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.

When a Double isn’t really a Double: John Swanson

Day 1, July 2. Lion Inn – trig point on Beacon Hill – road by Loose Howe – Lion Inn: 13h45.
Day 2, July 3. Road by Loose Howe – eastern LWW stone – road by Loose Howe: 13h46.
Total elapsed time to cover entire route once each way: 39h01.

My first two Walks were with my father in the 1980s, unsupported, one each way, then I did a solo unsupported in my twenties in 1992. Having now just turned 60, thoughts turned to setting myself a challenge before too many more years pass and bring inevitable decline. I was reasonably confident I was up to a Lyke Wake Walk (living in Surrey, I’d done 40 miles and 5000 feet in a day by virtue of walking up and down the scarp slope of the North Downs more times than I could count). So could I consider a Lyke Wake Double? The logistics weren’t promising for a straightforward “one end to the other and back” – my wife offered to help support but I wasn’t going to ask her to drive silly distances at silly times of the day. Hence the idea of staying at the Lion Inn, and walking to Osmotherly and back one day, and Ravenscar and back the next – a Double in terms of the ground covered, just not in the right order.

So, day 1, I slipped out of the Lion fire exit at 5am. A couple of squalls blew through on the railway section, but it was mostly just overcast. I’d planned to build in what variety I could, so, inspired by a crossing report from Graeme Noble, from Urra Moor I dropped down to Seave Green, over the south end of Cold Moor, then up along the top of Barker’s Crags. I don’t know if there is an actual path down from them but I just ploughed through chest-high sopping wet bracken and felt like I’d walked through a car wash. Then Green Lane and through Clain Wood to Scarth Nick where my wife met me for the first topping up of water and flapjacks. Up to the trig point (new for me – all my previous walks had started at the stone), then the Classic route back, with from about Carlton Bank up to Clay Bank now in sunshine with blue skies. A sausage roll from the disappointingly non-vegetarian takeaway choice at the Lordstones café – my wife had gone to visit Robert Thomson at Kilburn and Mount Grace Priory – then a second top-up from her at Clay Bank and back along the railway, over Flat Howe, and round the head of Rosedale on the road and back on the lower railway track (through a late return of pouring rain), so as to even up the distances on the two days.

For day 2, I’d negotiated with my wife that 6am was not too unreasonable, so she drove me back round to where those pesky white boundary stones leave the road by Loose Howe. On my previous crossing, before the days of GPS, and doing that section in darkness, I’d strayed away from the stones there. This time, in continuous rain restricting visibility, I once again (and more than once) failed to pick out the next stone and strayed, but thanks to GPS, getting back was easier. The path across Wheeldale Moor seemed better trodden than I remembered, albeit with what looked distressingly like deep motorbike ruts. Thirty years ago I’d strayed off the path here too, and had kipped until dawn, consequently finishing in 23½ hours. The rain finally eased around Simon Howe, and there was almost some blue sky at Fylingdales. My wife met me at Eller Beck, and then at the Beacon Howes radio mast with a toastie from the National Trust café.

Turning back, I was now well into uncharted territory for me in terms of distance. Muscles seemed to be doing all right; little toenails would no doubt fall off later but would be manageable for the day; but the right knee had started day 2 tight and was getting tighter. Perversely, the climbs out of Jugger Howe Beck and Wheeldale Beck were a breeze as you don’t need to straighten the knee so much up steep hills; it was the level-ish slogging on uneven tracks from Wheeldale onwards that took their toll. On the last stretch from Hamer, I once again, despite best intentions, lost the straight route along the stones, it had started raining again, and tiredness was telling because I went knee-deep in bogs several times, which I’d been alert enough to avoid on the way out. Cresting Loose Howe, the moment the waiting car came in sight my brain stopped suppressing the complaints it had been getting from my knee and my finish was definitely more of a hobble than a walk. But 77 miles over two days, by a long way a new mark for me.

A supported walk, in daylight, with the benefit of GPS, is a very different animal from a solo unsupported walk spanning the night, with map and compass; more of a purely physical challenge, less of an engagement with the spirit of the Moors and, I would say, of the Walk. I am very pleased I set myself, and met, a challenge that I can remember in my old age. But it doesn’t really match the quasi-spiritual satisfaction of starting at one end of the Moors and emerging at the other entirely on your own resources.

John Swanson

Unfinished Business: Andrew & Alexander Roach

Sunday/Monday 7/8 July 2024
Start – Osmotherley, Cod Beck car park
Start time – 03.55
Finish – 02.19 Ravescar radio mast
Age – Old man (63) and young man, 17 later this month

Still smarting from having to abort last year’s attempt at Wheeldale, Andrew and Alexander, related and determined, set off from the hallowed car park on Sunday morning. A number of things went in our favour this year, there is more daylight in July than August and we had learnt a lot from last year’s blunders. 

