The New Lyke Wake Club

Summer Crossing – Walk 8 – Graeme Noble

General Information

Date & Start: Wednesday 9 July 2025, starting time 10.30am [from the hotel formerly known as Ravenscar Hall Hotel (up to and past the LWW finish/start stone near the beacon at Ravenscar] – Thursday 10 July 2025 [ending time 9.25am]) at the LWW start/finish stone above Cod Beck Reservoir.

Walking time: 19.47.40
Actual crossing time 22hrs 55mins 23secs.
Total Walking Distance: 44.5 miles
Dirger: Graeme Noble (solo walk)

May I offer condolences to those who read this. May I wish the plague to be lifted upon those who manage to survive to the end of the story and may your life be lengthened in a non-purgatory way if you happen to enjoy any part of the wayward writings that are contained herein. Again, I walked from Ravenscar. I stayed overnight at the Grand Villa Heights realising that it isn’t Ravenscar Hall Hotel anymore. The breakfast was nice, but looking at walls and a car park in the distance isn’t the same as looking over to Robin Hood’s Bay.

I went to have a look at the seals before heading to the Lyke Wake Walk starting point as I knew that I won’t be returning to the hotel anytime soon. The weather soon offered heat and fortunately it provided it throughout the whole walk. I had decided that I’d follow Bill Cowley’s consideration (with a variant) of (walking in reverse to his suggestion, 1964 ed. pgs. 34&35) following Green Dike to Pye Rigg End, where there is a remnant of an old boundary marker (Pye Rigg Howe) and about quarter of a mile further on another boundary stone. Unfortunately, the footpath becomes indistinct at:  

Grid reference
SE 971 988
Lat Long 54.37588, -0.50584

and it became a bit of a battle to get to the car park at Helwath Bridge – an hour and a half of laughing, laughing a bit more, occasionally falling into divots and inventing new words of condolent encouragement. Bracken shoulder high and heather sitting in tufted grass with trees self-seeded from the plantation (a bit like what’s happening around Bumble Wood above Wheeldale Moor) hiding the path. However, eventually, and triumphantly I arrived at the A171 where a Spar lorry driver saluted me from his chariot and drove off. Crossing the road (quite a bit of fast traffic) I eventually found my way into  Helwath Wood where I met a Vipera berus’ tail as it crossed the path from grass to grass. Little V’s colours of black and orange shifted in front of me and it felt sort of a blessing to have it as a companion on the walk. What a tail…bum, bum as Basil Brush might say. I hadn’t seen any since walk 2.

I jumped over it and it disappeared from sight. Previously, I had received a text from Gerry saying he and Julie were at the waterfall at Bloody Beck having a picnic. Well, we missed, and after a few more texts and phone calls (at this stage Gerry was cutting his way through bracken to get to the second waterfall of which Julie wasn’t too impressed [the power of 4g masts] we decided a meeting wasn’t going to happen. Writing this later I’m beginning to wonder if I was receiving waif messages as I never saw Gerry and although we were ostensibly on the same section of Bloody Beck we never crossed paths but ethereal communications spoke. Scary ! Vera Lynn comes to mind, singing White Cliffs of Dover, with the lyrics ‘we’ll meet again,’ sufficing for that moment and ultimately the October 2025 AGM. For me, the woods surrounding Bloody Beck and the associated Scar and Castlebeck Wood were a truly beautiful experience and one which will remain in my memory.

I then followed the path near Brown Hill up to Lilla Howe (Gerry had said in an earlier phone call that morning that I was a bit south – he was right!)  eventually phoning the local fire service as I had noticed a fire close to Derwent Head Rigg. I was thanked for ringing in. Earlier, I had seen smoke drifting toward me and then as the day progressed and a breeze came on the smoke moved around a bit, quite a way from where I was walking, but I felt it important to look after the landscape. I can think of cremated Graeme, but on this occasion humour doesn’t feel appropriate when fellow earth creatures might have been actually dying.

This is a great route if out of the way from the Classic LWW, but a loop suggested by BC. Lilla Howe was resplendent, and I met a sheep who wanted to pose next to the cross, at that point I changed the route I was going to originally take unto Beck Hole and decided to walk the rest of the way following the Classic route. The day was quite hot by now and I looked forward to a good bog soaking in the coming hours. In fact, Ellerbeck was hardly running, voices of the Naiads were quietened and pressing on I eventually arrived at the Stepping Stones below Wheeldale Lodge. Here I stopped and decided to walk back to the lodge and ask for my water bottles to be refilled as I was sure that I was behind time and wouldn’t make the Lion Inn before closing time, indeed I did wonder if I’d make the 24hr time limit due to noticing that I was slowing down in consequence of it becoming very hot.

