Date 29 Jun 2022
Weather – wet then dry.
Mood – dark then bright then dark. Finally bright again.
Feet/muscles – fine then sore. Remaining so.
Time – 16.5 hours
Paul and Mark, a couple of 50+ year old, retired (long retired) marathon runner/triathletes, ex-RAF, resurrected themselves to take on the walk. A 12,000 mile journey for one from New Zealand, and a long drive from Scotland for the other, to toe the start line.
An 0300 start at Osmotherley saw us launch into it at top speed (about 3 mph) and over the ‘hilly-holey’ section of the walk. Some rain and wind ensured we didn’t overheat, and arrived at the disused railway feeling okay, if somewhat damp, and with nothing to see due to the clinging fog. Still, we did spot the Lion Inn through the mist and managed a cheeky coffee and sock change, resisting the temptation of a beer, which was offered despite it being before opening time.
Back out onto the path and the sun had come out raising our spirits and perspiration levels. The bogs were in good springy condition which was good for Paul’s by then tender soles. As the heat rose and the pace dropped, moors came and moors went, Fylingdales remained tantalisingly far away and muscles started to complain.
Onwards we pushed, finally passing Fylingdales and eventually getting a tantalising glimpse of the radio mast in the (very dist
ant) distance. Feet were now sore, blisters making themselves familiar with us, and with water all gone delirium and expiration a slim risk. The long stretch of concrete to the final road crossing was purgatory, even the sheep looked at us with sympathy. A relatively busy Thursday evening had us hobble-jogging across the road like a couple of geriatrics for the final dusty trudge to the mast.
Arriving at the mast just as our lift did, we were whisked away to the Raven Hall for a beer at about 7.30pm
