One June day in 1997, my grandson Carl came a knocking on our door.
"Grraaaanndaaaad. I have to do a some sort of school project during the summer holidays and I was just wondering if you could help me."
I asked him what he had in mind.
"Well, I know you love walking, seeing as how you've done the Pennines and the Big One (John o' Groats to Land's End), and I wondered if I might try a long walk. Have you any suggestions?"
And so that is how I ended up at St. Bees in Cumbria UK with what felt like a full wardrobe on my back. I'm going to leave Carl to do the commentary.
Day one. 2nd August 1997. The Coast to Coast trail begins.
Me, Carl Wright (I'm only 14 years old) and Granddad (he's only 57 years old) have been dropped off at Saint Bees in Cumbria on the West coast of UK and we are setting off on a 200 mile walk to Robin Hoods Bay on the East coast.
We take the accepted tradition of walking into the water with our socks off at the start. Granddad looks as if he still has his on. We also pick up a pebble each to throw into the sea when we get to the other side of the country.
It's 10.25 AM and we are off at last. And then it's along the coast to the path that takes us past the Bees Head Lighthouse.
The hill in the background is to be our first initiation. We then intend making Ennerdale which is some 14 miles distant. After a pub stop at the halfway point we make it and find a campsite.
The ceramic mural was done by the local school kids.
The ceramic mural was done by the local school kids.
Day two. 06.15 hrs and we set off down the edge of Ennerdale Water. We hope to make it to Grasmere which is about twenty odd miles away.
If I look a little apprehensive it's because I am. Looking back down the trail at Grey Knotts.
We take five. Be careful you don't step back, Granddad.
We make it to Grasmere and Granddad finds us some digs. We've covered almost forty miles in two days so he thinks we deserve a proper rest, clean up and food.
It was a comfy night for me but Granddad slept on the floor. It's what Granddads do. We leave early in the morning.
Day three. Early start. The walk takes us through Brocks Craggs and the weather is brilliant. This photo is looking back down the crags.
We take five again. Granddad hasn't really got the hump, it's just the fierce high wind filling his jacket.
Having reached Patterdale round about lunchtime, we fed and watered (Guinness and Coke) at the pub and reported in to GHQ.
We now start out for Haweswater.
I believe this one and the next is the dam at Hayes Water. We then have a stiff climb.
I really fancied a dip in that water. Granddad said it might be risky.
After one heck of a climb, this is the view looking down towards Haweswater.
Standing on High Street (this is the name of the hill and not a busy road in town) we look down across rough Crag towards our target, Haweswater and The Walkers Hotel.
When we get to Haweswater, Granddad asks me what I've done with my fleece. I'd wrapped it loosely around my neck but now it was gone. We looked back up the trail and there it was stuck on the branch of a tree about half a mile back, so I had to go back and fetch it. Just what you need when you're already knackered.
This one looking back towards Haweswater as we make our way to the Walkers Hotel.
We arrive at our 3rd stop, We've covered about 55 miles in total to arrive at The Walkers Hotel. Quite posh and well to do, this hotel on the East bank of Haweswater.
Granddad begs the hotel owner and asks if we can pitch tent on the lawn. He lets us. He also lets us drink in the hotel.
Day four 06.00 and we're off towards Shap for breakfast. This is a view back down the road from whence we came. Shap is about ten miles away but we make it for about 09.30 and have a decent cooked breakfast in the cafe.
We meet up with a family who are walking the same C to C and they too are having breakfast. But they had only just got up and had spent the night in digs.
This is a beautiful spot and the paths offer us a choice of routes. Knowing Granddad he'll choose the easiest.
We take on refreshments at Orton. More fortification and then it's on to New-Biggin-on-Lune for our fourth stop which will mean we have about 77 miles under our belts.
Day five.
Tea break at Nine Standards at Rigg (we carry cooking gear and tea mashing equipment). Notice Granddad's teeth, he had some then.
Our fifth stop is Keld. At least with have shower and toilet facilities.
This is where The Pennine Way crosses our route. We've done about 95 miles so far, which is about halfway.
