The Waingwright Coast to Coast Hike Changed my Life.
By: Randy Grebel
Tags: Yorkshire, Hiking, Lake District, Wainwright, Thru Hiking

First Day of the Hike

“The Wainwright Coast to Coast hike,” my wife asked me with a question/statement. “I think that was the hike Susan and Jack did a few years ago.” She was looking online for a top hike in England for us experience. My wife and I had been talking about coupling a hiking activity in England with a visit to London we were planning the summer of 2018. We were in London in 2015 and we had discussed adding a hike or a walk to our schedule; however after our review, we could not come up with a hike that could fit our tight itinerary. So in 2018, through a web search of top hikes in England, we came upon several possibilities with the Wainwright Coast to Coast hike always at the top of the search lists. Plus, the sound of walking “coast to coast” sounded pretty cool.

The literature for the hike proclaims the Wainwright Coast to Coast (usually abbreviated as C2C) is a hike first walked and mapped by one Alfred Wainwright. He had walked and hiked this area of northern England for many years. He had written guide books for hikes in the Lake District, Pennine Way and other local walks. Finally, in 1973 he came out with a guide book for the C2C. I learned that Wainwright was an irascible sort and a bit of a loner that took to wondering the countryside of Northern England in an effort to clean his mind of civilization and for the pure poetry of walking in nature. This was pre-WWII England and Europe was a rattled by Hitler and the constant specter of war. After many years of trekking through North England, he joined several of his favorite hikes and create one long hike from St Bees on the Irish Sea to Robin Hoods Bay on the North Sea. The accomplishment of walking from the west coast of England to the east coast had the sort of finality and closure of adventure that was worth his time. Thus, Wainwright walked and roughly mapped a 12 day hiking trail, or really a suggested route with many options, that allowed rest and sustenance each night in some small village or town along the way.

Through some quick research, I read several descriptions and details of the hike online and I learned it is an approximately 192 miles that would require 10–16 days of hiking, depending on one’s fitness. I explored the websites of several tour companies and read where you could do the complete hike, but they also offered packages that only did half of the hike. I thought that half the hike of 5–8 days was a substantial commitment, and along with travel to and from England, half of the hike could eat up a two week vacation. I mentioned this position to my wife and she was “OK” with a truncated C2C. That discussion was on a Friday night. Saturday morning at breakfast she looked up from her coffee and with a bit of caffeine and confidence she said, “If we’re going all the way over there, we’re walking the complete hike.” That under current of sediment hit us clear when the words came out of her mouth. We both knew that was our clear goal. They don’t sell “I walked half the Coast to Coast” tee shirts and for good reason.

My wife and I are in excellent shape for our 60’s and exercise 5–7 days a week. We have taken afternoon walks and hikes and many times have done 2–3 day backpacking trips in our youth, but we never have done any extensive distance hiking. The 192 miles listed in the literature gave me some pause for what we have committed to. Through Trip Advisor reviews and communication with people from YouTube that posted videos of their C2C, we decided that a 14 day hike with 2 rest days would be the slice of adventure we could accomplish. With that goal, we started a walking workout regimen and hit the road for hikes 3 to 5 days a week. By golly, we’ll get these feet and legs in walking shape in no time. We even got in the suggested 10 mile walk once a week that was recommended to get a taste of the pounding your feet will take in hiking boots 5–7 hours straight. We walked 12 miles one day, and on finishing this hike we both acknowledged that it was quite hard, but nothing we can’t do when called upon. The slight discomforting thought I had was that 12 miles would be a short hike day on the C2C, and we would be required to get up the next day and hike that far and more, with some days being over 20 miles. We did not dwell on that fact very long before padding gingerly in our stocking feet to the fridge for a beer.

We soon hooked up to one of the several tour companies that would book our room in BnB’s each night and haul a 40 pound bag from door to door each day. All we had to do was get our butts to St Bees, UK on the day before we start, and then hit the trail the next morning with the simple task of following our maps, the very rare sign post (more on this later), and if need be, our compass. The compass was something I had not used in over 40 years. We polished up our orienteering skills with an English gentleman on YouTube called Sargent Beefcake. Odd name, excellent lessons.

Our entry airport to the UK was through Heathrow because post hike we were planning art related tourism in London, so a round trip ticket made economic made sense. My wife is an artist and London is a world class art city. Heads up: it’s a 12 hour travel day when landing in Heathrow using the tube and local trains to transverse to a small rural town on the Northern England coast. I’m not saying the last train had a lot of stops, but I believe were delivering mail and milk the whole way.

