Day 49 - the first view of Scotland!

Said goodbye to the Lakes this morning under a blue blue sky. Into the Skiddaw/Blencathra wilderness with a wilder, emptier feel. I stopped by a little bothy called the Lingy Hut, then turned north up High Pike and was met with the clearest view of the Solway Firth and the Galloway hills. And a complete Pennine line, and behind, Skiddaw looming dark. I was so excited at seeing Scotland I lost the path on the way down, but met a group of kids and their teachers who were very helpful, and turned it into a 'does anyone know where Lands End is?' lesson. One little boy got it right. I don't set foot in the blessed country for another 6 days though. Gotta go back to the middle. I sense I am not making life easy for myself. The second photo is of the viewing point on top of the trigpoint. Only 292 miles to London....

Day 48 over the Stake Pass and along Derwent Water

A stunning day up Mickleden, at the top of Great Langdale - a huge silent valley which makes you feel so small, and where the Herdwick sheep pose for photos. Over the Stake Pass and into an even deeper valley, with Skiddaw coming into view. Along Derwent Water I met a man who recognised me from London! The last photo is of the view from the campsite in Keswick.

Found by a footpath sign above Elterwater

No sign of the teenagers ...

Day 46. Singing, and the never ending beauty

Rydal cave ... where I conducted an Advent Carol service many years ago and we sang in full and rich and echoing harmony by the light of floating candles. And today I sang, loudly and alone, early enough in the day that no other walkers were about.

The next photo is of Grasmere and beyond. Is this not one of the most beautiful places in the world?

Rest, friends, surprise encounters, memory, and feeling at home

Walking up to Rydal Hall felt like walking home - which it was 13 years ago - being enveloped by the achingly beautiful green of the high fells above, and the generosity of place, space and strangers. The campsite here is just lovely and the perfect place to rest for two nights. Places which have held you at pivotal points in your life never really cease to have that feeling of home, even if it's a long time since you lived there. And then in the shower block (but not in the shower!) I bumped into Mags, and had tea with her and Peter in their van. They had been colleagues here 13 years ago and by chance we coincided. Later on, lunch in Ambleside with a very good friend and we talked until closing time. As I returned to the campsite a lady was having trouble putting up tents for her son and husband cycling coast to coast. I only half-successfully helped her and then gave up and went to the pub. The two chaps had cycled LEJOG 2 years ago, and asked me if I was walking it because I didn't have a bicycle.

So, I will always be grateful for this place and the memories it holds and still creates. And there might have been a tear or two as I walked away.

The valley of the silent viaducts

I took a left onto the Dales Way and up the Lune. Day 44, and all the people seemed to have disappeared. I saw no one until mid afternoon and then met a Dales Way walker. We walked together for a while and as I talked about who I am raising money for, it turned out he had been in Palestine in 1967, repairing fruit trees during the six day war. Later, whilst waiting for signs of life at the farm I was camping at, and drinking tea made for me by people in the holiday cottage next door, a chap walked by who had walked Land's End to John O'Groats five years ago. This is the first person I've met yet who has walked it. As you might imagine, I was quite excited to learn that there really are other people out there as crazy as me.

Half way there!

And a convenient tiny pub. Upper Dentdale and only a few cyclists and walkers about, and the family plus baby running the pub seem to have it open all the time in case anyone passes by. Obviously, all the measurements are not exact, but this pub is roughly where the half way mark should be ...! And today was much cooler, thankfully, with some very welcome, very light drizzle this afternoon, which made the land and the air smell thankful for this brief refreshment.

Day 42 .... eternal sunshine and a spot of bellringing

Yesterday, day 42, was day 5 of continuous hot sunshine. I should be grateful ... but I am not a good hot weather walker! Still, we walked through unique, silent, green limestone country with views crystal clear under the blue. The first photo is from the top of Malham Cove after a steep early morning climb, with only the sounds of birds and adolescent sheep making use of the acoustics. Over to Malham Tarn which shone blue. The second photo is Pen-y-ghent, which has a way of looming its odd shape over all who pass under or over it. We passed under ... I've been over it so many times in my life and it was hot ... We also met many walkers yesterday too and found ourselves walking in a group of seven down Fountains Fell, all chatting.
And then ... how many end-to-enders get to bell ring? We caught the end of the tiny band's practice night and they welcomed us in to the small Norman church for some rounds and call changes and a surprise bit of plain hunting with me inside. I haven't done that for years...

