The Coast To Coast Walk: The weight of a stone across a country

A walk on The Coast To Coast Walk from St. Bees to Robin Hood’s Bay and then to Ravenscar in England.
15th of June to 28th of June 2022.
Distance: 433.1km. 14 days.

Below me the waves are breaking against the cliffs. Ahead of me a green meadow meanders towards the horizon, only interrupted by the steep edge of the cliffs. In the horizon I glimpse the top of a lighthouse. Above me the sky is dominated by a solitary blue sky. And somewhere across the ocean lies Ireland.

At the beach at St. Bees, the start of The Coast To Coast Walk.

It is the first day of another long-distance hike and I feel kind of exalted. Not just because of the excitement that I know lies ahead of me, but it also because it is the first walk abroad after the outbreak of the pandemic. A moment long awaited.

Gorgeous walking atop the cliffs of St. Bees Head.

According to tradition, I have dipped my shoes in the water, and I have picked up a stone. The stone will follow me on the walk to the other side of England. There I will again dip my shoes in the water and leave the stone that I have carried with me. Many a stone has in this way found their way from St. Bees at the Irish Sea to Robin Hood’s Bay at the North Sea. The reason for this is The Coast To Coast Walk, a 303 kilometres long trail designed by Alfred Wainwright in 1973. Since then, the trail has grown in popularity and is now one of the most famous routes in the world.

Great views of the Lake District from Green Gable, Ennerdale below.

On the first day on the trail, most hikers are content to end their walk at Ennerdale Bridge, just at the doorstep of the Lake District. By then The Coast To Coast Walk has impressed the hikers with the cliffs of St. Bees Head and given them a foretaste of what to come with the climb up Dent Fell, rewarding them with a 360 degrees panoramic view. I chose to cross over the doorstep and walk to Ennerdale YHA on my first day, walking next to Ennerdale Water and over Anglers Crag with rewarding views of the Lake District. I had heard a lot about the Lake District, but little I had seen of it. Only in the light of the rays of the sun breaking through the clouds from Cross Fell when I hiked The Pennine Way back in 2019.

One of the rare occassions when rain appeared during my hike across England, here from Helm's Crag.

It is in Lake District you find the highest mountain in England, Scafell Pike with its 978m, but The Coast To Coast Walk does not take you to the summit of that mountain, or too close to it. However, if you wonder if there is a lack of inclines while making your way through the National Park, there is no need to worry. I walk over one pass to another as I moves from the one scenic valley to the other. Of these, Borrowdale may be particularly mentioned. Part of the hike feels just like being in the mountains back home in Norway, only that I am at a lower altitude. The landscape is bare, in an altitude where I would have been walking under the cover of trees back home. Those trees that existed here, sailed away a long time ago.

Grisedale Tarn appearing from underneath the clouds.

On the second day, I chose to cut the distance short. Not the total distance, but the part of the trail that I do. I walk only to Rosthwaite, where the descent to the small village is particularly scenic. On the way, I detour off the trail to climb up to the summit of Great Gable, to great views. When first having time in the Lake District, I wanted to make sure that I got to the top of one of the iconic Wainwrights in the National Park. I make similar detours on my hike through the Lakes, but when I later ventured near Helvellyn, the fog lay heavy over the mountains.

On the climb up from Patterdale.

In the valleys there are small pleasant towns and villages, and for many a wanderer, a long awaited watering hole after a day out on the trail. It is also in these small villages that I spends the nights in. However, in the last night in the Lake District I stayed at the luxurious Haweswater Hotel. Of the sole reason that it was the only place available for countless miles around. The evening cost me a lot and a subsequently longer walk than planned the following day, but the stay was nothing to complain about.

The ruins of Shap Abbey.

Haweswater Reservoir in itself is an interesting place. Formerly two small lakes that were dammed up in order to provide water for Manchester, which led to the two villages of Measand and Mardale Green ended up underneath the water. When the water level is very low, this is a very popular destination, where the houses of Mardale village can appear up from the lake.

The cairns at Nine Standards Rigg.