Apart from that, much was depressingly unchanged. The western climbs are as steep as ever, so that once again we couldn’t face Wain Stones and walked through Broughton Plantation instead. Glaisdale was still untracked, but we found a few more boundary stones, and taking no chances, left offerings to ward off the spirits. They seemed appeased as we saw storms rumbling around us, but crucially, not on us.  On Wheeldale Moor, they finally lost patience and gave us a brisk 40 minute shower. Huddled beneath Blue Man i’the Moss in the rain trying to figure out what to do next was a low point. It was dusk (c10pm) before we reached Eller Beck and as we toured Fylingdale, the mist rolled in obliterating landmarks and creating monsters of many shapes. We were later told the stars were lovely.  Finally, we got our act together, slithered down the hillside towards Jugger Howe Beck in the dark and made it to Beacon Howe.

God bless Helena, wife and mother to the above and provider of risotto and tea en route as well as driving us away from the radio mast in a warm car. “Have you two ever thought of walking for pleasure?”. It’s a good question.

PS I think Lilla Cross was then, what it is now, a guide and consolation to travellers. A distant comparison is the account of Kosmas the Priest in newly converted Bulgaria in the 10th century: ‘who has not rejoiced to see crosses set up in high places…?’   

Andrew & Alexander Roach

Clydebank 

Same Time Next Year: David Wood

Crossing 20th/21st June 2024

Damien and myself aided and abetted by Mark as CQMS for the duration( above his normal rank but he likes the title) set off from Osmotherley at 22:30  and yes it was dark.

Moving through the first few miles head torches blazing we managed to hit the first check point having to wake Mark up to get a brew on. Moving on still in darkness we were able to click down the miles at a reasonable pace and once daylight appeared it dawned on the both of us what a daunting task ahead we had.

The Bloworth crossing leg we both thought was a real morale killer, questionable the actual miles it was. Hitting the pub and round Fat Betty we met up with Mark who was actually vertical this time we enjoyed the pre-prepared food made by Lesley my much better half. Trying to avoid the inevitable, i.e. the bog we set of again praying it wasn’t too wet. The bog came and went uneventfully – just the tired legs were growling but a rest wasn’t possible. The sun turned itself on and chose the highest setting, burned skin within minutes but medical aid unavailable it was carry on regardless.

Ralph’s Cross to Hamer House, Rosedale moor (Boggy) to Blue Man I th’ Moss just added to the pain, the sunburn but the determination wasn’t deteriorating (much).

So not to prolong the reader’s agony I’ll skip a few miles. Lilla Cross standing proud and the MOD shed good landmarks to see but only added to the realisation still a few miles to go.

At the end with Mark’s face wanting us to suffer more it was all over, finally 19hrs later (including breaks) we had made it. It’s not the hardest thing I’ve ever done but at 64 years and six months it was up there.
Same time next year was the last I heard before a well deserved deep sleep.

David Wood
Damien Hines
Mark Hayes
Lesley (the better half)

A Snorkel & Flippers: Mark Kitson

Wednesday 24th June 2024
Start – Osmotherley Village
Start time – Midnight
Finish – Way later than expected 
Age – Old man (55)
Unsupported – But the lovely wife and daughter and dog picked me up.

Firstly, never believe BBC weather. It had said it would be a clear night, but getting off the train at Northallerton and into the taxi the heavens opened, with a good luck mate from the taxi driver I enthusiastically set off.  

The first section was a delight, however the descents were treacherous and slowed me down considerably and after bumping into some surprised cows near the Wainstones I was clear and onto the tracks headed to the Lion Inn.

Unfortunately, this is where it took a turn for the worse with a few annoying blisters and a recurring muscle injury made the second section a challenge.  Thankfully the weather cheered up giving me some fantastic views across the moors, lifting my spirits.  Nobody mentioned that I needed a snorkel and flippers for several of the next sections, but knowing that I had my school bronze medallion swimming award I zigged and zagged trying to find a less waterlogged path, again adding so much time.  The section up to Lilla Cross was especially frustrating.

With the mast teasing in the distance and never seeming to get any closer I was confronted with Jugger Beck Howe.  My blisters were shouting at each other and I’d forgotten my crampons at home so it took a considerable amount of effort, oh and one mars bar to get up the hill and following ridgeline, was that mast getting further away?  And then there was the wife and daughter to meet me, laughing at my wobby gate but very pleased I’d finished, sort of in one piece.

The walk did not disappoint and even though I live close, this area it is absolutely stunning.  Blisters heal, old injuries get forgotten but pride in completing the walk will never fade.

Mark Kitson

A Northern Stealth Mission

I had known about the LWW for some years, attracted by the beauty and simplicity of the line, west to east across the North Yorkshire Moors at their widest point. Further motivation to do the crossing myself came from its eccentric origins in the ‘50s, its deathly references and the possibility of one day being part of this bizarre club of completers. Fell runners appreciate dark humour – the idea of aspiring to wear a black tie with coffins on it whilst working in leafy Hampstead, north London was an added bonus.

Around fifteen years ago, I ran the Cleveland Way over three and a half days and this wonderful excursion introduced me to the wonders of the North Yorkshire Moors and also to the coastline from Saltburn-by-the-Sea south to Filey. I remember running the out-and-back part of the route to Roseberry Topping in a white-out with snow falling heavily.