Day 41 ... to Malham

This is today. The view from Pinhaw Beacon to Pen-y-Ghent and Ingleborough in the far distance, and then the final view of Malham Cove. A long hot day through small Yorkshire villages. Yesterday was cooler so we could see even further, all the way to the Lake District from above Top Withins, the house reputed to be the site of Wuthering Heights. No sign of Heathcliff, despite singing 'it's me, Emmy' ...

Day 39 - Standedge to Hebden Bridge

This is Stoodley Pike, and the view into the Hebden Bridge valley below. Now on the Pennine Way, and this was a day of high walking over wide empty moors, and along remote full reservoirs. My dad is walking with me for a few days. The last time we walked the PW was in 1998. In the morning, before ascending Blackstone Edge, came the crossing of another motorway, the M62. And this was fuelled by the best fried egg roll and coffee from Brian's van (just off junction 22 of M62 on the A672 - go there!). Brian has been there for nearly 38 years in all weathers - even taken up there by the police in deep snow - and hasn't lost any of his sense of humour. He told tales of previous PW walkers, including the Naked Rambler himself.

These boots were made for walking

And they walked 500 (and 12) miles, and probably 500 more in their history, and were left with a bleakly beautiful view at Standedge, by a pub. Still, I now have new ones!!!

Day 37 -Stanage Edge

A day of edges, sandstone, the first feeling of being small in a high wide open moor, a snow hare, lapwings, golden plover, and then being met by a good friend on the road and taken to Sheffield for a rest day and good local beer.

Day 37 The Eagle Stone, Baslow Edge

The free standing sandstone boulder on Baslow Edge. It's difficult not to look for hunan profiles in all the sandstone

Days 31 & 32 (11th and 12th June) ... mud, sun and 'The Future' in post industrial Shropshire and Staffordshire

I wanted to rewrite this post as I'm cross it got lost in the no-man's land between 'publishing' and 'published'. But because it got lost it's just going to be my adapted journal entries instead of original material....

From Much Wenlock early, under an overcast sky but feeling humid, I passed a recently mauled dead sheep before ascending the back of Benthall Edge. I walked along the line of the ridge, slowly descending, all the way down into Ironbridge. It was very very muddy and slippery - Shropshire is full of mud. As I was descending I was aware of huge red structures looming over the trees which was disorienting, not being able to see the top or bottom of them. They were a set of over-sized cooling towers in narrow valley. I arrived into Ironbridge (the photo is the iron bridge) into bright sunshine and a mini tourist haven. I felt very muddy and less than presentable dodging large school group photos on the bridge. After this, a few miles along the Severn, on a disused railway, past canals and many varieties of industry museum. In Jackfield, as I rounded the corner after the Tile Museum, a chap approached me and asked me if I'd like a leaflet about 'The Future'. I asked him what it was and he just repeated that it was a leaflet about 'The Future'. I clocked his dark suit and tie, the bad artwork on the leaflet, and his slightly awkward personality and said that I was walking a long way and didn't want to carry anything extra. In all my life I've never been visited by Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons (I couldn't tell what he was but he was on his own), and walking with a large backpack on, mud up my legs, in post-industrial Midlands museum-land on a quiet street by a building site, I get approached. I must have looked uncertain about my immediate future at least. Anyway, he understood and was then a teeming source of tourist information. Shortly after, I passed the Boat Inn in Coalport which had a dramatic flood record board, with the most recent entry from March this year. Then a section of canal so thick with green algae you could have stood on it. And woods on an almost impassably overgrown path and more mud. The afternoon was long and hot and tiring on wide tracks and minor roads all the way to Sherrifhales which had no pub or shop, even though the map said it did. So, out of the village and to the quiet farm campsite - quiet because it's not really near anything of note for tourists and it's in the middle of flat Midlands agricultural countryside. There was a friendly elderly couple in a caravan though, and an overly interested peacock. And the farmer was lovely and gave me the night for free.
The next day ... there was a heavy dew. I still don't understand why there is sometimes and not at other times. Ten minutes into the walk and was immediately beset by unclear footpath problems. Nettles at eye height and water made me trespass up a private farm lane. Then over fields to Blymhill, I dragged myself through a hedge to clamber over a stile, bruised my leg on another stile trying to avoid brambles, got wet feet, traipsed through crops, and turned back because of flooding and cows. So beyond Blymhill I lost confidence in the 'footpaths' and went by road for a while. Towards Wheat Aston I plotted a clear bridleway route to discover it was completely flooded and overgrown, so ended up taking another two mile detour. It was too hot as well. So, after buying lots of cold drink in the village shop I stuck to minor roads all the way to Penkridge and found myself vowing I'd never walk on public footpaths again unless they were national trails. This would make the rest of the journey, on reflection, quite difficult. And decrease my chances of endearing myself to my hero, Robert Macfarlane. I am covered in scratches from head to foot though. I only took one photo today, of endless strawberry polytunnels which made the air smell sweet.

