Coast to Coast - Day 12

Day 12: Clay Bank to Blakey Ridge (10 miles)

Janet Taylor provided us with a splendid breakfast. I have been starting the day with porridge and a round of toast which I find doesn't lie too heavy but also keeps hunger at bay. It's surprising how the porridge has varied on the trip, as well as the availability of honey or syrup. It's clear that some people never make porridge, but Janet gave me all the options - milk, water of half and half; thick or runny. She also had local honey to dribble on the top.

David is a full-English man, a breakfast I dearly love, but after eating one, I'd want to sit and read the paper for an hour, not start a 15-mile walk.

Well, there was no 15-mile walk today, it's a mere 10 miles and a good part of that would be on an old railway track. The two things to beware today were the steep climb from Clay Bank to start the day and the weather forecast, which was wind and heavy rain from late morning. Our plan was to get to Blakey Ridge by lunchtime and an added bonus was that we were staying in a pub - the Lion - so there would be a pint or two on offer.

Janet dropped us back at Clay Bank and the path climbs immediately to Carr Ridge, down slightly and then up again to Round Hill at 454 metres. After crossing Greenhow Moor, we left the Cleveland Way and struck out across Farndale Moor to Blakey Ridge. We were on the old railway track now and the going was good, although the rain was starting and the wind was strong.

There's something sad about a disused railway. I'm of the generation that saw the Beeching cuts of the 1960s close so many loved, but uneconomic, lines and traffic switched to cheaper road transport.

The Rosedale Railway had failed long before Beeching took his axe to the railway network. It was opened in the 1860s as a goods-only line to bring iron ore down from the mines on the North York Moors to the smelting works around Teesside. It finally closed in 1929 when the mines shut. There's an interesting website here: http://www.rosedalerailway.org.uk if you want to read more.

We were grateful for the smooth, if not flat, track and it's interesting to see how the engineers calculated the route, sticking to the contours as far as possible, but occasionally having to make a small cutting or embankment. We now had wind, rain and poor visibility, but the path was clear and, near the end, we bumped into Tim and his nephew having a break out of the wind in a little notch in the hillside.

We walked along together for a while and, of course, we managed to go off the route. I had the map tucked away in a waterproof pocket and had assumed that the Lion was at the point where the railway track met the road. It wasn't and in lashing rain and wind, you can imagine the disappointment on reaching the road and finding no pub. David was not happy!

When I checked the map, there had been a path on the left about a mile back where we should have turned. There was nothing for it but to turn left and follow the road until we came to the pub. That last mile was a real trudge along the verge and straight into the wind. It was my fault for not looking at the map properly, but whenever Tim appears, navigation seems to suffer.

The Rosedale Railway path (above) and (below) what it would
have been like 90 years ago.

The pub was a welcome sight. There was a coach outside, numerous cars and the Sherpa Van was unloading and loading a pile of bags.

The pub is a busy place for somewhere so remote. It stands at 1200 ft and was built in the 16th century. In the old sense of a refuge, the place felt just like that on this day. We walked in from lashing rain to find roaring fires and a large party of old people having lunch (hence the coach). They were obviously from an old folk's club somewhere close by. We went to our room and busied ourselves with unpacking, getting changed, etc to let the bar thin out. When we went back, the old folk were still eating, so we ordered beer and sandwiches and found a quiet spot. Every room had a fire going!

Beer garden at the Lion with sheep trying to get some shelter

After lunch, we went back to our room and David fell asleep on his bed. I wasn't tired, so had a couple of beers in the bar and read a book I'd taken called Now It Can Be Told, written by a war correspondent in the Great War. Dinner was of Yorkshire proportions and the place was still pretty busy. I was so full I couldn't manage any pudding.

I really liked the Lion. Seeing it appear through the wind and rain, I felt like a mediaeval traveller might have felt when finding his accommodation for the night. I certainly felt the need for shelter from the storm, but there have been others caught here in worse storms. In the winter of 1963, the place was cut off for six weeks and, more recently, in December 2010, seven people were snowed in for nine days, with 16ft snowdrifts blocking the road.

There are worse places than a pub to be snowed in