Coast to Coast with a Lightweight Folding Bike

Bersagliari - Italian Light Infantry crossing rough terrain with folding bikes

  'I'm not really a cyclist,'  I said, crouching to unfasten the folding bike from the modified baby carrier, '...kind of, well... more of a trail runner really.'
   The guy in the bike shop took a big bite of cake:
  'Fo, let me get thif right...' He looked me me straight in the eye, adding: 'What you're faying is... you're going to run the Coaft to Coaft wif a bike strapped to y'back..?'
  'Well, I can't see there being much running,' I'd replied.

   But then there never is at my age anyway... so no change there then...

*****

   To be honest, after a whole year of planning, and now on my third folding bike, I was quickly going off the whole idea. If I didn't get stuck in, whatever the outcome, I could see the whole affair dissipating very quickly leaving yet more clutter in the garage.

   I'd made enquiries over the last few weeks since buying the second-hand folding bike on eBay after discovering a minor crack round the seatpost and had been seeking opinions on whether I should have it welded or not. The advice seemed to range from: "It's scrap - don't ride it!" to: "just drill a hole either side."

   On the second visit to Vernon's - just two days before the intended St. Bees start, the back wheel went out of true over rough ground on the last of my long Sunday training rides - I'd returned from Aldi with cake and biscuits in part-payment when he said, matter of fact: 'There aren't enough spokes in that back wheel for what you're planning on doing.'

   And he was right, my rear wheel didn't have enough spokes. My front wheel did - only because I'd swapped it for a wheel with a suspension hub to help with my carpal tunnel trouble. Had I had the wheel respoked it may have been okay, but it was now too late for any drastic alterations. The Dahon MuEx was designed as a nippy little folding commuter bike and came with minimal spokes (double butted at that) to save weight and the original tyres were as smooth as the two cheeks of any baby's bottom - though it did come with some pretty lightweight running gear too – much more ideal for the 'carry' than the two other earlier purchases – but how would it hold up to some of the rough ground of my intended route? There was only one way to find out ...



NOTES ON ROUTE CHOICE

   On a school day trip to the Lakes back in 1963 I'd bought a postcard as a keepsake. Over the years it became one of those items that kept turning up when tidying out drawers and such. Remarkably it has survived these last 55 years. My father had boldly written on the back 'Camm's School 1963' and it had been kept in different photo albums most likely before coming back into my possesion in the clear-out after my mother died in 2010. Plan was to recreate the cloud-grazed Great Gable photograph from the very same spot on the shore road beside Wastwater, having identified the location on Google street.
  I'd always promised myself I'd find that location 'one day' and so Wasdale was to be my Lakes entry route.
  For the rest of the way I'd planned on using hostels to keep the kit to a minimum and keep to my usual more southerly line as followed on my last successful (er, and one not so...) crossings and carry the bike over open country where necessary. The planned carries were to be: up to Sty Head and possibly over into Langdale if needed; Grayrigg (if needed); the dreaded Mallerstang Edge and up the steep narrow footpath through Arnecliffe Woods to the bridle on the open moor. The converted baby carrier would also come in handy as buses allow travelling with folding bikes - though some may stipulate a cover be used - and with service buses I could save a few quid on fares with my bus pass.

  'Wastwater and Great Gable' - Friths Postcard from...

 ...1963 when I'd have been just eleven years old

***********************

Day 1- 35m St.Bees to YHA Ambleside  
  
  Determined to eat properly on this attempt - having failed on previous attempted foot crossings in the past in not consuming enough calories, at times due to unforseen circumstances - the planned 8am start was after a nice cooked Seacote breakfast and I set off from the official Wainwright start at 8:15, but there was to be no rush on this occasion – the plan was for a bit of freedom and to enjoy myself!
 

Usual start with Alf looking on

Phew... knackered already and only the first climb

   The climb south on the road already called for first gear and I was reminded of the hills that lay ahead... good job I swapped the front inner chainring from a 42 tooth down to a 39 even though the guy in yet another bike shop hadn't recommened this as he thought I could too easily suffer from 'chain drop'.

   Heading for Wasdale, was pleasant on the quiet minor roads, though a busy section of main road through Calder Bridge is unavoidable, then short enough to the Garden Centre turn off at Boonwood.

The tiny hamlet of Wellington

   After Wellington the road begins to open out and the Lakeland hills begin to show themselves... was I really heading up there..? ...and on this flimsy lightweight folder..? Though, more importantly, was this 'Postman Pat' territory..? I wondered this passing through Greendale - (a little research later confirmed otherwise - his delivery patch was in fact Long Sleddale – which had been included on previous jaunts on foot at least...)