The Autumn of 2023 and Spring of 2024 had been overshadowed by my diagnosis with Prostate Cancer, surgery in mid-December and recovery. Surprisingly, my surgeon gave me permission to start running very gently by mid-January, which being an idiot, I took as a green light to go up to the Lakes and venture forth. So within a few days of meeting Mr. Adshead, I was finding my way up Jack’s Rake in Langdale, with traces of ice still lingering in the rock fissures.

By May, after plenty of problems returning to running post-surgery (my biomechanics seemed to have been messed up by surgery, as I was running well back in November) and having missed out on classics like the Old County Tops with Simon, I was itching to do something long and challenging. Summer Half Term loomed and the opportunity for a stealth mission north.

The Lyke Wake Walk, of course! It starts in Osmotherley, on the north-west edge of the Moors and heads due east for 40 miles to Ravenscar. The first 18 miles follows the Cleveland Way and the Coast to Coast Path and it’s trail running paradise along the northern escarpment of the Moors: good tracks and once you’re up on the Moors plateau, the ascents are slight and of little significance. Curse it, though; if you’re used to the Lakeland fells and rely on the long ascents to refuel and for your quads to recover from the thump of running, there’s no time for such comfort breaks.

At mile 18-ish, I reached the Lion’s Inn at Blakey Ridge, the only chance to refuel for the whole day; a pint of soft drink and a packet of crisps and then off again on the second half of the crossing. After a brief road section, the LWW now takes on a different character, with the Cleveland Way and now even the Coast to Coast Path left behind: bog, bog, bog and the vaguest of tracks! Keeping to the path was tricky at times, but as long as I headed on a vague bearing of due east, only minor navigational errors were possible.

The joy of the LWW at this time of year is the sound of the nesting birds and the uninterrupted views over the Moors. The bronze age burial mounds and an array of standing stones, presumably some much older than others, gives the route a sense of pilgrimage.

As I approached Ravenscar, with the mast in view for the last few miles, at which the final trig point and official end of the walk were also located, I reflected on the history of this great walk, the beauty of the North Yorkshire Moors and how I had seen only one other traveller for the last twenty miles. I was sad to discover that the Moors scenes from the ‘80s film, ‘An American Werewolf in London’, weren’t actually filmed in Yorkshire at all, but in Wales instead. I had hoped to find the film’s pub, ‘The Slaughtered Lamb’, but alas it was a fictional one.  

I had to make the mile journey to the Raven Hall Hotel in Ravenscar for a shandy on the lawn looking over the North Sea and await my ride from friendly Jim, the taxi driver, who I I had booked the night before. Evidently Jim had driven to the mast to walk back along the track to cheer me on, but he’d missed me. Yorkshire hospitality; really so humbling.

Brig o’ Dread Indeed

4th of August 2023
Start – Osmotherley Village
Finish – The Victoria Hotel, Robin Hood’s Bay
Start time – 6pm
Finish – Too traumatised to note
Distance – 46 miles

Dirgers – Phil Renshaw and Andrea McCartney

For our second and this time, unsupported crossing of the LWW we opted for different and with the retrospective value of hindsight, highly inadvisable, timings.

The weather forecast was not, it has to said, ‘great’ but the trend was towards improvement and it seemed that the wet weather fronts were shifting Southerly.

We struck off from Os at 6pm Friday 4th August with a hopeful plan to finish our efforts with a sunlit morning descent to Stoupe Beck Sands and a revitalising dip followed by a gentle beach stroll into Bay for the revitalisation proper through the medium of several worthy pints.

Eastings and Northings noted and bearings taken it was anticipated that the two awkward sections of the moor crossings during night hours would not be a problem and in any event would be compensated for by the splendid views along the Cleveland hills to the Wainstones.

The drizzle drifted in just before Scarth Wood Moor and looking up and across, the hills frowned darkly under a decidedly ominous brim of cloud.

Ever the eternal optimists we shook off any dark and disturbing notions and pressed on and up, and down, and up, then down again and up again, with a few along and arounds, heartened by occasional vistas across to the twinkling lights and fleshpots of Teesside.

Drizzle was bearable and this was almost certainly tomorrow’s weather front moving in early (as it transpired this was Storm Antoni which had, unbeknownst to us, changed its plans).

We left the railway line above Esklets, the visible path petered out and thick swirling mists were now about us and coating my glasses, visibility dropped in the reflected headlamp light to a few short miserable yards. Eastings, Northings and bearings were cold comfort as we trudged and occasionally re-trudged around pool, bog and gully trying to keep course.

Reaching Fat Betty at last we wrapped our arms about her weighty girth in humbled gratitude and indulged in the comfort of a Tunnock’s Caramel Wafer apiece. The crossing hereon to Hamer House would be a doddle.

Shortly after leaving the road section, the thick swirling mists became thicker and swirlier and drizzle became steady rain.
Glasses, map case and compass were constantly obscured by fine droplets and my sudden face first plunge thigh deep into a stinking morass did little for morale. I could’ve wept.

