'The Silence of the Limbs'

Years ago Alfred Wainright trekked across northern England.  He began in Saint Bees which lies next to the Irish Sea and trekked 192 miles eastward winding up in Robin Hood's Bay which sits on the shore of the North Sea.  This has become one of the most famous hikes in England.

It is largely unsignposted (translate, easy to get lost), goes though the Lake District National Park, the Yorkshire Dales National Park, and the North York Moors National Park.  To make the hike more manageable there are companies that will book your lodging for each night, transport your luggage daily, and even arrange for the B and B to prepare a daily packed lunch to keep you fed as you trek along.  For those of us who don't hike much there are even packages that increase the total days so you hike fewer miles each day and rest days built in along the way.  Now, who wouldn't want to take such a hike through the bucolic Lake District and over heather carpeted moors?

Well, me for one.  I say that after having covered just over half of the mileage, starting out August 3 and arriving at the other end on August 22.

To add insult to injury my triumphant arrival in Robin Hood's Bay was not to the resounding slap of my boots on the pavement as I gazed triumphantly out at the North Sea. My ignominious arrival was as a passenger in a good Samaritan's vehicle, a pheasant seed salesman, after I got hopelessly lost after only after 2 miles of hiking (which was supposed to be 11.5 miles) on the last day.

When I decided on the trip I looked at the daily mileage and thought after walking a couple of months in Europe the hike was doable.  Well, there were a couple of 20 or so mile segments in there but I thought I could take a bus for those.  What I didn't take into account was the elevation of many of those daily segments.  Some were frankly brutal, especially in the Lake District.

By Robin Hood's Bay one of the difficult Lake District segments was completed.  A number of the easier segments fell prey to my boots, and then there were two where a bus or taxi appeared at a propitious moment, and yes,of course,  the pheasant seed salesman.

Here is looking back at Saint Bees as the hike starts up the headland with the Irish Sea at your left shoulder.

A fringe benefit was walking across the moors with the heather in bloom.

The guidebook referred to a 'calf popping' climb for the start of one of the daily segments.  Here is where a picture is worth a thousand words.

An interesting re purposing of those famous red call boxes.

Here is a closer look at what is inside.

And yes, there were lovely views.  But, after looking at my pictures I don't think they do them justice.

Hopefully in a few days my blog posts will get back to 'normal' as I head back to France to 'see the sights'.