Grosmont to Robin Hood’s Bay

Wow, can it be? The last day of our Coast to Coast walk?! Indeed it is! Set off this morning from the Gallery BnB but not before we had a our standard 2 course breakfast of muesli with yogurt then eggs and bacon in a fun upper room with skylights, open kitchen and lounge area, with Sharon cooking, who entertained us with local gossip. We were warned from the guide book that the first mile or two out of Grosmont (itself built on a steep incline) was nothing but up and up, close to 1,000 feet up and out of the village to the higher moors to an area called Eskdaleside Cum Ugglebarnby (for real). All that makes sense to me about that is that we’re in the vicinity of the Esk River. The rest, you can do some research on for yourself if you have a little time to spare. The weather was once again remarkably sunny and perfect up on the plateau and following us for the rest of the day… almost. Took a short boggy cut-off trail, joined a main road for half mile, then down a dirt road into another valley to the hamlet of Little Beck and Little Beck Wood Nature Preserve, a beautiful, bucolic river walk among bright green leafing trees, and new shoots of bracken and sword ferns and sweet little forest flowers. Included in the couple mile section was the Hermitage, a large boulder hollowed out to form a small cave shelter with stone bench. It has “Hermitage” carved into one side and some initials with the date 1790 above the entrance. No one knows much about it, whether it really was created then or not but, the style of lettering and the weathering of the carving, look legit to me, or, at least, probably not the result of a teenage prank 200 years later. Not long after this, we stumbled across Falling Foss Falls (maybe 50 feet high) and neighboring cafe nestled in the woods next door. The cafe was an outdoor shed, much like the farm stand where we ate lunch yesterday, with sheltered picnic tables, grassy areas, flushable outdoor loos with outdoor sink, play stations with wooden blocks and things for kids, one by a tree with a wooden sign saying “Hundred Acre Woods.” The highlight for us was finally an opportunity after 170 miles to sate a craving for salad! There it was, on the menu: Greek Salad with spinach, rocket (arugula), tomatoes, feta, red onion, olives. I was so overjoyed, I nearly kissed the two staff behind the counter! That was some trail mercy indeed! Tom’s new beverage of choice alongside our constant water bottle water is Ginger Beer, while mine is the 8oz Flat White coffee (memories from my time in NZ). The cafe grounds were filled mostly with non- C 2 C folks, and families just exploring the local woods trails. There is a “car park” adjacent so this is obviously a loved, local gem. On our way out along the river trail we passed a couple women and when they asked us where we were from, one of them said, in a British accent, “Oh yes, I know the area, I live in Vancouver. My daughter lives in Gig Harbor!” Ha! When I told her that’s where I grew up, she was amazed. Small world! They passed us later in their car as we hiked up and out of the river valley and honked and waved like old friends. So fun. We had a lot of these kinds of short, serendipitous moments passing people on the trail and getting a quick nutshell version of who they were and where they were headed, a wonderful connection to community on the trail that lifts us all in some small way. We followed this road a bit and then stepped onto a section of about 2 miles of of heather-studded trail that started very boggy and ended in absolute maximum bogginess with no way to come out unscathed. With the North Sea in sight and the sun overhead, I was beginning to believe I would end this thing with dry boots. But NOOOOO. Finally arrived at a gate to a paved road, sopping, tired and slightly grumpy declaring that I would not do anymore bogs. “From where the sun now sets, I will do no more bogs forever!” The rest of the path was dry, and I coped with each step as squishy socks and boots for the remainder, my feet experiencing their own micro climate. I was so pleased at least that it wasn’t blowing and raining sideways along with it and all my uppers were dry and warm. Poked our way here and there through parts of a village called Hawsker and down through a section of windswept upper bluff with “holiday homes” that were effectively light green clad metal mobile homes parked one by one down a slope. I suppose these were rental units for holidays at the sea. After passing down through some gorse, opened a gate stile and descended down a packed dirt path in a grassy slope dotted with sheep and cows right to the edge of