I woke to the depressing sound of rain against my window and as I gathered my stuff together and went down for breakfast felt really tired, and my feet were aching again. I had fresh blisters which I dressed with compeed; although I had a shorter day today I still had 18 miles to cover and wasn’t particularly relishing it. In fact walking was the last thing I felt like doing!

Everyone at breakfast was a Coast to Coaster, mainly Australian, and it was good to have people to chat with again. I reluctantly left the pub and walked up the road in the rain towards Fat Betty, a squat stone round topped cross half painted white. It is a tradition that walkers leave and take a food offering so I swapped some flapack for a packet of crisps.

Fat Betty

It was drizzling and the cloud was low, which made the moors look rather bleak to match my mood. The route skirts the head of Great Fryup Dale on stony tracks and roads, before descending a long spur of moorland to Glaisedale. I found this rather a trudge, as the stony tracks hurt my tender feet and I felt that everyone else had overtaken me.

Glaisedale Moors

I failed to find the tea room in Lansdale (I later realised it only opens certain days) but stopped for a fortifying bowl of chips in the Arncliffe Arms, where I found most of the Australians. It felt better to be off the moors, and, setting off again I joined in a photo session at the arched Beggars Bridge.


It is easy walking to Grosmont, mainly through woods and along roads, and on reaching the village the sun started to come out making me feel much better. I passed a sign made from blue and yellow sprayed bike parts, spelling out the work Grosmont and joined some of the Australians in a café, where we decided to try the lemon flavoured Grosmont Tart. They were staying in Glaisdale for the night, so were catching the train back, returning to Grosmont by the school train tomorrow morning.

Steam trains at Grosmont

I watched the steam trains for a while, and mooched around the 1950s style waiting rooms, but the guide book advised that there is a particularly steep climb out of Grosmont (I guess the name means ‘big hill’ after all) so set off just as it poured with rain. I put on my waterproof so was really hot by the time I reached the top of the hill although the climb was easier than I anticipated.

View back to Grosmont

The official route crossed moorland to the village of Little Beck, but as I was staying at Intake Farm outside the village I saw that the guidebook suggested an alternate route through a couple of farms. It felt as though I was trespassing, but reached Intake Farm in time for a pot of tea and a shower before a lovely home cooked dinner provided by Judith.

Walking to Intake Farm

There was a middle aged couple staying there who had walked the Coast to Coast twenty five years ago and were now walking it again, but oddly said that they were unable to remember anything at all about their previous walk. The chap mentioned that we would pass a hermitage tomorrow, and said ‘I remember that, I was stung by a bee there!’

As I settled into bed, I felt quite sad that the walk would be finished tomorrow- it didn’t seem possible that I had walked for eleven days!

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