The New Lyke Wake Club
Late Spring Crossing – Walk 7 – Graeme Noble
General Information
Date & Start: Friday 16 May 2025, starting time [from the LWW finish/start stone near the beacon at Ravenscar 9.43am] – Saturday 17 May 2025 [ending time 7.39] at the LWW start/finish stone above Cod Beck Reservoir. An east to west crossing.
Walking time: 19.04.03
Actual crossing time 22hrs 58mins 57sec.
Total Walking Distance: 43.04 miles
Dirger: Graeme Noble (solo walk).
To say it was cold, blowy, gale-some throughout would be an understatement!
I offer my condolences to myself for having had the need to walk over the North Yorkshire Moors. If you read this report I offer my condolences and congratulations if you get to the end of it. As I (metaphysically may die before I conclude the report I offer myself early condolences concerning my death and if my ashes could be placed somewhere close to the first gate met from the Lion’s Inn or the second gate from the Face Stone it would be appreciated. In any case stick them somewhere up there next to Bloworth Crossing. On a more sombre note, here’s the report written while I feel ever closer to death!
I had expected the eastern temperature to somewhat mirror the west coast temperatures (where I live) of nice hot days, warm evenings and nights but the eastern coastal winds brought the temperature down by about 10 degrees in comparison (and the main part of the walk was completed wearing my waterproof jacket on top of a coat, jumper and shirt during the day. At night out came the leggings on top of gaiters). Like being laid out in the morgue!
Eeebeegum, it was cold for the entirety of the walk and became an arctic Put-in poultice eastern ice blast, the wind blowing a gale, perhaps galleon’s sails on the moors or the threat of ballistic Russian wind. I saw no dogs running from Whitby either, my eyesight is relatively good but I couldn’t Count (get the semi-pun? Count) any wolf wolves (woof woofs), just as well, I believe I would have been too far north. It is possible to have scratching -woof woof’s- humour in greater amounts when warm.
I, again, decided to re-visit most of the previous route (walks 5&6 of last year that I had completed in soul like contemplation) northern areas as described by Bill Cowley. In his suggestion of walking the northern route of the LWW he describes in the Lyke Wake Walk, pages 34 & 35, fifth edition 1971 (walking in a westerly to easterly direction) walk with a few amendments concerning the route that I’ve followed before, except I walked it in reverse. The amount of repetition I feel is due to hallucinatory prepositions that I am still recovering from.
So, a slight deviation. I decided to make my way onto York Cross, this time, taking the path behind Lilla Cross then through the plantation on Sneaton High Moor (around Pike Hill) and then eventually moving onto the Whinstone Ridge, but stopping at York Cross for a lunch rest and a welcome break.
This followed moving from the starting point at Ravenscar over Marl Moor (the sound of a cuckoo accompanied me here with Skylark’s music and flight) as I walked through the moor to Jugger Howe on Fylingdales Moor and across the ravine of Jugger Howe which, in green splendour showed its lushness in the valley at the beck. I always feel tempted to stay and take in the view, but time ticks away on the Lyke Wake Walk. At Burn Howe I stopped for a breather and the wind seemed to pick up and make the day colder. The pyramid of rocks seems to have grown beside Stony Leas since walks 5&6 and is quite out of character concerning the local environment. A pile of stones that are numerous in character but which are not of similar colour or shape to the gritstone that lies ground close.
Back to the walk. It seemed worth considering putting on my waterproof jacket at this point but I decided to hold off as I was about to walk into Sneaton High Moor which provided some cover from gutsy weather. Deja vu repeating weather pattern wafted from the previous walks in the morning but, on this occasion there was no uplift of sunshine as the day progressed only a stronger wind and more chilled air, particularly on open ground, whether high or low. At this point I was knocking up 4 miles per hour and a half. Good going for me but as the day progressed I slowed down due to the chilling of my body. A part of me thought of the miner’s route and how it offered some protection from such conditions (some miles off) and, yet it seemed to wish away what to me what has become a quite wonderful time walking through the northern route in any weather.
So, onward to York Cross through the wood. It’s quite a downhill trek on rough ground but seeing new terrain, for this stretch of the walk, gave good provenance for the remainder of the day. A balance to the effects of the wind. Looking back Lilla’s Cross provided a happy few moments of reminiscence and the thought that I could have followed the same path as previous times but, I’m not a walker used to retracing steps! And, Louven Howe beckoned me onwards with its accompanying Trig. pillar.
Oddly, as I turned to ascend the path up to York Cross I came across a pointer stating, ‘Wilf Noble HGVs,’ no relation but, the shock of seeing a family name I reckon added an extra 90 minutes to my walking distance, the fear of coming across the family reprobates (now that would have been ghostly frightening to meet them) freezing me more powerfully than the wind. Indeed, part of a song came over me, ‘This yah neet, this yah neet,’ etc and I began to smile, moderately insanely at the memory of family reiterating itself in such a moment and in such a beautiful place, as I turned up to a destination that had been planned for a long time.
