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.
Of Bosky Descents and Blasted Declinities: Chris Rea
West-East crossing report
Friday 28 th – Saturday 29 th June 2024
Walkers: Cubby, George, Chris
Support: Mary, Rachel, Jon
Start time: 9.15pm
Finish time: 11:05am
Walking time: 12hrs 39mins
Total elapsed time: 13hrs 50mins
A multi-generational walking and support team (grandmother, mum, dad, lads, uncle)
rendezvoused at the Queen Catherine in Osmotherley at 8pm on Friday 28 th June and drove up to Cod Beck for a 9.15pm start.
I had done a West-East crossing three weeks previously in extremely wet conditions. The path at the top of the plantation on the way to Clay Bank was a skid pan all the way and the boggy section was at its boggiest. But the ground had dried up beautifully in the meantime and the whole journey was very agreeable under foot.
This was George’s first attempt. Cubby and I bailed out on Rosedale Moor in August 2023 when we walked into the last lashings of Storm Antoni. I’ve completed the walk before but for Cubby it was unfinished business.
The air was cool and dry when we set off and the woods were temperate. It was typically breezy on the tops as we strode along the broad flags of the Cleveland Way but warm enough for me to take off a fleecy layer, which I didn’t need to put on again.
We reached the Lord Stones checkpoint in 1hr 45mins from the stone and broke for 15 minutes before heading off to Clay Bank via the low path after the campsite and the plantation track (or what’s left of the plantation).
We got to Clay Bank 1hr 10mins later and stopped for another 15 minutes before the big climb up from the road onto Urra Moor and Round Hill and full steam ahead for Bloworth Crossing.
We made good time on the old railway line and arrived at Ralph Crosses at 3.33am, 2hrs and 53mins after leaving Clay Bank. I’m not confident about the path up to Old Margery even in daylight so there was no question but that we went via the Lion. It adds time and distance but it’s hard to go wrong night or day.
Daylight was starting to spread and the sky was thick with huge striations of red and orange. It’s a magical time of day to be on high ground with commanding views. Visibility and terrain were excellent on Rosedale Moor, as good as I’ve experienced.
A quick pit stop at Hamer and then off across to Wheeldale Moor, to my mind the most mixed section of the walk. I always get encouraged by reaching the Blue Man-i’-th’-Moss and I love the descent to the Christmas tree plantation on the edge of the big wood but the path is miserable in parts, real ankle-breaking potential, and the stretch up to the road after the wood always drags.
We were in good form and heartened by the first sight of Fylingdales. The bosky descent into Wheeldale Beck is always good for the spirit and senses. The water was low in the stream and the stepping stones high and clear.
We hauled up the slope to Simon Howe and then down to Eller Beck which we reached at 8.25am. We didn’t hang around.
It was splashy going up to Lilla Cross and the air was thick with mizzle. What a lovely moment it is when you reach the cross – the first view of the sea and journey’s end.
We rattled along to Jugger Howe. I remember my first encounter with that blasted declivity the first time I did the walk back in 2014. Who thought it was a good idea putting it in the way of the path, and at this stage of the walk too? I felt the climb out more than usual. But we were soon on the old military road. We dropped our bags in the support car and hurried across the Whitby-Scarborough road for the last leg.
We reached the mast at 11.05am, 13hrs and 50mins from the start with 12hrs 39mins actual walking time. A fantastic effort from the young lads and the support team. Grandmother Mary, 86 years old and showing no signs of fatigue after spending a long night on support duty, read out a stirring celebratory ballad she had written for the occasion and then we all went to Scarborough to restore vital lost nutrients and reflect at leisure on what had been a very satisfactory enterprise. Thanks to everyone but most of all to the weather which could not have been better.
Chris Rea
Suitably Gothic…
Time leaving Cod Beck: 6.15am
Time of arrival at Ravenscar: 6.44pm
Time walking: 12hrs 16 minutes
I left Cod Beck at 6.15am in thick mist, which was forecast to lift around 9am. Having grown up with many uncles who had ‘crossed over’ in their youth, I was very excited to be finally experiencing it for myself and looked forward to the sunny day and last of the heather that was to come. As you can see from the pictures, that was sadly not to be the case for the majority of the day. The mist lifted for around three hours from the start of the boggy section but returned again whilst I was walking over Fylingdales and only grew thicker for the rest of the crossing.
The Lion was open with a roaring fire and I was glad I’d had the foresight to take a travel mug for tea, as I have a feeling if I’d sat down in there I wouldn’t have left!