the bluff over the North Sea. Wow!! Here we were, right at the very edge of the sea! If we wanted, we could just jump over the edge and land right in it a couple hundred feet down. Though there is a much shorter route one could take on the last day, probably 7 miles by road, the Coast to Coast path takes you out to the bluff for a big 3 mile loop, mimicking the bluff route at the other end at St. Bees on the Irish Sea, to finish. Though completely “shattered” (exhausted) as they say, we were so happy for these gorgeous last miles. It felt like a victory parade and the entire soundtrack of Chariots of Fire played in our heads. We thought maybe there would be random people along the path cheering us on but we just had the usual cud-chewing stares from the sheep. Never mind, the victory was a personal one. We pulled off the trail on the bluff, eased ourselves gently down on the grass, had some cheese and crackers, pulled out the binoculars and studied 2 freighters, a sailboat and some crab pot floats. It was hard to stand again- our knees screamed at us, but we charged forward for what seemed another 5 miles into the little town of Robin Hood’s Bay. Our BnB, the Lee-Side was up high on a street lined with old homes and other BnBs on the outskirts of town. We checked in, threw our bags down, did a quick search for our rocks we had stashed somewhere that we picked up at the shore in St. Bees. By this point, neither of us remembered where we put them. It was about 4:30pm and I wanted to walk to town to see if I could find some fun “You completed the Coast to Coast walk!” souvenirs before the shops closed, so I left Tom to find the rocks and meet me at the beach at the bottom of the hill shortly after 5. Well, as it turns out, though there were some shops (but mostly pubs and ice cream), nothing seemed to be open or have anything I was looking for, but, I was not disappointed because Robin Hood’s Bay turned out to be the quaintest, tightly-packed, steepest, charming, architecturally awe-inspiring little village I’d seen thus far. It was so steep, I couldn’t believe how people got around. There was a very long series of winding stairs that hugged the jumble of angled homes and shops stacked on one another that just barely skirted the one lane street that wound down to a tiny cobbled stone boat ramp squeezed in between a hotel and pub on one side and an ice cream shop/ info center on the other. I stood in awe and snapped picture after picture, which, when I looked at them later, I was disappointed with because cameras tend to flatten everything out in all directions. Oh well. If you do ever get a chance to visit this little place, it is so worth the trip! And so Tom met me at the water just when the sun disappeared and we were doused with blanketing showers. We dipped our toes in the North Sea, threw our rocks and gave thanks to God who had introduced us to so many wonderful fellow travelers from Australia, England, Scotland, Hungary, Czech Republic, etc and shown us many wonders of grace, beauty, and joy on this amazing journey! Then we willed our sore calves to take us one more time back up a long hill to our BnB, showered, changed and went to the Grosvenor Hotel pub for a celebratory cider and meal (lamb for Tom, mac and cheese for Erica). We were so completely exhausted by 8pm that we went straight to bed rather than stay at the pub for the much-hyped concert that night by someone who had played with Dire Straits. I was only mildly disappointed, being the D.S. fan I am. Next morning we sat at tables in the breakfast room next to two men in their early 70s from Lake Arrowhead, CA and Portland, OR that had also just finished the C to C but who we hadn’t yet met and also our hiking companion, Graham from Scotland, we met up with randomly since our stop at Keld. It was difficult to say goodby to Graham in person, and to all the others (Catrina, Rachel, Ruth, Mark, Gaye, Greg and Tomasz) in our hearts (who would finish either before or after us) and hop in our taxi to Scarborough at 9am to catch our train to York.

Thanks to all of you who read this blog partially and for those stalwart enough to have completed it! Also, a big thanks goes to Nicholas at Kitsap Physical Therapy in Bremerton who helped get my knees ready for this trip, and a big thanks and many hugs to Tina and Peter Juvonen who did the C to C in 2019 and enthusiastically inspired us to take this trip!

Also, I will be adding some post-trip blog reflections on a few themes such as SHEEP, FOOD, BOG BLOG 1, BOG BLOG 2, ART FROM THE TRAIL etc. so if you want to read or see more pics, stay tuned.

Keep exploring!! Love, Erica and Tom Applewhite