We camp in the field and Granddad makes us a stew out of what we have in a packet and includes some stuff that we haven't. I think they were weeds but Granddad said they'd do me good. He also broke up a sausage sandwich that we'd still got left from breakfast.
There's no pub in Keld, so after "dinner?" and a shower, we took a walk down to the river to see the cascades. Then we had an early night.
(Library pic 'cos I've mislaid the original)
Day six. up bright and early and wonder at the cloud of midges whirling around the camping stove as the water boils for tea. Then we are on our way towards Richmond.
We pass by Crackpot Hall and through ancient lead workings. These mines used to be very productive at one time, Granddad tells me.
I couldn't care less, I'm starving hungry. But we eventually reach Reeth round about lunchtime where we find welcome refreshment in a cafe.
Next stop will be Richmond, our 6th stop, where we intend getting digs for the night. But first we have Swaledale to get through.
Day seven. We have had a decent night's kip and a good breakfast and are on our way again.
You'll notice that Granddad still has his stick.
That stick holds spare compass, first-aid kit, sewing needles and cotton and one or two other bits and pieces that might be useful.
We take five at Catterick Bridge. The weather is quite warm, beautiful in fact.
We stop for a breather at Bolton on Swale and replenished our water bottles, though not from the obsolete village pump.
And then on to Elerton Hill where the path divides. So we vote on which path we take. Granddad wins the vote, he always does.
We stop to make a fuss of a collie dog and Grandad props his stick against a power pole while he takes a photo.
We've taken the easier, slightly shorter route to Danby Wiske where we picnic on the village green.
We carry on and then come across another photo opportunity. A whole crowd of scarecrows. Can you spot the impostor?
More tired feet. Blister are common and the only cure for blister is more walking, Grandad says.
We stop overnight, our seventh, at the back of The Blacksmiths Arms at Swainby. A few Guinnesses for him and just the one for me, for medicinal purposes.
It's the eighth day and it's while we are having a few minutes rest halfway through the morning.
It's here that Granddad remembers exactly how and where he left his stick and it's about miles back. He decides not to fetch it.
We have now joined The Cleveland Way. We are heading for Glaisdale which is about 27 miles distant. We find ourselves on an old disused rail track.
We walk for miles on this old disused railway track that turns and twists. It's a boiling hot day but we have plenty of water. In the distance we can see a pub, The Lion Inn, it's beckoning.
A pub means FOOD! And maybe another taste of Guinness. That pub appeared to get further away as we trudged along that seemingly never ending winding old rail course. It was the hottest of the weather so far and we were fully exposed to the blazing sun. But that pub didn't appear to be far away so we drank our water supply carelessly. With our water almost gone Granddad spotted a couple of cyclist coming up from behind us and flagged them to a stop. He asked if they had water to spare but they hadn't. What they did have, however, was plenty of "energising drink". They offered some to us and Granddad made the most of the refreshing liquid which he drank eagerly. We RAN the rest of the way to the pub.
With new heart we pressed on and reached the pub where we topped up our water bottle and had a good meal with plenty to drink before pressing on to Glaisdale. We arrived there late and couldn't find digs so we pitched the tent on a patch of ground in the dark.
Ninth and final day.
We only have about 21 miles to go to the end of the walk. We set off at about 06.15 and Granddad says we should be there for lunch. Mum and Dad are supposed to be meeting us at about four in the afternoon. It's raining today. The first proper rain since we started out from St Bees and we welcome it. We meet a party of Germans who have only just set off from Robin Hoods Bay that morning to do the walk and they are looking a bit miserable and bedraggled. Granddad does his best to cheer them up by telling them that the weather has been beautiful during our walk. We wish them auf wiedersehen pet, and carry on.
We arrive in High Hawkser at about 10.30 but the pubs aren't yet open so we have ice cream and Coke instead. We then shoulder our bags for the last push to the coast and reach the mist shrouded cliffs long before the appointed time for our pickup organised by Mum and Dad.
It'd stopped raining by now and Granddad suggested that we lie down on a bit of grassy area just off the path and have a kip (nap).