I gaze up at the ruins of Shap Abbey beneath a gloomy sky. In Shap, the Coast To Coast walkers has left the Lake District and entered a part of the trail that could be filed under the transport stage moniker. A walk made extra long for my part, but it is a pleasant walk over heaths, moors, undulating fields, The Pennines in the horizon and past the well-known stone barns announcing that the route is moving into the Yorkshire Dales.

Walking down towards Ravenseat from the Nine Standards Rigg.

The Yorkshire Dales is characterized by its undulating ridges with extensive peat bogs and heath, but there is also another distinct change after the rocky confines of the Lake District. Where that National Park is characterized by hard granite, the Dales are known for its limestone.

Sunset at Tan Hill.

From Kirkby Stephen awaits Nine Standards Rigg, which houses nine cairns in a long row on its summit. No one knows exactly who built the cairns and why they were built, but there are plenty of theories out and about.

A patchwork of colours at Gunnerside Gill.

The path after Nine Standards Rigg holds an infamous reputation for being especially boggy as they say over there, ‘put your gaiters on’ was a piece of advice I got the day before.This is one of the few sections on the trail I where I walk together with other hikers on the Coast To Coast Walk, Mike from Canada and Steve from the United States, and it is a pleasant company.

The remains of old mines at Blakethwaite in Gunnerside Gill.

The Yorkshire Dales is also home to the highest situated pub in England, the Tan Hill Inn. It is not located directly on the trail, but it is on The Pennine Way which, as mentioned, I have hiked before. When I spent the night there at that time, I had arrived at the inn in a thunderstorm and heavy rain, which even got on the national news the following day as the weather had caused a bridge in a nearby village to collapse (in Grinton, which I would pass by later on this hike). The Pennine Way and The Coast To Coast Walk crosses their paths in the small pleasant village of Keld, and the great memories from that time led to me again wandering across the heaths to enjoy a beer, good food and another night up there. For dinner I ate a Yorkshire pudding so big that I was unable to finish it off, ‘Unfinished business’ they should have called the dish. In the evening I could watch small lights in the dark far away as the runners of the Spine Race appeared.

The 'Nunnery Steps' after Marrick Priory.

Back in Keld, the trail continues to Reeth, where the walk goes through a wonderful and peculiar landscape formed by the old mines in the area. It is a patchwork of colours on the hillsides and I pass by the remains of the mine buildings, in valleys both narrow and wide. Over one of the hills the hike goes past a scenery only as bleak and pale as the leftovers of man can make it.

Richmond.

Richmond is the biggest town the Coast To Coast Walk passes through, it is also home to a castle, small narrow streets and the largest horseshoe marked in England (sadly looking mostly like a parking lot). The way there is of an easier character but provides a new variation in the scenery. For the pilgrims out there, the path towards Richmond passes by the familiar waymarks from the Camino de Santiago in Spain.

Walking through an acre in the Vale of Mowbray.

At the top of Whitcliffe Scar, the Coast To Coast walkers will find the spot where Robert Willance made his famous fall. This spot lies not directly on the trail, but I walk up to the top of the cliffs where his horse panicked and bolted over the edge and fell 61m down when thick fog descended. When he came to, he found his horse dead and his legs broken. As the legend goes, Willance survived by cutting open his horse to put his broken legs inside in order to escape gangrene while waiting to be rescued. He later became the first alderman of Richmond.

At Mount Grace Priory, the ruins of the church.

Between Richmond and the North York Moors, the last national park on the route, lies the Vale of Mowbray. Here you are a distant sigh away from the mountains of Lake District and the rolling heaths of the Yorkshire Dales. Instead, a cultural landscape forms the backdrop of the walk. A part of the trail that provides an opportunity to calm down a bit before the final undulating hills on the trail.

Verdant passage through the Clain Wood.

Strangely enough, in a way, this is also the section of the trail that contains the greatest danger of the hike. Before the Vale of Mowbray one may have lost his way on the moors when the fog has mercilessly wrapped itself around one or one can have sunk deep into a peat bog, but here before Ingleby Arncliffe the hikers has to cross a four-lane busy highway. An old American couple who came just after me made it across safely too, but had to watch one of the sunhats get taken by a lorry hurrying by.

On the heaths of the North York Moors.

