The Cleveland Way

My arrival at Robin Hood’s Bay concluded the second leg of this summer’s walk. The third leg will be along the Cleveland Way. The Cleveland Way is a national trail in northern England, running 110 miles. It starts inland, at Helmsley (near Ilkley, where I started the Dales Way), then runs along the north edge of the North York Moors National Park until reaching the coast at Saltburn. It then runs south along the coast, through Robin Hood’s Bay and terminates near Scarborough. For part of its course, it merges with the Coast to Coast.

 

We first met the Cleveland Way at Osmotherley while I walked the Coast to Coast.  I left it when I dropped down off the moor to head to Great Broughton, and then rejoined it for a short time at Clay Bank Top as I headed towards Blakey Ridge (Lion Inn). The Cleveland Way turned north before Blakey Ridge, while the Coast to Coast continued east. I pick up the Cleveland Way again at Robin Hood’s Bay, and follow it north along the bluffs above the North Sea.

The Cleveland Way continues to run along the coast through Whitby, Staithes, and Saltburn, then turns inland to Guisbrough. I’ll be walking approximately 35 miles on the Cleveland Way between Robin Hood’s Bay and Guisbrough.

Day 21 -- Grosmont to Robin Hood's Bay, 15 miles

Grosmont is the home of the North York Moors steam railway, so there is a lot of railroad memorabilia around here, including what is thought to be the first railway tunnel in the world. How many opportunities does one get to walk through the world’s oldest railway tunnel? Life just doesn’t get any better than this.

A long, steep climb out of Grosmont leads to the top of Sleights Moor, providing sweeping views of the North Sea. Far to the horizon, near Middlesbrough, is a distinctive hill shaped like a shark fin, with the unlikely name of Roseberry Topping. I’ll try to climb it next week. But today, on the moorland all around me, the heather is starting to bloom. I suppose that Trevor Swales is moving his bees up to the moor about now.

While I moseyed along at my typical daydream pace, Andrew caught up with me, and we walked together most of the day. Near Littlebeck in 1790, George Chubb hollowed out a large sandstone boulder. He even carved a bench along the interior perimeter. It’s not clear if he actually made the rock his home, but it isn’t hard to imagine what his wife may have thought of his little project. He probably would have been better off to have walked the oldest railway tunnel.

 

Andrew at the Hermitage

The traditional Coast to Coast route approaches Robin Hood’s Bay from the northeast by a four-mile loop along scenic bluffs above the sea. Because I’ll be walking those bluffs tomorrow to Whitby, I took a more direct path through the Greystone Hills. My path was well-marked on the map, but not on the ground. After several frustrating attempts to find the proper route, I finally rejoined the Coast to Coast path Andrew was following, but he was long past by then. I did meet Robin (not the same Robin previously referred to in my postings) at the junction and he and I followed the Coast to Coast track until I found another way to achieve the route I had been seeking.  I may have saved a mile of walking, but probably didn’t save any time.

Path disappears

Robin No. 2

Robin Hood’s Bay is an old fishing village that has a reputation for harboring smugglers who moved their untaxed goods through a maze of narrow alleys. Today it is a tourist town, harboring walkers who can’t navigate the passageways any better than I can navigate the moors.

Later, while trying to navigate to the bar, I stumbled into the dining room where I met the Ullswater Steamer group who had successfully completed their Coast to Coast walk.

 

Dennis, Lynne, Lost-a-lot, Sara and Dave 

Andrew, Paul, Robin 1, Normand, Marie-Helene and I filled the evening with funny stories over dinner. When I completed my first Coast to Coast walk (actually my only Coast to Coast walk, since I joined this one at Grasmere) there was nobody with whom to celebrate. Andrew had the same experience when completing his first Coast to Coast two years ago. An end-of-the-walk party is a much more fitting conclusion, even for those who may not have walked through the oldest railway tunnel.

Paul, Normand, Marie-Helene, Lost-a-lot, Andrew and Robin No. 1

Day 20 -- Blakey to Grosmont, 14 miles

The North York Moors are bleak and remote. Fortunately for walkers, there are excellent trails though areas that would otherwise be unpleasantly boggy. The excellent trails were not constructed with walkers in mind; in the 1800s the area was extensively mined for iron and other minerals, and railways were built to ship the ore. Mining ore is no longer as profitable as mining walkers’ pockets, so in a typical rails-to-trails conversion, footpaths were provided for walkers, and tourists were provided for hoteliers. Stone markers are all that remains of the former railway.

 

 

When the tourists stop coming in the off-season, the moors become lonely. With only stone markers to keep them company, locals gave names to the stone markers.

Marie-Helene and Normand at Young Ralph Cross

 

Fat Betty

 

I spent the entire morning walking with Andrew, Normand and Marie-Helene. Just short of Glaisdale, we came upon Dave and Geoff. They will be arriving at Robin Hood’s Bay on Friday, a day after the rest of us. After a short chat, we said our final good-byes and moved on.

