abbey is another fantastic National Trust property and in this instance the route passes straight through the estate. I had been here a few weeks earlier and had revelled in the beautiful landscapes. Today it was all just grey.

A herd of deer were sitting, disconsolately but appropriately, by the road in the Deer Park. I pulled over to take a picture, but on taking my phone out of my pocket it was so wet I couldn’t persuade the touchscreen to work to take a picture. I had to rely on using the GoPro instead.

The phone situation made me realise just how wet I had now become so pressed on through the final few miles into Ripon.

Arriving in the town centre I forsook looking around for a nice local coffee shop but headed straight for the Caffe Nero I could see in front of me.

I found a table (and a leather sofa which would be comfortable but probably wouldn’t appreciate how wet I was) and got a hot sandwich, a massive coffee, and a big slab of something cakeish.

It was good to get warm and be out of the increasingly hard rain for a bit. I wasn’t going to get dry, but I wasn’t getting any wetter. Though eventually I knew I’d have to get moving again.

From here though I was onto the edge of the Vale of York and it would be all level riding for the rest of the day.

First I had to get out of Ripon. Navigation was easy enough, but at one point the route follows an older, largely abandoned road which has been cut in two by a more recent bypass.

As well as dividing the houses either side of the main road, it’s other purpose was apparently to cause flooding on the old way.

Much like the earlier section, I came upon the flood water with no notice and decided to push on. This time though something underwater did knock me off stride enough for me to lose balance and put one foot down straight into the water.

It did demonstrate that I was right in thinking I couldn’t get any wetter though as there didn’t really appear to be any difference between my fully submerged right foot and the rest of me.

Despite the extra watering I was still enjoying the riding and though the rain was still a constant, the wind had eased off by now and with the flatter roads of the Vale the miles started finally to tick off at a decent pace.

On the way to Boroughbridge there were two points of note:

1. The route passed a couple of times underneath bridges of a disused railway line. Unlike the majority of closed lines which tended to be smaller services, the Leeds to Thirsk line was clearly a much more major route with big old solid bridges remaining.

2. I had now got so wet that every time I shifted in the saddle there was not only an unpleasant squelching noise but a channel of water would run off the Lycra and down my leg.

Crossing the A1 and passing through Boroughbridge would see a change in direction toward York which lay to the South East. In the pretty village of Aldborough I initially rode past the signs to the site of the Roman Town. After a hundred yards or so of passing the sign however I thought that I should probably actually get off the bike and go and see something as so far I had just kept riding. I turned around, doubled back, and rode up the hill on the west of the village to the English Heritage site. It was shut. Despite the opening hours sign which suggested otherwise. I guess the custodian had decided that nobody was coming out to see it in that weather. I can’t really blame them if that was the case, but it was a bit of a shame. I shall just crack on then.

Although the change in direction, and coming off the Dales and into the Vale had made it feel like I was almost done, I still had 20 miles to go.

The next few miles I was also taking a bit of a gamble. I was aware that the toll bridge at Aldwark was closed for major repairs. The semi official diversion would add an extra five miles which I could do without. I had spotted an alternative foot bridge not far upstream from the toll bridge which could be reached by a path along the side of a golf course. If it didn’t work out however, the five mile diversion would become 10 or more.

Fortunately as I squelched my way towards the closed bridge, I found the path and followed it along the river. It is on the grounds of the golf course and cycling was probably frowned on. However I confess that I made an equation:

Too wet and wanting to just keep moving + (evidence that the path had been used by golf buggies x nobody foolish enough to be outside playing golf to stop me) = I cycled to the bridge

Crossing the Ouse felt like I was getting close to York at last and was on a (long) homeward straight.

The remaining miles were quite uneventful and went quickly. Through Beninbrough Park (another National Trust site), past the Edinburgh 200 Miles sign on the East Coast Mainline, and finally onto the riverside cycle/footpath that would lead me the final few miles into the City of York.

It was great to be on familiar territory and to be so close to done for the day. To see the Museum Gardens to my left and then be crossing Lendal Bridge and onto Tanners Moat. I was done. The 75 wettest miles I’ve ever ridden.

Home for the night was to the place that to me will always be The Viking Hotel. Nowadays it’s the Radisson, but for my three university years in the city my local pub was across the road so it was a familiar site that I never went into. Something I could finally put right.

The staff guided me to the staff car park where I could lock the bike up, and then I checked in and made my way to my room. I had a splendid room on the 8th floor overlooking the south side of the city across the part of the town that I had known so well for those years. I had a shower and used the hangers to hang up my cycling gear in the large shower cubicle. I doubted that they would be dry in the morning, but they had a fighting chance at least.

Warm and dry and in dry clothing I made my way into the City to meet up with one of best and loveliest friends Nicky, who had remained living in York after we graduated in 1994. We had a lovely evening having some great food in Marzano’s Grill, sandwiched with a couple of visits (and probably one pint too many) in the Blue Bell Inn.

At the end of the evening, with the world put to rights and a liberal dosing of reminiscing I said farewell to Nicky and headed back to the hotel and a good night’s sleep.