I saw several bedraggled looking D of E candidates on the old railway path but not another sorry soul on the second half of the journey.
Despite the less than balmy conditions and the lingering demise of a big toenail, I enjoyed myself immensely and I foresee more crossings in the future!
Diary of an Accidental Dirger: Danny Tyler
A quick note to say the following – beautifully worded – report contains some “colourful” language (Tom/ New LWC)
Diary of an Accidental Dirger
Slammed Suzuki door, can’t take this no more,
Left the Mrs, didn’t turn round.
No kiss as I went, who knows what that meant,
Speeds off with a rattling sound.
It’s half ten at night, the start of our plight,
For us few, heroes among men.
Ukraine taxi guy, magic bus could fly,
Those road marks for losers then?
Arrived in one piece, seat belt quick release,
Disembarked, arse end of nowhere.
A dull ache inside, bright head torch to guide,
We’re off, high spirits, don’t care.
Steady mooch through ‘t woods, like Frodo and buds,
A quest, with no fucking gold ring.
Stroll over too soon, moors lit by full moon,
Lone curlew trying to sing.
Low valleys high peaks, sweat drips down red cheeks,
Jacket’s off, tied tight around waist.
Stone steps the way through, drain troughs out of ‘t blue,
Lungs burning, travel in haste.
First checkpoint draws near, it’s freezing up here,
Who’s idea, was this anyway?
Snood hat gloves wrapped up, re-fuel water sup,
What, am I doing? Can’t say.
Five mile I’m dying, could quit no lying,
Nice view, should I throw myself off?
The thought of ‘t son’s face, straight back in the race,
Restart, breathing smoker’s cough.
Next mountain terrain, giant rocks knee pain,
Ankle busters, better watch out.
Trek up is a farce, down’s a pain in ‘t arse,
Flat’s still a bastard no doubt.
Lose the troops at last, Strangers let me passed,
Look the same, like ghosts in the night.
This is a mistake, a turd on slow bake,
Not shitting, in a bush, right!
Too warm in this coat, start feeling part goat,
Meet the boys, all eating some snap.
Quick banana snack, re-stretch out my back,
Hit the road, fancy a nap.
I’m done so fuck this, nature takes the piss,
Beautiful, also cruel harsh bitch.
Phone battery goes, died flat as my toes,
Kill me, leave laid in a ditch.
But around sunrise, those Romans so wise,
Kindly, left a road for poor folk.
So from legs failing, right to smooth sailing,
A closed pub, half way, no joke.
Returned to the test, after a short rest,
Few pints, with crisps would have been nice.
New clean socks I’ve found, sun-cream spread around,
Used ‘t tap, went for a piss twice.
Wow is that tarmac? Heaven sent then back,
Into scrub, how far? We’ll go see.
Squashed adder dead crow, stinks just so you know,
Pocket, nice little trophy.
As if a switch flicked, Earth’s fingers snap clicked,
Swampland marshes, shite underfoot.
Ankle deep wet peat, Snatch shoes off both feet,
Soaked, to ‘t bone, stuck in a rut.
Jump pole vault over, proper wild rover,
Dead sheep like, woollen landing pads.
Legs caked in black mud, go home if I could,
No chance in front of the lads.
When out of a dream, come across a stream,
Quick soak, an order of the day.
Freezer bags in Nikes, hate charity hikes,
Once again, we’re on our way.
Guess what? It’s a hill, swallowed bitter pill,
Sharp gravel, can feel one ‘n all.
Crossing railway line, big Fylingdales sign,
Through heather, heard lapwings call.
Gym trainers in bits, one guy’s got the shits,
Sore arse, run shorts stuck up my crack,
Ruck sack weighs a tonne, arms burned by the sun,
Shoulders hang low on bent back.
Small river head dip, drown if I lost grip,
Last break, then onto a high spot.
Holy shit at last, It’s Ravenscar Mast,
Quick step, everything, we’ve got.
Stiff legs blisters popped, not one of us stopped,
Calves and thighs, have been brushed with fire.
Team morale improves, each in our own grooves,
Just shows, God loves a trier.
We’re home past white stone, Brothers not alone,
Smashed up, only sixteen hours dead.
It’s calm peaceful now, feels alright somehow,
Quiet voice, inside of head.
They’re there smiling wide, sat waiting outside,
Raven Hall, see ten tough gadges.
Strut into posh bar, for ‘t best bit by far,
Collect, black coffin badges.
So what to expect, was I incorrect,
Leaving, when everything’s a mess?
Do I want all this? Would anyone miss,
Me, if I went? Answer’s yes.
