WHW Day 2: Drymen to Rowardennan

After sleeping the sleep of a thousand wintering bears and eating breakfast like the champions that we were, it was off on our bramble crawl to our next overnight, a far-flung 14 miles away.

Dunnock

 After crashing through miles of misty fields and bracken and a felled forest, we came upon the first real climb of the hike:

Conic hill, a rather formidable but easy climb up and over.  I loved how you could see the trail miles ahead; this was somehow comforting to know where we'd end up.  

It wasn't a bad hike at all, and we had a cold and windy lunch at the top that ensured we would eat really fast so we could get moving again as soon as our jaws would let us.  Ah, but the views from the top:

Fantastic.  Loch Lommond stretched out in front of us, along with more conical-shaped mountains stretching on the rest of the length of Scotland.  We would be walking the entire 30 mile length of the lake in the next couple of days.

The way back down the hill was slightly mad.  As soon as we turned the corner and started the descend, about a million day hikers appeared.  Lots of kids of various constitutions, plenty of whining and huffing and puffing from all ages.  Several pairs of church shoes.  This was not a small hike!  We had most assuredly stumbled upon Sunday amateur hour, and several people stopped me, and while gasping for breath asked, "how much....how...how much further....to the top?" pant pant pant.  I also saw a woman wearing Keds take a thudding fall on her ass in the scree.  I think I am turning into my grandfather; judging those who dare to take the trail unprepared and under-equipped.

It was lovely good hiking anyway, and once we hit the town of Balmaha, with its car park and snazzy visitors centre and awesome place called St Mocha to get tea and homemade cakes and notably adorable and aromatic pub, we were back to a quiet loch-side hike with few day trippers.

We most assuredly hit upon the posh Glaswegian weekend go-to spot.  

We debated hiring a boat to take us out to an island for a hike on the nature trails, but smartly thought better of it.  Our little tea and cake (oh, there was ice cream as well, and it was fantastic and homemade and SO GOOD) and laze around the visitor centre had cost us a bit of time, and we headed down the wooded lakeside trail.  

The mountains here are tall, but smooth and inviting.  Unless you are a super-hiker, each one would day a full day to go up and get back down, so you could really spend a lifetime doing just that.

The beaches were covered in brambles, so we got about 17 of our "5 a day" in that very afternoon.  It's natures way of telling us she's hospitable and kind.

Oh, and of course, since it is Scotland:

Highland Cattle.  Those beautiful emo hairstyles, the bear-like calves.  They are just docile and perfectly beastly things.  In the unlikely situation that someone had a gun to my head and told me I had to get a pet cow, I would instantly choose one of these.

As the Lake District had taught us- while lakeside walks can be very nice and pretty, sometimes the end of the lake never materializes and you are somehow on an infinite loop.    While the first 7 miles of hiking gave us a nice hill to look forward to, the second 7 seemed to go on forever.

You kept seeing the same mountains at the same angle for hours on end, and there wasn't really much going on as far as elevation gain.  Not that it wasn't a bad hike, but I could have seen skipping day 2 as well if you want more bang for your buck further up the trail.

The best part about this bit was that we had left the road behind us at Balmaha.  While you could see and occasionally hear the traffic all the way on the other side of the lake, it was blissfully road-free.

We finally reached our stop for the night:

The YHA at Rowardennan.  While it wasn't as posh as some of the YHAs in the Lake District, it was a former private hunting lodge that had been gutted and bunks installed, and plenty comfortable if you are a foot-weary hiker.  Which we were!  I was actually kind of alarmed at how after two days of relatively easy hiking, I was tired and achy.  Ah, the PMS and debilitating cramps weren't exactly  energizing me (I have GOT to stop planning long hard hikes on "that" week!) but I just didn't really feel too enthusiastic about my chances of finishing.

Oh, the views....while the clouds were a bit low and heavy, it caused me immeasurable pleasure to walk out of the cramped head-bruising bunk room to sit out on the lawn and gaze out at this:

Tomorrow:  more Loch-side trail action.

C2C Day 3: Borrowdale to Patterdale

We arose to a new day, this one hotter and sunnier than the one before.  This weather!  The locals we encountered expressed bewilderment, and most homes here have windows meant to keep the heat in and the windows don't fully open.  I was just glad to not have been in our fishbowl flat in London with floor-to ceiling windows that only open about four inches.  