[osmap gpx=”https://www.richmay.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/10/WotR2.gpx”]

Stats:

Distance: 76.44 Miles
Ride Time: 6 Hours 28 minutes and 18 seconds
Average Speed: 11.8 mph
Ascent: 5,177 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9569792197

Way of the Roses – Day 2 – Timelapse Video

Next Up: Brighter to Bridlington

Way of the Roses Day One – 1 August 2023

26/10/202309/12/2023 r1chmay

Back on Tour

It’s been a while since I’ve sat down to start one of my posts about a multi day cycle ride. My last such trip was in 2018 when I cycled around some of the many battlefields of Belgium and France. In 2019 I went for a walk instead of a cycle, along Hadrians Wall. Covid curtailed any tentative touring plans early in 2020, and 2021 saw me move from the South Coast at Hastings to Teesdale in the North Pennines.

I hadn’t made any firm plans to get out and about again in 2022 before I managed to lose control of my bike downhill and around a corner onto some loose gravel on a short ride after work on my birthday. That left me spending five days in Darlington Memorial Hospital with a broken collarbone, ten broken ribs, and a small fracture on my left hip. All in all not the best birthday ride.

I started riding again in the new year, on the indoor trainer at first but eventually back outdoors. I added a mountain bike to the garage which has been a real boon for getting out and about in bad weather. Its an awful lot slower that being on the carbon fibre road bike, but much safer on the fatter tyres. I also enjoyed the recuperation period by increasing my bike maintenance skills. My touring bike was in major need of an overall so I spent the downtime replacing the chain, front and rear casettes and derauillerurs, the cranks and bottom bracket, brake arms and pads, the shifters and all associated cables. With the touring bike all refreshed, it only seemed right to think of venturing out on an, albeit slightly shorter than previous trips, multi day tour.

A few possible routes came to mind but I settled on the coast to coast “Way of the Roses” route between Morecambe and Bridlington. I already had the guidebook and the travel should be fairly easy from my new base in the north. I planned a route starting with the longer train journey to Morecambe on day one with a shorter ride to Settle in the afternoon that day. And that’s the day that this post is all about.

Having packed the night before (using the same basics as my previous multi day trips, but taking things a bit lighter having learned lessons from over packing in the past) I was up early on the Tuesday morning. I took the dog for a walk and then put everything into/onto the car and drove across to Darlington station.

Fortunately everything train related ran smoothly. First up was a train to Leeds. The Cross Country train didn’t have the best bike storage but there was a space. I sat on the luggage racks rather than my booked seat to ensure that the bike didn’t come loose from its less than ideal strapping, but all was ok. I only had ten minutes in Leeds to make my connection (though there was a backup later train if I missed it) but we arrvied into Leeds on time and I was easily able to make it up and over onto the next platform where the Northern rail direct service to Morecambe was already waiting. This time I was able to strap the bike in a bit better and settle into a seat where I could relax whilst keeping an eye on the bike. It was then a steady and uneventful journey across the country arriving on time into Morecambe.

Before I got going properly I rode out to the seafront, found the Eric Morecambe statue where I took my turn to pose in the traditional style (another group of people doing the same kindly took the lovely picture you see here of Eric and I), and then along the front to the Stone Jetty and pulled into the Stone Jetty cafe for a bit of lunch before starting off.

Ready to go, I double checked everything on the bike and rode to the far end of the pier. There was nowhere to easily dip the wheel into the water so I just started off from the end of the Jetty, pointed my front wheel eastwards, and set off.

Let's Go That A'Way — *Let’s Go That A’Way*

The first few miles were the flattest of the whole route, following an old railway line towards Lancaster. Having made into that city, and across the Lune on the Millenium Bridge, I took a short detour off the route. I had spent some time in the second half of the 1990s occassionally working for the then Lancaster University Archaeological Unit. I took a short detour up towards the castle (which was still an operational prison back then) to find the old office building and a few other landmarks (mostly pubs) in that part of town. I did remember where things were, but the distraction quickly wore off and I headed back down to the river and picked the route back up where I had left it.

Lancaster Castle — View across Lancaster

The route continued following the South bank of the Lune as it headed inland and upstream although the river remained largely hidden by the trees lining both sides of the former Lancaster to Wennington railway line. The railway path was quite popular with walkers and cyclists so I continued to take it nice and steady until, having passed the former station at Halton, we came to the Crook O’Lune. After crossing the river once, but before the second bridge cutting across the Crook, the Way of the Roses route leaves the railway line and transfers onto quiet roads for the next few miles.

After 8 miles of largely flat riding it was time to start climbing for the first time on the ride. A quiet lane through Halton Park has a 350 foot climb over three miles; nothing too strenous but certainly noticable after the previously flat riverside riding.

Once on top of the hill, with the Lune valley opening up down to the right of me, the rain started. It was fairly light at this point but threatened getting heavier. A few easy miles got easier as the road headed back down towards the river; crossing the Lune again on a lovely old stone bridge just before entering Hornby.

