Mum and I are starting to have a bit of a giggle to ourselves about how “remote” everything is out here. If you talk to the locals, where they live is just so remote. Not close to anything. A million miles away from civilisation in any way, shape or form. People!! You are only six hours away from London let alone the major city that’s probably just an hour down the road! You are not remote!!! I’ll give you “isolated”, but probably only in the middle of Winter when you get snowed in for a few weeks, but that’s all I’m giving you.
After a home meal, sleep and lots of tiger balm (I LOVE tiger balm), this morning saw us renewed, on track and ready to rock and roll. I love a good recovery. The only down was that the first part of today’s section was flat road. Again!! Have I mentioned how much we dislike flat roads? Dear God please give us a hill! Just a small one will do! The flat roads are so hard on your joints and muscles. Grassed hills are softer on the feet and stretch and use different muscles.
We found a little “basket shop” at Northfields Farm. When I say basket shop, I mean a little basket on a table with a selection of water, chocolates, crisps and bananas. Honour system with the money. Mother was able to purchase her cheapest lunch yet…..80p.
There’s always something on the second part of the coast to coast walk that reminds you that you’re not too far from civilisation, and today we were to encounter a few of these constructions. The first was a train track. A big, wide train track. You literally have to run across and hope no trains come, and the trains were actually quite frequent. Well, a couple an hour at least. That’s kind of frequent. The next obstacle was a little further up the road. The A19. Mum’s been looking forward to this crossing the whole walk. Being only an A road as opposed to a motorway, it doesn’t qualify for an overhead pedestrian bridge. You just have to pick your break then run and pray as you tackle the four lanes and 70 mile/hour traffic. It’s at this point that you hope your legs don’t give out, and having been just on flat roads, legs forget how to work properly anymore. The track leading up to the A19 was used as a training alley where a few short sprints and training jumps were employed to get things moving again. They seem to work for Usain Bolt on the telly anyway. May as well give them a try! Fellow Dutch walkers told us that the road crossing would be illegal in The Netherlands and they’d be locked up. Probably most countries would result in the same outcome. But then there’s England. Bless.
Soon we were in Ingleby Cross. Some of the tougher and more determined walkers would have walked this far yesterday instead of overnighting at Danby Wiske. Knowing how we had felt yesterday, we were glad we hadn’t been one of them. Lunch was enjoyed in a tiny square in the middle of crossroads. Not the most private place for a bite. We felt like we were on show. A whole swarm of the tiniest insects decided to help us out as well. Great. Our fellow Dutch walkers told us that in their home, these meant an afternoon storm. The theory proved correct for this country as well.
Just a short walk down the road and, heaven be blessed, we found a hill!! Hurrah!! The climb up through the pine forest saw all our aches and pains melt away and made me realise how much more hill work I’ll be doing with horses from here on in. The forest track we found ourselves on brought images to mind of Dick Turpin and his faithful Black Bess, but thankfully today saw us enjoy a safe passage.
Our luck with the weather has been quite good over the last week or more. We’ve given up on trying to find the sun and are just happy if it doesn’t rain. Our luck ran out this afternoon and our waterproofs were pulled out once more. To be fair though, it didn’t last that long and we really haven’t used used the wet weather gear for any length since Lakeland. It had to happen at some point. Soon we found ourselves on The Cleveland Way which will be our path for tomorrow, but for now it was just a short acquaintance before we turned off to find the village of Osmotherley where we were to spend the night. Osmotherley is a pretty little village with cute stone cottages, once used to house flax mill workers. There’s an old village square where you can find a stone table believed to have once acted as a preaching platform for John Wesley. I’m always partial to a bit of preaching myself, so I just had to have a go. The village also boasts the oldest methodist church in the country. Makes sense.
XXX