 

Beggar's Bridge in Glaisdale

Andrew, Normand and Marie-Helene stopped for night at Egton Bridge, and I moved on alone to Grosmont. I had hoped for a ride from  a group of Dutch car enthusiasts but, although they were friendly, they didn't offer me a ride. They'll probably regret it once they read my first posting and see that I once owned an MGB.

Triumph, but what year?

As I entered Grosmont, I met Paul, a park ranger from Tasmania, and Robin, who lives in Sunderland. I’ve been sharing beers and dinners with them for the past week, and we agreed to do so again tonight.

 

Paul and Robin

Day 19 -- Great Broughton to Blakey (Lion Inn), 9 miles

Today is one of those melancholy days that every long-distance walker experiences. With the end of the walk approaching (or for me, the end of the second leg of my walk), the excitement of finishing is tempered by the separation from new friends. For days, we have been sharing trails, drinks, meals, stories and experiences, inevitably developing friendships. The conclusion of the walk marks the time when we bid adieu to our new friends, most of whom we expect never to see again. 

Today at breakfast, I bade farewell to Leo and Lynn, as they set off on the first of two 20-mile days that will bring them to the finish at Robin Hood’s Bay on Wednesday. After lunch today at the Lion Inn, Andrew, Dave, Geoff and I said our good-byes to Charlotte, who is suspending her walk to be resumed in August.

I also said good-bye to Harry, who is accelerating his walk and will finish before I do. I haven’t written much about Harry, one of the most delightful gentlemen you could hope to meet. He and I walked together for quite some time many days ago. That evening at the pub, I didn’t recognize him, and re-introduced myself. Several mornings later, I did the same thing at breakfast. Yesterday evening I did the same thing as I joined him for a beer. We had dinner together, and I must say he is a wonderful conversationalist. This morning as we waited for the shuttle to carry us to Clay Bank Top to resume the walk, I reintroduced myself to a stranger who turned out to be Harry.

One might think that senility is creeping into my aged brain, and that may be so, but I say that my inability to recognize Harry is his fault, not mine. You see, Harry sports a neatly trimmed grey beard, common among the over-60 crowd, that conceals his face and makes him look like every other over-60 bearded man who lives in my home-town retirement community known as Sun River. But the main reason is that Harry is an impeccable dresser. He always appears in a different shirt on the trail. Sometimes he wears a baseball cap, sometimes a tennis cap, sometimes no cap, with or without sunglasses. Hikers are always recognized by their attire, and if you change clothes you can’t be recognized. He’s quite possibly a movie star who is attempting to retain some anonymity.

If so, his cover is blown. Today, our walk started with a steep, lengthy climb to attain the top of the moor. Harry and I started together, but he’s a much stronger hiker than I, and he soon got far ahead. When I finally reached the crest of the hill, Harry and Charlotte were there talking with Dave and Jeff. With the exception of Charlotte, I was quite sure I hadn’t previously included any of their pictures in my blog. Not one to miss an opportunity, I grabbed the picture, which only temporarily reduced the melancholy as Harry and Charlotte soon set off at a pace I once may have maintained, but not any longer.

Charlotte (with Adventure Ted), Harry (rear), Dave and Geoff

Steep Ascent

Moorland marker

Day 18 -- Osmotherley to Great Broughton, 10 miles

Di Swales, of Sherpa Van, has been booking accommodations for my walks in Britain for more than five years. She found rooms for me during My1200 Mile Summer in 2011 when I couldn’t, and she’s booked my rooms this year on the Dales Way and the Coast to Coast. So I was delighted to finally meet her in person at her B&B, 32 South End, in the North Yorkshire village of Osmotherley. She’s certainly the queen bee of accommodations.

Di Swales

 

Di’s husband, Trevor, has been making honey for 41 years. Actually, it’s the bees that make the honey, Trevor just steals it from them and packages it for consumers. Today he generously gave me a tour of his operation. It’s a one-man operation, but he’s got millions and millions of employees doing the real work.

 

Trevor Swales and some of his bee hives

Here’s my understanding of how it all works. Each of queen and her entourage live in the lower castle (my term, not his) – basically a wooden box. Trevor moves each castle close to flowering plants so the bees will be near the flowers he wants them to pollenate. Next week he’ll be moving the castles to the moors in order to produce heather honey. On top of the castle he stacks more wooden boxes, each containing racks of honeycombs. Over time, the bees will fill the combs with honey. In a good year, Trevor can get three harvests.

Honeycomb in rack

  

Harvesting the honey involves removing the upper boxes without disturbing the queen in her lower castle, spinning the racks in a centrifuge, and draining off the honey. The honey is filtered several times and placed in jars. It is very good – Di serves it at her B&B, and Trevor sells the rest.

