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Time: 8h. Up: 475m. Down 525m.
Distance: 29km. Difficulty: easy but long Day 14: Egton Bridge (50m) to Robin Hood's Bay (0m) The last day! And with Russell rejoining us the group is complete again for the first time since Day 9. We set off early because today will be a fairly long hike. The first couple of hours are reasonably uneventful, although we do manage to lose Oliver, Dave and Russ for a few minutes in Grosmont when they stop to photograph a steam engine and then optimistically choose a lower path along the river instead of following us up a hill. And then it starts to get interesting. We lose the path for the first time while crossing the moor after Grosmont… it just disappears in the heather, leaving us bushwhacking through the stuff for around 20 minutes. It is particularly hard going for Oliver, whose habitual leg-swinging is greatly hindered by the undergrowth, and for Miles whose knee doesn’t take well to the required high-stepping gait. Frequent compass checks mean that we nevertheless arrive at the far edge of the moor almost exactly where we should… and then looking back we see the path we should have been on as clear as day behind us. The first gentle questioning of our navigator are heard. Somewhat later we start to hear thunder. Shortly after that, I miss the correct moment to climb up and out of Littlebeck valley… adding an extra 15 minutes or so to our day. The way we take is prettier than the “correct” way, which goes along a road, but it is a hot day and it is clear that the group would prefer for the hike’s end to come sooner rather than later. Dad in particular seems quite exhausted as we climb up to yet another moor. The questioning increases. Then we start to cross this new moor… and again the path disappears. Fortunately for me, we see a signpost ahead before too much acrimony arises… but beyond it, yet again, the path fades out within a few yards, despite being clearly indicated on the map. We are walking parallel to a stone wall, but according to the map we should bend away, pass through a short band of woods, and then reach a road. I suggest that despite the lack of a path we should go where the map says. Miles wants to stick to the wall. I maintain that since there is no clear path along the wall either, we should at least head in the right direction, which we do. But the ground underfoot gets worse and worse… becoming a thigh-deep combination of heather and swamp grass (luckily without the swamp since it has been dry for a couple of weeks) with hidden holes and ditches to trip the unwary. The questioning reaches a crescendo and it becomes clear: Miles has lost faith. The third and last member of our group to do so. It is interesting to note that the three who lost faith – Russ, Dad, and Miles – are all my immediate family, while the three who did not – Dave, Oliver, and Sally – are not. Was it because my family has had had too many experiences of my fallibility over the years? Or was it a case of familiarity making it easier to say what every one else was also thinking? I suspect a combination. It is doubtless harder to have complete trust in someone you have known as an unreasonable child than in someone you have only known as an adult. And then of course Sally, Dave, and – above all! – Oliver are so very polite :-). Despite plummeting morale, we press on – we are far enough into the woods by now that no-one wants to go back – straggling somewhat as those with faith push ahead and those whose energy is being sapped by lack of faith drop back, until, coming out of the wood, we see the road and a stile on the bearing we have been heading. On the far side a much clearer track – with a C2C sign! – continues across the moor. But then another problem: we can now see that the thunder we have been hearing comes from a rather massive thunderstorm to our west… and it seems to be heading in our direction. Lightning bolts spear down from the storm every few seconds; it really would be much better to be off the open moor before it gets to us. We press on quickly and fortunately reach the other side without mishap. 20 minutes later, while walking along a road towards the coast, the outskirts of the storm brush us and it starts to rain quite heavily. It is the last straw: Dad, Oliver, and Miles have had enough and choose to walk directly to the village of Robin Hood’s Bay along a road. Dave, Russ, Sally, and I stick to the original plan which is to come into the village along the coastal cliff path. And so when we finally arrive at the cliffs and look down on the North Sea, so many miles and hours and breakfasts and dinners and pains and pleasures after leaving the Irish Sea two weeks earlier, we are not seven but four C2C walkers who congratulate one another. And when we get to Robin Hood’s Bay itself and walk out on the sand to the waters’ edge to throw in those pebbles we have carried all the way from St. Bees, there are only four of us present, not seven. At the time we were, I think, too tired to realize that there was something missing, but as I sit here and write these words I regret that we did not stay together at the end of that last day. But a long and tough hike like the C2C takes its toll. There are high points and low points, times of great solidarity and moments of division. Times when you feel like you could do it twice over, and moments when all you want to do is to get to where you are going and take your boots off and lie down on a bed and take the weight off of your aching feet. On balance, much more of the former than the latter. But for Dad, who had just done the first serious hike and the most strenuous two weeks of exercise in his life, and for Miles, who marched further and faster than any of us who had seen him start his exercise program a mere three months earlier would have believed, and for Oliver, who lurched his way across England on a grating knee, this was one of those bad moments and they made the right choice to take the road. And we met up in the B&B soon enough, and later that evening, gathered in an excellent restaurant, we had a very merry celebratory dinner with many toasts to one another, to the group, to challenges met and overcome, and to a wonderful hike that we will not forget no matter how far we hike in years to come. Summary:
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C2C: The Coast to Coast Hike