Day 35 -- Caldbeck to Bassenthwaite (Castle Inn), 9 miles

After yesterday’s rain, I had considered walking along the roadways to avoid wet grass that would soak my pants and boots. The Cumbria Way skirts the Cumbrian Mountains, and I was concerned that runoff from the mountains would inundate the footpath. Anne and Tim, the hosts at the Old Rectory, thought that wouldn’t be a problem. Anne said that due to the extensive mining in the area, the miners had constructed good tracks now followed by the Cumbria Way for most of the route between Caldbeck and Bassenthwaite, so it would be unlikely that mud would be an issue.

Scene along the route

They were right. The track was dry under foot, with only occasional puddles in the worst areas, easily stepped over. There was one ford; it might have been more difficult in yesterday’s rain, but easily traversed via strategically placed rocks today. Thanks, Anne and Tim, for setting me straight.

Dry track

No serious puddles

Ford at Charleston Wath

I’m told that only about 3,000 people per year walk the Cumbria Way, so there isn’t any incentive for countryside officials to properly waymark the route. Hardly any walkers proceed north to south (my direction), so what markers there are all seem to point in the direction from which I came. Picture me at a trail junction, with the finger board pointing in the opposite direction. It’s comforting to know that I’ve just walked the proper route, but there really isn’t any assistance on where I go from there.

Shortly after noon, I met the first Cumbria Way walker I’ve seen in two days. Like me, Rachel is walking solo, but in the opposite direction. She’ll finish tomorrow in Carlisle.

Rachel

At the hamlet of Orthwaite, I faced a dilemma: should I continue on the road with dry feet and certainty of route, or should I climb a stile, enter a wet pasture and follow the Cumbria Way route per my map, but probably not very well marked on the ground. Oh well, I’m on an island, so how lost can I get? I easily followed the route through several pastures, over wet grass fields until I had gone too far to turn back. Then the waymarkers ceased. I navigated field to field, stile to stile, gate to gate, until eventually reaching a forest track that I followed because it seemed to be going in the right direction – downhill. (At this point I was very conscious of all the dead people who were lost in the Yosemite wilderness, and who invariably followed a drainage downhill until they expired.) But downhill seemed right. The fact that I’m writing this posting is good evidence that it was right.

Orthwaite Hall

View towards Over Water -- note wind-sculpted tree

Downhill forest track

I’m not one to normally take selfies, but I couldn’t resist preserving an image that confirmed that I survived yet another day in the wilds of Cumbria.

Rare Selfie

Day 34 -- Carlisle to Caldbeck, 15 miles

Last night's hotel in Carlisle is located  a little more than a mile from the start of the Cumbria Way. The roads in Carlisle tend to either curve along the river or along the railway tracks, so actually getting to the Cumbria Way was no easy task. In retrospect, I should have taken the train to Dalston, because that would have avoided almost an hour of city walking.

Between Carlisle and Caldbeck, the Cumbria Way generally follows the course of the River Caldew, which flows from the Lake District, through Carlisle, joins the River Eden and flows into the Irish Sea. My route is opposite the river’s flow, as I head into the fells (hills) of the Lake District. Despite the promise of “generally” following the river, there were enough deviations today to make the route finding difficult, including a diversion due to a bridge washed out during last winter's floods. Further, the Cumbria Way lacks sufficient waymarkers designating the route. Route-finding can be a fun challenge, but not on days like today, with cold rain and muddy trails..

Wildflowers along Cumbria Way



Garden flowers in Caldbeck

When making reservations on line, you never know what you will end up with. Last night I stayed in a very nice hotel in Carlisle, with a room only slightly larger than the twin bed in which I slept. Tonight I am staying  at a B&B in Caldbeck called The Old Rectory. As I turned into the drive, I was greeted by the following view.

 

The Old Refectory

The view improved as I stepped through the front door. The resident Lab greets each guest and loves to have her ears scratched.

Things improved as I was shown into my room.

 

Large enough to spread out wet clothing

All in all, a fine ending to a not so fine day.

Day 33 -- The Cumbria Way

After 3 rest days relaxing and touring with Dr. George and Lady Ann, I’m now ready to resume walking. The next leg of my journey is the Cumbria Way.

The Cumbria Way is a route of about 67 miles through the heart of the Lake District National Park, connecting Carlisle and Ulverston. You may recall that we first met the Lake District between Kendal and Windermere on July 6, and left the Lake District at Keld on July 14. We'll spend the next 9 day t here.

 

Most walkers walk the Cumbria Way from south to north, and that’s the way the baggage transfer services like Sherpa Van transport bags. For reasons that will become apparent in about 2 weeks, I’ll be walking north to south, without any baggage transport service.

For that reason, I boxed up about 9 pounds of items I won’t be needing before I reach Ulverston, and mailed it to myself in care of the B&B where I’ll stay on August 12. That’ll bring my backpack down to a reasonable weight, and make walking the next 10 days more enjoyable. Today I took the train from Newcastle to Carlisle, and will begin walking again tomorrow.

Although most people walk the Cumbria Way in about six days, I’ve added three extra days to allow me time to explore the hills and better experience the area. Now, if only the weather will cooperate…

 

 

Day 31 -- The Flying Scotsman

The Flying Scotsman, a steam locomotive built in 1923, is undoubtedly Britain’s celebrity of the year. Named after the route it traveled between London and Edinburgh, the Flying Scotsman was the fastest train in the world in its day, traveling at speeds over 100 mph. The world famous engine was retired in 1963, and in 1969 began touring the United States, along with an entourage of mini-skirted, knee-high booted young women.