The North York Moors is the last national park the hikers pass through before they can get rid of the small weight they have been carrying with them. Here, the heather is coloured purple in late summer. Out in the open moorland one finds old crosses, walks on where the old Rosedale Ironstone Railway line went, and it is here while walking on the top of the undulating ridge of the Cleveland Hills that one gets the first glimpse of the North Sea.

Inside The Lion Inn at Blakey Ridge.

At the foot of the Cleveland Hills lies Mount Grace Priory. I made my way down from the trail to the ruins of the old monastery that belonged to the order of the Carthusians. Here the monks lived as hermits and only met the other monks for prayer in the church, and the food they got was served to them through hatches so that they would not meet the person who came with the food. It is a world far away from the one that we live in now.

Robin Hood's Bay, The Bay Hotel and the end of The Coast To Coast Walk.

History repeats itself, also in shorter timespans. There are fewer available accommodations directly on the route through the North York Moors National Park. And like Shap earlier on the trail, there were almost no places to sleep to be found for miles around. I finally manages to get a bed in a remote bed and breakfast at Beak Hills. In quiet and peaceful surroundings, where I got the best sleep of my walk, but had to pay for it with another long hike the following day.

The ruins of Whitby Abbey.

I have used thirteen days on the walk and it has hardly been any rain during those days. In England, that feels like a stroke of luck. Not that it has not been raining, I do remember the walk up from Grasmere underneath heavy clouds filled with water, but it never lasted for a long time. On the last day, the worst of the weather was to come, but it made no more of it than two short and heavy showers, the last just before I arrived at the cliffs next to the North Sea.

With the North Sea on my left, the last part of The Coast To Coast Walk runs atop the cliffs towards and down to Robin Hood’s Bay. Over the North Sea, I can see the rain that passed over me continue its journey across the sea, it is a lovely sight. Eventually I look down upon the old fishing village.

Walking on the cliffs next to the North Sea.

At the bottom of the narrow streets of Robin Hood’s Bay, the trail ends at The Bay Hotel. And it is here the coast to coast walkers again dip their shoes in the water and throw the stone they have carried from St. Bees into the sea. One may have to go a little way out in the shoreline to be able to do it, the tide can be far out here. Or one can get it done before you reach the endpoint, at extra high tide the North Sea can flow into the lowest streets of the village.

Outside The Bay Hotel in the warming sun, I share the last stories from my journey with the other Coast To Coast Walk hikers present before we go our separate ways again.

Standing above Robin Hood's Bay, the end of a wonderful hike across England on The Coast To Coast Walk.

This is perhaps one of the most beautiful and varied hiking trails in England. From the cliffs of St. Bees it passes through the beautiful Lake District, before the heaths of the Yorkshire Dales with its moors and mines send you further through the Vale of Mowbray to the heather of the North York Moors. At last ending at the North Sea in Robin Hood’s Bay.

Valldalsleden: A continuation of a pilgrimage

Valldalsleden.
Gjevilvatnet - Oppdal - Trondheim.
Distance: 254.7km. 11 days.

In the Winter of 1028-1029 Olav den Hellige was on the run from a more powerful king, Knut den Mektige. With a significant smaller fleet of ships, he set shore in Valldal and led his remaining faithful men over the mountains to Gudbrandsdalen and from there further on through Sweden to Novgorod. This is the backstory of Valldalsleden, the pilgrim path starting at Valldal, which connects with the Gudbrandsdalsleden path from Oslo at Dovre, ending at Nidarosdomen in Trondheim.

Evening sun over Gjevilvatnet.

Earlier in the summer, I had hiked Valldalsleden from its start at Valldal to Fokstugu. From there I had backtracked a bit on Gudbrandsdalsleden to Budsjord in order to hike Gaustigen, a lesser known trail and pilgrim path of old to Gautåsætrin at Dovre. From there, I had followed Gudbrandsdalsleden again over Dovre to Oppdal. At that time, I had not planned to continue further, as I had already done a through-hike of Gudbrandsdalsleden all the way to Trondheim from Oslo. In total I used ten days from Valldal to Oppdal.

Reindeers in Trollheimen.

When I had abandoned my plan to hike the Rondanestien trail back towards Oslo after finishing the Jotunheimstien trail, as I was not motivated to do it, I had struggled to come up with a replacement plan. Several ideas, both old and new, had come to my mind. Few resonated with me, and in the end, I had just decided upon completing Valldalsleden from Oppdal to Nidaros.