The hostel was wonderful, and got us out the door early with a packed lunch and all.  We were a bit apprehensive as this was going to be our toughest day of hiking.  It was only 14 miles, but there were two 2000 foot climbs to negotiate.  A lot of people choose to split the hike in two days because of this, and spend the night at the halfway point in Grasmere.  Due to our time constraint, we had to do the whole thing if we wanted to make it to the train station in Krikby Stephens in time.  Plus, a seven mile day seemed paltry.  14 it will be!  

Oh, the other thing...our packs.  They were getting heavy.  I knew that there were lots of companies operating baggage forwarding services along the trail when I was initially researching, but paid it no mind.  It turns out that aside from a handful of people who were rough-camping, absolutely everyone we met was using ground support and getting their heavy bags forwarded from inn to inn, and only carrying small day packs with food and water.  

Wow, I'm going to have to think about this.  It might be worth the money as even the lightest pack feel heavy at the end of the day, and we had all of our rain gear, clothes for the week, much more water then we usually have to carry and a good amount of dried fruit and nuts and granola bars to see us through the week.  We've done hiking with big packs before, but never in this kind of heat- it was near 30 on this day, and we had already broken a sweat just getting our packs on.   

Borrowdale YHA was lovely though, and we started down the trail into the lovely village of Rosthwaite.

I couldn't dream up better beach weather, but it was a tad too hot to really be comfortable hiking, even in early morning.

It seemed like every hamlet the trail runs through embraces walkers wholeheartedly, with lots of tea rooms and cafes and pubs along the way.  I'm sure a healthy trade in overnight accommodation is why these towns are thriving, as a lot of people run a one or two bedroom B&B out of their homes.  

This inn was quite posh, I remember it being a couple hundred quid a night but just a lovely slate Victorian set on the loveliest lawns.

We began to climb up the valley and we were once again surrounded by high fells and relentless sun.

We would have gone for a dip but there was no way to get down there!

We started the steep climb up Greenup Edge.  The ground was basically a peat bog, and I don't think I would have been able to find the trail if it wasn't as dry as it was.  There were lots of cairns to spot on this one.  It would have been the definition of misery to have to do this fell in spring- like wading through an ice swamp.

Ah, the views though.  Looking back the way we came...

Even with the relatively dry ground, we would occasionally sink to near-knee levels in bog.

 It made for a surprise yalp and slow going as we hopped our way from dry patch to somewhat dry patch.

We did pass a group of 8 surly teenagers with their bedrolls on their big packs.  They were sitting at the foot of the mountain.  When we reached the top of the fell, they hadn't budged from their spot.  We stopped for lunch and bumped into their handler, a woman who was supervising (but not helping) them get their rough camping badge.  She said they were all unenthusiastic about this hike and camp business and the group yesterday had just flat-out refused to hike anymore, and she was afraid that this group was about to do the same.  Best to them, I'm sure they are horrified that some people actually do this for fun.

 Down the other side of the fell, where we hit more bog and a really lovely waterfall that cut through the slate.

We also bumped into  a wonderful man we had seen on the trail every day walking the opposite direction.  He was providing car support for his wife and teenage son, and he would drive the car to the next inn and then take off up the trail to meet them halfway.

The day more than half over, we hit Grasmere but did not linger.  We did find a teahouse that let us fill up our water bottles as we had drunk every bit of water that we set out with.  It made our packs lighter!  But after drinking at least a liter each while breaking at the tea house and feeling unwell, I started getting a nagging thought of being way over my head.

We took off down the trail for the second 2000 foot climb of the day as the time was edging close to 3pm.

The view looking back:

 This was a tough climb.  While it wasn't technical at all and the trail was in good shape, the heat was really starting to effect me.  OH and not to TMI you or anything, but I was totally having my period this entire week.  The few days a month where I'm most comfortable curled up with a hot water bottle on my tum and I'm out climbing in the wilderness.  I strive to impress myself.

I started to really suffer in the heat though.  Not only was I sweating more than I ever have before (in ENGLAND no less), but I started getting terrible leg cramps along with an occasional lightheadedness.  We stopped a lot to rest and snack- we had brought a couple bottles of coconut water and some bananas to deal with that, and a lot of salty snacks to keep the sodium levels up.  Overall, it was much slower going than I had hoped to do, but it was just so darn pretty I didn't really care.