Sitting beside York Cross I turned to branch song or rather the composition of a poem representing the sound of trees (still to complete) talking to each other and inviting me into their lives and conversation. Quite mesmerising, listening to wind in leaves, the creaking of a bough, the alteration of the contours of landscape as branches shift shape revealing hilltops and valleys with differing perspectives. Sitting next to York Cross, even in galloping winds for 15 minutes I found to be a relaxing spot and sort of allowed for personal soliloquy as I wondered about the Yorkshire Moor crosses and who placed them there and of the crosses that we as humans bear. On days like the 16th & 17th May…The wind up the cassocks must have brought cold to the brassocks! Hardy folk indeed.
From here onto the Whinstone Ridge, passing Flass Brow and then down into Beck Hole.
Indeed, just before the final drop over the railway line into Beck Hole there lies a shop, yes a shop, (sorry to walkers who are fixated on the route) not a normal shop but, for those in the know in the model railway layout and equipment world, TMC Model Railway Centre sits next to the track and indeed takes you off the track. What a pun! In my next visit to this planet, I’m coming back as a comedian. In a parallel world, with my rucksack and boots, I wandered about in the store. It needed more than 15 minutes quick look around. I’ve purchased equipment from them for years and walked straight past them on the previous two walks without putting 2 and 2 together but, this time I was compelled (perhaps, literally by the voices of those who worked on the Rosedale Railway) to go inside, ‘see rail line and consider the memorabilia of rail time.’ I did make a purchase. I did, literally, I was tracked and pinned down and, to recover I walked into the Birch Hall Inn.
The sign still remains, ‘only cash today.’ I asked the price and was told and then I said I don’t think I have that much. Kindly, some locals and visitors offered to buy the pint then I found a tenner and there was a groan from the room. I apologised and laughed, so did they…it all ended well! So, after a leisurely pint at a reasonable price of £4.60 (no cake this time) I joined the old railway line and walked down to the Twin Arch Bridge which continued the course of the old railway line linking Goathland to Grosmont and then Whitby. Here I stopped for a while and walked onto the river bed to see the river flowing. There is some great light on the water flowing under the bridge arches and through them . Writing this I wonder if by extending time between sections of the route that I was actually lamenting the end to come.
Deviation complete, I rejoined the path to walk upto Musk Esk Cottage crossing the Old Roman Road (course of partially now in a wood) marching uphill to In Moor. A beginning of a great number of miles of walking.
This section gets quite a review by Bill Cowley, above Pike Hill on Egton Moor, as an alternative to the classic route that seems to be mostly followed these days and, the route below the duck ponds, which are slightly off the path. No swimming (as he suggests as a possibility) this time as by now the wind was getting a good head on it. ‘Do I put on leggings or not’, was a question that I asked myself, as, I’m sure Hamlet once did ask but Shakespeare and history never recorded. (Or was it, ‘to be or not to be’ versus leggings or not leggings-something about losing one’s mind comes into my head as a question, as well). I didn’t. As before, I walked along the Roman Road (another according to Ordnance Survey- mind the Roman’s got around quite a bit) and eventually crossed the track crossing Egton High Moor. A good route for knocking off the mileage.
Walking uphill I eventually crossed in between Wintergill Plantation and Glaisdale Head through Wintergill homestead (I presume) which no longer exists as property today but on the OS map looks fairly extensive in size and then progressed down to Mountain Ash Farm and Yew Grange.
Well, the birdsong in Glaisdale was truly spectacular. The valley is still largely wooded and, the songs of the Dunnock, Blackbird, Robin, Chaffinch, Goldfinch and of course pheasant accompanied me for about a mile. A truly beautiful place and unforgettable experience. Caper Hill beckoned and this section of walk tends to slow me down (a bit of a hill) but, previous memories of the Cut Road Path and George Gap Causeway Path beckoned me onward; both paths creating a great ridge route and onward I went. I wonder if that is what appealed to Alfred Wainwright when he included this section of the route into his Coast to Coast path? A sort of memory of the high routes he followed in the Lakes.
Passing Trough House I began thinking of the next stage of the route. I was due to stop for 45 minutes at Ralph Cross and rang Kate to see if she was still in the area and fancied a cuppa. At 9pm we met up at the car park opposite the cross which was fairly lucky as thick mist descended over us from Rosedale Moor. I have to say a soup with red wine served with chicken sandwiches followed by hot coffee, biscuits and sweets almost seduced me to jack in the walk. However, although the temperature had dropped, the mist from Rosedale had cleared and night had crept in sort of unannounced on the other side of the car windows. Indeed, there was more mist in the car and the interior soliloquy of remaining or not did frequently cross my mind.
But, it was not to be. Yorick, pursued my thoughts and conscientious thoughts of completing the walk. As soon as I got outside I felt the wind blowing and decided to stick the leggings on. A good decision! I watched Kate driving off and thought there goes my temptation and actually felt quite lonely as the lights of the car diminished in the distance. It’s much easier to sit in the Lion Inn knowing that the walk continues, due to the fact that one is by oneself during breaks, compared with the thought that a warm bed is much more comfortable than venturing out into the breath gal(l)ing winds of those who have died.