The Final Day Of My 32nd Year: Ewan Chipping
9th September 2024
Solo and unsupported.
Start 5.21 from LWW stone near Cod Beck Reservoir.
End 20:58 at LWW stone near the mast at Ravenscar.
Crossing time15hr 37min.
Walking time 13hr 15min.
Stopped time 2hr 22min.
Since entering my 30s it has become somewhat of a tradition for me to complete a longer solo walk before my next birthday each year. LWW has been on the list for some time, and a crossing seemed fitting to mark being closer to mid-30s than early-30s. I cut the date of the hike to the wire setting off the day before my birthday.
On the morning of 9th September, I managed to wake up two hours before my intended alarm (anticipation or fear?), and after an early coffee and drive arrived at the car park just past Cod Beck Res for 5am. The forecast was rain until around 10.30, so donning full waterproofs and sounding like a pack of bin bags rustling together I set off into an oncoming drizzle. The hour before dawn saw dark shapes of trees and fences fly by as I made good progress undeterred by conditions. Indeed, I was well into the high ground of the Cleveland hills before anything close to the full light of dawn broke.
I am sure the views are spectacular, but I was treated to a full ‘white out’ with visibility of 30 feet. The first Bronze Age barrow loomed into existence, and I passed wishing its residents well. Fog (or the clouds) gave a distinct sombre atmosphere and even the birds seemed absent and sheep quiet. The scariest thing however seemed to be the noises my stomach was making reminding me it was past time for breakfast. I eventually stopped in Alec Falconers stone seat for a triple decker jam sandwich, noting the directions of towns and landmarks one might have seen in fair weather.
This early section was my favourite, having that distinctive wild uplands feel. I passed The Wainstones and descended into the more typical moorland scenery with oceans of heather and stone/cinder tracks that gently meander around the higher altitudes of the moors. On these manicured paths I clocked up some good miles in reasonable time, clipping along at just past three mph. I also passed some of the only other people I saw on any of the trails that day.
I successfully arrived at The Lion Inn at 11.30, with a pause to examine the barrow cemetery just behind the premises. My intention was to have lunch (and a pint) but making better progress than anticipated I had arrived a little early. The kitchen was not yet serving (lunch is from 12). This gave a longer than expected break and very unfortunately, while I waited for food, I had time for two pints (how awful)! A helpful fellow patron reminded me it was ‘brightening up out there’ and I was out the door shortly after 12.30. My stop at the Lion, while excellent, does remind me of a line from The Lord of the Rings “Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones” (Frodo. The Fellowship of the Ring, LoTR Book 1, Ch 4, A Short Cut to Mushrooms. J.R.R. Tolkien).
More cinder track miles past with distant views of the former ironstone mine works and calcining kilns north of Rosedale, turning up onto the headlands before ever reaching them. Around here the paths seem to shift and divide into multiple possible options, sheep trails, old seasonal streams ect. This was especially true in the bog, I was grateful for my old and trusted Garmin GPS keeping me true and on the line. Routes seem to open and end just as quickly, and the rain from the morning provided an un-needed top up to the already saturated wetland. For the most part I embraced the experience, although I was more uncertain after my foot disappeared past the ankle into what I though was solid ground… My boots put up a valiant effort in repelling water, but total submersion was maybe too much to ask!
Away from toiling over the mire progress was easier and I was keen to put a couple of miles between me and any further footbaths (not to be confused with footpaths). I passed several interesting landmarks, a very large upstanding barrow, the wooden LWW marker, the monolith ‘blue man’. Then I stopped around 16:00 for what would be my final break. This included wrapping bandage tape around a rubbing toe and a tactical change into fresh, clean and dry socks (the best feeling). I had a good refuel of trail mix and dolly mix (both hiking essentials), joined for company by a large hairy fox moth caterpillar. From my sitting rock I had the first long view of RAF Fylingdales.
The route to the stepping stones crossing Wheeldale Beck was accomplished reasonably well. From this stage legs were beginning to become fatigued, along with a small niggle in the right knee. There was also the demoralisation that RAF Fylingdales seemed to remain a distant presence no matter how many steps I took. Simon Howe Stone Circle provided some much-needed interest and distraction, as did the railway line crossing (complete with googly ‘look’ eyes). Crossing the A169 was mentally a huge reward, having driven along it so many times wondering where the crossing paths went, I was able to now connect a few footpaths together.