Wasdale here I come

   My usual route via Garburn Pass and Stockdale farther north would involve a lot more carry with steep climbs heading east, and one criticism of Wainwright's route is that he takes you through the lake district via two reservoirs rather than lakes (Ennerdale Water - although a natural feature is managed by United Utilities) and Haweswater, so this route was at least to pass two lakes proper and the approach from Greendale is most pleasant on such a sunny summer morning.

Wast Water - not a 'reservoir' as such

'Sheep in the road sir...'

   Sure enough, farther up the valley, I pass the small car park location that the photographer had used for his iconic shot of cloud grazing Great Gable, though after a few attempts at reproduction it soon becomes clear that he most likely used a camera with a longer lens...

Best effort to recreate the 1963 postcard pic

   Going over the bridge at 'Down in the Dale' there's no doubt in my mind that this is a very pleasant approach to the hills and beside the main car park is the expected turn-off for the small chapel and route up to Sty Head.

Leaving Wasdale Head behind

Upper Wasdale

   The path becomes very stony rather sooner than expected and it's time to dismount and push. This is now very different to the training routes back home with boulders at times too big for the small wheels to mount.

First view back

   Folding and fitting the bike onto the backpack soon seems sensible for the first carry up Moses Trod. This was the first real carry too, and something didn't feel right from the start with a pedal digging in my back. Around half way to the top I decide I'd better investigate and soon discovered that the back wheel wasn't located properly. With more careful attacthment then I was soon away with the whole affair sitting nice and square.

Moses Trod

   It's always a good option to stop on climbs and take in the view back with every picture a good chance for a breather too!

View back from Bursting Knott

   At Bursting Knott the way ahead becomes less obvious and a few steadying hand holds are required, bearing in mind I'm not in boots and I'm not used to a sack weight of around 30lbs, more like ten at most as a trail runner – even less where possible...
   After the rocky outcrop the summit at Sty Head opens out with views down to the Tarn – with the slopes of Great Gable off left dominating the head of the pass. I'm reminded of a previous crossing this way where I'd hobbled awkwardly with borrowed stick up the scree gully of Aaron Slack over Windy Gap between the Gables Great and Green heading for the Black Sail youth hostel and cups of tea in Ennerdale enroute to StBees – maybe a future bike carry route..?

Max unfolded for a quick pose at the Mountain Rescue Post

   There's a convenient grassy mound just beyond the mountain rescue post and it's time to get the stove out for a coffee stop – waiting for the water to boil is a good opportunity for a quick photo shoot with Max by the stretcher box!

View north over Sty Head tarn while the water boils

   Today my journey would take me in the opposite direction past Sprinkling Tarn and beyond heading east for the rocky stepped descent into Langdale – all bridleway, but would any riding be possible..? I remembered it as quite an easy path from my previous jaunt up here.

View back west to Great Gable

Can't get used to this small phone... - view ahead east

    Clearly the old memory is getting dodgy as the path soon becomes too steep and rocky so Max is reattached to the backpack... and rather than keep swapping between push and carry, with little chance of any riding I decided it better just to carry until into Langdale at least.

    I got it right this time where the path forks and kept on the bridle, rather than take the more obvious route towards Stony Cove for Scafell and with a cut straight across the turf near the wind shelter I was soon at Tongue Head, site of my last night on my sub five day crossing some years before – the water supply being the nearby peat pool – not quite roll over and sip but as near as Ronald Turnbull describes in his 'Book of the Bivvy'. It had been quite a spectacle the following morning as the mist rose up out of Langdale and swirled over the top down into Langstrath.

Tongue Head - site of previous bivvy...

...with nearby water supply

   On such a hot afternoon the outflow from Angle Tarn proved too tempting and I whipped out the stove again for a quick cuppa, after all there was no rush ...

   'Is that a bike?' asked one of the lads passing in a group. I replied in the affirmative and that I was hoping to be riding it again soon once down in the valley.

Cairn before descent...

...into Great Langdale

...descent on the stepped Rosset Gill path

   The descent, like the climb on the previous occasion here, seemed to take forever (as the tracker times confirm) but at least my knees seemed to be holding up!

   I'd planned on remounting somewhere after the footbridge, but after coming off a few times soon realised pushing was to be the more sensible option! There were a few opportunities for a scoot here and there though but again the path was much stonier than remembered – bigger stones too – too much for my fragile 20” wheels anyway. Eventually the path got better and I remounted only to get thrown shortly after – quite near a young couple – to the consternation of the young woman. The problem was trying to steer the smaller wheels between the bigger of the rocks!