Once in St Bees we checked in and headed to a local pub to get a quick dinner. I decided to go native with my dinner choice and ordered a plate full of the local sausage and cask ale. Appropriately, the sausages barely fit on my plate and left my potatoes fighting for space. I could not remember the last time I ate so much meat in one sitting in my life. My wife went with her traditional lighter fair and chose a salad. My “heck ya, I’m eating local” spirit continued the next morning when I ordered the full English breakfast. This is a multi- gastronomic adventure of eggs, several meats, mushrooms, baked beans, tomatoes, toast, and jam. I highly suggest never eating a full English breakfast if you are going to have any sort of diagnostic blood test within 30 days following your meal. After my massive sausage dinner and fat/carbohydrate/fat filled breakfast, I thought my over indulgence of local fair was fun but short lived. I proclaimed I was going to eat fuel filled meals from now on and get back to a smart diet of low fat, nutritious food. Packing to leave on our first morning I thought to myself, I’ll burn this heavy caloric and carb load off the next day or two.

We started our hike the next morning under typically partly cloudy English coastal weather, and took the wrong turn out of the BnB. Here’s the sign post part I mentioned earlier. The Wainwright is not an official “National Trail” such as other iconic hikes as Cotswold Way, Cleveland Way or Hadrian’s Wall Path. As result, there are no “official” sign posts pointing the way on the trek. There are occasional home made signs people or groups have put up, but we learn that some of those signs get taken down by locals. The saving grace is the extensive map the tour company provides and a wonderful book by Henry Stedman ,”Coast to Coast Path”. Stedman’s book details the hike down to how many steps past a barn to make a right turn on to a sheep path. Seriously. I kept this book hidden in my pocket the first day as not to appear as too much of a hiking neophyte. I soon learned the clutch this book in my hand as a cherished beacon and keep it at ready for quick trail turn reference. Many parts of the hike are through private lands and farms and the owners don’t want signage. Thank you Sargent Beefcake.

Being from California, and having hiked in the Sierra’s, I thought England would have some hills, but the elevation climbs would be relatively easy. The guide book showed some days of a few thousand feet, but I’ve hiked through 12,000 foot passes and I figured the Wainwright would be more about flat hiking endurance than anything. Okay, I could babble on about not being prepared mentally for what was about to come, but the next 16 days changed my life.

It didn’t take long to see that while the hills weren’t big, there were lots of them, very steep, and many were hour long walks uphill. I soon burned though all my ingested fats, carbohydrates. From that day on, the daily activity of eating became a cherished ritual. On the second day, we hit the mountains or “Fells”, in northern England lexicon, of the Lake District, and made many steep, scary climbs out of valleys followed with long arduous descents. I was soaked in perspiration all day and each night when we finished our hike it was a mad dash for nutrition and the palliative comfort of a cask ale. Each day I counted the minutes until we could eat lunch. And even with this increase in calorie ingestion, I noticed on the 7th day of the hike my pants were loose around my waist as I had reached my max belt tightness. All rules were now off for cheat meals. For the first time in my life I had demanding craving for protein and carbs. Crisps (potato chips) lost their negative image of an over salty, oily, fatty food bomb and became wonderful little slices of energy and joy. Just the plastic ripping sound of opening the bag brought Pavlovian pleasure.

One of many great views after a tough climb

We were soon chaining long hikes back to back each day. The long difficult climbs were rewarded with views of green sweep valleys with specks of villages at the bottom, and pristine mountain lakes that struck us with awe. Several times my wife and I acknowledged to each other that we never thought we’d see such vistas. It was truly a privilege we felt to see the sights and experience the adventure we were in the midst of. Our first day of hiking was 16 miles. (Supposed to be only 14 miles but we got slightly lost) We sat at dinner the first night and looked at each other over our cask ales just said, “WOW, and that was only day one.” While the thought of the 14 hiking says to come were daunting, we took pride in biting off the longest walk we ever took in our life and lived to toast to my wife’s birthday, which, ironically, was that very day. Happy birthday dear, now let’s go to bed and sleep.