With the rain increasing, and an interesting looking church to step into, I pulled over in Hornby for a quick break. The church was nice, though writing this a month or two after the event I don’t recall anythign particularly exciting inside it. So I had an energy gel, put my coat on, and headed back on my way.

For the next 18 miles the road continued to slowly climb back up along some pretty, open roads.

Not too much further on and a big roadside stone marked the boundary of the parishes of Bentham and Tatham, and with it the boundary between Lancashire and Yorkshire. At only 21 miles into a 170 miles tour I was leaving the Red Rose behind and it would all be White Rose from this point on.

As we moved into Yorkshire and continued to climb, the roads seemed to get gradually narrower but also more open as thick hedgerows gave way to dry stone walls and open moorland. Between Clapham and Austwick a sign welcomed me to the Yorkshire Dales National Park.

Into the Dales and past Austwick the climb got a lot steeper on single track roads for another couple of miles, eventually reaching the high point of the day (c900 feet) after almost 34 miles riding.

The final three and a bit miles gave a nice chance to relax on the way down into Settle. I rode into the town centre and parked up at The Golden Lion pub; my base for the night. I was shown to the secure bike store and then up to my room. I showered and put on my off bike clothes and went to explore Settle; wandering around the town and down to the famous railway station, and up to to Castleberg Crag to get a look at the town from on high.

With the legs properly cooled down I headed back to the pub for a few pints of Settle Bitter and a glorious plate of Fish and Chips before heading to a very comfortable bed.

Fish and Chips and a pint of Settle Best

Just Deserts — Fish and Chips and a pint of Settle Best

[osmap gpx=”https://www.richmay.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/10/WotR1.gpx”]

Stats:

Distance: 37.36 Miles
Ride Time: 2 Hours 56 minutes and 00 seconds
Average Speed: 12.7 mph
Ascent: 2,503 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/9562862053

Way of the Roses – Day 1 – Timelapse Video

Next Up: The Wettest Day on Two Wheels

Cycling to the roof of England

22/09/202224/10/2023 r1chmay

In the summer of 2021 we made a rather big change to our lives and left the South Coast for Teesdale in County Durham. Since moving here I’ve made a few explorations up some of the bigger cycling hill climbs that I have ever done. I’ll write about some of those trips later, but with a day off work on Friday 13th August 2021, and some reasonable weather (though quite a breeze blowing over the hills) I decided to try my hand at the biggest cycle climb that England has to offer.

I started by loading the car onto the roof bars and driving the short distance to the Tan Hill Inn; the highest pub in England, which I had chosen a start and finish point for the day’s ride (hopefully there would be time for a quick drink at the end of the ride).

The last few miles driving across the hill tops to the pub had got very windy to the point to my being a little concerned about the bike on the roof. Fortunately, I made it in one piece but was happy to get the bike down to ground level as quickly as possible.

Ready to ride but wary of heading into the wind I climbed onto the saddle and headed west. It was quite tough going but not too awful. The first few miles were glorious weaving up and down across the top of the Pennines. The open hills are lovely and there are some fantastic views from the top of the hills to the west across the Eden Valley and over to the Lakes.

We come to Cum — *Good work, sign defacers*

Before too long though the road started to descend as I came to the edge of the hills and dropped down towards Kaber and Winton and onto the relative flat lying Eden valley. It was fairly easy going riding into Warcop where I had a quick stop to stretch out my legs before heading back towards the edge of the North Pennines.

First I had to cross the A66, which involved riding along it for about a mile. Not a pleasant experience but I was soon turning off and onto a quiet road heading next to the army ranges. The road was peaceful and empty as it followed the edge of the ranges and followed the base of the hills. Normally I might enjoy powering through the ups and downs but today I was saving myself for something bigger so took it nice and steady, stopping off on the way at the cafe in Dufton for fortifying coffee and cake.

Refreshed and energised I had a short distance left on the road to get myself back into a rhythm before turning right onto a smaller lane just through the village of Knock.

And now the fun starts.

I was now at the start of the climb up to Great Dun Fell. The track is a well paved service road to the national air traffic radar station at the top and whilst closed to the public in cars, is open for walkers and cyclists. Reaching the summit at 2,740 feet, this is the highest paved road in the UK and one of the toughest and most notorious climbs in the country.

I’d been getting used to some of the climbs that the North Pennines have to offer; long and steady hills on wide open, windswept roads. Great Dun Fell is a whole extra level of hill. Simon Warren describes this as “the greatest climb in England” and scores it as an 11/10 climb!

You don’t have to go far from the turnoff at Knock before the climbing really starts. The low-level fields soon open up into the more familiar open landscape of the North Pennines as you pass the signs that tell motorists that they are not allowed any further up. The next mile or so is a chance to get into the rhythm of the ride and to realise that you still have a hell of a long way to climb.

The sight of snow poles by the side of the road common in these parts, but having each one numbered was new to me. The road surface is great – after all the road needs to be used throughout the year by vehicles servicing the air traffic control radar at the top, but the climbing is relentless.

