St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge

We wake to news that overnight storms have washed away sections of the railway track, that no trains can get through to St Bees and that parts of Cumbria are under 6 feet of water.  It's not a very encouraging start to say the least.    

Headlines the day we commenced the Coast to Coast from St Bees

Breakfast is a delicious but slightly subdued affair as we take in the pictures on the news flashing up on the TV screen in the breakfast room.  Our hostess is gracious and chatty and we also meet two other Coast to Coasters who are due to start the walk today.    

Breakfast over, we pack our things and leave our cases in the hall to be collected and transferred during the day to our night's accommodation.  The Fellowship regroups and for the 1km stroll from St Bees to the start of the walk, Veronia is our companion.  The road is wet and the air is heavy as we pass by workers with earthmoving equipment repairing flood damage in town from last night's deluge.

Our intrepid Fellowship with St Bees Head in the background

When we reach the beach we find that the bridge marking the traditional start of the walk has been washed away during the night and we are forced instead to detour through the caravan park.  It is here that we say our goodbyes to Veronia and under leaden skies we make our way uphill along the path fringing St Bees Head.

The start of the Coast to Coast walk

The stats

• Coast to Coast Walk - St Bees to Robin Hood's Bay - 191miles (304km)
• Coast to Coast Walk (West section) - 82miles (131 km) which is 'our' walk over the next 7 days
• Day 1 - St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge - 14miles (22.5km)

 

The verdict

The wind is fierce as we walk along the coast and the ground is wet and slippery although there is a well-worn path through the coastal vegetation.  On the horizon we can see shafts of sunlight illuminating the Isle of Man like some mythical Avalon.  The clouds still hang menacingly above our heads but there is nothing more than a light drizzle.

We pass and greet a number of other walkers going the same way who, in the days to come, like our breakfast companions, will become our walking fellows.  For now we concentrate on the path ahead and it doesn't take long before there are a couple of harmless tumbles - enough to convince Dad it is time to take out his walking poles.  As agreed previously, one is lent to Ross however as I am keeper of the map I opt to keep my hands free and rely on my own balance (or lack thereof).  The hairpin path around Fleswick Bay takes some navigating as there are torrents of water rushing down from higher ground.  As the path turns inland there is finally some relief from the biting wind and the sun at last starts to break through the clouds.

The trail is uneventful until we descend into a meadow towards Stanley Pond.  Seated on the ground are two young Americans, both shoeless.  They are just completing the C2C in the opposite direction and tell us the 'pond' is actually a 'marsh' thanks to last night's storm and no amount of Gore-Tex in the universe will keep feet dry.  My heart sinks.  Ahead of us in the distance we can see a guided walking party (herein known as 'The Californians' the same way we become known among our cohort as 'The Australians') picking their route through the Pond.  As there is no other easy route around, we cast our fears aside and go for it.

The Americans weren't kidding.   It's not just a marsh but a shallow lake.  The water comes up to mid-shin and despite trying to aim for tufts of vegetation and walk on flattened reeds,  our feet just sink into the soft squelching mud.  At least trouser legs can be rolled up to keep them dry but sadly the water just pours into our boots and our socks are soaked through.  When we reach the other side we join some fellow walkers in immediately removing our boots to tip the bog water out.  We sit for a while to try and dry our feet - fortunately we have brought towels and spare socks but it still means putting dry feet back into wet shoes. It isn't a nice feeling.  At least we managed to keep our balance as we hear a member of the party before us was unfortunate enough to fall into the water.

When we finally reach the village of Moor Row, the shoes come off again and are left in the sunshine to dry while we stop for a welcome lunch at the cafe on the main street.
  

The aftermath of Stanley Pond - drying our feet at Moor Row

It is a welcome break but we press on before we get too comfortable.  We tramp through farmland and must pass through a field of cows outside Cleator.  It is the genesis of my cow-phobia.  While Dad and Ross soldier on ahead to the stile at the bottom of the field I get left behind as I try to avoid a wide area of mud.  In my naivety about farmyard protocols, my diversion brings me close to calves and the cows get very restless.  First very vocal and then they start to herd.  In a large field with over 20 animals all grouped together baying loudly, it is very frightening.  The gentlemen realise something is wrong and turn back to fetch me.  All of us then beat a hasty retreat to the bottom of the field.  I am so relieved to get over that stile.

We need to pass through a farm to reach the path to Dent Fell but a friendly(?) farmer guides us on a shortcut through farm buildings to the path.  We end up walking along the path for a few hundred metres before something tells us we're going the wrong way.  There is some debate before we turn around and retrace our steps.  In the opposite direction we find the correct path and strike uphill through the forest.  The slope is muddy and waterlogged and we often need to detour well behind the tree line to avoid the morass.   It is hot and tiring walking uphill and when we finally break into the open, we are confronted by even more slope.  At this junction we meet with a large party of fellow Coast to Coasters and we continue our slow uphill journey together.

Heading up Dent Fell

It is our first taste of Lakeland slopes and the view from the top certainly makes the effort worthwhile.  In the brilliant afternoon sunshine we can see all the way back to the coast over the patchwork quilt of fields we have just walked through. 

My valiant Dad reaching the summit of Dent Fell
with views of the Coast behind him

We continue with our new walking companions all the way to Ennerdale Bridge, first descending the steep slope on the far side of Dent Fell.  We're a diverse group of walkers - some locals and a party of three lovely ladies from Minnesota (check out the Trekking Trio Adventures - their great account of the full C2C walk).

The descent from Dent Fell

As our party walks along the valley floor, what may have been gentle becks yesterday are now raging torrents which must be long-jumped over or in one case, so deep we must clamber up onto a stone wall (apologies) and precariously walk along the jagged top until we can bypass the torrent.  We meet a local out walking her dogs.  She is wearing a pair of wellies and I look longingly at her boots - I have never coveted a pair of footwear so much in my life.  

The shadows are starting to lengthen when we finally approach Ennerdale Bridge.  We are all exhausted and the footpath fringing the road into the village seems interminable.  The Shepherds Arms Hotel is such a welcome sight.  Our host is so accommodating he even carries our suitcases up to our room.  The room and bathroom are newly refurbished and comfortable.  There is even a tray in the room for our muddy boots.  All we really care about when we arrive however is washing ourselves and then our clothes which we do.  Ross then sets about speed drying clothes and boots with a hairdryer before we go downstairs to join our new local friends and the Minnesota ladies for a welcome and hearty dinner.

We drag our exhausted limbs back up the stairs and in my mind I question whether I will even be able to haul myself out of bed in the morning let alone walk what is supposedly the toughest day of the journey.  Lights out early and it is a night of delicious sleep punctuated only by delirious dreams of wellington boots.