At Blåhøa.

On the other hand, I was drawn to the mountains. Close to Oppdal lies Trollheimen, a mountain area with a very popular hike going through it. Three paths that forms a triangle known as Trekanten, starting from the Gjevilvasshytta cabin, and going to the Trollheimshytta and Jøldalshytta cabins before returning to the former cabin.

Typical scenery in Trollheimen around the Trollheimshytta cabin.

Arguably not a part of the pilgrim path to Trondheim at all, this hike felt a part of my trail.

Ascending up through the clouds towards Trollhøtta.

The weather was not to be my best friend on the hike through Trollheimen walking-wise, but it made for some wonderful dramatic scenery. I had a nice late hike up the area called Bruna in a wonderful evening sun upon arrival at the Gjevilvasshytta cabin, but the ensuing days was all about dramatic clouds and rain.

View from Trollhøtta.

Deep and low clouds lay heavy on the landscape as I hiked into the heart of Trollheimen, the landscape felt similar to the wildness of Scotland. Autumn colours coming to the fore. Reindeers running around. I met a couple of other hikers, whom I would meet again as they were doing the same hike as me.

The Trollhøtta massif reflected in a small mountain lake.

Voices in the air above prompted me to climb Blåhøa at 1672m, with clouds crashing into its sides like ethereal waves crashing into cliffs.

A bellowing reindeer buck.

Ancient and gnarled pines, and a landscape dominated by marshes surrounds the old Trollheimshytta cabin, with the low clouds adding fairy tales to my walk. The next day, after a cosy evening illuminated by carefully tended candles, I climb over the rocky peak of Trollhøtta. Below the summit at 1614m, the clouds were floating around the mountains like islands in an ocean.

Autumn in Trollheimen.

On the last day, a big reindeer ox bellowed loudly among his herd.

Gamle Kongeveg (the old Royal road) from Oppdal.

The hike through Trollheimen was dominated by the scattered rain and low clouds, with floating windows with views of the mountain landscape in between them. I did not miss a clear blue sky a bit. When speaking photography, this was far better.

The pilgrim albergue at Hæverstølen just as cosy as before.

Back in Oppdal I had continued my pilgrimage on the Valldalsleden path from earlier this year. As some might point out, I followed the Gudbrandsdalsleden path, but I see it more like that those paths are sharing the way the rest of the way to Trondheim and Nidaros.

Walking next to the Orkla river on the lower route of the pilgrim path before Stamnan.

The places that I walked through, though, was the same that I had walked through last year. Some of the nights, I slept in the same places as then. Other nights, I tried out other places. And while Sundet Gård was my preferred place to sleep on the last night, I had to find another accommodation as it was not possible to stay there this time.

View from Skruen above Voll, the peaks of Trollheimen in the background.

Hæverstølen, Meslo Gård and Gumdal Gård was the same hospitable and friendly places that I remembered from last year. New to me was Segard Hoel, another welcoming hostel for the pilgrims where they sleep in an old farm building.

Gamlebua at Voll.

Another change from last year was the sudden meeting of other pilgrims. Walking the Gudbrandsdalsleden path can be a very solitary walk. Last year, I walked for two weeks before meeting the first other pilgrim. This time, I got more company along the way, and it was welcome. Roll a dice and if you are lucky, it comes out with a lucky number. On the way to Trondheim, I got company from Rosalia from Italy and Daniel from Germany. Later on, I met Norman, also from Germany.

A grey weather awaited us out from Segard Hoel.

Last year, when I walked to Stamnan and Meslo Gård, I chose the path that went on the higher ground past Slipran. This time, I went for the lower path going next to the Orkla river. It was a nice walk, providing insights into the fishing opportunities in the river.

Medskogsvatnet, a small detour from the pilgrim path through Skaun leads you to this scenic spot.

When doing long distance trails, I often feel that one should not only pay heed to the places that one passes right next to, but make time to see what lies beyond them too. All within reasonable distances of course. Before I arrived at Voll, I went up to Skruen. A steep, but rewarding climb that provided me with some great views over the landscape hidden from my sight while walking down in the valley. Best of all was the view over the peaks of Trollheimen in the distance.

