A quick tumble down the coast. No it was not. A lot more up and down than that.
We’ve had two tip top days of walking. Dry weather and two excellent hosts. Robin in Clay Bank/ Chop Gate and Ian from Sunderland who runs a superb B and B in Kildale. The building The Old Rectory is like something from old school Joanna Trollope, warm stone and paintings and indeed an Aga. Both places had quiet rooms and crisp linen and a Quality Breakfast. I have to saying that our milk was in a flask but it was like something I’d buy, not rescue from Granny’s attic. Or find for 50p at a boot fair.
A Quality Breakfast has juice, fruit, yoghurt, granola maybe and other cereals. Then all that fried stuff which I eat then regret when I go up the first hill. And nice bread and butter please. This is my holiday after all.
We don’t really do lunch, so a decent breakfast is crucial to see us through to dinner. Yesterday evening Ian took us to a pub in the next village which was ok . Fish cakes and salad. Tonight we had a picnic in our room from Sainsburys which I enjoyed more. Sometimes like today I feel too tired to sit up straight at a table so noshing down salad and pie and pistachios on my bed is all I can manage.
I never thought I’d love the moors but I do. We’ve been blessed with dry weather and can walk enjoying the heather and birdsong, with an appreciation of those volunteers who laid a path for us over the boggy terrain. We’ve met very few people -again- some Coast to Coasters, who admire us carrying our own packs, but otherwise only one companion we meet every day a young man I’ll call Jim. Because he’s wild camping while making films and soundscapes. He’s an independent, cheerful and fascinating character and last time we saw him he was sitting on a bench with a rapt audience of old ladies.
Tonight we are in Saltburn which is very pleasant and we’ve seen a pod of dolphins off the pier. It’s warm and windy and we’re halfway there. It’s a wrench leaving the splendid isolation off the moors but we have some headlands and seaside to come.
The contrast between carrying your pack ‘out there’ and in the town feels huge. We are grubby and windswept and we are mixing with people dressed up and out for lunch at a carvery. They don’t mind. Everyone without exception has been pleasant so far. But feeling dirty in a clean place is eye opening.
So far so good. One small blister. A lot of yawning. Tomorrow is a longer walk still. 17 miles. Down the coast to Sandsend. Down – should be easy. Yes?
We are middle aged women and homeowners- we will take our boots off. I’m not going to stride into your hall with them on. In fact I probably want them off more than you do.
Welcome me with tea and preferably homemade cake. High maintenance, moi? Not really, just saying. A Hobnob will do. This sets the tone. If this doesn’t happen it often becomes clear that this is a financial transaction rather than an exercise in hospitality.
Tea making facilities in the room are ideal but you don’t need to leave a dessicated cookie shrink wrapped in cling film. I’m not going to eat it, in fact I don’t have the energy to do the unwrapping. Neither does a dribble of milk in a 1970s flask augur well.
Explaining the vagaries of the hot water system is kind but actually I just want a shower and a lie down. Or the other way round, depending on which of us (H or me) gets first dibs.
Some kind of cleansing product is useful. Youth hostels provide a hand wash dispenser which I’ve showered with – it was ok. I could reach it from within the shower. You – should you have wanted to, bizarre thought – could have sat on the loo and enjoyed my shower as well, so bijou was the arrangement.
If you provide a hair dryer, think about a mirror within reach of the cable. I dried my hair craning to see my head and then didn’t bother. Told Helen and asked if it was ok, mmm maybe a bit fluffy came the reply. Walkers hair. Sticky with sweat. Flattened by rain. Blown every which way by howling wind. Washed in generic cleanser, Delightful and hard to rectify.
Laminated notices deserve a post of the own but to be fair none of our stops have gone overboard, yet.
The place we are today is lovely and comfortable and very welcoming. We rang Robin our host from the top of the Wainstones- a little scramble with a full pack- and he said he’d come to pick us up in a red pickup truck with an exuberant sheep dog. And he did. And fed us tea and cake. And provided very decenthair products in the bath room. And is providing a Quality Breakfast in an hour or so’s time – I believe him. And is taking us back to Clay Bank for our onward walk today. And all for £60. Jolly good value.
It’s sunny outside already. I feel the pull of those hills. I’d like my breakfast now really so I can leave; but I also feel the pull of my tired legs so maybe it’s best I stay lying down for a bit longer.
Lovely walking in glorious country side.
And rather marvellous weather. I’ve packed too many of the wrong clothes but it doesn’t really matter and thats what I love. Everyone looks hot and sweaty and a little crazed with tiredness and exhilaration.we all talk about other walks we’ve done and pick up tips on the next projected trip. Swapping info on good accommodation, helpful hosts and where to get a fine cup of tea.
Everywhere peace, everywhere serenity and a marvellous freedom from the tumult. Alered of Rievaulx.
But not for these poor creatures who graced our B and B a few nights ago. It was what Helen calls a chintz palace – with a lot of taxidermy thrown in. Unnerving.
The badger was outside our bedroom door. The fox was across the hall. The poor deer watched us eat our breakfast, alongside a little owl and a tawny owl. So many questions. WHY? ? Who? And dear to my heart, how do you clean them?
And tonight we are here.
Random thoughts and photos to give you a taste of what we’re enjoying.
Meeting people Not my best thing. I’m reserved by nature and live off the beaten track which doesn’t incline me to sociability. So actually coming away, taking public transport and staying in a youth hostel means I interact with many more people than usual. It’s my annual dip into the wider world. And you know I like it. I like them.
I’ll never be a chatterbox but I can make the first move and be friendly. I can be be curious. I can ask for help. I do not have to be shy or self conscious.
These things I learned on the Camino. Most people are lovely and only too willing to offer help and advice or direction. There are some who can’t be bothered (but they are easily to spot and usually God/ the universe guides you to someone more appropriate). And there are some crazies. They want to take you by the hand and walk you to the hostel and stay to dinner, or grab the timetable and turn to an entirely different and wrong page poring over some irrelevant route or reading it slowly and spelling out my options as they see them. Helen and I have been known smile thank you and walk in the opposite direction to their pointing finger. My experience with the crazies which makes me cautious but it shouldn’t paralyse me. Otherwise I don’t benefit from their knowledge and wisdom. I won’t enjoy their humour or our shared humanity. I remain isolated and stuck.
So far I’ve had conversations with a elderly couple who were about to go up The Shard as a surprise birthday treat. Rather them than me. She didn’t have a good head for heights 😁.
A pair of Canadian sisters who are walking the CW too , remarkably perky and interesting for people who had just arrived and were jet lagged.
And a jolly lady who with her husband is taking her three grandsons away for a week – they do it every year. These kids were aged 8-13 and they were boisterous but loving it. They sat and ate their lasagne up chatting all the while (maybe an occasional sideways punch but nothing disruptive). This woman had run a scout troop and had a lovely easy way with them. I salute her. I’ve got a lot to learn in the art of managing boys.
Helmsley to Sutton Bank today. It’s overcast but not raining. A good day to start.
Day 1 Had supper at the YHA – a very commendable vegetable lasagna and hefty sticky toffee pudding. Pretty rib sticking and barely a mile walked so far.
Helmsley is a delightful little town with an abundance of tea rooms. You could stay a week and not visit the same one twice. And maybe when I’m in my dotage I’ll come in my bath chair and be wheeled from scone to scone. For now though I’m thinking of the walk to come tomorrow and hoping my kit is sufficiently waterproof.
This is a nice youth hostel, friendly and clean and busy with a few families and while I d prefer it without the thumping and creaking about in the room above my head it’s for one night… And it is only 20.25. Good night.