   The Old Dungeon Ghyll proved a welcome stop in the shaded staff area where I end up talking to the chef on his break, where I learned why you should always marinate steak ...

   There's only a few miles on the day now and the Great Langdale road is pretty quiet until the main road nearer Ambleside and the waterfront hostel at Waterhead.

Home and dry - end of Day 1

*****

Day 2 - 65m Ambleside to Grinton Lodge

   As I'd spent most of my budget on titanium and carbon fiber, not to mention import duty, I'd opted for a shared room... a hot night with fan on all night and windows that wouldn't open more than a few inches plus the guy in the next bunk having his bunk light on all night had me up and about rather earlier than anticipated waiting for the first of the cooked breakfasts. A teacher and her daughter I'd been speaking to the night before about education reform were out in the lake – I gave 'em a wave – admiring their tenacity – brrr! - 'tis indeed like the seaside here though with jetties and boats a plenty and swimming in the lake can be enjoyed by those hardy individuals who feel inclined.

Lake Windermere

...like the seaside here

   A few hundred yards down the road the footpath leads up to Stagshaw Gardens. Was it to be carry or push?

   It's pretty steep up through the woods but the lightweight bike is no great effort to push, and as I emerge from the woods on the wider track at the top I flush a young deer – always gone by the time I got the phone in camera mode though...

Oh deer, never mind

'Looking a bit ovvercast lad'

   Nearing the ford I hear a loud almost musical metallic 'ping' and am disappointed to see a broken spoke... the words of Vernon echo in my ear: 'There aren't enough spokes in that back wheel...' so now the rear wheel is going to keep binding on the brake blocks. There's nothing I can do about it either as I didn't pack any spares – it was on the list but I just didn't get around to it... The only thing I can do is slacken the brakes right off, but on the next steep stony descent down to the road soon realise this is not such a good idea as even with the levers at full stretch up against the handlebar I don't actually come to a halt.

   Has Max met his match? Should I turn right for Bowness and the bus back to Lancaster? It's only day two though... and I decide to keep on as far as possible, after all, if another spoke goes and the bike becomes unrideable I can just stick it on the pack and walk. I would just have to get used to the binding brakes and hope the other spokes held. Then I vaguely remembered that when plotting the route I'd spotted a cafe in Staveley with a nearby cycle store – maybe they could help sort me out..? A bonus would be in the form of a proper cup of coffee instead of the instant dried milk mix I was carrying.

   So I set off with new purpose, maybe if I took it steady... and If they couldn't fix the wheel I could reconsider my options seated and sipping in comfort at least.

 

   I could have just stuck to roads, but using bridleways, I'd decided, would add more of a sense of adventure.

   The bridge across Troutbeck hasn't been replaced since the last bad Cumbrian floods and the second span is missing altogether, but the river is quite shallow and passable and I'm soon climbing up the bridle on the field beyond with almost dry feet.

Trout Beck storm damage after Desmond...

...a twin span at that - short on funds..?

   My simple navigation aid was working well. I'd bought a small 100gm smartphone so I could run apps and was relying on a downloaded GPX file and the app 'GPX viewer'. I was also running the 'FollowMee' app as a tracker which was replacing my Spot satellite device. For navigation then, all I had to do was keep the blue dot on the red line whether I had signal or not. In the past I had always preached: 'Don't rely on anything that relies on a battery'. I'd made sure to use a phone with a REPLACEABLE battery though and I was carrying two spare fully charged and sealed. Worth noting, I wasn't carrying any maps ...

   The minor roads skirting the south lakeland fells were quiet and made for some pleasant cycling – nothing but the sound of birds in the overhanging trees and the 'click click click' of the cassette – in fact, were the rear brakes not binding with every turn of the wheel it would have been idyllic.

   At High Borrans the expected bridle is not as clear as expected and the way just heads across a grass field.

Picking up the bridle at High Borrans

   To save battery power (as I only have end of day charging facilities ie. at hostels) I'm not running the phone all the time but switching on at uncertain points and hereabouts I make a wrong turn – only a few hundred yards, but had I not checked the app I could have ended up in Kentmere.

   The downhill run into the Kent Valley to Staveley was pleasant but tempered by two thoughts – would I be able to stop if I met something coming up the other way on such a narrow road? ...and was it wise to be bombing downhill at speed on a dodgy aluminium frame with mere 20” wheels..?      

   But I'm soon at the old paper mill on the outskirts of Staveley where my route line goes left over the bridge. The bike shop is straight on though and I'm looking forward to that brew anyway – time for the blue dot to part company with the red line then.

Whoa, the 'bike shop' comes good!