Somehow we reached the smuggler’s causeway but soon after were again wildly adrift in the sedge. All we needed was one boundary stone to give us the way.

Dawn broke reluctantly and gloomily over Hamer House and as far as the initial descent into Wheeldale we were spared any further damp.
But the respite was all too brief and the rain was soon of the hard and horizontal variety. We stumbled into a shepherds hut, evicting two tups and a pair of swallows in the process. Andrea’s lips were turning an alarming shade of bilberry blue and we nose bagged the trail mix like delinquent goats. A detour to Goathland was considered and then unconsidered as the E numbers in the M and M’s kicked in…we pushed on, cheered by breaks in the clouds and a patch of blue sky, we would make the coast in glorious morning sunshine! All would be well!

Just before Ellerbeck Bridge stealthy clouds caught us unawares and without even the decency of an introductory drizzle, the heavens opened with a deluge to shame Niagara. Waiting for the worst to pass under the scant shelter of the birch trees my eternal optimism found me announcing that there is always a ‘last hurrah’ with any storm and that surely this would be the finale.

Wading through the rivulets up to Lilla Howe in the pale sunlight and a faint drying breeze we assured ourselves that the ordeal was now truly at an end. Hopes and dreams of beer and crisps were now in our hearts.

Hopes and dreams that were to be cruelly dashed when after descending a rocky waterfall down to Jugger Howe Beck with the home strait of the tank track and Stony Marl Moor ahead, we faced a swampy lake, raging though the middle of which indicated only by the alders was the fearsome torrent the beck had become with the bridge somewhere in its awful depths.
Brig o’Dread indeed.

Great was the wailing and gnashing of teeth!
How cruel could circumstance get? (Quite a bit crueller as it transpired).

Any attempt to cross had tomorrow’s headlines written large above it in mocking sans-serif tabloid headlines, ‘Lyke Wake Walkers drowned in deluge’, so we opted to follow a route North up the steep valley in the direction of the OS map’s promised legend…FB.
Wading knee deep, thrashing through bracken and a nerve jangling traverse across a slippery wet shale clay river cliff above a mean and desperate end in the swirling peaty waters we managed to reign in our frustrations and push on until the way forward became totally impassable. The only option was back up to the top. Flailing steeply upwards through bramble and heather, putting our last vestiges of faith and strength in precarious and ill-advised holds we made the top.

And finally, providence showed us a warmer side, below was a footbridge and beyond a good, solid, hard farm road. Descending to Boggle Hole we barely noticed that the beck resembled the Orinoco.

After the final climb up to the Vic from the bay, our entrance was less than elegant and to the wide eyed onlookers, possibly amphibious. I fear I may have forgotten my manners in my urgent lunge at the bar but there you go, another crossing done and something to look back on through the rosy spectacles of hindsight.

Yours in dread,
Phil Renshaw

Winter Crossing – Walk 4: Graeme Noble

General Information

Date & Start: Wednesday 28 February 2024 (starting time [from the LWW finish/start stone at the beacon at Ravenscar 9.30am] – Thursday 29 February 2024 [ending time 6.42am] at the LWW start/finish stone above Cod Beck Reservoir.

This is a winter crossing

Walking time: 18hrs 40min

Actual crossing time 21hrs 10min 8sec

Total Walking Distance: 40.6miles

Dirger: Graeme Noble (no assistance or companion)

Weather: From daybreak until 4pm there was good visibility during daylight hours with some sunlight appearing through broken grey clouds (particularly early morning. Initially, quite windy conditions which gradually increased into a full storm, low cloud from 4pm and loss of visibility from 5pm to less than 6ft at the George Gap Causeway (path) (East:470577 – North: 501030) with swirling mist, rain and accompanying gusts of strong winds. 

The final two miles of the bog were accompanied by very little light and it was a boon to see new ground structures along the way, in my head I associate them with grouse shooting or feeding grouse? Between 6pm and 3am a storm burst began with a severe whirl of rain heralded by gusts of accompanying wind with exceptionally poor visibility. This was the pattern of the weather to follow for the next 9hrs.

Temperature: cold throughout the day with the need to wear my waterproof as an extra layer. It became very cold after 10pm and I put this down to the inclement clime and exposure to some quite interesting weather conditions of torrential rain showers with constant windy conditions with low visibility.

The Walk

The start of the walk began with snippets of blue sky falling through silvery grey cloud formations. At the start/finish stone at Ravenscar, the weather was dry and I hoped I had the promise of holding out for the day due to the regular blue in the sky and the incredibly daybreak sun over the sea from the hotel window at Ravenscar Hall Hotel at 7pm. The first stage surprised me regarding the ground conditions – in comparison to September (lots of flowering heather) there now was quite a burn of heather on Stony Marl Moor which gradually petered out toward the A171.

I love Jugger Howe Beck and would be quite content to have my ashes scattered there. The greenness and the surrounding woody nature of the beck around the bridge into each side of the valley, the succulence of the greenery is a great seductive reason for not moving from the spot, especially with the buds showing the sap rising on the trees. But, I broke out of the mesmerised moment and moved on being surprised by the lack of water over High Moor toward Lilla Cross. Here I met a father and son taking refuge to the north of the Cross due to the cold windy conditions. They continued eating and I moved on to cross Ellerbeck. I didn’t hang around during the day due to the chilliness.