Oh, and Mint cakes.  These things are legendary.  They are simply glucose, sugar and mint, they are indestructible and kind of slowly melt in your mouth in a way that makes your teeth start to ache before you surge forward with crazy minty energy.  They are my new favorite trail staple.

We finally reached what we thought would be the top, only to find that we needed to go up and over another ridge...

and then surprise!  Grisdale Tarn, a lake at the very top of the fell.  It was fantastically beautiful up here, and nothing but the wind rushing by to please your ears.

A scout troop at set up camp at the edge of the lake and I was almost enraged with jealously at this idea if I wasn't so exhausted and blissed out from so much fresh air.

 The rest of the hike cooled off quickly as we hoofed it down the hill with lengthening shadows engulfing the landscape.

 We finally stumbled into the village of Patterdale after 8:30.  I don't mind hiking late in the day, but the fact that there were only two places to get food in town and they both stopped serving at 9 weighed heavily on those last miles.  We barreled into the pub with our packs and mud and stench and smartly ordered dinner right then and there before checking into our rooms upstairs and taking a blissful shower.  Somehow, it was still warm enough to sit outside in the fading light and be comfortable (as the pub was as cozy as a sauna), so we did so while fending off midges and listening to the crickets chirp.

This had been a really hard day of hiking.

C2C Day 1: St Bees to Ennerdale

And so it begins.

We decided to get an earlier start than the train that stopped in at St Bees allowed, and left a eerily quiet Carlisle to take the first train to Whitehaven so we could hit the trail before 9am.  This was going to be a big day: I couldn't find accommodation on the trail until the Ennerdale Hostel and that was 20 miles from the trailhead.  Ideally, we would have gotten moving at sunup, but we just decided to deal and we were prepared for a long day.

The train ride from Carlisle followed the coastline, with views of the Isle of Man and the Dumfries in Scotland under a blazing blue sky.  Whitehaven is notable because it was the locale of the furthest-flug battle in the American Revolutionary War.  John Paul Jones, a Scotsman, showed up to sink the harbored merchant ships docked here, failed at that and burned the town instead.  Today, it's rebuilt in orderly Manhattan-like grids, and it's a fairly large town.  Big enough so that there are cabs waiting at the train station, and for 10 quid the friendly cabbie brought us to the trailhead at St Bees.

There's a small cafe at the beach.  We ordered sandwiches and parked ourselves on a log on the beach without looking too hard at our surroundings and ended up sitting about six feet away from a dead porpoise.  Ah, the seaside.  Also, the most appetizing sandwich on the menu was cheese and tomato and they used shredded cheese and not only is it fairly disgusting but also impossible to eat without losing huge clumps of cheese and they didn't even bother to grill it, which would have at least made it still together more.  Bry didn't have much better luck- whatever he ordered, he basically got a grease-slicked sponge to try and digest.

Still.  Sustenance.  And a sunny day.  I am in heaven.

And here we go...

As tradition dictates, we picked our way down to the pebble beach and put our boots in the sea...

...and then carefully picked our pebbles to carry with us deposit at Robin Hood's Bay (one day).

The first four miles of the walk follows the edge of the dramatic cliffside of St Bees Head, with gorgeously endless views.  The trail also disconcertingly heads west for a few miles: your end destination is over your shoulder for the first bit.

We headed out with a guy from Yorkshire and a South African: old friends, wanting to do their first long-distance trail together.  They were soon huffing and asking to see our maps: was there a trail that didn't go quite so close to the cliff edge?

No.  There is not.

Even at our slow pace, we were soon quite far ahead, and wished them luck on their journey.

Move, sheep.

 There were lots of hides and blinds to check out the wildlife, as the cliffs are nesting sites for sand martins, guillemots, razorbills, and the elusive puffin.  Soon, the racket of nesting birds and the stench of guano wafted off the cliffs, giving us flashbacks of the train ride yesterday.

Guillemots

a Rock pippit

Past the lighthouse, and lots of cows.

What a fantastic way to start a walk!  Worth the extra miles going in the wrong direction.  

 Finally, the trail turned inland, passed an Unexpected Ostrich by the sea:

...and down a quiet track with views of the looming fells of the Lake District on the horizon, the first of which in the foreground would be conquered on this day.

 Seven Miles in, a roadside monument to the man and the trail.  184 miles to go!  Obligatory photo taken.