 

   How fortuitous – of course, this is mountain bike country! If they can't fix me up here nobody can. Will they have some small enough spokes though..? Could be same as kids BMX bikes maybe..?

  'I'll see what I can do,' the mechanic says. 'We might just have a few odd 'uns.' But I have inverted nipples on the back wheel, something they don't see often, he tells me and he doesn't have the right tool, but he'll do his best to get me going.

  Leaving Max, in capable hands then, surrounded by a lot of bigger (and much heavier) of his kind I wander round to the cafe. 

Wilf's

All very civilised

   Watching grandparents with grand kids reminded me that I was due to become a grandad soon! I've been lucky to get away with it for so long ...

On my way out the two mountain bikers coming in advise that I should get a move on to stay ahead of the incoming inclement weather. Not sure how fast they think I can pedal those 20" wheels though.

No shortage of apples here then...

   When I return the back wheel is on – looking good with a bright new shiny spoke! 'You got some pretty high spec components on that for a folder', says the mechanic, now already on another job, adding that I should avoid bridlways from now on and I should make for the Dales Cycle Centre near Reeth as the guy there is a wheel specialist who will most likely have the special socket for the inverted nipples to tension and true the back wheel properly. But he says it should get me there. He recommends a change of plan via cycle routes and even downloads me a map and after parting with a tenner I'm good to go.

   Max feels better already as the wheel is much better even though not as true as it could be but my brakes are back up to par.

   So am I to go with a route change? ...or go left on the footpath to rejoin my existing route heading for Grayrigg Fell..? What's to do..? I take the footpath...

   There's a group of walkers off down to my right at Staveley Park – clearly they've missed their turn. Too busy talking I'd say. I shout down to them. They wave back in acknowledgement.

   It feels good to be whizzing along again under tree cover once back on the road – it's going to be a great day - all's right with the world ...and then I feel the first spits of rain.

   The mountain bikers at the cafe seemed to think I could keep ahead of the weather and it proves to be just that fine stuff that comedian Peter Kay speaks of. I might have put the group of walkers right, but, perhaps due to pushing it a bit I miss my own turn after Garnett Bridge – must've come round that corner on two wheels... oh, hang on... Thing is, I looked up the bridle I should have taken with that sense of deja vu you get from using Google beforehand, so I'm at a road junction that I take to be the A6. It had been easy on the road and I'd had the phone off to conserve battery power. I switch it on and sure enough I need to go hard left – looks so obvious in retrospect...

   So now with the phone switched on and secure on my home-made handlebar mount the blue dot (now away from my red line route) tells me I need to take the next right to cut across back onto my route and a right again uphill. My phone's looking a bit damp by now with the fine stuff – maybe time to put it in it's waterproof case – oh, you mean plastic bag..? yeah, that was the plan – put it in bag and keep it in my Karrimor arm strap pocket.

   As I'm faffing with the phone a cyclist pulls up – first thing I notice is the Garmin on the handlebar... but, turns out it's a bike he made himself out of bits he had 'knocking about' and he was out to try it out on a bit of rough, and what was I up to..? After a bit of banter we set off, soon to part ways – he for some more 'off road' and me for Patton Bridge and the climb over Grayrigg Fell. 'We'd best get going to stay ahead of the weather,' he'd shouted as he pulled away. I'm not quite sure whether it was a bit of 'local knowledge' but it seemed to me that we were actually heading into the weather and before too long, certainly before my next navigation check, it was well and truly pissing it down. At Patton Bridge there was a guy walking his dogs. No harm in asking the way thinks I... can't beat a bit of 'local knowledge' and save me switching the phone on...
'Over the bridge, right and right again – you can't miss the track over the moor at the top', he shouted, adding, 'but it'll be turning rough up there now!'
Sure enough, it was getting rougher by the minute down here...

   And that's exactly what I did, after all 'local knowledge' is infallible, right? Wrong. What he knew and I didn't is that these narrow roads have no markings and I'm entering a farmyard thinking this just doesn't feel right... and worse it's now well and truly lamping it down. I try and shelter in the entrance to an outhouse while I check the phone – there's just a blue dot – no red line: nothing. I must be well off-route then, worse, the phone seems to be taking ages to do anything. I knock on the door of the farm. An old lady appears – must've been a hundred and fifty years old. I'm suddenly tempted to ask if 'kettle's brock' but refrain. 

'Are you on the Deelswee?' she asks.

'Sorry? Oh, the Dales Way..?'

'Yis,' she replied.

'No, I'm on a bike.'

'You can go that way but there's steeles,' she tells me.