A short section of flatter road (even with a hint of descent) is a false opportunity to relax. Before long the climb starts again and from here on it just gets more and more intense. Roadside barriers serve to remind you that there is a long drop off the side of the road as it sweeps around a ravine. As that narrows the climb get steeper again. My legs here were burning but I somehow managed to keep going; albeit at a crawl. Scree and rocks line both sides of the valley here making it feel even more foreign and inhospitable. The barriers stop as the valley gets tighter; but the road gets steeper.

Eventually the climb slightly eases off; but at only by opening out onto more exposed landscape at over 2,500 feet altitude. The wind was completely different than the breeze I’d experienced earlier. The road snakes around the back of the hill allowing the wind to hit you at all angles. A gate across the road stops progress whilst you work your way around it (I guess you might be supposed to stop here; but having made it this far I don’t imagine many cyclists stop at this small obstacle).

On the final push beyond the gate, heading into ferocious winds, I passed a couple of riders on their way down (the gate had not stopped them). I recognised them having seen them at the cafe in Dufton. I tried to puff a greeting at them and they roared me on up the final stretch. Another corner into the wind and another increase in gradient had me in trouble but I could see the top and I wasn’t being beaten here. A few more pedal strokes and I was at the top and parked the bike next to the radar station.

Want to see what the climb looks like? Well here’s a video for you.

At the top I got off and walked around the site to take in the views. In the wind this was almost as hard as the climb itself. Staying upright on the north facing side was incredibly tough but what views and what a thing to have done.

I got ready for the descent. As I was about to head downhill I spotted another rider making his approach to the summit so I stopped to grab some pics of him as he made the top. We had a quick chat at the top and, as one might, we swapped Strava details. Hello Ted!

We set off downhill together. Although Ted had made the climb at a fair pace faster than me, I was pleased that even on my old tourer, I was quicker on the descent. The way down was much easier, and the good road surface and lack of traffic made for a fun ride back to Knock.

*Eden Valley and the Lakes from Great Dun Fell*

From here the plan was to head back via Appleby-in-Westmorland. However I had failed to realise quite how busy the famous Horse Fair, which was occurring this week, would make the town. As I approached the number of people camping by the roadside kept increasing and the numbers of people on foot and horse grew and grew. Before long I was in a full scale crowd and realised I had no choice but to turn back. Following my trail back a few miles towards Dufton again wasn’t fun on tired legs.

I ended up having to retrace my route along the base of the hills through Warcop, but eventually deviating from my original path by heading on towards Kirkby Stephen. Passing through the town it was time to hang a left and head for the hills again.

The next climb, Lamp Moss, would be tough enough at the best of times but by now I was tired and my legs were struggling. I had to stop on a couple of occasions to let the legs rest. I got to admire the views better though and was rewarded with another lovely sweeping downhill towards Keld and into Swaledale.

One last climb to make. From Keld I headed north. A couple of sharp hairpins whilst climbing out of the valley was a sharp start to the hill back up to the Tan Hill Inn.

Despite my earlier problems on Lamp Moss I made it up without stopping though, and though the last few miles were all uphill and into the wind, I managed to keep making slow progress back to the pub and the car.

[osmap gpx=”https://www.richmay.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/GDF.gpx”]

Stats:

Distance: 66.07 Miles
Ride Time: 5 Hours 31 minutes and 28 seconds
Average Speed: 12.0 mph
Ascent: 7,913 feet
Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/5786499278/

Hadrians Wall Walk Day Six – 24 September 2019

10/01/202123/09/2022 r1chmay

We slept well in the cabin at Roman Wall Lodgings, woke up, dressed (gingerly putting our well worn feet into our boots) and headed to the reception cabin where Paul was cooking up some excellent breakfast wraps and preparing us a packed lunch.

We discussed our plans for the day. The original plan was to crack on with the last few miles to the end of the Wall at Bowness on Solway. From there we could get one of the two or three busses running back to Carlisle. This plan involved us having to carry our kit with us. We had rather got used to the idea of travelling a bit lighter over the last two days. We were tired. Our legs and feet were not happy with us. Paul had a much better idea.

*Heading off at the start of the final day*

We could leave our bags at the site and arrange for a taxi to meet us in Bowness. Paul had a deal with a local driver who would do the run into Carlisle for a fixed price, and would be happy to come back via the site for us to collect our bags on the way. Not only did this sound like a much better plan, but on checking, the cost of the taxi was not much more than the price of two bus tickets. Sold.

We left the campsite the way we had come the previous evening, re-joining the wall path at Beaumont. The lovely church is likely made of stone from the wall and is, apparently, the only church that sits exactly on the wall’s line anywhere on its route.

In Burgh-on-Sands we sadly didn’t have time for me to make a hoped for pilgrimage to the monument to Edward I. It lies about a mile north of the route and marks the spot where he died on his way to fight the Scots in 1307. At least the village has a statue to him next to the path which I could pull some stupid poses next to instead.

Leaving Burgh we were following an arrow straight road along the line of the wall and across the very flat and low lying marshes of the Solway Firth. Fortunately the fabled winds were relatively light and we were not in a time of year at which any potentially dangerous high tides were forecast.