Yet, during my crossing following moving away from the gate to cross the footpath which follows Little Eller Beck I again heard voices gurgling in the beck’s waters, Mark Pearson & Gordon Leithhead’s distinctive tones were there, although I couldn’t get the gist of the story, primary school days came flooding back. This time from my childhood days and these hearing moments were only altered when a birch tree close to me creaked and broke the spell. I find this area to be truly mystical, more so than Jugger Howe yet less beautiful than the valley.

I had decided to follow different routes on this walk depending on how waterlogged the ground was up to and around Wheeldale Lodge, but, the surprise lay in the fact that although the ground was wet, particularly around Wheeldale Beck and the Stepping Stones, the actual stones were not covered by water and I hopped across to Wheeldale Road, although the hill climb up to the Roman Road I found tiring.

Here was going to be my first change of route from the classic Lyke Wake Walk if the ground had been saturated but (after a quick text to my team at home) I chose not to take alternative suggested routes as described by Bill Cowley on pages 34 & 35 of his Lyke Wake Walk book published by Dalesman (fifth edition 1971) which I’d planned to do and carried on to  Blue Man-i’-th’-Moss (has someone or something been out recently with a paintbrush, the spotless whiteness on it seems to be fairly recent) and again instead of potentially moving on to the Traverse Moor road I contacted base and said I was going to cross over the Rosedale Moor route via Shunner Howe.

Again, there wasn’t as much water as I expected and the going was easier than I expected. However, at 4pm the light dropped around the George Gap Causeway (Path) and the memory of the walks I had completed previously helped as low visibility due to heavy rain, swirling mist and the arrival of early night caused me to be cautious about getting my exit right to the Rosedale Road exit.

Near the tumulus at East: 470118 North: 501111 with the light now becoming total night and my wandering mind looking for the trail down to the road I accepted that as long as I hit the road, I could make my way to the Lion Inn but, as good fortune came my way, I arrived on the track with the Lyke Wake Walk stone and the two arrows pointing towards me. Relieved I headed to the Inn and tea. I met no traffic until the Rosedale West side road and as the weather deteriorated further (I was now walking southward through quite a storm with little visibility) I was surprised by the lack of good driving skills through the closeness of the vehicles passing by to me. With a head torch and hand-held torch, I was clearly visible but the vehicles passed me by sometimes with a foot to spare. One van came so close, and then the driver seeing me swerved off, stalling the vehicle. The hiccupping of the vehicle summed up my good fortune at being alive and the poor driving that was afforded to the vehicle. Fortunately, I wasn’t road kill!

Eventually, I arrived at the Lion Inn, where over an hour I had tea, a homemade steak and ale pie with chips accompanied separately by two pots of Earl Grey tea. I had become dehydrated. But, I couldn’t eat the chips due to feeling so knackered! This was the saddest moment of the walk. I remembered why I usually eat Jam Roly Poly. Anyhow, the food was good it was me who was physically out of it.

But, after an hour’s rest, I donned the waterproofs, which, had largely done a good job with only a slight amount of dampness on the shoulders showing as I put it on and I made my way around the side of the building to find my route to Osmotherley following the former railway line.

Continuing the doleful report through the woeful weather.

It was with some relief that I arrived at Bloworth Crossing (those metal gates are very helpful landmarks, and a good reference amidst the centre of a disused railway line with little visibility, swirling mist and belting rain, even the wind added a tortured note during the storm and the effect of the torch’s beam being reflected in the mist left a sense of walking dejavu mile after mile with no viewpoint to take stock of my position, although walking north the weather was behind and westward on my left side, odd to use an imprecise bearing in such a situation, guessing the curve of the Dales heads and my location when trudging amidst the centre of a disused railway line) guided by rain.

This was the one of two accompaniments for many hours as frogs would crouch motionless as I passed by and they were caught in the beam of the torch. Every so often a blown piece of heather and twig would come to rest on the track and twist and turn on its own route after resting for a moment. I sort of copied this routine during moments of rest.

After leaving the Lion Inn at 9pm on the Wednesday evening this continuance of weather and walking/swimming/croaking landscape lasted until I began to drop down after Round Hill. At this stage, I had decided to vary my route and this time I chose to follow Bill Cowley’s alternative route (found on page 20, fifth edition, Galava Printing Co., Ltd., Hallam Road, Nelson, Lancashire). So, I began the descent to Chop Gate, via Medd Crag, towards Bilsdale Hall.

Descending, I came across some grouse shouting hides and in the third hide I took refuge for 15 minutes with a flask of peppermint tea and some biscuits while the wind whipped past and over me. Writing this I feel a bit of a hypocrite as I don’t like the purpose of the hides association with killing but, in the circumstances, I needed some respite from the weather. The rain didn’t stop.