As the British fashion invasion of the USA subsided, so did the attraction of the Flying Scotsman. Ensuing financial troubles led to its sitting derelict in a San Francisco switchyard for several years. In 1973, the steam engine was brought back to England, and put back into special service, a mere hint of its former glory. After an Australian tour in the late 1980s, it passed through a succession of owners, no longer in the public eye. In 2004, the British Railway Museum purchased the Flying Scotsman, and after a £4.2 million restoration project (approximately $6.5 million), it is once again on tour.

Large crowds of railway enthusiasts now greet the Flying Scotsman wherever it travels. Lady Ann learned that it would travel close to our location during my visit; I insisted that we become part of that large crowd, railway enthusiasts that we are.

Flying Scotsman

 

So with that background, we visited the Flying Scotsman, and guess what? It’s just another steam engine. We had expected a massive locomotive of a size commensurate to its reputation. In truth, it’s no bigger than any other engine. Just like every other steam engine, it eats coal a shovel load at a time, and its wheels rotate and greet the track and it squeals and it hisses. Worse yet, there wasn’t even a mini-skirted, knee-high booted entourage of young women selling hats or T-shirts so we could pretend that we had been impressed by what we saw and gloat among other railway enthusiasts. “Oh, yeah. I saw the big one. I breathed its steam.”

 

And with that, we were among the first to leave the railyard.

 

 

Day 30 -- Rookhope

Exactly five years and seven days ago, Dr. George and I stopped for lunch at a bus shelter in the little village of Rookhope – Day 53 of My 1200 Mile Summer. Today, at the same bus shelter, we stopped for a picture. Make no mistake. Lunch is always better than a picture – especially a picture of two old men sitting on a bench wishing the photographer would hurry up because it’s time to head for the pub.

It wasn’t the bus shelter that brought us to Rookhope today. In the five years since Dr. George and I passed through Rookhope, Iain and Shayne have established a farm here, raising championship alpacas, sheep, highland cattle, ducks, chickens, and a truckload of dogs squeezed into two dog bodies. In their spare time Iain and Shayne also run a bunk house for coast-to-coast cyclists. But it was the farming operation I was brought here to see – especially their award winning Fellside Alpacas.

Alpacas are members of the camel family, which makes them especially suited to endure the hot, dry climate of Northern England, where literally hours can pass between rainfalls. It seems that Iain and Shayne started with just a few alpacas not very long ago. They now have seven – soon to be eight. Or nine. Or maybe ten. All you have to do is get a couple of alpacas, shoosh them off to a secluded field (perhaps with a bottle of champagne and some soft music), and before you can say “E-I-E-I-O” you’ve got lots of little alpacas running around. It works the same way with their sheep. “E-I-E-I-O.” And ducks. “E-I-E-I…” And chickens. “E-I-E…” And… well you get the idea. E-I-E-I-O.

 

Highland Cattle

Then you get a truck load of dogs, and squeeze them all together until you’ve got two, weighing maybe a million pounds each. “E-I-E-I – Yikes.”

As we strolled around the farm, I admired the view while Iain gathered chicken eggs, laid here and there by their ranging chickens. “They could be anywhere,” said Iain. “You just have to know where to look.” I think I’ll look in the bus shelter.

Day 29 -- Durham

The old city of Durham is squeezed onto a peninsula within an oxbow bend of the River Wear. Most of the peninsula is occupied by the thousand-year-old Durham Cathedral and an equally ancient adjacent castle. A small commercial district, home to a mix of local and international stores, and government buildings pretty much fill in the remaining territory.

The castle has been owned by Durham University since 1840, and is now primarily devoted to student housing. The cathedral is a massive structure similar to other massive cathedrals of the same era, and is distinguished as being the final resting place of St. Cuthbert, the Venerable Bede, and the head of Oswald, King of Northumbria, who was killed in battle in year 642. St. Cuthbert died a few years later and was buried at Lindisfarne (Holy Island). He was so revered that 200 years after his death, when Lindisfarne was threatened by an onslaught from the Danes, his remains were removed, eventually ending up in Durham. The Durham Cathedral became his shrine.

Bishops were strong political figures as well as religious figures. It is said that the Bishop of Durham was, in effect, the King of Northumbria, because the London King had little means of controlling land so distant. With such great political power conferred upon church officials, is it any wonder that the draftsmen of the U.S. Constitution forbade both a national religion and hereditary titles?

One of the bishops of Durham was an ancestor of George Washington, and the family coat of arms appears among others on a high ceiling (too high for me to photograph). The coat of arms of the Washington family consists of alternating red and white stripes, topped by a row of six-pointed stars said to be spurs. George Washington was idolized in his time, much more than he is today in America. There are some who believe that the stars and stripes of the U.S. flag were based on the Washington family coat of arms. It’s merely a coincidence that the city bearing his name sits at the head of a peninsula between the Potomac River and Chesapeake Bay.

 

 

 

Day 28 -- Rest Day, Guisborough to Durham, by bus

Today was a total rest day. Travel to Durham by bus. No walking no blogging. Tune in tomorrow, same time, same place for a full report on touring the historic city of Durham.