Coast to Coast - Day Five

Day Five: Patterdale to Shap (16 miles)

The path out of Patterdale

This (for me) was the hardest day of the walk. It's not that long, but there's over 4,000 feet of ascent, including Kidsty Piky, which at just over 2,500 feet, is the highest point on the Coast to Coast unless you do the Helvellyn variant. After Kidsty Pike, there's a knee-crunching descent to Haweswater and just as you expect a nice walk around the lake, you discover it's an up-and-down scramble. Actually, the day is full of nasty surprises - at the end of Haweswater, the map seems to show a gentle, grassy path across rolling fields to Shap. The path actually winds annoyingly, there are uncountable wobbly stiles to cross and the waymarking is very poor.

The first part of the walk, out of Patterdale, was pleasant enough, a steep but steady pull uphill with a few crucial decisions to make regarding which path to take. Thanks to David's homing instinct and the two Dutch girls, we managed to get most of them right (or realise we were wrong very quickly).

The first landmark is Angle Tarn and as we approached it we could hear some strange noises like dogs barking and yelping. As we got up to the tarn, it was obvious they were geese (possibly Canada geese) making a right din. The path drops a little and then climbs again up to The Knott at 732m. On the way up, we were musing about a fork in the path. I thought we should stick close to a dry stone wall, but the more obvious path seemed to go left. I was joined by another walker, who said "this must be it" and set off on the left-hand path. He was walking the coast to coast and so I followed him. We gained height quite quickly and then the path petered out and I could see the two Dutch girls below sticking to the wall, where there was now a clear path.

There was nothing for it but to scramble down. The chap was called Tim and he was doing the walk with his younger nephew. I'd have put him about mid-50s, he was tall, grey and quite rangy. We both agreed that we hated going wrong, especially when it meant you'd climbed up, only to go down. His nephew, who was some way behind, had stuck to the wall.

Where, exactly are we? Checking book (above), also map and app (below)

We were told in the book and by our landlady that the next turn was tricky. At a place called Riggindale Straits, there was a sharp turn, almost back on yourself, towards Rampsgill Head and Kidsty Pike. It looked obvious on the map and we were looking out for it, but still missed it. We knew we were wrong, but couldn't see how. Instead of a path to the left, there was a sharp drop. Then I saw some people on the ridge to our left and realised that's where we should be. The two Dutch girls were already walking back and found the path by a small cairn. It was obvious walking back, but well hidden from our original direction. Tim and his nephew had thrust on ahead and were out of earshot, heading for High Street. As we scrambled back onto the ridge path, we saw them look back, see us and turn around. I made a mental note never to follow Tim.

The next section of walk was lovely. A long, climbing ridge ending with the small peak of Kidsty Pike at the end, with wonderful views east across Haweswater. At Kidsty, there was a group of friends - us, Sue, the Liverpudlian girls, the Dutch girls, Tim and his nephew. Nine miles to the east (as the crow flies) I could see the white scar of Hardendale limestone quarry, which sits between the A6 and M6 just south of Shap. That's where we still had to walk to.

On top of Kidsty Pike, the highest point on the Coast to Coast

The descent to Haweswater is steep and long. It was just the treatment David's knee did not need. Despite lashings of Voltarol, a support bandage and the new pole, he was still struggling on the downward sections. We took it slow and steady and reached the shore after a long scramble and a break for lunch on the way down.

The long scramble down to Haweswater

Sue offered us her daily wombat fact: when threatened by a predator, the wombat blocks the entrance to his burrow with his fat body, a bit like the fat bloke on the tube who won't move away from the doors to let other people on.

We were pre-warned about the path around Haweswater (now a reservoir feeding Manchester). It was long, the path was rocky and it involved a number of small climbs and steep descents. It also started raining intermittently. By the time we got to Burnbanks, the model village built at the end of the lake, I was tired and footsore. I was looking forward to a few gentle miles  (about five) into Shap.

When I'm weary, I try to visualise distance into a concept I can understand, so I'd told myself that all I had to do was walk around Knarr Fen Road and Toneham. God, if only it had been that easy. The path was unclear, badly marked, stiles were wobbly and the path wound frustratingly. Every mile seemed double the distance.

One of the frustrations of the coast to coast walk to our schedule is that it left little or no time for serendipity. We generally had to be somewhere and generally had to keep walking. Shap Abbey, another one ticked off Henry VIII's list, was founded by a small order of French monks, known as the White Canons. It was the last abbey to be founded in Britain and the last to be seized by Henry. It would have been worth an hour looking round the ruins, but we were tired and keen to get to our lodgings. As you approach the site, there's a very old and wonderful arching, stone footbridge across Swindale Beck which must have been built by the monks. Tim and his nephew were sitting at the foot enjoying a drink and snack. Someone had left a plastic container full of goodies and an honesty box.

It was still a mile or so to the abbey ruins and then we found civilisation in the form of a road and another old stone bridge across the River Lowther. There were fish swimming in the clear, fast-flowing water under the bridge and a couple of people fish watching. David struck up conversation with the man, who told us it was only just over a mile into Shap. David had thought we were there and I think he considered chucking the man over the edge when he heard the news. If that wasn't bad enough, the chap then told us that our accommodation - the King's Arms - was right at the end of the village and probably yet another mile.

By the time, we got to the pub I was so tired I could not think. Earlier, I had been practising counting in Spanish, but couldn't get the numbers in the right order, then (along Haweswater) I realised I couldn't remember the registration number of my car and I still hadn't got it five miles later. Instead of going straight up to our room, we sat in the beer garden and had a couple of pints of Black Sheep, which restored us wonderfully. It's KS06 ZSP, I remembered.

The King's Arms was a welcome sight, but it's not a fine pub. It's one of those places with peeling paint on the outside and dead plants in the tubs. The food is convenience, the service surly and there was no chance of porridge for breakfast. I had Weetabix instead. The evening meal was good.

We sat with the Dutch girls, who are called Saskia and Lysa. David asked how they knew each other and when they said they were "in a relationship" he thought at first they meant “related”. They were in their mid 30s (but look much younger) and were doing just the first half of the walk as they had to be back for work. I teased them about Andre Rieu and they said he was not a nice man, not that famous in the Netherlands and "from the Catholic part" of the country, which seems to be a big insult if you’re Dutch. Kate and Jess also joined us and it turned out that they were also walking only as far as Kirkby Stephen, so this would be our last night with them. We found that Jess was having his 50th this year and that he had been a diver in the Royal Navy, specialising in bomb disposal. He now works as a marine consultant. I got the impression they hadn't been together that long and Kate has children from a previous relationship. The two Liverpool girls (one now lives in Colorado and the other in Nottingham) were having a small party as some of their relatives had come up to spend the night with them. Liverpool were losing in the final of the UEFA Cup, which took the shine off for at least one of the party. It was also the last time we'd see them. Although they were doing the whole walk, they were having a short day tomorrow and also a rest day in Richmond. We'd finish a couple of days ahead of them.

Our party, which had become very comfortable and familiar, was breaking up.