Don't Get Wet Feet — *Don’t Get Wet Feet*

At Drumburgh, the ‘castle’ built to protect its occupants from attacks by the Rievers has a couple of Roman Altars sitting in the front yard. The village also has an enhanced honesty snack box: a covered tuckshop with toilet facilities. We made use of both. I do like a Calippo and to get one here was most welcome.

For the next few miles we left the road and were back across some fields; passing through the village of Glasson, and then some more fields, re-joining the road close to Port Carlisle.

Port Carlisle is a strange place. Built in 1819 (on the previously named hamlet of Fisher’s Cross) the port was built at the end of a canal designed to allow goods traffic directly into the centre of Carlisle. The canal was short lived but was superseded by another short-lived enterprise, the Port Carlisle Railway. The wall path follows the edge of the Solway Firth into the village and across the silted up remains of the harbour entrance.

We left Port Carlisle and were back onto the road, but we were now almost there. We were into the final mile. It seemed to both go quickly and yet take forever. By this time we were just putting one foot in front of the other more in hope than expectation. We rounded a corner and there was the start of the village. A footpath in the village leads you back to the waterfront, and around another corner, and there it was. I’d been here before and so knew what to expect. Nash saw the little hut that sits on the path and looked round to me. “Is that it? Have we done it?” We had indeed.

We were both quite emotional. It had been a long walk. Over 80 miles across four full and two half days. We took in the results of our efforts, put the final stamps into our passports, and finished our lunch as a celebratory treat.

We had finished about 15-20 minutes before our taxi was due to arrive. We wandered into the village centre. Sadly we didn’t have time to visit a pub, but did find an open toilet in the village hall. As we came out we saw a taxi pull up (a few minutes early). We met him and poured ourselves into the cab.

The driver was nice and friendly. Though he was driving nice and steadily it took a disconcertingly short amount of time to get back to Roman Wall Lodges to collect our bags. After a few more minutes we were driving into the big city and were dropped off at the station. We bought our tickets and, with about half an hour to wait for the train, picked up a couple of take away coffees.

The ride back on the train was rather surreal. We couldn’t really directly see where we had walked but we could work it out and it was odd to count back the days as we passed the places where he had our overnight stops. We were too exhausted now to contemplate the possibility of breaking the journey at Bardon Mill and making the 3 miles or so round trip to Vindolanda. We had tickets from our visit to the Roman Army museum but they were valid for a year. We promised ourselves that we would use this as an excuse to come back in 2020 and do a more leisurely visit with the car. Sadly of course, Covid-19 prevented that from happening in the end.

Instead we stayed on the train and all too quickly we were pulling into Newcastle. We had one final bit of walking to do; down to the riverside and along to the Malmaison.

Our suitcase was still waiting for us and the reception team greeted us and congratulated us. We had been given a better room higher up in the hotel overlooking the riverside. We made our way up in the lift are gladly crashed out on the massive and comfortable bed. When we were washed and refreshed and ready we were more than happy to put on the nice clothes that we had left in the hotel. First up we had a voucher for a celebratory cocktail that we cashed in at the hotel bar before making our way to a restaurant a few doors down for a slap up Mexican banquet.

We ate well, taking our time and savouring that tomorrow we didn’t have to walk anywhere. We were actually booked in for two nights at the Malmaison and spent the next day exploring the city – but entirely at our own leisure and with nothing that we had to do and, more importantly, nowhere that we had to get to by the end of the day. Newcastle is a great city and we had a lovely day. We didn’t venture far but made the most of the day and our extra night at the hotel.

What a fantastic end to an amazing trip. There is quite a diversity of landscape across the width of the country and all of it is lovely.

Hadrians Wall Walk Day Five – 23 September 2019

20/12/202023/09/2022 r1chmay

We had a fantastic nights sleep in the lovely room in Quarryside Bed and Breakfast in Banks. The view from the bedroom window was gorgeous with lovely views out across the Irthing valley and the fells to the South. The garden was filled with birdlife and, though a little cloudy, the day looked like it would be a good one. The breakfast did not disappoint and soon, feeling full, we were ready to put our boots on and get walking. As we had the day before we left our bags at the accommodation ready for them to be collected and taken to our final night’s resting point another 20 miles or thereabouts to the West.

As we left our host suggested that stop for a coffee in the village of Walton. We said that we would.

We left the village of Banks behind us and, after passing a tall section of (largely reconstructed in the 19th century) wall, we were back into some fields and admiring the views ahead of us. We were on some of the last of the high ground. From the hills on the field we had a lovely panorama of the flatter land ahead of us and also, off to the side, the hills of the Lake District were filling the landscape to the South.

We walked across more fields still following the line of the wall, although there was less evidence as we moved on. Before Walton a diversion due to a broken footbridge had us following a small country lane into the village. As we crossed King Water River, off to our right, and covered under turf (to protect its structural integrity) were the remains of the Roman Bridge. These hidden remains would be, according to our guidebook, the last time that we would ‘see’ the wall.

In Walton we found the Reading Room coffee shop. We were still full from breakfast and were low on cash at this point so we only stopped for a coffee but we were glad that we did. The café owner told us that Elizabeth from the B&B had a habit of popping in to see if her visitors had stopped in as per her instructions. Although we were not likely to be back this way and staying at Quarryside again at any time soon we somehow felt as though we had passed a test and avoided a curse!

