Exploring Kirkby Stephen : A Day Off Trail

“To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.”

 Robert Louis Stevenson, “El Dorado,” Virginibus Puerisque and Other Papers

 

Morning in Kirkby Stephen

Why is it that when you are exhausted, you’d do almost anything for the chance to stay in bed, relax, and not move, yet the moment you are actually given that opportunity, something always seems to persuade you to get up?

Having decided to take a day off from Wainwright’s Coast to Coast Trail - our first since setting out from St. Bees (and little did I know at the time but also the only day off until the end of the Pennine Way 24 days further on)  - I had imagined staying in bed for at least part of the morning. Not necessarily all morning, but perhaps an extra hour or two. After days of rain, mud, steep climbs, long descents and dealing with damaged gear, it seemed reasonable to believe that our only rest day might begin slowly.

Instead, we woke up early.

Perhaps our bodies had already surrendered to the rhythms and routines of trail life. Perhaps the habit of packing, walking, and moving onward had become stronger than the desire to stay still. Or perhaps the knowledge that we had an entire day in Kirkby Stephen made us restless in a different way. A day off on a long-distance trail is rarely a day of doing nothing. There is always laundry to do, food to find, gear to clean up, batteries to recharge, journals to update, photos to transfer, and some part of a town to explore before setting out again.

All of which is true – as is the fact that Sean barely ever sleeps and so we were up by 7 AM regardless of it being a day off.  As I took a shower, Sean read aloud from the guidebook about the history, trails and possibilities in the city…sigh.

Market Square

 

Outside of our hotel accommodation was Kirkby Stephen’s historic Market Square.  This is a space that has long served the surrounding farms and village of the Upper Eden Valley.  Local signage indicates that the market charter dates back to the medieval period (used since 1353) and has long been somewhere that people have come to trade, meet neighbours, pass news/gossip, and visit local shops.  Even today, the square feels less like a decorative centre than a practical place for the town. 

 

Standing there taking in as much as we could, the building that next caught our attention was the Cloisters – a red stone structure with a triangular roof supported by stone columns.  At first glance, it looked much older than it actually is.  Having a classical form like a portico and feeling as though some small fragment of Rome had somehow found its way into Cumbria.

 

Instead, however, the building is part of more recent history.  Indeed, inscriptions in it note that John Waller, a local man and Navy purser, left his money for its construction in his will, leading to its being built in 1810.   Since its construction, it has served as a shelter for people making their way to the parish church or visiting the market. 

 

Kirkby Stephen Parish Church

From the square, we stepped through the Cloisters building to visit Kirkby Stephen Parish Church, often known as the Cathedral of the Dales. The name makes sense. It is not a cathedral in the formal sense, but it has the history, presence, and centrality of a church that has long mattered to the surrounding region. The site itself has deep Christian roots, with evidence suggesting that at least three churches have stood there over time: an early pre-Conquest church, a Norman church, and the later medieval building whose vision still shapes the church today.

Inside, one of the most remarkable objects is the Loki Stone, an Anglo-Danish carved stone often interpreted as a bound figure of the Norse god Loki, though some interpretations describe it more cautiously as a chained devil or bound demon. The stone was discovered during 19th-century rebuilding work, and it offers one of those fascinating moments where Christian, Norse, local, and artistic histories seem to overlap in a single space

After days on the trail, I found it wonderful to stand inside a building where ages and history seemed to come together. This was a place where people had worshipped, gathered, buried their dead, marked seasons, remembered one another, told common stories, and carried local identity across centuries.

It is not far to say that I very much liked this church and its atmosphere.

Franks Bridge

Beyond the market square, church, and the town centre, we made our way toward Frank’s Bridge and over the River Eden – our goal in the process was to find the Poetry Path along the River Eden.

Weaving through a series of narrow alleys and tracing the route we would follow tomorrow on the Coast to Coast route, it was not long before we arrived at Frank’s Bridge – which was definitely more than a simple and picturesque crossing over a local waterway.

The narrow pedestrian stone bridge dates to the 17th century and once served as a corpse-lane bridge, used when coffins were carried from Hartley, Winton, and other nearby villages to St Stephen’s Church for burial. Coffin-rest stones can still be seen near the end of the bridge, where pallbearers could halt with their burden before continuing toward the church. Even its name carries a local story. The bridge is thought to be named for Francis Birbeck, a local brewer, and the buildings around it are converted brewery buildings.

Standing there watching the River Eden move beneath the stone arch, it was striking to think of the same crossing as both a peaceful place for a rest-day walk and part of an older history.  As we stopped, we noticed that underneath the bridge, a Grey Wagtail and a White Wagtail moved, bounced and jumped along the river’s edge, while House Sparrows gathered nearby. Sufficed to say it was one of those moments and places that I enjoy.

 

Poetry Path along River Eden

Having crossed the river over Frank’s Bridge, we walked along the shores of the River Eden, eventually joining with the Poetry Path.  The Poetry Path was created as a celebration of the landscape and farming life of the Upper Eden Valley and features twelve poems by Meg Peacocke and carved by lettering artist Pip Hall.  Each of which is placed along a circular route beside the river, with each poem reflecting a different month in the life of a hill farmer. 

Each of the motifs are for activities such as lambing, hay-making, harvest, and hedgelaying. They are not grand monuments so much as quiet markers placed into the landscape, asking walkers to notice the seasonal labour that shapes the fields around them.

The path wove through green fields full of sheep and into a beautiful tunnel of trees. Lambs jumped and played in the grass with the spring-loaded energy that only lambs seem to possess. Rabbits scurried and dodged through the longer vegetation, and birds were everywhere - Crows, Barn Swallows, European Robins, House Sparrows, and others moving through hedges, fields, and riverside trees.

Perhaps that is what made it so wonderful - especially for a day off – was that we were not trying to get somewhere. We were simply out on a walk.  Of course, even on a rest day, our bodies reminded us that they were tired.  With that said, a short walk without full backpacks felt wonderful.

Evening in Kirkby Stephen

Returning to our hotel, the rest of the day remained focused on practical realities. We picked up a sandwich from a local shop, enjoyed a couple of pints in a pub, and kept the evening low-key. In many ways, that was exactly what we needed. A rest day does not have to be dramatic or filled to be good. Sometimes it is simply about taking a break, eating enough, drying what can be dried, buying what needs to be bought, and allowing the body to stop worrying about the next mile.

Stopping in Kirkby Stephen also helped remind us that we were not just crossing from one coast to another but that we needed to ensure that we took time to stop, explore with curiosity and take time to enjoy nature, birds and the landscapes en route.

That night, I used our extra time in Kirkby Stephen to work again on Sean’s battered backpack. The damage from the climb into Grasmere had not disappeared, and the repairs I had continued to undertake still needed reinforcement. So I added another panel or two, then stitched and stitched, trying to persuade the pack to survive not only the rest of the Coast to Coast, but the much longer chain of trails we still intended to walk across Britain.

It was not glamorous or relaxing work. It was needle, thread, fabric, tired hands, and the stubborn hope that a failing piece of gear could be made to last a little longer.

Tomorrow our goal is Keld, about 19 kilometres away. Compared with some of the stages we had already completed, it felt manageable, though not exactly leisurely. The Coast to Coast still had challenges ahead of us before we reached Robin Hood’s Bay.

But for now, we had been given a break and were grateful for it. Even if it had still been a day full of exploring, visiting the church and walking along the riverway.

See you on the Trail!