How to report your crossing
We are more than happy to receive reports on Lyke Wake crossings – preferably humorous. These reports are often quoted at Wakes as warnings to others! Crossings should be reported by email to crossing.report@lykewake.org
We may post extracts from these reports on this website unless you tell us that you don’t want us to. We will usually give your name and rough location (eg Southampton, Northumberland or Japan). If you would prefer us just to give your initials, or to remain anonymous, please say so. We will not publish your email address.
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…………..
Late Summer Crossing – Walk 5 – Graeme Noble
General Information
Date & Start: Sunday 4 August 2024, starting time [from the LWW finish/start stone near the beacon at Ravenscar 9.46am] – Monday 5 August 2024 [ending time 7.50am] at the LWW start/finish stone above Cod Beck Reservoir.
Walking time: 18.58.44
Actual crossing time 22hrs 20mins 6sec
Total Walking Distance: 44.92 miles
Dirger: Graeme Noble (no walking companion but refurbished assistance at times).
I had decided that after the excitement and experience of the winter crossing and not getting my feet wet (it had been quite dry underfoot then) to take on 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). Part of my personality dislikes too much repetition, so, a change from previous crossings was called for.
A straightforward start on a warm morning with a drop off from my wife, Kate. This section was not going to be the classic route and I began to head off to Cook House/Spring Hill and the Flask Inn (closed c10.30am!).
At this point my watch was clocking up c18 minutes for a mile and I was quite pleased with the progress. However, slightly after Ballira Cottage through to Ling Hill Plantation the fun started as the path disappeared in 6ft high bracken which seemed to continue into infinity. Oddly, following my map and compass I navigated bracken attempting to hold me back from progressing forwards with pretty tough fronds wrapping themselves around my feet and body, but, somewhat surprised, I arrived at a newly replaced gate to the plantation. This took c45 minutes to cover a small area and I was knackered! Taking stock in the plantation I had a breather and a cuppa. Billa Howe Dale Slack is a good reason to follow the classic route. On the Ordnance Survey map OL27 the route is shown clearly as a defined footpath. Staggering through the morass of a stream and bog that follows the route of the path (a sheep track now due to underuse?) I wondered about Mr Cowley’s suggestion of this as an alternative approach. Another 45 minutes passed and I was beginning to think that I’d be needing to have another try walking across the LWW as I would probably not complete the walk in the 24hr time frame. This section is a watery trek and my right leg and below were given a wash. There is nothing like having a foot watered in the swill of a bog. I may be complaining about the underfoot conditions but the magnificence of the scenery, moving from surrounding hills into woodland with converging tracks is second to none. So, I took up the challenge and was pleasantly surprised at the juncture of footpaths leading into Newton House Plantation, roughly at John Bond’s Sheep House.
The sheep weren’t in and there was no sign of him either. But, apart from there being a lot of fallen trees, progression was easier and I eventually came onto the Whinstone Ridge that Mr Cowley describes as part of the alternative northern walk. A great walk from here to Beck Hole and ultimately the conclusion above Cod Beck Reserve. Marvellous views and apart from the danger of crossing the A169, meeting a steam train, an LNER P3, locomotive 2932, standing on the bridge and observing it as the whole train passed underneath, at Beck Hole, was a great experience.
This was followed up by meeting up with Kate and a pint and a slice of their beer cake costing a miserly £12.50 showed that I had lost the plot in the singular experience of mortgaging my resting feet to those at Birch Hall Inn. (No credit card payments that day they were only accepting cash). It may be a 16th century inn and the interior has interest but the prices are 23rd century! Kate’s demeanour suggested the cost was too much to pay for the experience and opted out citing shock and general feelings of seeing beyond the hole in the wall which had the following notice stuck to it, only cash today.’ Onwards, with a change of sock on the right foot and replenishment of liquids, Kate sped off in her chariot and I had the unique experience of joining the old railway line and long lost platform below the pub at Beck Hole which serviced travellers and the movement of iron ore. Shortly after crossing the double span railway bridge I began the long gradual incline up to the Duckponds, mentioned again by Mr Cowley (he describes this route from west to east) but I chose not to swim or dabble my toes as I could see a window allowing me to claw back time regarding the 24hr challenge. Egton High Moor gives great views across to Bumble Wood and I wondered if anyone had been out painting the Blue Man? Was Matissa out there with her brush? From there I climbed up Wain Hill and stopped for a bite to eat, catch my breath and then off. What a beautiful surprise the entry into High Gill Beck at the northern point of Wintergill Plantation has to offer.