The chap at the lodge was very helpful supplying me with water and I crossed a very low Wheeldale Beck. I actually thought of walking straight through the water as it was so low. From here the loneliness of the long distance runner descended on me, particularly,  as I walked across Wheeldale Moor. It’s a great stretch of land, it’s incessant climb, which somehow needs an electronic footway as found at Manchester piccadilly station-mile,  upon mile of metallic moving footpath with a cafe, bar, restaurant to deal with the needs of the hot and knackered walker. A great idea for another place. This stretch did seem to last some! I see that someone has been out with a pot of blue paint and the Blue Man-i’-th’-Moss has been artfully decorated. Smiling, I carried on feeling like Captain Anson in Ice Cold to Alex, similarly, there would be no alcohol until I arrived in Osmotherley.

Shunner Howe raised its head in the distance and somewhat sadly I recognised that time was against my usual Jam Roly Poly at the Lion Inn, and if that were the case the alternative route through the Esklets would happen. During this time, I had been in contact with my wife letting her know what I was doing and she said she was tracing me on ‘Find My’ saying that I looked like one of Michael Bentine’s Potty Men. I was actually raising dust due to the bogs being exceptionally dry but she couldn’t see the small puffs of smoke on her screen. I used to enjoy the simplicity of the daft stories of Potty Time even in my forties. I can see the stage and story now. What a great time. The innocence of life seems to have come and gone. Is that to do with age and experience knowing that death is around the corner constantly nibbling away at the functioning body and brain? Depression at missing a sugary pudding at the time has become deep set and has only recently been lifted by eating chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream!

I suggest that there is a motion at the next LWW AGM for cafe facilities to be built every 3 miles of the route and which must stock food of superb sweetness and a smooth texture to alleviate dehydration and give the gift of living and succour to those of need. Coffee, tea, beer, a decent winery, perhaps even someone or something to carry one across the 40 miles or so. If a steak with pepper sauce etc., could be thrown in so be it. I could manage walking in that type of situation anytime. Luxury is a necessity on a walk like this where the heat burns into the soul and Satin’s claws drag you down into the flames of the dried out crumbling peat. In reality, there is no bog;  the bog section of the walk was completed through to Rosedale Road (which is still closed) with my boots dry. A first. No frogs either.

At about 9.30 a cry of a Curlew carried across the moors as accompaniment. A very pleasant sound that filled the pervading silence. Daylight remained until about 11pm and even then it was still glowing glorious red over the moors of Westerdale. Still in a tee shirt I passed Flat Howe, as I knew that I wouldn’t make the Lion Inn before closing so, I continued on above Sweet Banks joining the Esk Valley Walk to descend onto the Rosedale Railway  and onwards to Bloworth Crossing. Head torch now off and carrying a lithium cycle light I pondered on how light the night was, sitting at the junction to have a rest. I’d missed the Lion Inn by about 15 minutes so water and tea became rationed.

At Bloworth crossing the temperature dropped a little and I sat musing about being able to see the contours of the landscape at 1pm-ish and how light it was in the sky. The moon above my companion, and as I changed direction it would be to my left or behind me, sometimes glowing pink, sometimes clear with its seas seeming to encourage me to continue. Everything was quiet and it seemed like a god was sitting there with me in peaceful serenity. At the seat opposite the tips below Carr Ridge which is dedicated to the memory of John Meadows and which has been my resting place for many walks I sat and took my boots off and let the feet have some freedom. It felt good to stop. Daybreak was almost upon me at 4am. By the time I descended to Hasty Bank day was upon the Cleveland plain and the reds, oranges and whites of the night time glow were gradually fading and the simmering sun which would conclude my day’s walking began to rise.

At the junction of the Miner’s route I knew that I would make the crossing in the time limit and for some reason that settled me into a faster pace. Here, I came across a plaque dedicated to a deceased Lyke Wake Walker-Robbie. Hopefully, not a future omen. Later, at the cairn on Carlton Moor I met a wild camper who greeted me around 5am from his sleeping bag. We exchanged hellos and off I went to Faceby Bank. This always feels like a good stretch of walk and the views over the now bright Cleveland Plain were spectacular. The air was clear and birdsong sang out.

Through the descent to Huthwaite Green the sun became stronger and the air hotter. I sat at my favourite chair at the green watching an escaped sheep running up and down the road. I thought if something comes down here fast you’re a gonna. How odd that its owner nearly knocked it down in front of me.its Seeing an emergency stop at 6.30am is quite exciting when the last drop of peppermint tea hits the veins. But, the farmer’s Land Rover followed the sheep which had darted off to Bilsdale.

All this motion propelled me to move on and the last thing I saw was the farmer lifting the sheep into the back of his vehicle. That was the most exciting thing to happen on a walk for ages! Clain Wood nearly claimed me as its victim and as I ascended the hill I needed to stop and take a breather every 100 steps. I was knackered! But, a telephone call came through from Kate saying she was close by and would park up at the car park near Cod Beck Reservoir. Orange juice was drunk in gallons. And, that’s nearly the end of this adventure. A great walk. My ‘Ice Cold in Alex’ was a Saint Miguel in Richmond with a ploughman’s lunch. Kate ate a tuna salad Nicoise and then we did some shopping. Sleep didn’t come on until 11pm and I was then thinking of the next route and another adventure.