At the exit off Urra Moor toward the hall the path deteriorated to that of deep pitted uneven rivets and slushy mud. I found once I got onto the road beyond the hall that walking became easier, of course on the tarmac, picking up speed but, following Raisdale Mill and arriving at Mill Lane the path (which I had assumed would be easier to walk than over the cliffs to Clain Wood) which is also a cycle route became a downhill sliding exercise through uneven terrain, a torn track of mud, unevenness of ground and sludge for a good half-mile of heavy going, which finally ended at the gate of Scugdale Hall.

Bill Cowley on the same page above describes this route as a lady’s walk. I can only say he must have known some interesting ladies who would walk this route. (In a previous night-time extravaganza, I found it equally challenging to follow the Wain Stones across to Carlton Moor). At Raikes Farm, I found thereto be enough outside lighting to navigate for quite a distance.

But, there was an uplifting moment which raised my spirits on hearing owls in Clain Wood whilst I stopped for a further drink and some food at the public seat above Hollin Hill on the road to Huthwaite Green (NZ 49280 00720, East: 449280 North: 500720) and the conversation between at least three owls in quite different parts of the wood lifted up my spirits for the final trek to the end. I was tempted to alter my route and walk through the wood but decided against it as I’d be altering the route I was walking and at home, my wife would be expecting me to follow another. (By now she was in Bo-Peep land). So, a good decision in some ways, onwards to Mill Farm, Coalmire Lane, through the quarries, now disused, but which I found as daybreak appeared and the landscape became clearer were interesting in themselves for their left architectural design and shape.

Arriving at the LWW starting/ending point I found it to be rather odd as I still had to walk to the bus stop in Osmotherley where I was to be picked up at 8am by my wife. So, I walked down the west side of Cod Beck Reservoir onto Quarry Lane and into town, stopping at Damside for a final cuppa and remembered that I still had the head torch wrapped around my head. Tiredness caused forgetfulness as I’d switched it off earlier next to the sheepwash.

Would I do the Lady’s alternative again, yes, but not as part of the LWW. I’d be tempted to do it again as a circular, from Osmotherley, to see what the views were like that I’d missed in the dark on this walk, going up to Round Hill on Carr Ridge and then back via the classic route over Hasty Bank, past the Wain Stones and then up to Carlton Bank, followed by a midnight favourite of Clain Wood down to the start point at Cod Beck Reservoir. A grand day out!

A New Decade: Natalie Vallone

Yesterday I completed my first crossing! West – East, solo & unsupported.

When I heard about this walk a month ago, I knew it was the perfect challenge to mark entering my thirties.

On Monday I drove to Ravenscar and spent the rest of the day on public transport to the start. It was only then I think I really realised how tough this was going to be.

I left Osmotherly youth hostel at 04:05, walking through cloud pretty much the whole way until The Lion, which was maybe a good thing not being able to see the hills or stretching moors ahead!

As I left the road and entered the bog, the sun came out which made for a glorious afternoon (despite a moment of concern when I got stuck in said bog!). The river at Wheedale was thankfully passable and I made it to Lilla Cross before the head torch had to come out again.

The last stretch was tough, with the knees and brain both wanting to call it a day, but a couple of encouraging messages from friends saw me to the end! The final struggle back to my car at Raven Hall hotel finally came to an end at 21:00. 

Not sure if I will ever do another crossing (so impressed by those of you that have!!), but very glad to have completed it and to be entering my thirties officially a witch!

A Comedy Of Errors: Anthony Bristow

On September 23rd, ten of us embarked on the Lyke Wake Walk. This adventure served as a charity
fundraiser for Neuroendocrine Cancer, a small charity in need of support. We are rallying behind our
friend and family member, Hayley, who has been an inspiration to us all.

The night before, we had a few drinks at the Golden Lion, like pre-gaming for a marathon, but with
pints, not protein shakes. Setting our alarms for 3 AM seemed crazy, but we met at Osmotherley car
park at 4 AM, ready for action.

One of the team had legs longer than a giraffe’s and sprinted ahead, only to be chased back into the
pack by a weird white alien with green eyes. He quickly learned to stick with the group.

We trudged up steep hills in the dark, realising sunrise wasn’t until 6:51 AM. Mother Nature owed us
daylight. However, as dawn broke, we enjoyed some stunning views and realised we weren’t on a
death march.

Our support team was supposed to meet us at mile 9, but my poor planning (sorry folks) led to their
absence. Undeterred, we pressed on toward the Lion Inn, dreaming of bacon and sausage butties.
The walk to the Lion Inn was pleasant, with lovely moorland views, until a local cycle race turned our
hike into a game of dodgems.

Mark, our Chief Navigator with Bieber-like boots, led us smoothly. It felt like the calm before a storm,
but Bieber didn’t make a cameo.

At the Lion Inn Pub, Paul and Geoff, our support crew, greeted us with a mountain of bacon and sausage. Satisfied, we continued.

The next part was entertaining, with peat bogs like trampolines due to the weather. The trail was
too wet, so we detoured to keep our feet dry. It felt impossible!

Jordan had two toilet breaks, and these were number 2’s, on his second squat down in the thick
heather, he lost his phone. Can you guess where it ended up? Hint: not in his pocket!