Eventually I reached the path leaving the road down to the Lion Inn and cut off to Flat Howe. The head torch came on and I started to walk across the top of Farndale Moor and below the Esklets. There is a huge chance of taking the wrong route here but, I think I was fortunate having walked the source of the Esk and the Esklets with Kate before and, remembered the odd descent to the left of the track (not particularly clear in the dark) and kept heading left, right and downward to various exits and entrances on the moors to the next track (a Garmin comes in handy with a map as well) and eventually arrived at a fairly well maintained track which ascended onto the Rosedale Railway line to Bloworth Junction. I had arrived on familiar ground. On this stretch across to Round Hill I was reminded of the Winter walk I completed last year when the curvature of the path accentuated which part of body was hit by weather.
During that night frogs and rabbits had abounded over the course of the line but, on this occasion a solitary rabbit came running out onto the track and ran off in front of me. Eventually, I turned my head around and let the rabbit escape the light and it went off somewhere. But , wildlife was sparse this time. At about midnight the weather had changed direction, during the day it was south west in direction and now it became north east. Fortunately, on my back most of the walk. And, the walk continued, I love walking in the dark (nobody about, only the elements and one’s own thoughts about the lived experience and mortality) and although I look, mile after mile for the metal gates at Bloworth Crossing it’s always a surprise when the first suddenly appears in the near distance.
A friendly place to reach. A point of landscape has been reached that is known. At the same time, it is almost like the recognition that one aspect of the walk has ended and another begins. Death and life, loss and a new beginning. I took a number of photos of the Face Stone (not very good ones) after Round Hill and then descended down to Hasty Bank and some cover from the wind but, it did feel like an ending coming down from Carr Ridge. Over the other side of the ridge lay hundreds, thousands of folk sleeping in the well-lit up environment called Cleveland. I stopped for a break behind the wall before the first seat descending to the side of the tips (disused) and felt exhausted. There had been no respite from the wind all day and I felt tired. I considered dropping to the ground, building a shelter, a cairn perhaps and, going to sleep but said to myself if you do that you’ll have to have another go to get a seventh crossing and then you’ll be saying that was successful but you’ve only achieved 7 of 8 crossings.
Failure was not to be allowed. So, picking myself up I dropped down eventually onto the road. No traffic at Hasty Bank and a nice (humour here) climb after a rather slow descent from Carr Ridge took me onto the miner’s path. There was some cover here and I plodded on. Mist descended) It felt hard going. But, as the miles passed I eventually arrived at Lordstone’s cafe and camping site, daybreak had begun and the wind had dropped slightly. After passing through the trees and coming out to face the climb above Carlton Bank and noticed that the mist had cleared that had accompanied me over a couple of miles. I knew that I was going to complete the Lyke Wake Walk. It was rather poignant to see clear skies following the low mists over the Wain Stones and the potential of walking in mist.
The path on the top of Carlton Bank from the Trig point is a great way to stop, enjoy daybreak, and on this occasion see the views back to Roseberry Topping and Cleveland et al. and the path ahead. Stopping for a brew on another Round Hill, at the Bronze Age cairn, I meditated and contemplated the beauty of my surroundings. Sunlight appeared even if the wind kept up its presence with its occasional gusts. A gift. Taking off the waterproofs I blessed my fortune at being able to be alive in this world. At the same moment there was a sense of grieving that something was coming to an end. Quite a sad moment. I’m sure the Bronze Age people would probably say something like, ‘you’ve got too much time to think, get out there and bring back a deer, or what about a hand painting or telling a story of the afterlife,’ they would be right, life is to be grasped and made into a creative experience, shared with others and given with kindness. I was betwixt feelings or bewitched as I didn’t entirely feel so relaxed as to stop at that moment in time.
The next stage was on and my penultimate stop was at the seat dedicated to the memory of Ian Jeal at the T-junction near Huthwaite Green. There I have sat, eaten, drunk tea, noshed biscuits and pondered on Clain Woods and the final pull. Again, I did the same thing. A rather peaceful daybreak taken with some solemnity. It was with a goodbye that I put the rucksack back on and moved down Hollin Hill to end this death of a challenge. At 7am I met the first people for nearly 12hrs, walking in the opposite direction, four walkers in 15 minutes and they were definitely tramping faster than me. I’ve always been in awe of speed. I could have used some speed then to get up the hill at the top end of Clain Wood. And, so to the end, an achievement with some great moments during the walk.
The amount of people out and about at Cod Beck reservoir was amazing. Where do they come from? Did they come out to see me in? Possibly! My ego needed salvation not salivation but, salvation. That’s an Elton John lyric I think. And, I arrived in Osmotherley. Kate refreshed from a good night’s sleep came in from Lockton at the same and we had breakfast together. Kate a tea and I a bacon and sausage ciabatta followed by a bread pudding cake with cream and a pot of coffee. Usually, a great meal in some circumstances is followed by execution but the food is great and I was resurrected, ready for the next adventure.