On leaving the village we came across the first of many honesty boxes that we would find from here on. With very few shops on the route a number of households leave cool boxes full of pop and snacks to sell to passers by who are asked to just leave money in a pot. It’s a lovely system and hopefully the number of boxes we passed are an indicator that it works.

The next few miles were largely uneventful. The path mostly cuts across fields with the occasional short section on a quiet lane. We passed to the side of Carlisle Airport and, in the village of Crosby on Eden, left the line of the wall behind us for the remainder of the walk into Carlisle. We would now be largely following the line of the River Eden to the city instead. We stopped on a bench in Linstock to have some refreshments (Quarryside had prepared us a packed lunch for the day) and then crossed over the M6, passed through Rickerby and into Rickerby Park, crossed the Eden and followed the riverside path into the centre of Carlisle.

The next stopping point was the unassuming leisure and entertainment complex, the Sands Centre. We stopped here both to use the toilets and also as this is the latest of the passport stamping sites on the route. As were low on cash, I made a mercy dash into the city centre to find a cashpoint and also to pick up some blister plasters! On the way I almost ran into a TV crew. This was the day that Thomas Cook had gone into liquidation and the local BBC crew were filming a piece outside of the closed store. I wonder if I made it onto local news?

Ready to continue, we would still be following the meandering twists and turns of the River Eden for the next few miles Westwards. We were now tired and though the path is quite pleasant it did feel much as though we were merely walking for the sake of it by now.

At Grinsdale we finally got to leave the riverside path and were back to following the line of the wall. Not that there is much evidence of it. At Beaumont we had reached the end of our day on the wall; though still had a short walk towards Monkhill and our base for the night at Roman Wall Lodges. We were more than glad to have found our way to the accommodation. The very friendly and welcoming host, Paul, met us and showed us to the log cabin which was to be our home for our final overnight stop. Our bags were waiting for us and we gladly kicked off our boots, showered, and rested up for a few minutes.

Once refreshed, although our feet were swollen and though not keen to put shoes back on, another short walk down the road took us to the Drovers Rest pub where we had our fill of some excellent value, and well stacked burgers. Stuffed and properly refreshed, we made our way back to the cabin and fell soundly asleep.

Hadrians Wall Walk Day Four – 22 September 2019

06/12/202023/09/2022 r1chmay

Sunday morning and we awoke in our bunk beds at the Old Repeater Station. We were tired but ready for another day on the wall. This wouldn’t just be any day. We knew that this was likely to be toughest and, spoilers, it was.

After breakfast I made a call to the luggage company that the other walkers were using and, in exchange for leaving them £20 in an envelope, they would take our bags to our overnight stops on both of our remaining days. Some of our kit had to be transferred into carrier bags as I was still going to be taking one rucksack, but it would only be carrying the supplies we would need for the walking hours.

We set off into a beautiful morning. However it was a beautiful mix of low sun and dark clouds. It looked unlikely that we’d get through the day completely dry.

A very short walk on the busy road and a trek along a farm track brought us back onto the wall path at Sewing Shields Farm and onto the crags.

Although we’d been watching the countryside open up as we headed west the previous day, we really noticed the difference now. From the urban sprawl around Newcastle the country had been expanding, even until later in the day (somewhere around Limestone Corner), the landscape was still regular farm fields with hedges and fences. Now everything was high open moorland intercut only with occasional low stone walls. It is a beautiful part of the world.

After about a mile we approached Housesteads Fort, probably the best of the sites situated directly on the wall. The last time I came here (on a short afternoon walk from Brocolitia whilst visiting an old friend in the North East) it was possible to continue walking on the wall straight into the fort. Now, however, a fence on the wall meant that we had to go to the English Heritage ticket office and pay entry. Which was, of course, perfectly fine with us.

We had started the day a little later than planned (largely due to sorting the luggage). We had anticipated being at Housesteads before opening hours so it was a double edged sword that we were able to get in. We could visit, but we couldn’t spare too much time so we had a brief look around, used the toilets, stamped our passports, and walked back to the wall at the West side of the fort.

The path continues along the crags. With such a sharp cliff face making a natural barrier from the north it’s a wonder that a wall was needed at all. If any attackers did make it up the crags they would surely have little energy left for a fight.

We passed the beautiful remains of Mile Castle 37 and dropped down to the farm next to Mile Castle 38, then back up some stone steps onto the narrow path overlooking the drop to Crag Lough.

From Housteads, atop the crags, admiring the wall, and the countryside across the Lough is one iconic view after another.

And then you come to Sycamore Gap.

The most famous and photographed section of the wall, and therefore the busiest section full of daytrippers coming here from the nearby Castle Rigg carpark. It was also where the first drops of rain started to fall.

We had the approach to the famous tree largely to ourselves but there was a lot of for traffic from there on for the next mile.

We also had the first taste of how the walking would be for the next few miles as we headed up and down some steep, rocky tracks. We had been warned that this section felt a lot longer due to all the hills and we were about to find out how true this is.

