NEW LYKE WAKE CLUB

Its 2.30am, I am lying in my tent wide awake contemplating what the next 24 hours has in store.  Wondering whether 40 miles is perhaps a little too far, and whether I have been little too optimistic. Buoyed by crossing stories on lykewake.org, I make my way to the start point at Osmotherley for a 4.20am start, for today I am to become a Dirger.

I get off to a great start (3.5 mph+) up the first bank, and am greeted by thick mist and an army of sheep at the summit, which would become a mainstay of the route. It starts raining heavily. My trousers dampen and eventually become sopping wet. The start I would have liked? No. But only 38 miles to go…

I soldier on, up and down the Cleveland Way, with only passings of Highland cows for company. The thought of panoramic views over Middlesbrough keeps me going. Three hours pass and I pass my first fellow hiker. ‘It’s a wet one isn’t it’ he says. I arrive at the view point, only a thick sheet of mist lays before me.

I eventually reach the cinder track, the mist clears and the rain stops alas. I dry off rather quickly and make solid progress reaching the half way marker at the Lion Inn in 7 hours. Here I spot many sunken, weary faces. Were they as mad as me, I wonder?

Next was the ‘boggy section’ and boggy it was. Whilst rather boggy, it was also rather enjoyable. Albeit it was May, my condolences go to those crossing in the winter months.

To Fylingdales I flew via the picturesque ravine and stepping stones. These were hard miles which followed as the miles started to pass less frequently. A railway, a MOD base, a waterfall. These all kept my mind wandering as I wandered on.

As the walk drew to a close, I had nothing but adulation for it, and the beauty of this barren paradise. I marched on past the Lilla Cross and through the last ravine. The sun finally came out as I marched onwards towards the magical mast, finally reaching Ravenscar.

8.00pm. What a challenge. What a day.

Jonathan Sharp, 33, Scarborough

It was a damp and driech start at the Lyke Wake stone at 0530 where we unknowingly marched into the route.


Through the woods and along solid paths we were making light work of the walk.


Up and down, up and down famous and nameless howes and heads, the relentless Cleveland hills were starting to wear.

After reaching the summit of the moors over Urra, the railway plateau was welcome relief.


As the bark of grouse was growing to grate, the bog emerged.

Slow progress, we would have been far better on a quad bike like the sheep farmer staying away from the boggiest sections. Following the footsteps of antecedents we ploughed on through.


One last gift of daylight illuminated the moors in a fiery sepia sunset, sending us into the evening with a rainbow.


It was the Roman road for nightfall and the beacon of Fylingdales now fixed in our sights.


With the sound of the stream to guide us, we soon descended into the section of the walk formerly known as stepping stones.


Reluctantly preparing walking poles to steady ourselves across the river, we began to test the waters. After a couple of pilot plods into the flow, we soon discovered that the stones were knee deep under the torrent and we would have to scale the valley walls again and find an alternative route to Fylingdales.


Further flooding at Fylingdales made navigating the beck in the dark more challenging, as with every direction looking like the beck, no landmarks to follow, and no clear paths either, it was back to uphill tramping over heather.


Lilla Howe emerged into our torchlight and seeing the Whitby Road we knew we were on the home slog.


The final trudge into the darkness and rain had started to set in and the Ravenscar radio mast remained elusive, offering little to raise spirits. Suddenly, the otherworldly geometric iron outline of the mast appeared with 20m to the final stone, we knew we’d finished with this walk.


Back too late to have earned a pint, pizza on a pillow it was.


Crossing time 16h30


Mr White of Nottingham, and Mr Jeffrey of Bristol.