Osmotherley to Blakey Ridge 

DAY 12 - WEDNESDAY 20 JUNE

As we had a long day ahead of us we were up early for breakfast which was served next door in the pub.  It was an odd experience, and I was amused to be told that they “did not do beans”.  Oh well, posh nosh again!  We nearly had a free room though as there wasn't a bill waiting for us to pay as the staff assumed that we had booked and paid in advance.

Today's route is one of the longest but we were full of enthusiasm, remembering, from last year, how good it had been to back in the hills! We were off by 8.20am, walking up the long hill. to join the Cleveland Way – the Cleveland Hills awaited.

Walking through Arncliffe Wood enjoying the sun, It looked like it was going to be a nice day.  We walked down to Huthwaite Green and then up to Live Moor – passing a small tent on the way, someone doing a bit of wild camping.  Live Moor was the first of our proper steep climbs and at the top we were rewarded with our first sighting of the sea! Just between the chemical works and allegedly the worst place to live in the UK, Middlesborough!

We crossed Carlton Moor, dropping down to take a break at Lord Stones Café.  Kev went to the toilet and came back with an odd look on his face and little grin, had he had a particularly bad bowel movement and put the toilets out of action? It wouldn't be the first time we had to make a quick get away! No, not this time, there was a swallow’s nest in the entrance to the toilets. We sat bewitched as the swallows flew in and out. I went to the ladies and kicked myself for not taking my camera - just as I came out one of the swallows was sitting on the nest.  I crept out and told Kev but typically the bird flew out as soon as Kev went in with his camera. 

We then had another steep climb up to Cringle Moor, followed by another steep descent. The walking seemed easier than last year, I was bouncing up and down the hills and we were soon heading up to Wain Stones. A father and son caught us up as we squeezed through the gaps in the stones. They asked where we were heading for and staying that night and became quite ruffled when we said “High Blakey House”.  They had wanted to stay there but had been told it was full so they would be staying across the road at the Lion Inn.

A runner came down from Wain Stones, In this part of England 'runners' aren't young kids working for nothing in the hope that they will get a big break in the film industry but middle aged men who seem to defy their age, size and gravity running up and down the hills in little shorts and very little else. This one had already passed us earlier running in the opposite direction.  He stopped to have a chat, saying he did this route very frequently and couldn’t believe how lucky he was to live in the area.

We tackled the final climb past Clay Bank Top and on to Carr Ridge and Urra Moor. We knew it would be flat all the way now but typically when we reached easier ground I suddenly went over on my ankle, knowing that I had done some damage straight away.  Fortunately I was able to walk on it and we were soon at the disused Rosedale Ironstone railway – only 5 miles to hobble to High Blakey House. 

It was with relief that we saw the red roof of the Red Lion Inn from afar.  One final drag up by the pub and then down to High Blakey House, to see Kath wheeling a barrow into the garden.  She couldn’t believe that we had managed to get there so soon – the time 4.30pm.  The dog was waiting to see us too, with a sorry looking ball in its mouth. 

I was so pleased to take off my boot and hobbled to the panoramic room to admire the view and enjoy a nice cup of tea.

It was good to see Kath again.  We headed across to the Lion Inn for dinner.  I was hobbling, leaning on my trekking pole, which threw Todd, American Girl and Yorkshire Guy who thought we had only just arrived. Todd was taking advantage of being given a room booked by someone he had met but had decided to give up earlier on the walk, so no camping that night.  Dinner for me was jacket potato with beans and cheese – nice and simple.

I hobbled back to the B&B, leaning on my pole.  Kath saw us come in and looking at the trekking pole asked if we had been for a walk. Kev explained that I had hurt my ankle so she dived off for an ice pack. I realised that it was exactly a year since I had twisted my ankle badly before.  Was it fate? Would I always hobble into the guest house greeted with a nice cup of tea and ice pack? I had been fortunate to be staying in such a decent B&B after twisting my ankle.

I spent the night in pain, but fortunately I had the gorgeous view to look at.  We left the curtains open so I was able to watch the sun rise – sadly I had forgotten that it was Mid Summers Day, so the full drama of the occasion was a bit lost on me., nice sunrise though!

Kevanliz@aol.com