The rain was quite heavy as we approached the car park and some of the group of German students being marched across to Sycamore Gap did not seem pleased to be dragged out in the rain and mud.

After passing to the other side of the nearest car park from the gap, the number of other walkers dropped back down again and we largely had the path to ourselves along the ridge of Winshields Crags.

We had, at one point, considered a diversion here to visit Vindolanda. We had by now however agreed to just continue on our way without deviation. It would be a three mile extra walk plus time (which we couldn’t spare) at the site. We would come back another time. Possibly even by breaking our journey back to Newcastle.

It was the right decision.

At the trig point on Winshields Crags we reached the highest point on the trail however, whilst the direction now would be West and Down, we were far from down with any uphill climbing.

Bogle Hole, Caw Gap, Bloody Gap, Thorny Doors, Hole Gap. The next few miles were a near constant round of ups and downs. The rain had eased but the path was now slippery and as a result, carefully picking our way down from the crags was just as slow as climbing back up the other side of each of the gaps. It was also very tiring work.

At Cawfields we made use of the toilet facilities in the car park and took a break on a bench for a mouthful of coffee and a biscuit. We needed some sustenance, however, today we did not have any lunch with us so only had the lightest of snacks.

From Cawfields there was a bit of respite on some more even territory across to Great Chester Fort, another of those still buried under fields, yet whose outlines are easy to see.

*Marking the wall lines at Great Chesters Fort*

If we thought we had been lulled into the easier walking of the last mile, we were right and we were soon brought back to earth. The ground became more undulating and. as such. our progress slowed again.

At King Arthur’s Turret we were close to done. At the bottom of that gap was a road. Spying more crags and climbs and dips ahead we took a quick look at the map and without any hesitation followed the road. Yes, we might officially be deviating from the path but the distance would be the same. We were tired. We were hungry. We were both a little emotional. We were close to throwing in the towel. We needed the easier walking on the much more even road and would follow it to its end and our planned break at the Roman Army Museum.

We might have missed something amazing here by taking the road. Who can tell? Not me that’s for sure. But for us, at that time, we had made the right decision. We paid entry into the museum and had a quick look around. It was much later than we hoped to be here. It was gone 3pm and the museum closed at 4.

We enjoyed the exhibition, though not as well as we should. Then we went to the tearoom and ordered the last remaining sandwiches and cake that were still available.

Had it not been Sunday we may well have finished the day at this point. There was another 8 miles or so to go and we were shattered. However, the AD122 bus along the wall was not running today. If we were going to bail we’d either have to try and persuade a taxi to pick us up here and take us to our B&B, or we could get a bus back to Haltwhistle, a train to Brampton or (more likely) Carlisle, and then get a taxi. It seemed more trouble than just keeping walking. What was more, having rested and actually having eaten properly for the first time since setting off from the Old Repeater Station, we both felt refreshed and ready to tackle the remaining miles. I was doubly glad that the new feeling of refreshment would keep us walking. Not only as we naturally really had no desire to give up, but also as it was very close to this point that I had suffered a major mechanical problem when cycling along the wall a few years earlier and had to abandon from here and start again the following morning in Carlisle.

We were now almost off the hills (and almost out of Northumberland National Park). Leaving the museum we were back to following the line of the vallum rather than the wall; indeed we were not going to see too much of the wall from here on in.

We passed Thirlwall Castle and carried on across some fields towards Gilsland. Through the village, across a couple more fields, and down towards the River Irthing, which not only has another great section of wall to admire, but also the footings of the Roman Bridge that crossed the river here.

The bridge itself has long gone, but a new replacement has, fortunately, been built and so we were very soon and easily on the other bank and ready to head back up a surprisingly steep hill to rejoin the wall, which was surviving quite well here.

A few yards on and we came to the fort of Birdoswald. By now we were too tired to stop and admire the site. This was just as well as it was also too late and had just closed up. We were able to stamp our passports from a box on the wall though before carrying on along our way.

We were now 2 to 3 miles from our base for the night and were desperate to push on and get there. The path here crosses some fields to avoid the road but we wanted to push on. It was late and the road was quiet. Unlike our earlier tarmac diversion we were actually closer to the line of the wall by staying on the road. Being dead straight and largely flat, we could vaguely see our destination in the distance but it felt as though we were never getting any closer.

It was close to 7pm by the time we finally made it to our destination; Quarryside B&B. We arrived and were welcomed by our hosts and we were pleased to find our bags waiting for us. I’m so glad we had made those arrangements. We were exhausted and not having to carry our luggage had been a godsend.

As pleased as we were to get to our room, we had to shower quickly and get changed as our hosts were keen to get us out of the house. This was not a bad thing. The village of Banks does not have any facilities so the hosts were driving us to a local pub for dinner.

We were taken to the Belted Will Inn a fair few miles away where we had an excellent and massive meal. When we were finished the pub landlord, once he had cleaned up in the kitchen, took us back to the B&B. Apparently this arrangement has been in place almost every day for around 15 years. Hospitality at its most remarkable. It made for an excellent end to a very long day and was most welcome. Once back at the B&B we were soon fast asleep in a very comfortable, large double bed.