I'm still convinced I'm right and the phone's wrong, but when I realise the strong Cumbrian accent translates to 'stiles' I definitely know I'm not, apologise profusely and head back up the farm track. So I take the next right and end up in another farmyard. Trying to shelter against a barn wall this time as it's worsened and blowing a 'rate good 'un'. The very slow phone now tells me its in gone into 'Safe Mode' – this is not good. I'm more or less in the middle of nowhere, somewhere near the 'Deelswee' without a map... I decide to try and dry the phone out. You couldn't make this shit up, I thought... Pressed right up to the barn wall I rummage for something that is still dry in the bar bag and LO! find a serviette from Wilf's – well, it has come in handy... So, click the back off the phone and do the best I can – it's alarmingly wet inside too – condensation inside the bag hasn't helped. Suddenly I'm not looking forward to going over the top of Grayrigg or over top of anything else for that matter... I bite into the plastic sealing the new battery and pop it into the back of the phone, clip the cover back and pray as I hold down the on button... It comes to life and better still the GPX app. is still there... PHEW. I need to get back to my last known position as I could be going round in circles and it's now afternoon.

   Back at the four-way road junction not more than a few hundred yards from the bridge. I'm orienting my phone when who should pull up again? It's the guy with the home made bike –  he seems completely unfazed with the dire conditions - he's had a flea in his ear apparantly - been challenged by a farmer about his right to roam, bike an' all – another disputed bridleway. He confirms with the help of his waterproof Garmin, (that cost far more than his bike), that I need to go 'up there' - pointing, 'past the tarn', for Grayrigg. He's heading home, he tells me, for a nice hot drink – my phone is pointing me the same way now that it's found north so we part a second time and off we pedal. 

   Ah, now I see – yes, 'tis indeed right and right again but all the roads are the same width and without markings it's not all too clear, but yep, sure enough I'm soon at the gated track that leads up onto the moor where that big thing called a radio mast isn't visible. Hmm, is that just mist and clag or is it raining heavy up there too? I bottle it and decide to keep on the road round to the village of Grayrigg for the main road – it's a bit farther, but see one radio mast and you seen 'em all and I certainly wouldn't be enjoying any views up there that's fo'sure...

   So I'm risking life and limb on the A road now with cars whizzing past like this ain't my idea of fun, but the rain's eased off a bit as you might expect now I'm going the long way round. There's a good downhill run though to my Roundthwaite turn off and the A road is soon behind me.

   The road narrows and a bridleway over the riverside field brings me to the 'iron bridge' – it's a footbridge – the bridle fords the river. A few hundred yards farther upstream is the footpath ford I take on my usual route. No wet feet today though, carrying Max over is far more civilised than being up to your knees in the river Lune.

Footbridge over the river Lune - the 'Iron Bridge' to the locals

   Calories aren't far away now, Junction 39 services are just the other side of Tebay – and when I get there I even find a socket to get a bit of a free phone top up. I might even dry out – Max is the other side of the window, just in case anyone takes a shine to all that shiny titanium. It's seems a wise precaution as I'm not carrying any kind of a lock... well, locks are heavy innit...

   So I'm well fortified despite a grumpy cleaner wanting to wipe my table down – time must be getting on then...

   The planned bridle route with ford and B road is off as I'm enjoying the feeling of dryness, but there's a bit of A road to get to the Kelleth Road, which when I get there isn't as flat as the OS map had predicted or as I'd imagined – up and down it went. On one of the 'ups' I could see I had a signal and decide I'd better forwarn the Dales Bike Centre... the guy at Staveley said a 'Parktool T30' is what was needed, but that was from memory and although only a few hours ago earlier it may as well have been last year...
  'Never heard of that one,' said the voice at the other end, so I was having to explain my predicament, but, eventually - 'What, you mean to say they hadn't got any internal nipple sockets..?' Sounded like a bit of rivalry to me there all right, but he was expecting me first thing tomorrow. And he had all the sockets that any 'proper' bike shop should have.

Afternoon tea anyone?

   There's a pub in Ravenstonedale and nobody knows that better than me (there's two in fact) – the shop's gone but afternoon tea hasn't. Sipping tea is all very civilised before my expected conflict with the Pennines, but this is what cyclists do – they plan rides to tea shops and cafes. They gorge on cakes and stuff and go home – whole clubs have evolved on the principal. The types that load their bikes up with distance travel paraphenalia are, all said, a bit out on a limb. Seems to me the cycling fraternity like to go as fast as they possibly can in between visits to tea rooms – that's just the way it is. On the other hand when bikepackers meet the world stands still and discussion turns to what lowest gears you've got... Club riders don't do gears – they get in the way of speed – they like to stand on their pedals.

