Day 14 - Blakey Ridge to Grosmont
06.07.13
DISTANCE WALKED: 14.4 miles
And so to the penultimate day. I can't believe that there's only one day and a mere 15 miles to go after today. It feels odd not to have so many days of walking ahead. Today's walk was easy, mostly downhill as we came off the open moors with a sad farewell and followed the River Esk to greet the villages of Glaisdale, Egton Bridge and Grosmont (which is in the parish of Eskdaleside cum Ugglebarnby; you couldn't make it up).
The moors around Blakey Ridge are dotted with crosses and enough tumuli to shake a trekking pole at, so I enjoyed the start of the walk. One such cross is Young Ralph, where folk-lore has it that a farmer called Ralph found the dead body of a traveller at this spot, who had starved to death and was found to be penniless. Ralph erected the cross with a hollow carved into the top so that more wealthy travellers might place a few coins for the benefit of any less fortunate travellers, or as a thanksgiving for having reached this point on their journey. The poor traveller was able to take a coin, and buy a hot meal at the nearest inn, which worked out well for the pub I just stayed at.
Next is the stumpy white cross known as Fat Betty. Here the tradition is to both take and leave some food or drink. Suffice to say all I found were some rotting apples and a cheese sandwich sweating away in its polythene bag. And a lot of ants. The only thing one would pick up here is food poisoning, so I moved swiftly on. I had a good dialog with myself about the nature of competition. It is interesting that other C2Cer's will invariably ask you how many days you are taking (and then be very keen to tell you they are taking less). I am pretty much always the last to arrive at the end of the stages, and it is in my nature to then try and hurry up the next day, if only to beat the mph on yesterday's stats. But I decided that the whole point was to take my time and enjoy the experience, there is no clock to beat and no-one to please except myself. And it doesn't matter if I take 5 or 15 hours each day, its about enjoying the journey, not rushing to the destination.
Anyway, the road then turns down towards the excellently named "Fryup," and right across Glaisdale Moor, giving views over Great Fryup Dale (seriously, these are real names). As with yesterday, the path over the moors is lined with boundary stones to guide the way and heads straight down over Glaisdale Rigg into Glaisdale village. I sat on the small village green and ate lunch in the shade of an oak tree. It was so hot, and my eastwards arm was beginning to burn, so I fashioned a sleeve out of my bandana. It looked odd but it worked.
The Esk is crossed by the 17th century Beggars Bridge, built by a pauper who sought his fortune on the high seas so that he could marry the squires daughter. He was unable to bid her farewell as the river was impassable after heavy rains and so, upon his return, he used part of his fortune to ensure that such a fate could not befall other young sweethearts. It's all about the generosity in these local folk tales.
Next it's up through Arncliffe Woods for a welcome bit of shade, walking along the river until we meet a lane and turn down to Egton Bridge. It was here that I began to feel like time had stood still, and that thought lingered all the way to Grosmont. The Horseshoe Inn at the delightfully quaint Egton Bridge looks like it has come straight from the pages of a 1930's motoring guide, with its old fashioned RAC sign affixed.
From Glaisdale it's a lovely walk past the elegant Egton Manor down the old toll road, where the toll cottage still displays the prices (6d for a hearse) right into the picture-perfect Grosmont, home of the North York Moors Railway. I walked through the oldest passenger train tunnel in the world (a bit long and eerie), hewn out around 1829 to serve George Stepenson's original horse-drawn railway. The sidings and loco sheds were interesting, and I met the railway cat.
The railway station itself is another step back in time and I found myself worryingly enthusiastic about taking pictures of the steam trains. A pint and a jacket spud in the Station Tavern and off to bed for a good rest before the final 15 miles and the end of my journey across England.
Today's tunes were The Animals "House of the Rising Sun" and "Ruby" by the Kaiser Chiefs. Stats as expected, I took my time and savoured the easy walking today.
