At the Crossroads

I didn't sleep well last night. The room was comfortable enough but the bed wasn't. The mattress had the firmness of a marshmallow. When I first sat down and felt how completely it compressed, it was a huge surprise. Getting back up off of it was like climbing out of a bean bag chair.

Usually the day’s exertion is sufficient to allow me to sleep almost standing up. Facing the 22-mile day today after a fairly sleepless night wasn't the best way to begin.

Breakfast was solid and I visited with Kiki and Craig during the meal. They, like several others, were taking it easy today and only traveling about 9 miles to Orton. Travel time over the surfaces involved would be less than four hours. I hope they find sufficient diversion in the small village of their destination. Because they’ll be about 12 miles behind me, I probably won't see them or the Australians before the end of the journey.

There was an 80 percent chance of rain. As I left the hotel the skies were overcast but there was no precipitation. The good news about my hotel was that it was very close to my point for rejoining the path. Within 15 minutes I was on a bridge over the rail line I took up to Carlisle a week earlier. Pausing on the bridge, I looked back over the town and recognized the view from the train before I arrived in St Bees.

After passing over the train line, there was another bridge passing over the highway. A short climb over a hill next to a huge quarry and then down some stairs to where I got to see the first trail signs of the day. Usually sheep run in the opposite direction when walkers passed through the fields. The sheep at the signage were eager to run down and see people passing by. I can only guess that hikers have been feeding them.

Now I was going through some rolling hills, with plenty of low shrubs and lots and lots of mud. The trail was visible for the most part and my GPS was right on. I was so grateful to find a better app than the one I used when I was getting lost.

The path passed by an area claiming to be where Robin Hood is buried. It’s more folklore than fact. About that time, the rain began to move in to make everything a little slicker, and even muddier. Fortunately it didn’t last long and I wouldn't feel more than a slight drizzle for the remainder of the day. I took the opportunity to catch some podcasts and just enjoy walking through the landscape.

I detoured purposely into Orton to take a break. My plan was to rejoin the trail somewhere down the way. I did get a little turned around and asked a gentleman on the street if he could provide any information. He wasn't a local but he did offer me a ride all the way to the end of the day's walk. I explained to him that it would probably be considered cheating, and I really did want to do the walking instead.

The GPS gave me guidance and I chose a country lane that would take me in a direction to rejoin the Wainwright. That's where I saw my first red squirrel. They're a little rare and only found in Great Britain. I would have captured a photograph, however, the squirrel I saw was a casualty on the road. He was not very photogenic or animated.

It wasn't much longer before I saw a sign redirecting me onto the trail. In an unexpected surprise, the trail ran through several small fenced areas occupied by sheep. In the space of 30 minutes I had about eight gates to open and close, and four barriers to navigate.

Another 30 minutes later, I saw several familiar faces at a refreshment area. There were a few picnic tables and an array of beverages, paid for on the honor system. Dawn and Julie were there along with about six others. They invited me to visit but I pressed on, having had my break earlier.

It wasn't long before they caught up with me, and we walked along together, making directional decisions by committee. As a group we did pretty well. 

At one point in the center of the trail there was a rubber cone. It seemed very out of place. When I got close, but not too close, I saw the reason why. There are many stories of hikers falling into sinkholes in the bogs. It was interesting to see how large and cavernous this particular hole was. I kept a safe distance because there was no guarantee the surrounding ground was any more stable than the portion that had collapsed. 

With Dawn referencing her map and me working with the improved GPS, we did a pretty good job of only needing minor corrections to stay on course. We did get sucked in at one point where all the paths seemed to lead under a bridge. Once we were down below the bridge, and near the river, we saw that there was no way to get over the stone or wire fencing. So, it was back up the hill to find others who were arriving and trying to solve the same puzzle. Which way to go?

Members from another group finally figured it out. We had to go back up the hill in order to get back on the trail. Alternatively, we could scale a gate that would not open. That's kind of taboo in the rule book for etiquette on the Coast to Coast. That doesn't mean people don't do it.

Once we were on the other side of the river and at some higher elevation, the path to take was obvious. We watched as others tried to figure things out as they arrived in the bridge area.

After crossing the river on an old stone bridge, we climbed the last big hill for the day. The path took us up to fields occupied by sheep and cattle, and one hare. The sun came out for the last two hours of the walk, and it was casual and comfortable. The only drama involved was when we approached a herd of cattle on the trail. Dawn, who has much more experience with this than I do, issued instructions: Remain quiet and proceed all three of us together. It is rare, but cattle have been known to attack hikers and farmers. In this case, the cow just chewed its cud and processed the food into more obstacles for the trail.

We were almost there. After a few small hills and a passage under a railway tunnel, we were on the outskirts of Kirkby Stephen.

Today marks the halfway point for me. Not in mileage, but in days. It was slow going through the Lakes Region due to terrain. Now it flattens out, in a similar fashion to the Camino, and I'll be putting in more miles every day.

It seems whenever hikers get together, one of the topics of conversation is health. The injury list continues to grow. Through our combined knowledge, we determined there were at least three people hurt the day before: a broken finger, a broken rib, and a turned ankle. There is no safety net on this journey.  One misplaced step or a momentary loss of balance can have dire consequences. As one fellow hiker told me, the sense of risk makes you feel very much alive. I'm not looking for an adrenaline rush, but I believe he was right.

I remain blister free, knock on wood. More people are reporting problems with their feet. Among our little group, we expressed our concern for Amelia, the Finn. She was not seen today. That doesn't necessarily mean anything. There are specialized bandages for blisters and everybody carries them. Nobody wants to have to get off the trail because of a foot injury.

My hotel is actually not in Kirkby Stephen. I'm in a much smaller village called Nateby. My accommodation for the night is a combination pub and hotel. The menu is limited and I wound up with brown food again. It was tasty but I am craving fresh fruit. The best I've been able to do is an occasional apple.

Tomorrow is a shorter day, only 14 miles, and there's an interesting series of stones at the top of the hill nearby. Because there are no accommodations down the line, I’ll be in a taxi back at the same hotel tomorrow night. The weather is supposed to be clear for the next few days. That is a blessing on so many levels. Not only is the view much better when it's not raining, the fields turn very nasty very fast when they get wet.

My mattress this evening is definitely better than yesterday, but not great. There is a definite slant to it where one side is more compressed than the other. I expect I will have dreams about sleeping on the side of a hill. One thing for certain, I won't have any difficulty getting to sleep.