Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Kirkby Stephen to Keld
We went over the Penines today, up to the nine standards, over the hills, and down into the Yorkshire Dales National Park. The route wound its patient way up a completely unshaded hill, with moorlands over the top, and lots of peat bogs that normally would be really nasty to walk through, but it had been dry for almost a week now so we only had to tip-toe around a few spots here and there.
Yorkshire Dales is beautiful, with yellow buttercups and lovely barns. Again, lots of sheep, but we got to Keld at 4:00pm despite several breaks, and our cell phone didn't work. We resorted to a payphone off the main road to call our Inn for a pickup (we were staying at the Tan Hill Inn, the highest Inn in the entire U.K.), and since that was the only phone box in town they knew exactly where to pick us up.
Lisa got a case of sunburn on her legs where we forgot to apply sunscreen because we had umbrellas up. Sunburn in England! Nobody's going to believe her.
Yorkshire Dales is beautiful, with yellow buttercups and lovely barns. Again, lots of sheep, but we got to Keld at 4:00pm despite several breaks, and our cell phone didn't work. We resorted to a payphone off the main road to call our Inn for a pickup (we were staying at the Tan Hill Inn, the highest Inn in the entire U.K.), and since that was the only phone box in town they knew exactly where to pick us up.
Lisa got a case of sunburn on her legs where we forgot to apply sunscreen because we had umbrellas up. Sunburn in England! Nobody's going to believe her.
Stonethwaite to Grasmere
We woke up still footsore but surprisingly refreshed and ready for another day. A typical English breakfast followed (recommended only for people who are doing hard exercise—the same fare would probably provide a heart-attack for anyone else), and then we were on our way. I discovered that sock-liners made my boots feel too small, so resorted once again to moleskin to reduce contact with the sore part of my ankle (which was still unblistered)
A bridge crossing later, we were on the official trail route again, which passed waterfalls and then started climbing quickly in the beautiful morning light. After a false summit, the path led us through some boggy areas—so far, there’s never been a day here that I hadn’t ended up being grateful for my waterproof hiking boots.
The hike up to the top was uneventful, but the scenery was gorgeous as was the light—the Lake district mountains have a distinctive talent for appearing to be much taller than they have a right to look, despite none of them being higher than Mt. Hamilton in the Bay Area.
The book noted that today had the most accessible of the coast to coast’s high ridge walk, so despite our lingering soreness, we decided to take it. The views were again outstanding, with visibility being good enough for us to see both Grasmere and Windermere lakes.
The descent from Helm Crag, however, was steep beyond belief—the bottoms of my feet were again pulsating by the time we hit the bottom, and it was to our relief that the hotel we’d booked was the first one we encountered in town.
Grasmere was a picture-perfect little town—so small that the nearest Laundromat was a bus-ride away. Fortunately, the bus comes by every 20 minutes or so (at least, that’s what we were told). We wandered around, found dinner, booked dinner at the Jumble House for the next night (yes, things were so crowded we couldn’t have dinner there that night!), and then found the Wordsworths’ graves at the Church of St. Oswald.
A bridge crossing later, we were on the official trail route again, which passed waterfalls and then started climbing quickly in the beautiful morning light. After a false summit, the path led us through some boggy areas—so far, there’s never been a day here that I hadn’t ended up being grateful for my waterproof hiking boots.
The hike up to the top was uneventful, but the scenery was gorgeous as was the light—the Lake district mountains have a distinctive talent for appearing to be much taller than they have a right to look, despite none of them being higher than Mt. Hamilton in the Bay Area.
The book noted that today had the most accessible of the coast to coast’s high ridge walk, so despite our lingering soreness, we decided to take it. The views were again outstanding, with visibility being good enough for us to see both Grasmere and Windermere lakes.
The descent from Helm Crag, however, was steep beyond belief—the bottoms of my feet were again pulsating by the time we hit the bottom, and it was to our relief that the hotel we’d booked was the first one we encountered in town.
Grasmere was a picture-perfect little town—so small that the nearest Laundromat was a bus-ride away. Fortunately, the bus comes by every 20 minutes or so (at least, that’s what we were told). We wandered around, found dinner, booked dinner at the Jumble House for the next night (yes, things were so crowded we couldn’t have dinner there that night!), and then found the Wordsworths’ graves at the Church of St. Oswald.
May 31st: Ennerdale Bridge to Stonethwaite
Unfortunately, Ennerdale View’s hot-tub (its selling point, as far as we were concerned), was turned off, so we couldn’t use it. Their internet connectivity worked just great, however, so we made phone calls back home.
The next morning started with a gorgeous setting and an excellent English breakfast. Then Tony provided the packed lunches, and announced that since he had no driver today, he was unable to provide a lift back to Ennerdale Bridge. This added 1.5 miles of downhill to the walk, so I was unhappy, but there was nothing to do about that at this time.
