Coast to Coast UK - Richmond to Danby Wiske

It happens every day: the final three-mile trudge. Conversation stops, and our heads drop, the only sound is the sound of our footfall to the backdrop of birdsong in the nearby roadside hedges. There is no chatter about things we are seeing along the way, no friendly banter or bad dad jokes; instead we plod, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, for the last three miles.

A mile, I have realised over the past 11 days of walking, is an arbitrary measure of distance used in the UK. A mile is quite long (compared to a kilometre) and the thing about a mile is, it gets longer as the day progresses. This explains why the final three-mile plod seems like the longest three miles of the day - it actually is - and while my feet, at this point in the day, no matter how many miles they have already covered, want to move faster, because they know the end is near, Wallsy seems unable to continue moving his with any purpose, and the divide between us inevitably widens.

The first three miles this morning, was flying by, we had already walked a mile into town from our accommodation before we hit the track. Wallsy had posted his postcards, we had purchased something for lunch, and then meandered around over Richmond Bridge where we joined the C2C track and were soon bidding the town farewell. The route today although quite long, at an advertised 14 miles (22.8km) covered the flattest section of the coast to coast, which for some was considered the most boring, unless of course it had been raining, because then it became the muddiest.

We had wound upwards through a pretty wood, which left the River Swale far below us; a wood, as became apparent, that was part of the military training area for the nearby Catterick Garrison army base. It was no wonder we were hearing the frequent boom of artillery penetrating the serenity of the woods. It was around the time we were beginning to think about the possibility of finding a seat in the next village as, after three miles we thought we deserved first lunch, that we realised we had overshot the track. Instead of wandering between the fields of canola, as we had been for a while, we were meant to be wandering between the barley crops below. It was a classic case of following the most used path across a field, instead of checking the map and making for the gate in the middle of the opposite fence, that we were supposed to have passed through, despite any semblance of a track heading that way.

We had to backtrack, which meant it was another half an hour before we reached the village of Colburn, but happily, the first thing we came across was a convenient seat, located beside a convenient rubbish bin, and a plaque which contained a piece of local poetry for Wallsy to enjoy. Moving on after our snack, we continued to cross farms and fences, over stiles and through kissing gates, until we reached a track following the course of the river below.

Again, we found ourselves off course. This time, not by our doing, but by the realignment of the right of way, which had moved the path from the field we were in, through a gate we had already passed and on the other side of the fence, but we weren’t aware of this rerouting until we found ourselves unable to pass into the next field, which was where the map indicated we should be. Back we went, for the second time today.

We finally made our way by a very steep and narrow track, to the underpass below the busy A1 motorway, popping up near Catterick Bridge, formally Cataractonium, a Roman military city. Here, we discovered another seat, so Wallsy decided it must be time for lunch.

A pretty walk, called Scorton Walk, around some quarry dams which have been made into a nature reserve was next, followed by a stop in the village of Bolton-on-Swale, although we had now left the River Swale, which had been our constant companion since Keld. In Bolton-on-Swale, we made our way to St Mary’s Church, where there was an honesty café; a place for walkers to make a cuppa, have a snack and rest and recuperate in solitude. My mission was to find some mice; Wallsy’s was to make the coffee.

Robert Thompson, a furniture maker born 1876, used a carved mouse as his trademark on every piece of furniture he crafted, and I had read that some could be found in St Mary’s Church. I wandered aimlessly, not really knowing where they would be found; whether they would be hidden, or obvious. I had almost given up, when I spotted one on the carved oak screen at the rear of the church. Having found one, suddenly more became obvious, and although, there are reported to be 9 carved mice in the church, I managed to locate only 4, but was very happy that my mission had been accomplished.

The farm tracks became increasingly narrow, overgrown and uninviting, as we progressed towards Danby Wiske. One particular farmer had erected a 4-strand barbed wire fence alongside a beck, leaving a track, overgrown with stinging nettles, blackberries and thistles, which was barely wide enough to pass through. In the wet weather, this, and other sections of track that we travelled on today, become an absolute quagmire. We got the distinct feeling, some farmers did not want the Coast to Coast track passing through their property. Fortunately, the very muddy, oft-times impassable sections had dried out enough that we could make it through without slipping and sliding in mud.

As we reached the final three miles, we had a long section of road walking, which is in itself more tiring and demanding on weary feet and legs. The weather at this point, which had been beautiful and mainly sunny, although quite windy, all day, decided to throw a sudden shower of rain at us. We dived for the cover of some trees further up the road, retrieved our coats and protected our packs with their waterproof covers, by which time the rain had stopped and the sun had returned.

Our walking day ended at 5:30 when we reached The White Swan in Danby Wiske, a quirky establishment, with an equally quirky owner, but a welcome refuge after what had ended up being a 16.37 mile, or 26 km, day with a total moving time of 8 hours. There was a temperamental shower, a delicious meal and some good company over dinner with fellow travellers from New Zealand and Germany. We have twin beds tonight, not because we had a falling out during the last three miles of the day, but because it was assumed we were two males travelling together due to the spelling of my name (the same issue arose at the Guest House last night, but she moved us to a double room)! I’ll have to get out of bed to roll Wallsy over if he snores tonight!