One of the charms and challenges of the Coast to Coast is that it is rarely, and inconstantly waymarked.  You have to be able to read a map and compass to get through- since it is not an "official" route, it is just a bunch of strung-together footpaths.

This first day, we did cut through a few small, tidy towns.  We were able to get stop in to some pubs to fill up our water bottles and we definitely didn't get any pies.  

Once we got through the orderly little town of Cleador, we began our first real climb of Dent Fell.

To our back we could see the Irish Sea and St Bees, with the Isle of Man and the mountains of Scotland in the distance.

It wasn't a hard climb, but it was hot out.  I was glad we had stop for a water refill when we did as we were going through a lot more water than we had on previous hikes.

A quick stop for lunch at the top and we were back on the trail, with all of gorgeous Lakeland in front of us, and we finally were in the actual Lake District park.

The fells looked painterly and unreal.

 After a knee-killing steep descent, we followed a stream through a hot, dry valley that reminded me more of California than the far north of England.

 We hit the town of Ennerdale Bridge at mile 14.  This was where most hikers take off their boots and relax with a pint, but we had another six miles to cover to get to the YHA.

It was a fairly easy walk to Ennerdale Water.  This area truly started to feel wild, and we saw no one on the trail from this point on as I don't think too many people strive to get this far on day 1.

 The idea of a wilderness area is kind of a foreign concept in the UK, as it's been deforested and overgrazed for ages, but the area around the reservoir is having an experimental re-wilding as they let the forest take over.

There's a high trail around the lake up Antlers Crag, but we opted for the low trail...which ended up climbing quite steeply anyway.

 Despite exhaustion setting in, I couldn't help but be in awe of my surroundings.  The crystal waters of the lake, the high peaks of the fells squeezing us down the valley.

 The hardest part of the trail for the day was after a steep climb up there was a rather drastic drop and a squeeze to negotiate.  I ended up squeezing my pack a bit much and I had a water bottle push its way out of its holder and drop down into the lake.  gulp.  But yeah, there's nothing like a little vertigo to wake you up out of your comfort zone.

maybe the lady on the train yesterday had come from here?  

 Squeeze negotiated, the rest of the trail was flat and peaceful as we rounded the far end of the lake.

The sun sets very late here in July, but around mile 18 I was getting ready to be off my feet for a bit.

pied wagtails

8:30 in the pm, the sun was pleasantly high still.   I love hiking late in the day- the earth cools off, the light is completely enchanting, the birds singing like mad.   I don't know if it is the promise of almost being done or what, but I always get a huge surge of energy at the end of the day and start booking it.

At mile 19, we had a complete collapse of map reading skills and failed to see a turn-off on the trail, crossed a bridge and entered a tall forest of larch trees.

A mile later, I thought to myself that we should have reached our destination by that point, but no sign of civilization.  I gazed out over the river we had crossed a mile back, and to my dismay, I could see the backside of the hostel directly across from where I was standing.

For fuck's sake.

There was no way to crash down the hill and cross the river here, so doubling back was in order, or going up another mile to the next river crossing.

Crap.

We decided to double back that terrible mile, re-joined the trail, and walked the last mile slightly pissed at ourselves for the oversight.  We got to walk through a really beautiful forest that we wouldn't have experienced otherwise?

Our misadventure in map reading made getting to little Ennerdale YHA all the more sweeter, and this little off-the-grid hostel made a really comfy home for the night.  Plus, if you count our detour, we did a whopping 22 miles for the day, which is getting up in marathon territory and that might be the longest day of hiking that I've done in my life.  My feet were a bit sore, but I felt good.

I was a little apprehensive about staying in hostels as I had stayed in some filthy hovels on the continent, but they ended up being really fantastic and comfortable here, and we were able to get the all-important private room (with bunk beds).  There was a nice communal room for dining and reading, with plenty of friendly families and couples hanging around, and the whole thing was tucked in the fells on a rarely traveled dirt road and just gave us a real sense of accomplishment to having walked all the way here.  I apologized profusely for being so late- it was after 9- as most of them are usually only staffed until 10, and dinner time was at 7:30.  They gave us a wink and a smile and got to work cooking a rather delicious dinner.  I was expecting beans from a can, but they had a proper cook who did crunchy roasted carrots and a really hearty plate of Cumberland sausages.  I didn't even bother with asking for a vegetarian plate as per my usual; I was happy to eat whatever they threw at me.

With day 1 behind us, we were looking forward to the next day, and our first big fell climb.