Hadrians Wall Walk Day Three – 21 September 2019

28/10/202023/09/2022 r1chmay

We woke up on the Saturday morning stiff but ready for another day of walking. The day was looking quite bright as we dressed and stiffly negotiated the stairs down to the bar for breakfast. We’d done one full day of walking but were still unsure how we might get on today. We ate well – though not so much that we couldn’t move! As well as breakfast, the Robin Hood Inn had prepared a packed lunch for us both. As we continued westwards we would be in fairly open countryside and were not likely to come upon too many supermarkets.

Ready for off we gathered our bags, checked out, stamped our passports at the box on the wall of the pub, and started walking West, leaving just after 8am. By now, in late September, the sun was still low on the horizon at this hour. There were a few morning clouds but it looked like they would burn off and it promised to turn into a nice day. The path follows the line of the ditch by the side of the busy road but it was a pleasant start. We passed Wallhouses and Halton Shields and across a small part of the unexcavated fort at Halton Chester before coming to the roundabout that marked the junction of the Wall and the Roman Dere Street (which ran from York into Scotland). There was likely an impressive gate here at the time of the wall but now there is just an old pub recently converted to a coffee shop and café. There weren’t going to be many places to stop so, although we had not yet ventured overly far, we took a quick break for coffee and cake.

Suspicious collection of Stones — *The Vallum*

For the next few miles, the remains of the Vallum on the South side of the wall were particularly clear. The path then carried on through a plantation which had some uneven ground and lots of tree root trip hazards, however the trees did provide some cover from the sun which was now getting quite strong. We were about 8 miles into the day by the time we arrived at the site of the Battle of Heavenfield where we made a quick diversion to look at St Oswald’s Church (where we also made grateful use of the pews for a few minutes to rest our feet).

St Oswald's Church — *St Oswald’s Church*

From here we started to drop down from the hills and came upon the first visible stretch of wall since Heddon. The path then takes a diversion along some lanes to avoid a busy stretch of wall side road with no footpath. We headed down into the North Tyne Valley and towards the first major Roman site since Wallsend. After walking to, and across, the bridge over the river, and having walked through Chollerford we were very much ready to have a break at Chesters Fort.

We paid the entrance fee and started with a good look around the excellent antiquarian museum and then found a bench to sit and eat our packed lunch. We had a look around the excavated remains of the fort, probably slightly less full heartedly than we would if we weren’t already tired. We had an ice cream, stamped our passports, and got back on the road.

From the valley the only way was up. From the top some stiles (there are a lot of stiles on the route) led us into a field and into Northumberland National Park. Upon entering the park we were soon we were starting to get to the good stuff so far as the wall is concerned. The stretch through the National Park would take us the rest of today and most of tomorrow. Within the Park we would be following some of the best preserved bits of the wall along the most beautiful and dramatic countryside.

The start of this stretch is marked by a stretch of wall at Black Carts. This is the longest section of wall so far on the route coming in this direction. The joy of finding some proper wall remains here also helps to hide that you are still slowly but steadily climbing onto the hills.

The wall remains disappear but the ditch remains very evident and before long we were turning the ‘corner’ at Limestone Corner. We were at the most northerly point on the walk and the landscape was opening up wider and wider with every passing mile.

It was also getting later though and we had to press on. It was almost 5 o’clock by the time we turned the corner with the best part of 4 or 5 miles to walk. The path follows the line of the ditch close to the road but on the grass, the path is quite uneven and the walking was slower as a result.

Despite this we were soon at the site of Brocolitia Fort, partially excavated but with no extant above ground remains. The path here crosses the road and skirts around the fort. It is pretty, but did add a few more yards onto the straight line distance remaining. You do, however, get to visit the temple of Mithras which is evacuated and open for viewing. After the fort we crossed the road back onto the ditch and some more uneven ground.

With time ticking on, and the sun beginning to set, we came to a point where the path and the road diverge. Here we jumped the fence and onto the road. Our guide book warned against doing this, but we were late and our B&B was a short way ahead alongside the road so this should be a good shortcut. It wasn’t much fun though. Although not the busiest stretch of road, being straight and open most drivers were, shall we say, playing fast and loose with the speed regulations.

However in front of us we could spy the Old Repeater Station and, at just around half past six and roughly 10 and a half hours after leaving the Robin Hood, we arrived and kicked off our walking boots. Les, the owner of the B&B was cooking and we had just enough time to shower and change and join him and two other walkers for a simple but excellent supper and a couple of beers. The other two gentlemen, not traveling together, were an American retired teacher and a Dutch airplane mechanic and Roman reenactor.

The company was excellent. We exchanged tales of where we had been and what was ahead (we were walking in different directions so could share tips). Both gents were using a service that was transporting their luggage from one B&B to the next. Why didn’t we think of that? I resolved to call the company in the morning and see if we could do the same.

Tired, but feed and refreshed, we went back to our bunk beds and fell quickly to sleep.

26 October 2024

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