An orange carpet of pine needles stretched under my feet for the entirety of this section under a canopy of trees that blocked out 90% of light. Stunningly shocking to the senses and I was nearly seduced to stop and take root myself. This momentary pause to take in the varying colours of ferns (glassy, shiny green) against the orange carpet and the lack of light suggested that bewitching could easily take place in that place. And, then light came from the same grove as I proceeded through to Nab End. This is a lush area of farmland in a faraway place. Glaisdale became a spiritual paradise of greenery,
great views and calmness that is difficult to achieve in the present day world. Silence enveloped me further as I walked up Caper Hill walking towards the Cut Road Path and over Glaisdale High Moor. (Look back if you ever walk this way, Whitby and the sea beckon). I had found my paradise to equal that of Wainwright’s Lakes description on his first sight of them from Orrest Head. Apart from Beck Hole I had met no one all day and I am glad that I didn’t have to share the moments from crossing the moor and the richness of the greenery over Yew Grain Scar, hiding the workings of man’s past, part of the head wall to Great Fryup Dale.
I read later that, ‘the top part of the Scar is made up of ferruginous (iron bearing) sandstone, with fossiliferous and alum shale below.’ So, based on my observations of hummocks littering the landscape I presume that the lushness of the greenery now hides man’s past mining of the land here. No water tumbled over the cliffs but the breathtaking ethereal green colour palette has left a legacy in my memory as much as the earlier orange pine floor that I walked through. The Cut Road (Path) reminded me of previous Coast to Coast adventures and passing by the Trough House (a game keeper’s house) I called my partner suggesting a time we could meet at the Lion’s Inn in about an hour and a half’s time.
There is one thing about the Lion’s Inn night lights – Blackpool Illuminations have reached the moors. As an understatement it is well lit up. So, passing Fat Betty (which has had a new coat of paint) I continued to my next resting place, the inn. No Jam Roly Poly as the kitchen was closed! But, there was a pot of Earl Grey tea and a pint of Theakston’s Old P. Kate joined me here for a thirty minute break and to restock me with a good bacon butty, a fresh flask of peppermint tea and a bottle of Lucozade. Energy boosts for the nighttime trek. On emerging from the Inn it was belting it down (c10.30pm) and the waterproofs came out. I did think of a warm bed and realised that an assisted walk, although having its upside, also had temptations placed there by the devil himself and wished Kate a good night. She drove off in heavy rain and I sighed about the weather but knew I was going to complete the walk on time. I love (literally) walking from the Lion Inn along the old railway to Bloworth Crossing, Round Hill and to the seat above Hasty Bank. The sense of adventure, excitement and joy at walking in the dark alone and alongside stationary frogs held frozen in the head torches beam creates a sense of rapture that makes the LWW evoke memories of the past, present and future. My body alters into a canopy of shared landscape shadows and I passed into another existence until daybreak (c4.20am). It’s quite odd to note that morning light seems to rise so quickly. By c5am there was radiant sunlight which accompanied me for the rest of the walk. At that moment I become human again. But, this shared reality had a companion that night, that of extremely strong winds, which, gusted with bravo until I arrived at the Greenhow Plantation where I took a break. So, I took the decision of staying low and not going onto the cliffs up to the Wain Stones from Hasty Bank but remained low on rather a muddy track, ‘the old jet miner’s track,’ (Cowley, 1971, pg. 24) through to Green Bank and then (and this seems to occur at daybreak) the gusts of wind had significantly reduced and I began the climb up to the top of Carlton Moor
(what views and only dying breaths of wind) and eventually the Bronze Age Cairn down to what has become my pilgrimage stop above Hollin Hill where there is a decent seat, peace and quiet and the final stretch through Clain Wood (no owl hoots at this stage of the day). At the farm below Hollins Hill I came across Scottish Highland Cattle, calves with mums and dad, straddling the path as I walked in between them. Their horns looked dangerous but the cattle were quite impervious to human presence, enjoying the grass and being an extended family. Who is this human I heard mooed.
The memorial to Bill Cowley awaited me close to the exit on the road (someone has been out with a strimmer) easier to see than before. And, literally the job was a done deal and another crossing completed. A slow walk down to Osmotherley bus stop followed where I awaited Kate picking me up. A great walk with some time to spare.
Well. ther’ your go!
I’m walking the LWW again next Monday 19, so a further report to follow then.