With legs feeling like they had nothing to give, I managed to somehow quick march past the military control zone. The footpath having been moved at some point (or at least the clear track I was following) to just within the keep out signs was a little concerning. I did notice a further fence off to the right that I assumed was the new controlled zone?! Official NYMNP signs gave some reassurance I wouldn’t end up in military jail for attempting the LWW!
I made it to Lilla Cross just before 19:00, around what was technically sunset but unfortunately there was only a slow fade to grey on this day. I could just make out the mast at Ravenscar and set off towards it, right knee complaining but still complying. The remaining five miles or so passed with no lucid memories, possibly the increasing darkness or pain! There were some stone steps into a dale (Jugger Howe Beck?), then I was back to using the head torch to keep a clear footing and GPS to correct my route. A pertinent memory was the remaining trail seemed clear and yet never ending. My eta of 20:00 slipped as progress had slowed and I stopped briefly in a patch of good signal to update my extraction plan already waiting at the end (thank you parents!). Just before 21:00 I trudged up the final slope, seeing my torch come along in the dark mum had sent Tess the collie dog to round me up for the final 20 yards.
I am uncertain if the LWW has set me up or finished me off for my 33rd year! For one thing, I shall never call anything hard again until it be comparable or worse to LWW! Never again (until the next time)!?
Operation Lyke Wake Walk: Mick Say
04:00 hours precisely ish on Saturday 14 September 2024 three idiots veterans, a copper and a woman! emerged from Cod Beck, touched the LWW starting stone and began their secret mission to cross the 40 mile moor to Ravenscar, undetected and sober in under 7 hours. Silently marching at the speed of a smoked kipper the classified team emerged from the mist at the Ravenscar mast 8 hours and 38 minutes late having consumed no alcohol, except for a little bit. The following heroes made the crossing:
Mick Say, Melanie Say, Mark Say, Robert Cripps, Richard (Wilf) Wilson
Strava Moving Time: 13 hours 16 Minutes
Strava Total Elapsed Time: 15 Hours 38 Minutes
Secret Support crew: Phillip Hayes and Ian Bowyer
The Great Divide: Richard Pearson
THE DAY I CROSSED THE GREAT DIVIDE OR MY LYKE WAKE WALK
Starting Time – 0630 from the LWW Stone, Cod Beck Reservoir.
Finish Time – 2123 at the LWW Stone near the Beacon Reservoir.
Total Time Taken (including Rest Stops x 4) – 14 Hours 53 minutes.
I HAVE CROSSED!!!
On Saturday August 24th 2024, with the support of Yorkie Talkies Outdoors (YTO), I can (finally) lay claim to having crossed the great divide from Osmotherley, across the North Yorkshire Moors to Ravenscar!! A journey of 40 miles or so, filled with most emotions a human being can endure. From despair and wretchedness to elation and all feelings in between!
We assembled as a group at 0600 at Cod Beck Reservoir to meet our guides and to be split into sections based on perceived abilities. For some unexplained reason, I was chosen to be in the first party to leave (as they were purported to be the “quickest”). GULP!!
I was in a group of 13 including 3 YTO Guides who, as I cannot remember all their names, shall be henceforth be collectively known as the Nameless Ghouls and we set off from the starting stone at 0630 at a cracking pace! The weather was excellent, just right for the pace we were setting and it wasn’t long until we were passing the Bill Cowley Memorial Stone.
The weather was superb for the challenge, although we did get a brief rainstorm whilst travelling along the Old Railway Line towards the Lion Inn, which was our second Checkpoint where there were refreshments aplenty!! Alas, we had lost one Nameless Ghoul due to injury and upon our departure from the Lion Inn it wasn’t long until we lost another unfortunate soul due to another injury! This challenge can be cruel!
We crossed the “boggy section” with very little trouble. The area was VERY dry, which, as my guides were telling us was a good indicator of how dry things were due to the changing climate. The whole moor had signs warning of fire risks telling people to be careful with anything combustible. It certainly was a bit of an eye opener as, having previously read about the perils of this section, was expecting to be immersed in freezing cold bog water!!! (Maybe next time eh?)
At Lilla Cross we stopped for a few minutes to reflect and to take stock. Not just of the journey we were undertaking, but a chance to express what we were all grateful for (survival so far for me!!). Seriously though, it was a moving moment and it made one grateful for each moment one has before THE final crossing.
The miles were flying by by now. Apart from my legs refusing (almost) to propel my body and soul up any ascents (and let’s face it, the majority of the ascents are short, sharp and steep!!). My fellow crossers had to take a breather in order for me to catch up (you are all welcome!!). The worst fall I took was ascending Jugger Howe Ravine when I virtually collapsed at the side of the path but with great help and encouragement from the YTO guides and my fellow Nameless Ghouls I managed to get back on my feet and carry on to the finish stone! I HAD MADE IT!!
