(24th March 2013 – 20 Miles across the North York Moors from Ingleby to Blakey Ridge)

After yesterday’s long miles, there would be no let-up today … and unlike that endless beetle’s crawl across the flat, there would be plenty of stiff climbs too.

From a distance, the Cleveland escarpment resembles a saw-blade and those sharp peaks and troughs meant six steep climbs between Ingleby and Blakey.  It would be an exhausting day but also one of the most exhilarating and memorable of walking Wainwright’s Coast to Coast.

Breakfast was later than I would have liked – but it was worth the wait – and eventually, at about 8.30, Pat and I got away and immediately began our first climb of the day up through Arncliffe Woods.  After a mile, a finger-post welcomed us onto the Cleveland Way which the C2C would follow for most of Day 10.

I first walked The Cleveland Way when I was 19 and if it wasn’t my first long-distance footpath, it immediately became my favourite.  Actually, it might still be.  I’ve walked it once more since I was a teenager and, one day, I’ll happily return for a third time.

The Cleveland Way is a grand footpath, circling the North Yorkshire Moors and then following the coast from Saltburn to Filey.  I think that this stretch between Osmotherley and Kildale is as fine a day’s walk as you’ll find anywhere in England.  But easy it ain’t.

The second climb of the day was a long one up to Live Moor (followed all the way by Blue Person and Yellow Person)

and the climb then continued to Carlton Moor.  It had been bitingly cold and windy all morning, but as we neared the 1640ft summit the headwind became so strong that not only did we struggle to stay upright, we even had difficulty pulling fast moving air into our lungs.

At the summit trig point, we leaned into the wind to avoid being bowled over but doh! I was sent sprawling… if pretending that I hadn’t.

A little alarmed, we bent once more into the wind and started the descent.

Pat demonstrating how strong the wind was.

Our third climb of the day was Cringle End.  The gusting easterlies and northerlies were a little less strong here

and we nabbed a few minutes rest on the Alec Falconer memorial seat.  But if the winds weren’t as strong, the cold was just as perishing.  We didn’t hang about.

A swift glance back at Carlton Moor and the way we had come

whilst ahead the escarpment led on toward Clay Bank.

Though we were in a rush to get off Cringle End’s summit, the icy path and crosswinds forced us to take a slow pace.  But I didn’t fall over again. I’m not an idiot.

At the foot of Cold Moor, I said farewell to Pat.  He was meeting Sue a mile or so ahead at Clay Bank and driving to an off-route village for the night.  But from Clay Bank, I had a further 9 miles before my bed.  Happy to avoid two of the day’s six hills, I used the path along the foot of the escarpment through Broughton Plantation.  It’s called cheating.

The path through the forest was out of the wind and I found a sheltered spot for lunch.  Whilst I sat on a rock, munching sandwiches from Park House, I watched contentedly as Pat slogged up to the Wain Stones (outcrops of rock on top of Hasty Bank).  I’d made the right decision.

From Clay Bank, I had one more climb ahead of me – to the top of Urra Moor (1489ft).

The day had remained bright and so, halfway up, I did a rare thing on the C2C – sitting out of the wind under blue skies and watery sunshine;

before continuing that relentless climb.

I needed frequent stops to drink in that view and, more importantly, pull in huge lungfuls of freezing Yorkshire air.

Then I would tuck in my chin and climb some more.

At two o’clock, I was at the top of the last hill of the day and the penultimate big hill of the entire trip.

Ahead of me was about 8 miles of mostly level, if Arctic, moorland.

There may have been no climbs on this section but I still had to battle into that wearisome headwind for the rest of the afternoon: powerful, excoriating and painful, it scraped my face red-raw.

Occasionally there was enough sunshine to provide some fleeting, fickle company.

I saw only two other people in that wilderness – and then at a great distance.

But for three hours and 8 miles, I didn’t meet anybody.

Eventually, at Bloworth Crossing, I left the Cleveland Way for now (we would meet again near Robin Hood’s Bay)

and then sped up along an old railway (built to transport iron-ore from nearby Rosedale to Teeside and Durham).  It was getting late and I didn’t want to be out here in the dark.

Toward the end of the afternoon, I glimpsed ‘The Lion Inn’ – my goal for the night.  But it was still far, far away on the horizon and I wouldn’t reach it till almost 5 o’clock.

The Lion Inn is a remarkably remote pub, set in a bleak landscape.  It dates from 1533 though, from the outside, you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise.

But inside, the pub was aged, gloriously warm, warren-like, cosy and very, very busy.  Where had all the people come from? After that long, tough march across the moors, it was a shock to be thrust into a crowd of loud raucous folk.  A bit like arriving at ‘The Prancing Pony‘ after crossing the wilds, I should imagine.  And it is one of only a couple of pubs I have ever stayed in that actually felt like a proper ‘Inn’.

After wallowing in a long, hot bath, I returned to the bar for excellent food and ale. It was a good hearty time… but not for long.  After completing almost a quarter of the C2C in two days, I was soon back upstairs and fast asleep.

Tomorrow would be an easier day but I was increasingly aware that the end of my winter trek was drawing to a close.Save