No Thanks to the Romans…
Crossing report: Ravenscar to Osmotherley
Date: 19 July 2024
Participants: Terence Fleming and Nick Ryan
Earlier this year, five of us agreed to do the Lyke Wake Walk in July. Then Michelle had a fall and injured her shoulder, so had to drop out. Then the doctor told Dave that he should not do it. Then Dave’s brother decided that if Dave wasn’t doing it, nor would he. Nick thought he had got away with it, but sadly Terence (aged 67) told him he was still keen so Nick (56) felt morally obliged to accompany him. This was Terence’s second crossing (his first was in 1974) and Nick’s first.
As we were staying in Great Broughton, two miles away from Hasty Bank, we decided to do East to West. We know the paths from Hasty Bank to Osmotherley well, so thought that if either of us decided 30 miles was enough, the other could continue to the end alone. So, escape route planned, we left home at 3.30 in the morning on Friday 9th July.
Michelle had very kindly agreed to support our efforts, driving us to Ravenscar and meeting us at all of the check points listed in the Lyke Wake Walk guide book. This meant we did not have to lug heavy rucksacks with us – just a bottle of water, emergency clothes and food, a map, and my paper with our ETAs at each checkpoint. I calculated these by taking the times given in the guide book and multiplying by one and a half. This gave us a surprisingly accurate forecast.
We got to Ravenscar at 4.30, ignored the road closed sign on the road up to the mast, and were soon setting off. First stage from Ravenscar to Jugger Howe passed without incident and we continued the next stretch towards Eller Beck. By this stage the sun was up, and we passed through a beautiful green valley crossing a beck by a bridge. It seemed idyllic. We continued to Lilla Cross, then came in view of the Fylingdales RAF centre, with all its warning signs. We followed a nice road downward before realising that we were going in the wrong direction so had to walk through the heather to a sort of path that seemed to follow the signs that warned us about radiation.
We soon arrived at Eller Beck, where we had a bit of a rest, drank a coffee and wolfed down a few snacks. Then off we went for the next stretch. After crossing the North York Moors railway, we walked up towards Simon Howe where we nodded our respects. Then down into Wheeldale. There was no obvious path, so we climbed through the bracken, only tripping a few times. Up the hill, expecting to cross a nice well-constructed Roman Road, but we couldn’t find it. Clearly the Romans didn’t believe in cones. We couldn’t find the correct route to Wheeldale Road, actually joining it 400 metres north of where we should have.
From Wheeldale road, we turned right onto what looked like a very easy road. Sadly it turned out that the easy road was going down-hill, we were on the scrub path. This part of the crossing did drag a bit. Once we finally passed the final corner of Wheeldale plantation, it seemed we were making some progress.
Michelle was there to greet us at Hamer with sandwiches. Then off to the boggy bit. It wasn’t too bad (and we had done a recce two days previously). We did pass a pair of trainers, and wondered what had happened to the owner, but we couldn’t see any bodies struggling in the mud. After less than two hours, the bog was done, and we were an hour ahead of schedule. So we decided to nip into the Lion Inn for a celebratory pint. On leaving the Lion Inn, we had lost at least half of our one hour advantage, but felt very relaxed.
We walked along the smooth railway for what seemed like a long time (nearly a quarter of the whole crossing), and crossed down towards Hasty Bank where we were met by other members of our family who had come to meet us, which was lovely. For some reason after one look at us and listening to our conversation they declined the offer to join us on the next stretch to the Lordstones.
At this point we began to flag. Walking up Hasty bank to the path through the Broughton Bank plantation seemed particularly gruelling – knees, ankles and everything else aching. Why the hell had we signed up for this.
We soon reached Lord Stones where Michelle gave us our torches. Up the steep hill to the trig point. Then a long, long, long, long gradual decline into Scugdale. By now it was dark – no moon, no stars, so switched on the torches. We crossed the beck, almost took a wrong turn, but somehow found the path across the field into the very dark forest. With the end almost in sight, (well it would have been but for the dark) we felt a second wind.
Eventually we emerged onto the road into Osmotherley. We couldn’t see anything apart from what was in the beam of our torches. Suddenly two ladies appeared out of the dark (our wives) and accompanied us to the finish. We finished at 11.20, 10 minutes ahead of our plan.
We couldn’t have had better conditions. No wind, no rain, or winter storms, daylight for 18 hours. So probably not the most challenging crossing – but we did it! Total time (including breaks): 18 hours 50 minutes.