I must mention that the organisation and support provided by Yorkie Talkies Outdoors was absolutely phenomenal, from Emma (the boss), the guides and the volunteers! All, along with my fellow Nameless Ghouls, contributed to make the crossing as comfortable as a 40 mile hike over North Yorkshire can be!!
So, that is a very brief account of my crossing on the 24th August 2024. I seem to be unable to remember lots of the journey, probably because I was trying to a) keep up with the group and b) attempting to stay on my feet for more than ten steps!! Despite everything, I enjoyed the challenge and am happy that I have Crossed!! Would I attempt the crossing again? Maybe, possibly but don’t tell my legs or my left big toe!!
Late Summer Crossing – Walk 6 – Graeme Noble
General Information:
Date & Start: Monday 19 August 2024, starting time [from the LWW finish/start stone near the beacon at Ravenscar 9.31am] – Tuesday 20 August 2024 [ending time 7.39] at the LWW start/finish stone above Cod Beck Reservoir.
Walking time: 18.10.40
Actual crossing time 21hrs 8mins 41secs.
Total Walking Distance: 44.3 miles
Dirger: Graeme Noble (a solo walk without assistance).
I decided to re-visit my previous walk with a few amendments concerning the route. No more water boarding the lower limbs and stomach. Actually, I hate my feet getting wet. (Bizarrely, that’s another story for later in this 6th chapter of woe and commiseration. Anyway, spending 2hrs crossing c2 miles, during walk 5, wasn’t going to be a repeat tramp for me!).
So, the first part of the walk followed the classic route to Lilla Cross. I have to say that the weather suggested what the rest of the day was going to offer, gusting wind and quite a chill at times. Yet, it was easy going, just under 3 miles per hour and a breeze through Jugger Howe, still lush and luxuriant green.
One new thing to observe are the amount of fire warnings out on the moors and the do’s and don’ts of having a barbecue – well, the notification says don’t (unless it’s top end steak with a glass of red wine with a pepper sauce and the trimmings). That’s what I’d eaten the previous lunchtime (on the Sunday with family) and for some reason the thought of the smell of that plated food, with the accentuation of barbecues sitting in a picturesque frame in the front of my eyes while I’m writing here, compelled my thoughts away from the report. Remember, follow the countryside code and take your litter away with you and don’t burn the place down, follow guidance and make your way following the route you have chosen.
Lilla’s Cross provided a happy few moments of reminiscence concerning the beauty of the moors and a sort of bitter sweet sadness of not venturing into Ellerbeck, but I’d made a decision on the new route (walk 5) previously and wanted to connect with the northern path that I’d followed last time. So, with the cries of former warriors resounding in the slightly stronger wind I headed north, bypassing the bog before Ling Hill Plantation, Biller Howe, Dale Slack and the entirety of Newton House Plantation, found in Bill Cowley’s 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) on the route of Foster Howes Rigg.
There is a damaged Ann’s Cross still residing up there on a hillside and a trig point not so far away naturally joins the Whinstone Ridge path. A great ridge walk with the A169 ever present to the west and oddly, the sound seemed to be more greatly exaggerated up there of steam train hoots being reflected upward to me as I walked alone. No people, just lots of white dust clinging to my boots. (Not that type of dust, although I had been on a stretch…of ground).
Here I had my lunch and mused in silence for 15 minutes or so. I’d been looking around for the York Cross on the Whinstone Ridge and if I’m honest was so engrossed in the search that when a man’s voice said good afternoon, I had a heart attack and needed to be resuscitated. With the help of belief that John Bond had come to meet me I recovered, but it was with alacrity that he explained his mission in life was only to pass by the souls of those doing the Duke of Edinburgh’s award and that he was not able to find time to assist me in my search for the Cross of York. Off he went. I was eventually to pass him again where the Whinstone Ridge crosses through the A169 westward and, he explained he was waiting for another team of 6 youths.
On to Beck Hole. No trains passing by under the bridge and no beer from Birch Hall Inn. The sign remained in its official place stating, ‘only cash today’. I wasn’t cashless, only mindful of my previous visit there). I joined the old railway line where I stopped at a seat dedicated to Mrs. Stannard? Removing my boots alternately, I extricated a thin piece of grass attempting to grow into my left ankle and had some fun removing it, eventually, pulling the skin away and it popped out. The right heel was in poorer shape and by the end of the walk I had a two-inch blister on it which was patched over with gauze. Strangely, this never burst throughout the walk. A memorial and test to my foot’s sturdiness of character, and its ability to make the most of pain. Or, the insane determination to complete the crossing at any cost, as Kate (my partner) might express.