 

Centrifuge

 

Honey, before straining



 

I had never had a tour of a honey-making facility before, and by comparison, the rest of the day’s walk seemed pretty ordinary. Despite the beautiful weather, spectacular scenery and lovely footpath, my thoughts were on the toast and honey I’ll have with tomorrow’s breakfast.

But for those of you who may never have had a beekeeper’s tour, and may not be focused on tomorrow’s breakfast, I’ll post some pictures from the walk.

 

Day 17 -- Danby Wiske to Osmotherley, 10 miles

Nature provided another pleasant day for walking in the countryside. At a railway overpass, I came upon Geoff and Dave, who said they were former railroad men, watching the signals down the line in anticipation of an oncoming train. I had met both of them previously. They are completing their final stage of the Coast to Coast, Richmond to Robin Hood’s Bay.

I quickly launched into a discussion of trains, drawing upon my extensive knowledge of railways acquired in the 1950s when my Lionel locomotive chugged around the Christmas tree. I must have impressed them, because they let me walk with them a good part of the morning.

After we stopped along the trail for a morning coffee break, Andrew came along, and I joined him for a short walk to Ingleby Cross, where he and I reached the pub just in time for another break. As we prepared to leave the pub, Normand and Marie-Helene arrived, so Andrew and I extended our break. The four of us were ready to leave, when Leo, Lynn and Charlotte arrived. Having already had enough breaks for the day, I decided to move on with Andrew, Normand and Marie-Helene. We continued on as Geoff and Dave arrived at the pub for their second break. I’m beginning to understand why walking is so popular in Britain, and it has very little to do with actual walking.

The Mt. Grace Priory is one of those heritage sites that dates back many centuries – this one to the year 1400. When not actually breaking, the British people visit these sites to remember how people once built large stone buildings between their work breaks.

Despite all my breaks, I finally arrived at my destination. It was too late in the day for another break, so I joined Geoff and Dave for happy hour, after which we went to dinner and developed solutions for all the world’s problems. I don’t remember all the solutions, but I think some of them involved locomotives and Christmas trees. 

Day 16 -- Richmond to Danby Wiske, 14 miles

Before discussing today’s hike, I should report on the performance at the Georgian Theater last night. The program was entitled Legend of the Hammond, so I knew it would have something to do with an organ. The Hammond organ was invented in the mid-1930s, but really came into its own in the 1950s and 1960s when music was written expressly for it. Because jazz and rock comprised most of the music of that era, that''s what was written for the Hammond. Friday's performance featured the organ, accompanied by drums, two acoustic guitars, and a vocalist. I wasn’t a contemporary music fan back then, but I recognized most of the music along with some of the artists whose works featured the Hammond organ: Frank Sinatra, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, and a few other names I can’t now recall after today’s 14 mile hike. Anyway, the performance was enjoyable, and I shared intermission with a nice couple in the next box, Ian and Catherine. Small though the theater was, the music sounded great, to the extent that rock music ever sounds great. Thanks to the hosts of the Old Brewery Guest House, Lisa and Bryan, for encouraging me to attend.

This morning Bryan offered me additional duct tape to mend my boots, but as I thought the external mend would not hold anyway, but that the internal mend would, I declined to mend them any further. I did take several wraps of the tape for future use. (I carry duct tape wrapped around my first add kit, because I mostly use it on my feet, like real athletes.)

Everyone I met on the trail agreed that today’s weather was the finest since the walk began – blue skies, sunshine, not a drop of rain, and temps in the upper 60s F. The footpaths were dry and the footing firm.

Richmond Castle

Sonja on Ginger

Church at Bolton-on-Swale

Shortly beyond Richmond, I met Andrew, and he and I walked together the entire day. Andrew is one of those walkers who glides along the path, never seeming to be affected by terrain, footing or obstacles. I’m a good walker, too, and I probably glide for 6 or 7 miles, but after that my stride deteriorates to something between a stumble and a controlled forward fall. As a result, he kept pulling away from me – until we met Charlotte, who you’ll remember that I first met near the Nine Standards.

Charlotte travels with a cute little Teddy Bear, like Jack Frost’s Homer Simpson and Daryl May’s Hobson. (Long distance walkers are an odd bunch. Some of them even carry Irish Sea rocks.) Anyway, Charlotte’s bear, Adventure Ted, has had quite a history – so much so that I had to get out my note pad write it all down. AT has been to Australia, Germany, France, Greece, Guatemala – and even spent a night in jail in Thailand. (He was kidnapped and recovered by the police, but wasn’t reunited with Charlotte until the next day. At least that’s his story and he’s sticking to it.) I couldn’t very well write all of this down while carrying hiking poles, so I handed my poles to Andrew, who couldn’t very well glide away from me while holding my poles. So Andrew, Charlotte, AT, and I all walked (or in my case, stumbled) the rest of the way together to Danby Wiske. 

Adventure Ted

"When you reach the fork, take it."