The walk down to Ennerdale Bridge had to be interrupted a few times for Boot adjustments until I figured out that I should mole skin my heel vertically. We reached Ennerdale Bridge slowly, and then headed for the Lake. The walk there took more than the twenty minutes the book stated, so I knew we were going to be on a leisurely schedule today. The high route was out of the question, given our soreness and Lisa’s objection, since even the Ennerdale lakeside trail was giving us trouble on account of the previous day’s activities.
The lake was beautiful, with the ever changing light giving us new views from the same scene seconds apart, showing us the glorious English country side in all her beauty, homes, squared off fields with their fences, and lush greenery everywhere in sight.
Past the hike, we had a choice between the Bridle track or the “official route”, which was warned to be hot and dull. Given the general coolness we were experiencing, we had no fear of the heat, and after all that excitement yesterday, a little dullness would not be unwelcome. The reality, though, was that the official route was only dull compared to the high route --- the trees alongside the road were beautiful, and the views of the surrounding value in the areas that had been clear cut provided a backdrop that made the dullness fade. Still, our condition made the route slow going. A tailwind provided a little support, but the road was a gentle and relentless uphill, which slowed us down more than it should have.
By the by, we arrived at the Black Sails youth hostel, where we met a woman named Rafael and Richard. They were doing a long hike in the opposite direction, doing all the high ridges that are part of the coast to coast. Rafael was an experienced hiker (no, she did not have brothers named Michaelangelo or Donatello) and pulled out a topo map that showed the way. I would have been better off keeping my counsel and following the book, however, since her directions ultimately confused me. Lisa had tea and potato chips while I had an apple.
After we were done we headed up the hill, which after meandering for a bit, became a steep climb. We took the climb slowly, one step at a time, and soon were in sight of the cairns at the top, which arrived far rapidly than I anticipated. Over the sheep fence, I got confused and saw another cairn off in the distance. The detour to check and make sure it wasn’t the path Rafael described cost us half an hour. Fortunately, there was signal at the top, so I called our Inn to make sure they didn’t give away our beds. Ann, the owner of Knotts View informed us that it was a busy night at the town so we should have dinner before arriving at the Inn.
A dark cloud came in between us and the sun, lending the afternoon a brooding, dark mood. We were both tired and footsore, and our speed was a mile and a half an hour, if that. The trail was inlaid with rocks to prevent erosion, but that made our progress even slower. Surprisingly though, any pain in my ankle was gone --- it was as if 10 hours of walking in those boots finally melded them into my body. Two couples passed us as though we were standing still, and though the dark cloud eventually passed, we only made it down to the Hornister Youth Hostel at 6:00pm. At that point, hungry and worn out, I realized that we would make it to Knotts View only by 9:00pm. Fortunately, a couple had just pulled into the parking lot and finished shooting pictures, so we asked for a ride to Seatoller and they accepted.
Once in the car, they found out that we were staying in Stonethwaite, and made up an excuse that they were going there to eat anyway, and coincidentally happened to pass Knotts View and drop us off. We must have looked a sight when we arrived at Knotts View, since the owner immediately ushered us into our room, told us to take a shower, and then she’d drive us to Rosthwaite at the Scarfell Hotel where we could have a bar dinner.
She could not drive us back because she was expecting more guests (who never did show up), so after dinner we walked the 15 minute walk back in about 25 minutes, aching and with feet throbbing. There was no question that we would sleep well that night.
The next morning started with a gorgeous setting and an excellent English breakfast. Then Tony provided the packed lunches, and announced that since he had no driver today, he was unable to provide a lift back to Ennerdale Bridge. This added 1.5 miles of downhill to the walk, so I was unhappy, but there was nothing to do about that at this time.
The walk down to Ennerdale Bridge had to be interrupted a few times for Boot adjustments until I figured out that I should mole skin my heel vertically. We reached Ennerdale Bridge slowly, and then headed for the Lake. The walk there took more than the twenty minutes the book stated, so I knew we were going to be on a leisurely schedule today. The high route was out of the question, given our soreness and Lisa’s objection, since even the Ennerdale lakeside trail was giving us trouble on account of the previous day’s activities.
The lake was beautiful, with the ever changing light giving us new views from the same scene seconds apart, showing us the glorious English country side in all her beauty, homes, squared off fields with their fences, and lush greenery everywhere in sight.
Past the hike, we had a choice between the Bridle track or the “official route”, which was warned to be hot and dull. Given the general coolness we were experiencing, we had no fear of the heat, and after all that excitement yesterday, a little dullness would not be unwelcome. The reality, though, was that the official route was only dull compared to the high route --- the trees alongside the road were beautiful, and the views of the surrounding value in the areas that had been clear cut provided a backdrop that made the dullness fade. Still, our condition made the route slow going. A tailwind provided a little support, but the road was a gentle and relentless uphill, which slowed us down more than it should have.