A new pair of socks came out and gingerly putting the right sock over the ankle with not too much of a grimace, I walked up the track bed before cutting off to the footpath which crosses Musk Esk Cottage, crossing the Old Roman Road (course of which is now found in a wood) marching uphill to In Moor. Not in A Mire! Here, I walked along the Roman Road (another according to Ordnance Survey – mind the Roman’s got around quite a bit) and eventually joined the track crossing Egton High Moor. A rather grand route, even with more restricted views due to low cloud.
No view of Whitby and the surrounding coastline, unlike the previous walk, and the silhouettes of landscape only present from memory and the far distance diminished in grandeur. I had a sadness here due to this area being one I frequented often with Hella, a good friend, for many years over many summer holidays, and remembered her associated conversation about the sea and the heather. A view can only bring somewhat the person back and a reality came upon me that on this day of walking that my friend was actually dead and I had let, somewhat, go of the sadness of her passing at that moment in time and the reality was that she was still resident with me but in a happier way, than had been the case for some years. So, the experience of walking the Lyke Way Walk may well have been some type of grieving experience for me concerning times past and the associated memories with the lived experience.
Below Wain Hill where the road runs north at the juncture of road and track I headed southward (different to walk 5) and cut through the path at Wintergill (somewhat a ruin to the left of the path, south of Wintergill plantation) and eventually arrived at Mountain Ash Farm, rejoining the route I had taken from the previous walk.
Glaisdale is truly a beautiful place as is the walk by the head of it leading up to Caper Hill. Tiring, but once upon the top of Glaisdale Moor and the Cut Road Path things became easier even with the wind increasing in strength. By the time I’d arrived at the George Gap Causeway Path, passing Trough House, I wondered if it would be easier to fly to the Lion Inn as in some ways, the weather was attempting me to take up flight, or alternatively to dig up a bit of coal from the old disused quarries, to keep warm. Watching the occasional bird flying past I’m not sure if that would have helped either to get there as even they had problems remaining aloft and flying in a straight line. Buffeting had arrived early on the plate. Tea was still a few miles away.
From trod to trod the wind became stronger and the threat of rain coming up from Rosedale stayed away with occasional very short showers. But, at Fat Betty the rain came down in a torrent and I was lucky enough to be wearing my waterproof jacket as a wind cheater, however, waterproof leggings were not given time to be pulled out of the rucksack and the rain washed my shorts and ran into my boots. This was not good for my right heel, which, in conversation with me said ‘enough’. The force and ice-like power of the rain hitting my face made it feel like winter rather than a summer’s evening. The wind by now was blowing so strongly that by the time I arrived at the Lion Inn I found that my shorts had dried out. Amazing, that at 65 years old, I had become a rotary clothes dryer!
A saving grace was that the Lion Inn kitchen was still open at 8.10pm, and I was informed that I had 20 minutes to order tea. Jam Roly Poly, a pot of Earl Grey (with some extra water) and a pint of Theakston’s Old P. I remained until 9.05pm, ah! the glamour of walking in a gale, but knowing I was on schedule to complete the walk. No rain but the gusts of the devil’s breath pursued me by until I claimed eventual shelter under trees and the embankment of the Cleveland hills along stretches of the Jet Miner’s Path at Hasty Bank. There were a few frogs to be seen, but surprisingly, the number of rabbits huddling on the side of the path towards Bloworth Junction created a rather saddening feeling of how nasty the storm had become.
I’d walked through Storm Desmond when walking the Cumbria Coastal Footpath (as it used to be called) between Maryport and Silloth and remembered arriving at the hotel at around 6pm, soaked through, then being asked, ‘do you want an evening meal,’ and, somewhat replying, ‘not tonight,’ clambering upstairs to the room and putting on quite a few room heaters, leaving the soaked clothes in the bathroom, jumping in to bed frozen and waking up the following morning at 8am with a room heated up to about 30 degrees and a pile of sand on the bathroom floor, noticing that my clothes had changed to a beautiful golden glow. I digress.
