Robin Hood's Bay

Robin Hood’s Bay revealed itself to be a charming and quirky little town.  The Bay Town’s connection with the great man is uncertain but is supposedly where Robin Hood retired now and then to live as a simple fisherman and escape from his nemesis the Sheriff of Nottingham.  What is clear is Bay Town’s connection with the sea – from smuggling days where cottages were connected underground via cellars and sewers to assist the passage of contraband, to its heroic seafaring tradition.  The village has a rich history in rescuing sailors from ships foundering along the jagged coastline.

The Bay Hotel and Wainwright's Bar - finishing point for the Coast to Coast walk

Views of Robin Hood's Bay

Views of Robin Hood's Bay

It was just as well we walked into the Old Town as soon as we arrived in Robin Hood’s Bay because by the time we’d hauled our tired selves back up the steep slope to Cote Bank B+B there was no way we could have walked any further.  Dinner was in the seaview restaurant at the nearby Victoria Hotel and then to bed, cozy in the knowledge that we didn’t have to get up to walk tomorrow and poor little blistered feet could finally get bandaged up and have time to heal.

And as for my shoes – the battered little shoes got me to Robin Hood’s Bay and held together (thanks to superglue and tiling adhesive) without the indignity of having to be tied together with string or exchanged for the spare pair of sandals I was forced to carry in my pack all day just in case.  That said it took only a slight tug for the soles to finally break away so the brave little shoes held together just long enough to see the end of the trail.

In Memoriam - poor little shoes - may they Rest In Piece(s)

And as a fitting end, the little shoes have been laid to rest in Robin Hood's Bay with my eternal thanks!    

Egton Bridge to Robin Hood's Bay (26km)

Day 9 - Egton Bridge to Robin Hood's Bay

"The last stage, but don't be fooled into thinking this is a mere formality as the climb out of Grosmont will soon demonstrate.  It's a long stretch ... with enough ups and downs to ensure that you arrive in Robin Hood's Bay suitably dishevelled."

(H. Stedman (2012).  Coast to Coast Path, p233) 

We made the most of our serene breakfast in the warm conservatory of the Old Mill because we knew we’d have a long day ahead.  On leaving Egton Bridge at 8:30am it was an easy walk to the neighbouring village of Grosmont, a well known railway junction and home of the North York Moors Railway.

Steam trains at Grosmont station

In typical Wainwright fashion, rather than taking the sedate route along the Esk Valley to the coast, he had to take the trail over every hill in the landscape.  And so it was that fresh out of Grosmont we were confronted with yet another vicious climb first thing in the morning – this time a grueling walk up the extremely steep (1 in 3 gradient in places) Fair Head Lane to Sleights Moor.  It was like the hill that kept on giving because beyond every crest the path would just continue winding uphill – think Mount Street in West Perth but 5 times as long. 

Ominous grey clouds had been our companions from the time we left Egton Bridge and by the time we reached the moor, it was extremely overcast and muggy.

Crossing the moor to Littlebeck

The path descended into the tiny village of Littlebeck, famous for its garden gnomes, annual Rose Queen festival, and the Devil’s Hole – a place along the stream where the informer who betrayed Nicholas Postgate (see yesterday’s post) drowned himself and reputedly no fish have been caught there since.  Littlebeck is perhaps better known however for its beautiful woods which the trail passed through.  The gloomy light didn’t show off the forest’s best colours but the dense green vegetation, grand old trees, moss covered stones and winding path were still pretty special.

The path into Littlebeck Woods

Negotiating steep track in the woods

The woods even revealed some quirky places like ‘The Hermitage’ – a massive hollowed out boulder constructed for the Littlebeck schoolmaster, George Chubb in 1754.  It is not clear why it was created, it seems an awful lot of effort for nothing more than a folly.  

The Hermitage

Deep in the woods we came to Falling Foss and its welcome tearoom where we joined other walkers and Saturday day trippers for a beautiful fresh baked scone and flapjack.

Falling Foss

With still a long way to go we continued first along the road and then a punishing trek across the moor.

“(the) long, final moor of Graystone Hills, a sting in the Coast to Coast’s tail.”

(M. Wainwright (2012) The Coast to Coast Walk, p174)

The walk across the moor was particularly tough on already weary feet but now the wind picked up strength as well and raced unimpeded across the scrubby and non-too pretty heather and grass clumps.  At least the ground was dry as we imagined this place would be extremely boggy in the wet (like Stanley Pond – see post from 30 August 2012).  Down down down an interminable rough stony track to the road and the wind by this stage was whipping the hedges on either side, blowing loose leaves about and buffeting us. 

Hope was rekindled when we passed our first road sign with the magic words ‘Robin Hood’s Bay’!  As it was now 1:30pm and we’d been walking for a few hours, we flopped on the nearest park bench in the unremarkable village of High Hawsker quickly downing some sandwiches before getting blown out of town.  The now thick and oppressive dark clouds overhead suggested that it would be wise to don a raincoat before we set off again - for our last push to the coast!

And then a glimpse of the sea – no longer just a blue sliver on the horizon but a real heaving entity.  From the sublime to the ridiculous we had to walk through the beautifully manicured grounds of a seaside caravan/holiday park to reach the last of the trail along the coast.

Seaside holidays in the UK

The cliffs and North Sea 

“Stunted trees remind walkers lucky enough to have a still, peaceful day that this is a sometimes tempestuous stretch.  It also involves a final tribute to the genius of Alfred Wainwright.  He did not design the coastline, but he lit on a destination which hides until the great walk’s very last mile.  Only after you round Ness Point…do the superlatively pretty roofs and gardens of ‘Bay Town’ appear, perched right above the sea.”