Days 35 & 36. Feeling northern, dales, communion, locals, generosity, the connections of water and road, and a very big house

Today I have reached 500 miles. I'm still standing and still smiling (mostly!). Yesterday began with leaving a very full campsite - this is unusual on this walk - and an 18 mile day through the Sunday morning stillness of Lindale and Dovedale and Biggindale and then up over pasture and well walked tracks in Derbyshire drizzle. The first photo is of the first northern looking view, and the second of Ilam Rock in Dovedale. Then down into a less walked and even quiter Grattondale and up over into delightful Youlgrave. The maps say 'Youlgreave' and the road signs and the locals say 'Youlgrave'. No one could explain this to me. I camped in a basic site at a farm in the middle of the village and valiantly managed to wash my hair under a cold tap in the tiniest sink imaginable. And, as it was Sunday evening and the bells were ringing, I went to church. This is the first time since Night Prayer on my final night at Launde and most of you will understand I haven't missed it. There were 10 of us scattered in the usual Anglican way around vast pews, but we all made a good attempt at singing big Trinitarian hymns. And the accents again different from those I have travelled through over the past weeks. I still know all the words to the service ....The vicar generously gave me a donation towards the fundraising. And then I spent the rest of the evening in the pub, writing, glancing briefly at the world cup game, and chatting to a local called Derek with an interesting past who made me promise to send the pub a postcard when I get to John O'Groats, and another watery eyed chap who seems to spend his days walking slowly between both pubs either end of the village street. This morning the farmer made me coffee in the brief morning sun to the accompaniment of the cows calling. They were up all night too - obviously a lot to say. Today a short day, and the third photo is of the Wye which I crossed again and if you look closely, the A6, which also goes through Oadby! A day of two estates -Haddon Hall and Chatsworth, which is the fourth photo. It's very dominating. I met a chap coming up to this view as I was about to descend. He told me some of the history of the estate, including why the village of Edensor is there (which you must visit if you're ever passing) and where they let Mary Queen of Scots outside when she was under arrest (is that the right terminology?). And he said he'd have a 'noggin' of whisky on my behalf on the 8th August. I'll definitely be having one or two. So, proper moorland tomorrow and then time with another friend.

Where am I?

Another milestone to London - this time I'm north!