The weather became worse and I wondered if I would be Bloworth away, occasionally being blown to the right of the track and then I would find my way back to the left. There was quite a stretch of such devilish chicanery. A comedian I hear you say. A knackered man with a problem right heel, I might reply. I was so tired that I missed Round Hill. But, waking up to the shock of missing a venue I knuckled down to concentrate on dropping down from Carr Ridge to Hasty Bank. The footpath with what appear to be small cobblestones and the occasional big outstanding stones built into the path I considered to be a trifle daunting and my right foot was in the process of making painful conversation. I found a pause in the wind after a slight descent after the gate and seat near the disused tips and re-felted the heal with a pain reliever spray and extra padding. This lasted until before Lord’s Cafe where I conversed with a frog, hallucinated about the meaning of life, wondered what the hell I was doing out at 3am in the morning with a head torch on and the recognition that there was only half a bacon butty left and that had to last out until the seat at Hollin Hill. The frog had taken up residence under heather and we both experienced ‘Vulcan’ contact. Quite pleasant!
Communication…
‘Lie down on this heather
Let the time pass away’
Said the frog, ‘let those trees sway
And you behold your footsteps will wither…’
Amazing what happens when you ‘kiss that frog’, (Peter Gabriel). I jump from trod to trod and move on too fast. I’m not sure what happened to the frog, but it moved. Did it ever exist? Again, with some gloominess I decided to take the Jet Miner’s Track (Cowley, 1971, pg. 24). Unlike the previous walk the wind didn’t abate and had actually increased in power. So, by the time I had arrived onto the top of Carlton Moor things had moved on a bit and I put the waterproof jacket back on with a hope and a prayer at the trig point, arriving at the top I was greeted by a ferocious wind. It’s odd getting hit with a gust and getting blown to the right off the top of the cliff. What a way to die. The newspapers, X, Facebook etc., and any trivial commentary would have a great time twisting the story concerning the sanity of someone being out at that time of night in that type of weather! They wouldn’t ask me, via séance, what I had been thinking. Nor would I expect them to in this day of, I am, Me, culture.
I made my way steadily through to my early breakfast last stop at my favourite public seat, relishing the fact that daybreak had arrived at 5.30am and I could see without the use of a torch. An hour later than I had experienced two weeks previously. So, at Hollin Hill the remnants of the bacon butty were noshed and my flask of peppermint tea (refilled at the Lion Inn) was emptied. One hill left to climb up and then the Lyke Wake Stone. Clain Wood called after a half hour’s break and I was on my way. (again, similar to walk 5, no owl serenade as on previous walks). The gale had begun to blow itself out, or, perhaps I had absorbed it. Energy wise I now wonder if the temerity of the weather had absorbed part of me! But I got to the end with roughly two hours to spare.
The Top Shop at Osmotherley does a good cup of coffee. An hour later Kate came to pick me up, and made some rather tasty egg and bacon sandwiches from her portable deli in the car. I rejoiced that I had returned to humanity, yet humbled by the rumblings of the god’s bowels.
23rd-24th August 2024. HMP Holme House Crossing. Adam Norman.
A group of us HMP Holme house and my father completed the walk in 17.5 hours.
Adam Norman
Keith Norman
( Other Completers to be Added ).
My father and I completed the walk in memory of my Auntie Ann and Auntie Sue who both passed away on the same hospice from Cancer. Which we are hoping to raise £1000 for Dove house Hospice in Hull.
The walk was something my father had wanted to do since he was 17 (he’s now 68). I am so proud of him and so happy we made the crossing together.
I don’t think you can explain how difficult it is, we started at 9pm, so walking through the night was hard work. But at least you couldn’t see the hills you had to climb in the first 8 miles or so.
Once the sun came up at Blakey ridge, just after breakfast, spirits were up and we could start the day.
The paths are hard, it’s really difficult to look up at any point, as if you do you tend to trip over a rock, like my dad did ! So felt that I looked at the ground most of the time.
I found the walk relentless, I never want to see heather again!
The up hill I liked the best as coming down hill was almost unbearable on my knees, but watching my dad walking in front off me, made me grit my teeth and crack on.
The miles and miles are never ending, and then you see the sea and the radio mast (that never gets closer!)
The last down hill before you start the climb to the end was awful. My dad was weak and watching him decent was worrying, but like the rest of the walk he took it in his stride and got on with the job in hand.
Once up the other side, the sun was shining, we had our last pit stop, I removed boots and put what felt like most comfortable trainers on in the world and we set off for the end.
The 10 of us walked as a group, we laughed, cried and whimpered. I was very proud that all 10 of us completed it.
Thank you to you all (and our 2 crew vehicles) for the best and worst 17.5 hours of my life.