As we marched on and saw Fylingdales in the distance, we couldn’t help but wonder why it never
seemed to get any closer.

We reached the monument with just enough light to see the finish line. The last five miles loomed in
total darkness. Fatigue set in, but our determination carried us forward. I’m certain there were
moments during the walk when we all took a moment to reflect on why we were doing this. I
certainly did. The thought of Hayley’s strength and determination unquestionably helped us through
this final section.

We spotted a bright white light in the sky, thinking it was the radio mast, only to discover it was a
star. Fatigue had us seeing things!

Finally, we hit the main road at the last mile, with Mark leading grumpily. His Bieber side took over,
as Lee unintentionally poked the bear!

At last, we reached the finish at 21:32. A whopping 17 hours and 32 minutes of Lyke Wake Walk
madness, all for a great cause. We faced white aliens, lost phones, bogs, and questionable
navigation, but we did it!

Sheep or Aliens? Graeme Noble

Date & Start: Tuesday 22nd August (starting time [from the LWW stone at the beacon at Ravenscar 8.48am] – Wednesday 23rd August 2023 [ending time 6.08am] at the LWW stone above Cod Beck Reservoir

Walking time: 19hrs 10 minutes, actual crossing time 20hrs 40 minutes

Total Walking Distance: 41 miles

Dirger: Graeme Noble (no assistance)

Weather: initially slight wind conditions which gradually declined towards 10pm with slight gusts through to 5am on the tops, good visibility during daylight hours with some sun exposure and remaining dry during the walk but underfoot more wet in the bog areas since I walked across during early July

Temperature: warm throughout the day becoming unpleasantly cold after midnight, particularly following the climb from Hasty Bank. Throughout daylight – fairly warm and cloudy, after sunset – gradually becoming chilly and cold

I was a little concerned that walking east to west with bright sunlight in my face, due to the pace of the progression of the sun, would hinder visual progress as the day progressed. The sun travelling faster than I anticipated I would be walking east to west. This wasn’t the case. Cloud at times hiding the sun.

With a full English breakfast stomach (curtesy of Ravenscar Hall Hotel), later followed by toast, butter and blackcurrant jam and pots of coffee I left the comfort of breakfast at 8.20am. I was joyful at leaving the hotel and getting on my way. I commiserated my choice of beginning this sojourn much later due to my conclusion that walking from Hasty Bank via the Wainstones to the LWW stone would be walked in the dark even if I began walking at 3am and so it was better for me to walk on a full stomach toward the midnight /early morning Wainstone wilderness than rush out and still have to walk through such terrain in the dark in any case.

I began walking from Ravenscar Hall Hotel in warm, sunlit skies with occasional perched clouds that offered promise of a dry and warm day. This was the case during daylight hours.

This time I thank the Sainsburys store in Scarborough for supplying me with food for the walk (previous day purchase). This saw a change of diet from the previous walk’s fare. Bacon and cheese sandwiches saw the light of day and barbecued chicken for the darkness of night.

Arriving at the beacon and LWW stone I felt slightly odd due to having walked the reverse direction from the Flask Inn bus stop over Stony Marl Moor late the previous afternoon following alighting from the Scarborough to Whitby X93 bus. I had been expecting to see the first part of the walk from the beacon afresh in the light for the first time as the two previous crossings had been completed in the dark after midnight but I was not disappointed due to the fact that I was walking the route this time in reverse. My thoughts here may be disorganised but they reflect the reality of recovery after completing the mission.

What can one say apart from how beautiful standing at the LWW stone beneath the beacon and looking forward and behind seeing sea and rolling hills and knowing that this is what was missed previously in the darkness even when wearing a head torch.

All peace until reaching the A171 and the fast flow of traffic. Here was a new daylight juncture and oddly a meeting with a man and a dog whom I’d met on the moor yesterday when walking across to the hotel at Ravenscar from the X93 bus. We greeted each other and chatted for a while about the area and what we were up to, his holiday break and my walk. He’d worked as a taxi driver in Hull and my wife’s family had lived there for nearly 50yrs. So, we talked about the Anlaby and Hessle Roads, Hull City and Hamlyn Avenue. I have a fondness for that area as much as the North Yorkshire Moors due to my wife’s mother taking the family to the area every year until she became incapable of travel. Time pleasantly stood still for 10 minutes then it was time to push on. Being transported emotionally is as great an accomplishment as walking 40+ miles!