All too soon we were awakened from our slumbers by heavy footsteps and voices. Granddad shot bolt upright and very nearly tumbled over the hundred and fifty odd feet of steep cliffs that fell away to the beach. We could see the beach now but we hadn't seen the high drop when we had got down to go to sleep. That was scary.
The cliff tops at Robin Hoods Bay. Just look at that view. I see no sea. Plenty of mist, though.
We're in town but not in the bay, yet.
These boots weren't made for paddling.
Down to the sea for the regulation paddle again.
Granddad had no sooner stepped on the rocks than he went arse over tit into the sea.
The Robin Hoods Bay sign. We didn't spot this until we were leaving the town and on our way home.
Me, and a word from our sponsor.
The welcome home. Grandma Beryl had put the bunting and posters up. Bless.
I loved this walk and can't wait to do another, just as soon as I've grown some more feet.
Carl Wright.
If I look a little apprehensive it's because I am. Looking back down the trail at Grey Knotts.
We take five. Be careful you don't step back, Granddad.
We make it to Grasmere and Granddad finds us some digs. We've covered almost forty miles in two days so he thinks we deserve a proper rest, clean up and food.
It was a comfy night for me but Granddad slept on the floor. It's what Granddads do. We leave early in the morning.
Day three. Early start. The walk takes us through Brocks Craggs and the weather is brilliant. This photo is looking back down the crags.
We take five again. Granddad hasn't really got the hump, it's just the fierce high wind filling his jacket.
Having reached Patterdale round about lunchtime, we fed and watered (Guinness and Coke) at the pub and reported in to GHQ.
We now start out for Haweswater.
I believe this one and the next is the dam at Hayes Water. We then have a stiff climb.
I really fancied a dip in that water. Granddad said it might be risky.
After one heck of a climb, this is the view looking down towards Haweswater.
Standing on High Street (this is the name of the hill and not a busy road in town) we look down across rough Crag towards our target, Haweswater and The Walkers Hotel.
When we get to Haweswater, Granddad asks me what I've done with my fleece. I'd wrapped it loosely around my neck but now it was gone. We looked back up the trail and there it was stuck on the branch of a tree about half a mile back, so I had to go back and fetch it. Just what you need when you're already knackered.
This one looking back towards Haweswater as we make our way to the Walkers Hotel.
We arrive at our 3rd stop, We've covered about 55 miles in total to arrive at The Walkers Hotel. Quite posh and well to do, this hotel on the East bank of Haweswater.
Granddad begs the hotel owner and asks if we can pitch tent on the lawn. He lets us. He also lets us drink in the hotel.
Day four 06.00 and we're off towards Shap for breakfast. This is a view back down the road from whence we came. Shap is about ten miles away but we make it for about 09.30 and have a decent cooked breakfast in the cafe.
We meet up with a family who are walking the same C to C and they too are having breakfast. But they had only just got up and had spent the night in digs.
This is a beautiful spot and the paths offer us a choice of routes. Knowing Granddad he'll choose the easiest.
We take on refreshments at Orton. More fortification and then it's on to New-Biggin-on-Lune for our fourth stop which will mean we have about 77 miles under our belts.
Day five.
Tea break at Nine Standards at Rigg (we carry cooking gear and tea mashing equipment). Notice Granddad's teeth, he had some then.
Our fifth stop is Keld. At least with have shower and toilet facilities.
This is where The Pennine Way crosses our route. We've done about 95 miles so far, which is about halfway.
We camp in the field and Granddad makes us a stew out of what we have in a packet and includes some stuff that we haven't. I think they were weeds but Granddad said they'd do me good. He also broke up a sausage sandwich that we'd still got left from breakfast.
There's no pub in Keld, so after "dinner?" and a shower, we took a walk down to the river to see the cascades. Then we had an early night.
(Library pic 'cos I've mislaid the original)
Day six. up bright and early and wonder at the cloud of midges whirling around the camping stove as the water boils for tea. Then we are on our way towards Richmond.
We pass by Crackpot Hall and through ancient lead workings. These mines used to be very productive at one time, Granddad tells me.
I couldn't care less, I'm starving hungry. But we eventually reach Reeth round about lunchtime where we find welcome refreshment in a cafe.