   Thus self-entertained and amused, I suddenly find myself confronted with the Pennines (though they are called The Dales – all very confusing, (like the 'Lows' in Derbyshire are in fact highs...) Hum, though what a spectacle to behold – can't even see Mallerstang Edge and if I think I'm carrying a bike over there I'm most mistaken so at the junction with Tommy Road I decide to let Tommy keep it and head off back towards the main road I left in the Lune Valley. But the way by Nateby isn't too far round and could even well be quicker... not what was planned, but while the poetic meanderings of finding yourself knee-deep in a bog may be deemed a tad romantic as a fell runner - the thought of being knee deep in a bog with a bike strapped to your back in mist or heavy rain offers no such imaginings...

Tommy Road and what lies beyond...

Mallerstang Edge is in there somewhere...

 

 

Tribute to former times

 

   I like to tell it as it is – no point in dressing your account into something of a romantic interlude with nature – so feel free to skip ahead here! On the climb out of Nateby my first outdoor experience of 'touching cloth' leaves me squatting at the roadside making the best of a bad job. Hell what was in that plate of stew back at the services? – maybe last night's Hunters Chicken at the hostel had been under the heatlamps too long? Crickey!

  We outdoor types come prepared for such mishaps though - well, kind of, not sure the passing motorists were though, but when you gotta go – you just gotta! Thankfully there were only a handful of cars that passed, and hopefully too far away from that farm over there for any arrestable offence.

   And soon the last of Cumbria's hills were behind me... Pretty sure it wasn't a personal statement though. Yorkshire is just up the road now as it levels out, and there's a good downhill run into Keld to look forward to... hopefully I wouldn't be arriving stuck to the saddle though.

Bad experience behind me...Tackling the Pennines

Lodge Hags from t'other side - brightening up...

 

  Yay, the downhill was good. Though, at speed, I was always wary of potholes – I'd been reassured by the main dealers that as the bike was over five years old it was less likely the aluminium forks would just fold under me, 'no, that usually happened in the first twelve months... If they were going to go, they would have gone by now..,' nevertheless, I'd stopped risking it over cattle grids and the one before Keld was no exception.

   Once again I was very grateful to Park House for use of the amenities, I didn't go into detail of course. Maybe the dismounted cyclist's gait covers a multitude of saddle soreness issues? No food available on this occasion though, but time was indeed getting on, and so the planned route down beside the Swale by Crackpot Hall to Gunnerside was to be abandoned as I was still hoping I'd get something calorie-wise at the hostel now a mere ten miles away as the crow flies.

   Unfortunately, though I was flying, as it's mostly downhill, and there were unlikely to be any further mishaps, I still had to negotiate the winding B road to Reeth and beyond to Grinton Bridge for the final hill of the day up to the hostel. The planned visit to Maiden Castle enroute over the moor to Grinton Lodge would have to wait for another time...

Last hill of the day

   One good thing to note about hostels is that they are more understanding of the pitfalls and mishaps of the outdoor life, so when after checking in the warden said he could do me some soup I was well chuffed.

 *****

Day 3 - 52m Grinton Lodge to The Lion Inn

After a better night's sleep then and the luxury of more cooked breakfast with extra toast, I was away for the Cycle Centre down the road – I'd passed it yesterday so knew exactly where it was – just a five minute ride.

Morning view across Swaledale from the courtyard

Testosterone hangs heavy here...

   There's lots of macho-looking guys around, not to mention the owner who barked orders... Feeling a bit like 'Noddy' might in the rush hour then, I couldn't get mi' back wheel out quick enough and the tyre was off before you could say '20 inch wheels are for kids and commuters' two hundred times... my tiny folding chinese toolkit actually worked though!

Whoa, that gear cable looks a bit tight!

   It doesn't take Stu long to sort the wheel and the charge is a donation to the local Mountain Rescue and without binding brakes its feels like flying, though it is pretty flat along the B road past Ellerton Abbey anyway. 

Ellerton Abbey site - with bell tower just visible... just

   I'm heading for Downholme and on the green Stop Bridge Lane I'm reminded that I'm entering military territory as I give way to a guy running uphill towards me in full battle dress with kit... looks like hard work... an officer at that by the looks of it.

   Turns out to be a bit of a pull for me too up the road past the tank range, but the road's public enough. From the top the eastward distant destination of the North York Moors come into view.

