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Final Day on Wainwright’s Coast to Coast : Egton Bridge to Robin Hood’s Bay

“When all’s said and done, all roads lead to the same end. So it’s not so much which road you take, as how you take it.”   Charles de Lint   Last Morning on the Coast To Coast   We woke on “Chicken Island” behind the Horseshoe Hotel to something we had almost stopped expecting on Wainwright’s Coast to Coast - a beautiful sunrise beneath a clear sky. After so many mornings of rain and uncertain weather, the light felt almost improbable. Chickens wandered around our small patch of grass, pecking and peering under the flaps of the tent as though inspecting the strange temporary neighbours who had appeared beside their coop. It was a wonderfully absurd way to begin the final day of a long-distance trail. We made oatmeal and coffee outside the tent, enjoying breakfast quietly before packing down for the last time on the Coast to Coast. We had a full stage ahead of us, and a schedule which no longer had room for delays. Because we had stopped early in Egton Bridge t...

Fog, Rain and Moors : Blakely Ridge to Egton Bridge

“I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it.”   Rosalia de Castro Morning at the Lion Inn We woke on Blakey Ridge inside a world of fog.  After a night of wind and rain, everything outside the tent was drenched. The grass was wet, the tent fly was wet, our little patch of pasture was wet, and the moor beyond had vanished almost entirely into shifting grey. Yet the whole place (or what we could see of it) was stunning. The fog had altered everything: the drystone walls, the few scattered trees, the road, the sheep, and the faint outline of the inn behind us. What might have been ordinary in clear light became mysterious and beautiful. Sheep wandered through the pasture around the tents, utterly unconcerned by the presence of either tents or hikers. When I unzipped the tent and poked my head out, one large horned sheep was standing close by, staring back at me almost at eye level. It was one of those une...

A Right Proper Trek : Osmotherley to Blakely Ridge

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”   Confucius   Morning in Osmotherley   We woke at Cote Ghyll Caravan Park & Campsite to the happy sound of children already running around the campground. It was only 5 AM, but it seemed as though every child in the place had emerged from their tent, caravan, or camper to begin the day. They cycled around the lanes, ran between pitches, played on the climbing structures, and generally greeted the morning with an enthusiasm that made sleep impossible for anyone nearby. As a result, we too were soon awake.  One really can’t complain about greeting the day with exuberance. The tarp and groundsheet were wet, but the tent itself had stayed dry, and the morning was warm, bright, and sunny. After the rain and uncertainty of previous days, this felt like a generous beginning. We made a quick breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, packed up our gear, and began the familiar routines of compressing our...

Roadways and Right of Ways : Danby Wiske to Osmotherley

“The world reveals itself to those who travel on foot”   Werner Herzog   Morning in Danby Wiske Comfortable, dry, and perhaps a little reluctant to leave the warmth of the White Swan , we stayed in bed until 7 AM.  It did not take long, however, for the smells of breakfast cooking downstairs to draw us out of bed. After several days of rain, mud, wet socks, and improvised drying systems, the prospect of a hot meal in a warm pub was more than enough motivation. We dressed, repacked, and made our way into the common room for breakfast. There, we discovered one more reason to be grateful for the White Swan. Sometime during the evening, the proprietor had spent a considerable amount of time arranging and rearranging everyone’s sodden hiking boots around the stove so they would dry properly. This meant that, for the first time in what felt like a very long while, we put on completely dry shoes in the morning. Let me amend that – they were not merely dry shoes, but war...