This is one walk I will never forget and I’m so happy I got to do it with my dad.
Pictures of a very long day……………….
16th/17th August 2024. Family Crossing. Graham North.
Starting Time – 16.30 from the LWW Stone Cod Beck Reservoir
Finish Time – 15.28 at the LWW Stone near the Beacon Ravenscar
Walking Time – 18 hours 32 minutes and 27 seconds
Total Time – 22 hours 58 minutes
Distance 41.67 miles
Participants
Guide – Graham North
Claire Taylor
Denise Greig
Leigh Greig
Matty Greig (unfortunately did not complete)
Harry Greig
Joel Greig
The Lyke Wake Walk has always had a special place in our family with Dad doing it when he was a PTI in the army and many times since. He introduced two generations of the family to it and this crossing would introduce a third.
Denise and Claire had a burning desire to carry on the family tradition to complete the LWW and had decided this was the year to do it. As I’d completed more than a few crossings already, know the moors well from growing up close by and have spent many hours running in the area, I volunteered to guide them across. Once we had decided to do it our small party soon grew to seven. The group consisted of my partner Claire, my big sister Denise, who not too long had a full knee replacement, two of my nephews Leigh/Matty and two of my great nephews Harry/Joel both only 14.
So, with logistics and back up sorted we set off at 16.30pm on a warm Friday evening in August and headed up and over Scarth Wood Moor, down through Clain Wood and into Scugdale. Things were going well for most of us, as they should on fresh feet and legs, so we made steady progress as we traversed the Cleveland Hills. However, that was to change very quickly. Not long before our first support point at Clay Bank Matty started to suffer with foot pain and being less than ten miles in that was not a good sign. We pushed on to the support point for a welcome break, especially for Matty where he promptly changed his boots.
After some pot noodles (food of champions, not really, they are pretty bad but do the job) we set off again, headtorches lighting the way we climbed Urra Moor and headed towards Bloworth Crossing.
From here we kept up a good pace along the old railway line and made a decent progress arriving at our next support point at White Cross an hour ahead of our schedule. Unfortunately, the increased pace had took a further toll on Matty’s feet and he decided enough was enough at this point. He wasn’t too disheartened though, as he admitted he had never walked anything over five miles, so doing just over 20 miles was a PB for him. Maybe next time he might do some training before embarking on a 40 + plus mile walk across the moors but we shall see.
So, after some lovely homemade cakes and teas/coffee the six of us set off towards Shunner Howe. This section was much slower as expected traversing the bogs and reed beds in the dark. No issues though and we eventually popped out on the Hamer Road to meet our support, who like a tag team had changed over since the last stop. There were some weary faces about by this point and we all had wet feet, so as well as food it was a change of socks and for some shoes too. Whilst stopped the sun rose which gave a boost and after some lovely homemade sandwiches we were off again.
The section towards Wheeldale Moor was a lot drier than expected, but once over the initial soft peat the rocky section over to the Roman Road slowed the group down and took its toll on the feet. Nevertheless, we arrived at Roman Road for a quick cuppa and then set off again down over the stepping stones and up Howl Moor to Simon Howe. A quick rest to take in the view and then down to Ellerbeck to meet our support.
It was very tempting for everyone to stay far too long here
so we had a quick bite to eat, discarded some layers and set off again up the
gentle climb to Lilla Cross (my favourite place on the moors). Shortly after
leaving Ellerbeck Bridge the two young lads decided, they’d had enough of our
leisurely pace and sped off up towards Lilla Howe. That was the last we saw of
them, apart from dots in the distance, until the finish. I don’t know exactly
what time they finished so they’ll just have to settle for our finish time. This
section for the rest of us was uneventful. A death march for most of the group
with various aches and pains making each step more difficult. At Jugger Howe Leigh
decided his feet were so painful, he was going to get this over with so pushed
on over the top, across the Scarborough Road and stomped up the final incline
to the finish. This left three of us making slow but steady progress towards
the Scarborough Road.
No stopping here it was straight over the busy road and the short climb back onto the moor. Then just a case of one in front of the other as we soon climbed and reached the finish. Where we were met by other family members and the boys who had finished earlier. Everyone was then presented with a well-earned LWW badge and received the usual flowers (another family tradition) well it as a wake after all
So that was it all over. Another crossing for me and my first leading a group. Second crossing for Leigh and first crossings for Claire, Denise, Harry, and Joel, who were now the 3rd generation of the family to complete the Lyke Wake Walk.
We are now thinking of making this an annual event and some of us are considering trying a double crossing. We shall see…………..