Destination North York Moors now come into view

   One good thing with struggling up hills with a bike, you can be damn sure your efforts will soon be rewarded with a downhill of equal lack of effort. What goes up does indeed come down and with wings I reckon the run down through Hudswell would have enabled lift off. For a runner a set of wheels can seem suddenly quite amazing, as a tired foot slapping downhill plod can be just as wearisome, if not more so, than any uphill pull and can come harsh on tired joints.

   There's no need for a Richmond visit on this occasion as I'm heading for the farm shop cafe visited on the last two Coast to Coasts on foot, just maybe that muscly-legged group of road cyclists seen there on my last visit had left a lasting impression!

   But before I get there, I'm persued by an angry 'land custodian' in a speeding 4x4. I must have been tired when plotting the route hereabouts to the east of Richmond. I was insistent I was on a bridleway and he was equally insistent that I wasn't. 'Show me the map that says this is a bridleway,' he'd insisted. In fact, turns out, he was right. I hadn't been ... but where we actually had the altercation we were both in fact stood on a bridleway. The ROW bridle goes down to the river where it ends... all very confusing to the tourist. Muttering we went our separate ways, me up the bridle - him off in another cloud of dust and diesel particulate.

Good underfoot (and tyres) on the riverside bridle

DANGER - Coast to Coast!

   Hereabouts, over millenia, the Swale has deposited vast amounts of something stony and as it turns out extremely valuable it appears as the quarry is now extended over the ROW I did once use on a previous occasion - although to be fair the stiles weren't evident back then either leading to a spot of fence teetering.

   On the back lane I got behind a guy in a 4 wheel drive, who eventually pulled over for me to pass. 'I think you're going faster than me!' he shouted from his open window. Indeed I was, fueled on no doubt by the thought of the Ellerton Farm Shop coffee stop ahead!
 

Not a cyclist in sight...

   There's a short stretch of B road and then the overgrown section of bridle past Plumtree Plantation to get to the minor road for Streetlam and Danby Wiske. The road for Whitwell could be used, but it was good to get a few off-road sections in even though long grass could get lodged around the gears.

 The overgrown bridle by Plumtree Plantation

   In planning I did toy with the idea of folding the bike for some of the footpath sections through the Vale of Mowbray, but the more circuitous road route is largely pretty flat anyway to Ingleby and the Blue Bell though the hill to the Cat and Bagpipes turn off at East Harsley was a bit more than expected.

Brompton? - no way...

   It's hard not to be beating a path to the Blue Bell on any Coast to Coast route choice though. Also good to arrive here with no physical 'issues' and early enough for food, which will set me up for the final push onto the moors. Not forgetting the flapjack from Diane's up the hill after the church saved for later!

Early enough not to be sold out...

   I could have gone round here - up by the radio mast on the moor, but the footpath up through the woods offers good views through the trees back over the day's journey making the carry worthwhile.

Last fold and carry of the trip

The footpath leaves the forest track across a ditch

Up through the trees...

...and up...

...but worth the effort

 fingerpost to watch out for if coming down

   One year I received an incoming text at a vital moment and missed the fingerpost - the track ahead looks right (not shown on map) but peters out at some ruined workings.

Emerging from the trees - the bridleway is beyond the wall

   The bridle along the edge of the moor is soon rejoined after crossing an open field at the top, though the descent to the road is a bit steep... Therafter it's pretty much some pleasant off-road cycling even with a 20" wheel folding bike at first following part of the Cleveland Way.

   The three open fields to be crossed soon after prove to be unrideable though in making for the Scugdale ascent. 

The 'public access' gated Harfa House track

Almost rideable with 20" wheels...

View back down Scugdale

   A recurring theme seemed to be what I'd remembered to be nice flat level parts of the trail turn out to be the opposite and the descent to Raisdale Mill (although never actually covered on foot) sounds very attractive as 'Mill Lane' which turns out to be anything but ...

   Instead of my usual water stop at Westcote Farm, I was making for the slightly off-route Buck Inn at Chop Gate (pronounced Chop Yat) before getting up onto the moors proper. When it's hot I no longer partake of the 'hooligan fluid' and opt for the more refreshing and rehydrating orange juice and soda. It's awful muck if made with orange squash though and has to be 50/50 with proper orange juice. The barman has no qualms in making me another one though. It's quite pleasant sat out too, and it's all rideable bridleway to the the Lion Inn now - once I'd scaled that bloomin' bank that is.

Approaching 'the bank' - looks tame enough from here...

   The 'bank' being the ancient earthwork which is worthy of a mention. Was it defensive? Who knows but it's bloomin' steep! 

The 'ancient earthwork'...