(M.Wainwright (2012) The Coast to Coast Walk, p178)

And so our Coast to Coast walk ended the same way it began – with a walk along imposing sea cliffs in overcast and blustery conditions. It was certainly tempestuous.  For the final few kilometres around the coast, the clouds finally unleashed their fury.  The wind can only be described as ridiculous and the rain came from every direction.  The North Sea was dark and angry but occasional breaks in the cloud did bless us with a very special sight over the cliffs.

At the end of the rainbow lies Robin Hood's Bay!

And finally emerging from the gloom, the red rooftops of the Promised Land.

Robin Hood's Bay

Reaching the town just after 4pm we opted to go immediately to the fabled Bay Hotel and Wainwright’s Bar at the bottom of the old town.  The rain had stopped fortunately as we made our way down the steep and winding street to the slipway where we walked onto the beach and completed our all important rituals! 

Not quite keeping to the tradition of casting a stone from St Bees on the west coast into the sea on this side of the country, we tweaked things a little.  Instead, the second of the quartz pebbles collected from John Forrest National Park in Perth left Ross’ pocket and went into the sea.

Ross casts his pebble into the North Sea

My own little piece of the Darling Range followed before something much more symbolic.  A shiny white pebble from my Dad’s garden in Dianella which I’d been tasked with carrying along the eastern part of the C2C on his behalf.  He may not have been able to join us in person for this section of the walk but a little part of him did come on the journey and after a monumental trek across half a planet and now half of England it joins its fellows in the North Sea.

The white pebble from Dianella

Into the North Sea

And as for us – weary after an extremely long day and an eventful, glorious, frustrating, beautiful, painful but ultimately satisfying 9 days, we reached The End of the Coast to Coast walk.

The End

Blakey Ridge to Egton Bridge (19km)

*APOLOGY* Another day without internet yesterday so remember to scroll down and read more about the moors from Day 7.

Day 8 - Blakey Ridge to Egton Bridge

We awoke to the sound of rain hitting the window panes but fortunately the rain stopped by the time our B+B host, Andrew drove us back to the Lion Inn at 8:30am to continue our walk.  Even so big black clouds hung over the moors and we were again buffeted by the wind as we retraced the route along the road that Andrew had just driven us down.  Finally we turned off the road onto a track and the Lion Inn quickly receded into the distance.

Before long we were walking through Glaisdale Moor and skirting the head of Great Fryupdale (a corruption of the words Freya (Norse goddess) and hop, the old English word for remote valley).  This section of the walk would have to be one of the most beautiful along the Coast to Coast – the heather clad hills were blushing purple, below us unfurled the stunning valley and on the horizon, the sea.

C2C marker

We passed the disused shooting lodge of Trough House and numerous grouse butts fringing the path.  The poor unfortunate targets of all this recreational shooting were the plentiful grouse we could hear calling from the depths of the heather and occasionally making a show.  Ross did some grouse shooting of his own… with his camera.

Trough House - the blue sliver on the horizon is the sea! 

Great Fryupdale

Shooting grouse

After walking a slightly boring stretch along another minor road we rejoined the track through Glaisdale Low Moor and headed down a gentle slope towards the village of Glaisdale.  Before we even reached the village limits we bumped into a naturalised Yorkshireman bounding up the slope towards us with a huge smile.  In his broad Scottish accent (as he’d only lived in England for 45 years) he remarked that he noticed the Australians coming (based on Ross’ hat!) and pointed us in the direction of the village. 

Now in the warmth of the midday sun, Glaisdale proved a very pretty spot to stop for lunch under a shady oak tree planted by the villagers to mark the new millennium.

Lunch under the oak tree in Glaisdale

After lunch there was more kindness from strangers which left us convinced that the residents of Glaisdale must be the friendliest in the whole of England.  On our way out of the village, not one but two locals spotting our walking poles, volunteered us directions and wished us a happy afternoon and safe journey. 

It was then a pleasant walk through East Arnecliff Wood to the tiny village of Egton Bridge, our destination for the day.

The path through East Arnecliff Wood

“A strong competitor for the accolade of prettiest village on the Coast to Coast, Egton Bridge is a delight, a hamlet of grand houses surrounding an uninhabited island on the Esk.  Everything about the place is charming, from the bridge itself… to the stepping stones that lead across to the island and the mature trees that fringe the settlement.”

(H. Stedman Coast to Coast Path (2012), p229)

We made our way first to the Old Mill B+B, another labour of love on the part of the owners who have spent 11 years refurbishing it to its present high standard.  And joy of joys – a bathtub!!

A bathtub! 

At the Old Mill B+B

An afternoon stroll through the village revealed some more hidden gems like St Hedda’s Roman Catholic Church.  The village was the home of the martyr, the Blessed Nicholas Postgate who was hung, drawn and quartered in 1679 during the last period in Britain when Catholics were legally put to death on account of their faith.  The church houses his relics and a striking stained glass window is dedicated to his memory.

The window of the martyr Nicholas Postgate - St Hedda's Church

Dinner was a skip over the stepping stones to the Horseshoe Hotel before another evening of blister care and shoe repair.  Having exhausted my supply of superglue, Ross resorted to some borrowed bathroom tiling adhesive to stick the soles of my hiking shoes back together.  He is convinced my shoes will catastrophically fail before I reach Robin Hood’s Bay tomorrow.  I’m determined to prove him wrong.  Come on little shoes – just 25km more!

The stepping stones over the Esk

The Horseshoe Hotel