Lykkestien ('The Happiness Trail') at Øysand.

On the last night before I arrived in Trondheim, the northern lights had danced across the dark sky, like ethereal pilgrims high above.

A tunnel of vegetation at Gaula.

Trondheim was the same as last year. As was Nidarosdomen, the cathedral where you find the tomb of Olav den Hellige. Although, this time, I had got company when celebrating the end of my pilgrimage. Together with Rosalia, Daniel and Norman, I had a good dinner at a restaurant in Trondheim.

Pipes of the organ and the rose window in Nidarosdomen.

To me the hike through Trollheimen was spectacular due to the weather and was the highlight of this journey, although I was satisfied with the pleasant continuation and fulfilment of Valldalsleden. Nothing new, but in some ways, I just had some relaxing days out walking and maybe that was all I needed at this time.

Out celebrating in Trondheim, Norman, Daniel, me and Rosalia.

Jotunheimstien // day 13 // Veslfjellet

Jotunheimstien, day 13.
Distance: 10.5km (356.5km).

I had finished my through-hike of the Jotunheimstien trail, but I had still some time left before I would travel back home again.

That is correct, for eventually I had ended up deciding not to go through with my plan. I will come back later with a short review of the Jotunheimstien trail, but for now let us focus on what I most felt afterwards was that most of the trail had eventually felt the same. I had seen the same forest, hills and bogs over and over again.

The prospect of spending another 300km of seeing the same forest and bogs, after the initial highlight of Rondane, did not appeal to me given my lack of motivation from the start of my hike. Maybe I will return again to do the Rondanestien in some years, but for now I had no interest in doing it.

Killing time before homeward bound was done by climbing up to the summit of Veslfjellet. As most other walkers hiking over the Besseggen ridge are taking the boat to Memurubu and walking back to Gjendesheim I had thankfully escaped most of the throng doing the hike.

I had turned back just after the summit of Veslfjellet, with great views over Gjende surrounded by the jugged peaks of Jotunheimen, tempted to just continue down the edge of the Besseggen ridge.

Back at Gjendesheim, I sat down for a beer before I walked down to the campsite at Maurvangen where I had met the father and sons who also had stayed at the Oskampen cabin. One of the sons lived in Oslo, so I had been so fortunate to get a lift back home.

Cabin and boathouse at Gjendeosen.

Gjende.

Up towards Veslfjellet on the stony plateau at its top.

Looking down at Gjende with Gjendehøe and Knutshøe behind.

Steep outcrop at Veslfjellet, with views down towards Gjendeosen and Gjendesheim below.

As I had struggled to come up with a trail that I really wanted to do this year, my motivation had suffered. Last year was no problem, it was obvious that I wanted to experience the pilgrim path in Norway to Trondheim, but there were no real alternatives left that I really felt interesting for this year.

I had considered doing the Østerdalsleden to Trondheim, but found that doing another pilgrimage to Trondheim was not what I wanted the most. In the end, I had come up with the plan to do both Jotunheimstien and Rondanestien after considering several other options. Which included a plan to make my own trail so to speak.

I had not been properly motivated for it.

So then my verdict should be seen with that in mind. In itself, each day had been nice, but in the end, they begun to feel the same. That said, I did not have a bad time on the trail.

As the trail had finally moved up into the mountains, things had improved, but the damage had been done.

However, one thing that remains with me after the hike is all the old farmsteads, both still in use and apparently abandoned, which I found particularly fascinating. Some with views, some secluded deep in the woods, all with histories probably to be told. The toil of old.

Jotunheimen.

Looking down at Gjende from Veslfjellet with the peaks of Jotunheim all around it, Bukkehåmåren and Høgdebrotet to the left.

A solitary red t waymarker in front of Bessvatnet with Bessfjellet behind.

Looking back towards Jotunheimstien on the way down from Veslfjellet, Sikkilsdalshøa in the background.

Old farms at Gjendeosen.

It is written that the Jotunheimstien trail is following the footsteps of old Norwegian writers and artists, maybe this is best seen through these old farmsteads along the way.

<< Gjende // day 12