A bridle follows the earthwork for miles round Urra Moor

   The shooter's moorland track is not far beyond though and is quiet rideable and it proves to be pleasant going eastward over the moor to Round Hill and beyond Bloworth even the old ironstone railway track rolls beneath the wheels pleasantly enough until the sun-warmed distant Lion Inn comes into view on the horizon, though again in places rougher than I'd remembered it on foot... hmm, maybe I was just be getting a little saddle sore though..?

Rejoining the Cleveland Way at Botton head

Meeting the Ironstone trackbed

View back to the the Cleveland Way

The white dots visible on Blakey Ridge are the Lion Inn

   It would be foolish not to call in for something at the Lion Inn though, surely? If younger, one could set off fortified and press on for the Bay, but I find the row of shiny beer pumps all very tempting and once I've done my stint for the day the 'hooligan fluid' looks like it could be quite acceptable. Yep, I decide, who cares..? - I'll stay the night. 

   Of course, it's the Coast to Coast proper here and there's literally 'no room at the inn', but plenty of space on the field for the campers which is only available to coasters... Hmm, thing is though, I have no sleeping bag, just a survival bivvy and the a minimalist skeleton blow-up mattress and very little else warmth-wise... It's July, I hear you say. Indeed it is and although only around the 1300ft contour, there a pretty stiff breeze coming off the moor and it's turned rather chilly for such a minimalist set-up.

I'm in... well, out as it turns out

Day 4 - 23m Lion Inn to Robin Hood's Bay

   For Coasters it's a couple of quid to camp and use the shower, After explaining my plight the landlady had come to the rescue in loaning me a quilt - brand new out of the bag - she'd unwrapped it in front of me, so I felt a little awkward, but she was matter-of-fact about it as she assured me it wasn't going to rain and they're washing 'em all the time anyway, she added.

   So I'd spent a comfortable(ish) night, up against the wall out of the wind. There's only a fence at the back of the site where the breeze comes straight off the moor. As with any bivvy, I was up and about all the earlier for it though and ready to roll. But I'd booked a breakfast and wasn't going anywhere till sometime after half-past-seven.

The 10yr old Dahon MuEx - still going strong!

...though probably won't outlive this one near Flat Howe

First view of the North Sea

   Surprisingly, the Cut Road path is all rideable and, with views to the north down Fryup Dale, and it has to be said, nothing other than a joyful experience to ride.

Surprisingly good off-road on the Cut Road path

   After a short bit of road comes the turning onto Glaisdale Rigg, again some very pleasant off road going, but I need to get the next right turn correct to get down to the road, which soon becomes very rocky and dismounting seems the sensible option what with a cracked seatpost an all...

Glaisdale Rigg

The track to the road - a bit too much for 20" wheels

   There's a brief stop beside Beggars Bridge - I've always been in too much of a hurry for the diversion when on foot but my route today takes me up the hill right past it. It's only a packhorse bridge but has romantic roots, or so the story goes...

Beggars Bridge

   You don't pass through Grosmont without a visit to the station... There's three guys in boiler suits walking toward me along the platform and as I approach I asked if I'd seem them on TV. 'What... on crimewatch?' - Yorkshire humour for you... well the North Yorks Moors Railway does seem to get a good airing on TV - could have sworn it was themelves on that last documentary...

NYMR - station cafe always worth a visit

'Crimewatch' indeed...

   The Fair Head Lane slog out of Grosmont doesn't fair any better with a bike either and I did intend on cutting over the open moor - the bit of moor where even 39 hours record holder Mike Hartley couldn't find any trace of a path, but I stuck to the road instead as there was very little traffic anyway. Well, until the A169 'Bluebank' road that is. Then had I opted for the moor bridle I'd have just had to cross straight over...

Intended route by quarry and moor...

But I'm sticking with road now

   After Littlebeck (famous for its midge population) Lousy Hill lives up to its name! You'll be scratching at the top for sure.
There's a new mining operation now near where I bivvied on the first night of my first attempt as well, local opposition was strong, but at the end of the day, money talks...

Almost there

There's a bridle somewhere there across the moor...

The North Sea - getting close now...

The Bay opening up... with view to Ravenscar

Not far now - and all downhill

   Fylingthorpe Hill becomes more like Flying-thorpe Hill but even taking great lengths to avoid any potholes, after the bends Park Gate, I hear the distinctive 'PING' as another spoke popped.

   The road down to the slipway is very busy with tourists (including me of course!) and it's a job to weave between the pedestrians.

Ready for the final descent

The Wainwright plaque - we made it!

   I can confirm that the lunchtime pint at the Bay Hotel was very welcome!

*******

The route:

http://www.followmee.com/mapx.aspx?file=l/lightweightmick/C3FC.kml