Day seven. We have had a decent night's kip and a good breakfast and are on our way again.
You'll notice that Granddad still has his stick.
That stick holds spare compass, first-aid kit, sewing needles and cotton and one or two other bits and pieces that might be useful.
We take five at Catterick Bridge. The weather is quite warm, beautiful in fact.
We stop for a breather at Bolton on Swale and replenished our water bottles, though not from the obsolete village pump.
And then on to Elerton Hill where the path divides. So we vote on which path we take. Granddad wins the vote, he always does.
We stop to make a fuss of a collie dog and Grandad props his stick against a power pole while he takes a photo.
We've taken the easier, slightly shorter route to Danby Wiske where we picnic on the village green.
We carry on and then come across another photo opportunity. A whole crowd of scarecrows. Can you spot the impostor?
More tired feet. Blister are common and the only cure for blister is more walking, Grandad says.
We stop overnight, our seventh, at the back of The Blacksmiths Arms at Swainby. A few Guinnesses for him and just the one for me, for medicinal purposes.
It's the eighth day and it's while we are having a few minutes rest halfway through the morning.
It's here that Granddad remembers exactly how and where he left his stick and it's about miles back. He decides not to fetch it.
We have now joined The Cleveland Way. We are heading for Glaisdale which is about 27 miles distant. We find ourselves on an old disused rail track.
We walk for miles on this old disused railway track that turns and twists. It's a boiling hot day but we have plenty of water. In the distance we can see a pub, The Lion Inn, it's beckoning.
A pub means FOOD! And maybe another taste of Guinness. That pub appeared to get further away as we trudged along that seemingly never ending winding old rail course. It was the hottest of the weather so far and we were fully exposed to the blazing sun. But that pub didn't appear to be far away so we drank our water supply carelessly. With our water almost gone Granddad spotted a couple of cyclist coming up from behind us and flagged them to a stop. He asked if they had water to spare but they hadn't. What they did have, however, was plenty of "energising drink". They offered some to us and Granddad made the most of the refreshing liquid which he drank eagerly. We RAN the rest of the way to the pub.
With new heart we pressed on and reached the pub where we topped up our water bottle and had a good meal with plenty to drink before pressing on to Glaisdale. We arrived there late and couldn't find digs so we pitched the tent on a patch of ground in the dark.
Ninth and final day.
We only have about 21 miles to go to the end of the walk. We set off at about 06.15 and Granddad says we should be there for lunch. Mum and Dad are supposed to be meeting us at about four in the afternoon. It's raining today. The first proper rain since we started out from St Bees and we welcome it. We meet a party of Germans who have only just set off from Robin Hoods Bay that morning to do the walk and they are looking a bit miserable and bedraggled. Granddad does his best to cheer them up by telling them that the weather has been beautiful during our walk. We wish them auf wiedersehen pet, and carry on.
We arrive in High Hawkser at about 10.30 but the pubs aren't yet open so we have ice cream and Coke instead. We then shoulder our bags for the last push to the coast and reach the mist shrouded cliffs long before the appointed time for our pickup organised by Mum and Dad.
It'd stopped raining by now and Granddad suggested that we lie down on a bit of grassy area just off the path and have a kip (nap).
All too soon we were awakened from our slumbers by heavy footsteps and voices. Granddad shot bolt upright and very nearly tumbled over the hundred and fifty odd feet of steep cliffs that fell away to the beach. We could see the beach now but we hadn't seen the high drop when we had got down to go to sleep. That was scary.
The cliff tops at Robin Hoods Bay. Just look at that view. I see no sea. Plenty of mist, though.
We're in town but not in the bay, yet.
These boots weren't made for paddling.
Down to the sea for the regulation paddle again.
Granddad had no sooner stepped on the rocks than he went arse over tit into the sea.
The Robin Hoods Bay sign. We didn't spot this until we were leaving the town and on our way home.
Me, and a word from our sponsor.
The welcome home. Grandma Beryl had put the bunting and posters up. Bless.
I loved this walk and can't wait to do another, just as soon as I've grown some more feet.
Carl Wright.
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