Full moon rising, Cannock Chase, walking between water and the unexpected question

That's last night's sunset, and opposite, over Cannock Chase, the full moon rising. And today, Cannock Chase in the hot morning. It's a beautiful ancient woodland/moor sort of place with only the sound of small birds and distant trains. There's a glacial boulder at the top which had beside it a used condom and half a packet of fags - obviously a romantic place. The Midlands has redeemed itself - it was a lovely day with views and clear paths and only one set of cows. (This is in reference to yesterday's second post which still won't upload due to signal problems - maybe this one will release the blockage!) After the Chase came walking between the Trent river and the Trent and Mersey canal on a bank that at times seemed unreal. It also had shade - the heat was at times almost too much. Saw two Virgin trains and the M6 - people travelling fast. It's all starting to sound a bit northern for a southerner like me, which means I must be getting somewhere. Later, in a pub in Abbots Bromley, I was asked straight away if I was going to John O'Groats. That was unexpected. Normally people ask where I'm going, but apparently most End to Enders pass through there so for once I seemed normal. Tomorrow has friends in store. This has become important in a way that I didn't expect. I don't mind walking alone at all - until I realise how different it is after I've said goodbye.

On Wenlock Edge

On Wenlock Edge there is mud, trees, more mud, and more trees. This is early morning just after waving goodbye to my dad. Two days ago now, but a continuation north. It was wood all day, apart from a brief view of the Brown Clee Hills, and then the Wrekin later on. In a Much Wenlock teashop I met a cyclist who had done LEJOG in 5 days. Yes - 5 days. 5 days. And he wasn't that young. Although he did go main roads every day. And it's only 874 miles if you do it that way! He was very encouraging of me, as was the tea shop lady who gave me some of her tips as sponsorship. And then later in the campsite my tent neighbours made me tea. It all seemed to come when I most needed it.

Fields of yellow

Because it didn't attach first time. Saying goodbye to Wales now

Closing the gap

I reached Chepstow again yesterday. Three long ish days of border walking and all very different. Mountain ridge and long wide views, which I wrote about a couple of days ago, then farmland, buttercups and little rivers to Monmouth, and then all along the Wye Valley to Chepstow. The photos are a highly decorated medieval rood beam in the church of St Cadoc, in Llangatock Lingoed; a field on the way to Monmouth; the verdant, abundant, ancient green of the Wye Valley, and the fast brown full river; and a high clear view of Tintern. And the miles are now made up. Arriving back in Chepstow the other way round was interesting - firstly seeing the view of the Bristol Channel again with the M48 bridge, and then being able to walk this time. Tomorrow I continue north again at mile 378 ... with some anxiety, but the leg/ankle/foot is less confusing and almost not in pain at all now. And maybe I'll regain some poeticness too....

Heading up to the ridge from Hay Common

View from the Black Mountains

It was so clear I swear I could almost see Leicestershire .... (almost...)

The long view

This is a long long ridge on the edge of the Black Mountains ... today's high level walk, above views so big and wide and clear. I even saw the Bristol Channel again in the far distance. And many wild ponies, mostly tame and on the path, and foals, including one so new and small it was still wobbly. Taking a  journey such as this increases your perspective and a long view ahead is not so long, with patience and strategy. The down side is the getting impatient with the small things! Today is the furthest I have walked in a week. The acute tendonitis is very much on the mend having rested and walked short days this past week. I am now walking south for three days, which plays havoc with the map case, and sunglasses are now essential. I'm making up the distance on the part of the path I've missed. Then if all goes to plan it's back northwards on Monday, with nothing missed out. Fortunately I've only been asked once where I'm going. 'Scotland' as an answer doesn't quite make sense ... The last time I was up on today's ridge was in ice and remnants of snow. And many memories of walks and people surround this landscape.

The Wimble

Saw no wombles

View from Hengwm Hill

This really is England's and Wales' green and pleasant land. A day's walk along the border on the Offa's Dyke. Minimal cattle, playful adolescent lambs, low flying red kites, blankets of buttercups, only some pain, and every kind of green - the green of high grass, wet grass, dark conifer green, ancient woodland green, the green of new meadow, of distant hillside, of young wheat fields that look like they would feel as soft as stroking a cat from a distance, and then the sharp quick bright blue dart of a kingfisher. And then tea in old glass cups and saucers in an odd but delightful cafe full of crime and sci fi novels in Knighton, where the proprietors couldn't help but push reading material our way. I am being very kindly ferried between places in an odd order but slowly piecing sections together at the moment with the new experience of walking with a stick.