By the by, we arrived at the Black Sails youth hostel, where we met a woman named Rafael and Richard. They were doing a long hike in the opposite direction, doing all the high ridges that are part of the coast to coast. Rafael was an experienced hiker (no, she did not have brothers named Michaelangelo or Donatello) and pulled out a topo map that showed the way. I would have been better off keeping my counsel and following the book, however, since her directions ultimately confused me. Lisa had tea and potato chips while I had an apple.
After we were done we headed up the hill, which after meandering for a bit, became a steep climb. We took the climb slowly, one step at a time, and soon were in sight of the cairns at the top, which arrived far rapidly than I anticipated. Over the sheep fence, I got confused and saw another cairn off in the distance. The detour to check and make sure it wasn’t the path Rafael described cost us half an hour. Fortunately, there was signal at the top, so I called our Inn to make sure they didn’t give away our beds. Ann, the owner of Knotts View informed us that it was a busy night at the town so we should have dinner before arriving at the Inn.
A dark cloud came in between us and the sun, lending the afternoon a brooding, dark mood. We were both tired and footsore, and our speed was a mile and a half an hour, if that. The trail was inlaid with rocks to prevent erosion, but that made our progress even slower. Surprisingly though, any pain in my ankle was gone --- it was as if 10 hours of walking in those boots finally melded them into my body. Two couples passed us as though we were standing still, and though the dark cloud eventually passed, we only made it down to the Hornister Youth Hostel at 6:00pm. At that point, hungry and worn out, I realized that we would make it to Knotts View only by 9:00pm. Fortunately, a couple had just pulled into the parking lot and finished shooting pictures, so we asked for a ride to Seatoller and they accepted.
Once in the car, they found out that we were staying in Stonethwaite, and made up an excuse that they were going there to eat anyway, and coincidentally happened to pass Knotts View and drop us off. We must have looked a sight when we arrived at Knotts View, since the owner immediately ushered us into our room, told us to take a shower, and then she’d drive us to Rosthwaite at the Scarfell Hotel where we could have a bar dinner.
She could not drive us back because she was expecting more guests (who never did show up), so after dinner we walked the 15 minute walk back in about 25 minutes, aching and with feet throbbing. There was no question that we would sleep well that night.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Quick Post from Kirby Stephen
We hiked in 14 miles today from Orton, the easiest 14 mile hike we've done so far. We used umbrellas for the second time on the trip --- this time as sunshades, as it's been very sunny, warm and hot. Not at all like the England we've been told to expect. It's pretty but shadeless around here, so it's a good thing we brought umbrellas instead of gore-tex jackets.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Quick post from Orton
Having left the Lakes district yesterday --- what a change in terrain! From killer views with killer climbs (yes, worse than the local Black Mountain), to gentle but desolate Moors, this walk definitely has provided me with views so splendid that I can barely believe that I'm walking across a completely developed first world country.
The weather has been nothing short of amazing. I hope our luck holds out. We even went sailing on Ullswater, hiring a dinghy sailboat for the lake for 2 hours and having a blast despite this being my first time in 5 years since I did any dinghy sailing.
One thing though --- this is definitely a challenging walk. When I set this up, my attitude was, this is England --- how high can the mountains be? They might not be super high, but the trails are strewn with rocks to prevent erosion and this makes the climbs super super tough, and the descent particularly tough on joints. Plus --- the Lakes district doesn't believe in having any signs anywhere, so the navigational challenge makes things super super tough.
But the people are nice (and they speak English!), and we've met more than our share of friendly friendly people who go out of their way to make visitors feel welcome. England is an expensive country, but so far has been well worth the visit. Now... back to our regular foot soaking...
(Still no wireless, so no picture posting for now...)
The weather has been nothing short of amazing. I hope our luck holds out. We even went sailing on Ullswater, hiring a dinghy sailboat for the lake for 2 hours and having a blast despite this being my first time in 5 years since I did any dinghy sailing.
One thing though --- this is definitely a challenging walk. When I set this up, my attitude was, this is England --- how high can the mountains be? They might not be super high, but the trails are strewn with rocks to prevent erosion and this makes the climbs super super tough, and the descent particularly tough on joints. Plus --- the Lakes district doesn't believe in having any signs anywhere, so the navigational challenge makes things super super tough.
But the people are nice (and they speak English!), and we've met more than our share of friendly friendly people who go out of their way to make visitors feel welcome. England is an expensive country, but so far has been well worth the visit. Now... back to our regular foot soaking...
(Still no wireless, so no picture posting for now...)
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