Odometer
14.4 miles
Cumulative Miles
191.7
Total Ascent
283 metres
Total Descent
469 metres
Moving Time
4h 58 m
Stopped Time
2h 6 m
Moving Average
2.9 mph
And so to the penultimate day. I can't believe that there's only one day and a mere 15 miles to go after today. It feels odd not to have so many days of walking ahead. Today's walk was easy, mostly downhill as we came off the open moors with a sad farewell and followed the River Esk to greet the villages of Glaisdale, Egton Bridge and Grosmont (which is in the parish of Eskdaleside cum Ugglebarnby; you couldn't make it up).
The moors around Blakey Ridge are dotted with crosses and enough tumuli to shake a trekking pole at, so I enjoyed the start of the walk. One such cross is Young Ralph, where folk-lore has it that a farmer called Ralph found the dead body of a traveller at this spot, who had starved to death and was found to be penniless. Ralph erected the cross with a hollow carved into the top so that more wealthy travellers might place a few coins for the benefit of any less fortunate travellers, or as a thanksgiving for having reached this point on their journey. The poor traveller was able to take a coin, and buy a hot meal at the nearest inn, which worked out well for the pub I just stayed at.
Next is the stumpy white cross known as Fat Betty. Here the tradition is to both take and leave some food or drink. Suffice to say all I found were some rotting apples and a cheese sandwich sweating away in its polythene bag. And a lot of ants. The only thing one would pick up here is food poisoning, so I moved swiftly on. I had a good dialog with myself about the nature of competition. It is interesting that other C2Cer's will invariably ask you how many days you are taking (and then be very keen to tell you they are taking less). I am pretty much always the last to arrive at the end of the stages, and it is in my nature to then try and hurry up the next day, if only to beat the mph on yesterday's stats. But I decided that the whole point was to take my time and enjoy the experience, there is no clock to beat and no-one to please except myself. And it doesn't matter if I take 5 or 15 hours each day, its about enjoying the journey, not rushing to the destination.
Anyway, the road then turns down towards the excellently named "Fryup," and right across Glaisdale Moor, giving views over Great Fryup Dale (seriously, these are real names). As with yesterday, the path over the moors is lined with boundary stones to guide the way and heads straight down over Glaisdale Rigg into Glaisdale village. I sat on the small village green and ate lunch in the shade of an oak tree. It was so hot, and my eastwards arm was beginning to burn, so I fashioned a sleeve out of my bandana. It looked odd but it worked.
The Esk is crossed by the 17th century Beggars Bridge, built by a pauper who sought his fortune on the high seas so that he could marry the squires daughter. He was unable to bid her farewell as the river was impassable after heavy rains and so, upon his return, he used part of his fortune to ensure that such a fate could not befall other young sweethearts. It's all about the generosity in these local folk tales.
Next it's up through Arncliffe Woods for a welcome bit of shade, walking along the river until we meet a lane and turn down to Egton Bridge. It was here that I began to feel like time had stood still, and that thought lingered all the way to Grosmont. The Horseshoe Inn at the delightfully quaint Egton Bridge looks like it has come straight from the pages of a 1930's motoring guide, with its old fashioned RAC sign affixed.
From Glaisdale it's a lovely walk past the elegant Egton Manor down the old toll road, where the toll cottage still displays the prices (6d for a hearse) right into the picture-perfect Grosmont, home of the North York Moors Railway. I walked through the oldest passenger train tunnel in the world (a bit long and eerie), hewn out around 1829 to serve George Stepenson's original horse-drawn railway. The sidings and loco sheds were interesting, and I met the railway cat.
The railway station itself is another step back in time and I found myself worryingly enthusiastic about taking pictures of the steam trains. A pint and a jacket spud in the Station Tavern and off to bed for a good rest before the final 15 miles and the end of my journey across England.
Today's tunes were The Animals "House of the Rising Sun" and "Ruby" by the Kaiser Chiefs. Stats as expected, I took my time and savoured the easy walking today.
Odometer
14.4 miles
Cumulative Miles
191.7
Total Ascent
283 metres
Total Descent
469 metres
Moving Time
4h 58 m
Stopped Time
2h 6 m
Moving Average
2.9 mph