The day’s walking was further rewarded on the descent into the valley of Jugger Howe. It’s odd how one can be distracted by movement and looking down during the descent I saw an adder scurry from one side of the step in front of me to the other and into the heather. Evidently sun bathing but deciding not to take part in the dirge with me. The highlight of this part of the walk for me was definitely the valley between the ravine sides of Jugger Howe. The lushness of the greenery on both sides of the path with occasional willow and birch is truly beautiful and I felt rewarded for walking the route in reverse as I’d never seen before this outlook in the darkness when walking. Truly stunning! And, the rest of the route to the stepping stones offered more gems. Great views from Lilla Howe towards Flylingdales and the MOD building and the final view back to the coast and the beacon before descent to Eller Beck Bridge. I was quite fired up with the beauty and immersed in the walk until I met two women who were walking near the bridge at Eller Beck. We talked for a while and they said they were getting into training for the Coast to Coast walk they were attempting to do in a couple of weeks time and when I was asked about the walk I was doing one of the them mentioned that wolves were being considered to be released in the highlands of Scotland and when they came down here in a couple of years I’d need to take care as they would tear someone to pieces during nightfall if they came across them. I said that I was glad to be walking the route now and we parted company. My wife says she is not quite sure how I manage to come across such folk! Neither am I!

I stopped at the stepping stones for lunch following a photoshoot of me at Simon Howe where a mother and son passed by. Quite normal people. I met no one again until before Loose Howe where a chap was walking the LWW in stages (west-east) and wild camping over three to four days. This was the first person I’d come across on this side of the walk and we parted after discussing the situation of the bogs we’d crossed. Quite wet in places. Definitely more wet than I had met in July of this year.

And onward on tarmac to the Lion Inn. I’m not sure if the road here is any less dangerous than the bogs? Cars travel very fast and there was quite a lot of road kill alongside. At the Inn it was time for Jam Roly Poly, a pot of Earl Grey (with extra water) and this time to break tradition but to celebrate my future success in completing the walk I had a pint of Old Peculiar and settled down for a 40 minute stop. At 8.50pm it was time to move on. I phoned my walking assistant, Kate, informing her that I was moving again and after a brief chat I was off.

The evening to late night light while I was walking around Farndale tops and the accompanying colours throughout the valley were stunningly deep, from purples, greens, yellows and reds. Occasionally there would be a rustle of grasses and heathers but it was mostly silent and then the beacon lights of Bilsdale mast began to glow (sometimes 1 light, sometimes 5 lights) forming an accompaniment all the way to Cod Beck Reservoir. Also, homestead lights began to appear and I decided to move away from using a hand torch and switch on the head torch.

There is one positive aspect of walking the old railway line in the dark and that is with a good clear sky (such as the one accompanying me) it is possible to walk dead central without using a head torch and this was the case until Bloworth Crossing when cloud became more prevalent. The wind had dropped at this point as well and faster walking speed took place.The trig point on Round Hill on my right cast its grey figure as I passed it and solitude became more apparent.

And from here to the Wain Stones there was only one oddity. Approaching the Wain Stones there was a coned object, black and white. I first associated it with the microlight aircraft and kit left behind. However, when the shape moved I wondered if it was a UFO and was slightly taken aback. Fortunately, it was none of those things. A herd of Belted Galloway had moved across and one was very close to the edge of the cliff and turned to greet me. Odd hearing cattle munching in the middle of the night with no other sound to disturb their night pulling of grasses, herbs, reeds and nettles. (I had one more sandwich left and must have been feeling hungry). Anyway, like the earlier adder they weren’t interested in me and I walked through them to have the second excitement of the day happen. For some reason, probably being tired, it took about 15 minutes to clamber down the Wain Stones. Initially, I got the route down but doubted the accuracy of my memory. I should have stuck with the original plan. Once down the rest of the walk became a hard slog on the tops even when I met a yellow frog/toad. I said to myself no you’re not in the Amazon, that’s a standard English frog. However, it was that cold I made a decision not to get the phone out and take a picture.

From there and past the Bronze Age burial mound the walk seemed interminably long until the descent and arrival at the minor road through Hurhwaite Green where there is a nice seat to take a rest. Here was the last sandwich eaten and the last peppermint tea drunk. Between here and Clain Wood I came across two foxes, initially, I thought they were sheep dispersing in front of me but when whistling came across the field, almost surrounding me as they ran away from each other I thought I’m hearing the cry of foxes. This sound accompanied me for a large portion of the walk through the woods and then disappeared to be replaced by the hoot of an owl. As I reached the steps leading up to the road and cattle grid I realised that my energy levels were low. Every 50 steps going uphill I had to stop and rest. Then I was on tarmac and crossing the road with another slight climb but I knew I’d make it to the end and just kept going. Dawn crept up fast and as the beacon had disappeared so a beautiful day awaited me, clear skies if somewhat cold. Reaching the LWW ending/starting stone above Cod Beck reservoir I took my final photo of the walk and carried on to Cote Ghyll YHA where I’d arranged a bed for the night. At 6.30am I hit the pillow setting the alarm for 8.50am and the promise of an bacon, egg and sausage sandwich at the Coffee Pot Cafe in Osmotherley which I’d arranged to do with my wife when she came to pick me up with a set of clean clothes, shoes and more importantly, herself actually checking me in safely in person rather than at the end of a telephone. A great way to end such a challenge.

Just one additional thought – sheep in the dark when lit up with a head torch look like aliens. Only the animals eyes light up until you get closer to them. I can see primitive Man being quite afraid of unexplained creatures as they walked across the mountains, moors and bogs.Did Bronze Age humans carry burning logs as torches?

I’m getting ready for the double crossing next year in the summer?