Many buildings in North England are built up and not out. Not sure why, but maybe to save room for the sheep. Hence, many of our rooms in village hotels of BnB’s were two to three stairs levels up. After all day on the track, it was a challenge walking up the narrow stairs balancing the back pack and, well, me. The walk down in the morning is best described as measured and ginger. I’m guessing there was no step width code in 19th century England, or it was a country of very small feet. Nonetheless, we ambled down each morning for our breakfast and studied the map over coffee, toast, the wonderful English jam and other required nutrients. This was a nice morning resit to plan out hike with quick photo reminiscences review of the previous day. I usually skipped the detail on climb elevation in the maps in that not knowing the difficulty of the day kept the anxiety low. This worked fine until one morning in Patterdale we sat next to an English couple, Barry and Carrie, at breakfast and we ended up sharing we were on the C2C as were they. Barry asked what our destination was to be that day and we said Shap. “Oh”, Barry said “This is your hard day. We’re stopping at Orton and we’ll go through there tomorrow.” OK, I was not sure what that meant as we have experienced some very difficult days already. Oh well, loaded down with toast, eggs and meat, we set off for Shap.

The walk to Shap was to be our longest day on the hike so far, 16 miles, but we’ve been out 4 days and have settled in a bit with our boots and for the most part lost concern of hike ending aches and blisters. We saw Barry and Carrie on and off this day during the sojourn Shap. Just a brief hello on the track as either they were resting or we were snacking. We did meet up several days later and walked 4 days on and off and got to know each other a bit more. Yes, the walk to Shap was crazy hard. Steep climbs, hard stony paths, long declines, hot uncovered sun in farm fields, and some of the most beautiful landscape I’ve ever hiked in. High passes with postcard like valley views; small farms with 300 year old stone houses; endless stone fences that ran up the side of hills and seemed to disappear in the clouds; ancient ruins of a Celtic village, and an Abbey ruins from Henry VIII’s purge of chasing the Catholic church off the island. This was the bucolic, majestic and ancient Northern England I read about, but holy crap this was long hard day hiking

During on our hike to Shap We hooked up with another English couple, Tim and Sharon, along with an intrepid woman from New Zealand, Marion. Marion was hiking by herself but was a very experienced hiker and veteran of English hikes. We walked the last 6 or so miles as a group into Shap and thankful we did. The hike literature noted there was an Abbey ruin, Shap Abbey, as you got close to town that only required a short detour. We were all dead and thought nothing is worth more miles on our feet, but because of Marian’s insistence, we did take the short walk to the Abbey. It was so worth it to see the empty shell of a majestic Church and the weather walls and engravings of the 450 year abandoned buildings and grounds. It was part sacred, part mystical, but clearly history writ large right in front of us.

The hike to Shap was a 10.5 hour hiking day. I coined a term I shared with our English friend. I said “We were in bad Shap after Shap.” Worse yet, when we arrived at Shap, our expected prepared dinner was not available as our host did not hear back from me the night before when she returned my required email confirming we will need dinner. She said she not only needed to know that we wanted dinner, but what our selection was. Whaaaaat? We had been at a place the night before run by Quakers, and they shut the WI-fi off at night. So after I sent my email confirming we want a dinner, I never received the return email asking our choice. We were not happy but powerless to change the situation. I walked slowly back to my room before my “hangry” crazed head would explode and my ugly American would pop out. OK, so off to the “chippy” shop that closes in 15 minutes for a French fries (chips) and meat pie dinner we could take back to our room. On the way back, we stopped at a small store to get a few cold brewskis to help wash down the carbs and pies. I needed a cold beer, and I need a cold beer fast. I love the basement cool cast ales at pubs, but when I went to the small food market on the way back to the hotel, and saw the cooler full of cans and bottles, I thought, OK, here’s my cold beer. I can still feel the sense of bitter disappointment when I opened the glass door and was greeted not with the anticipated rush of cold air but what felt like a fall day with the window open. No, not here! Not now!You mean they even keep the beer just cool not cold in stores?!? My first cultural conflict issue I encountered on the trip and over the temperature of a liquid. That’s how high the elevated status of food and drink is on this hike.

The hike starts in the Lake District and is so titled because there are lots of lakes. There are lakes in the valleys where we stayed at night, and others tuck away high in the hills and were wonderful visual rewards for long climbs. Many of the climbs were long and at time scary steep. The declines were the same. I can offer this preparation technique I thought about in one of the many declines. One could train for the long declines and walking down hill by lacing up your hiking boots and go out and kick the curb hard for about two hours. No, seriously.

A mountain “tarn” in the Lake District

One thing you read about hiking in England during the summer is the likelihood that you’ll need to deal with rain. On the third day of the hike I made the ill-fated joke, “Gee, I’m carrying all this rain gear in my pack, and I’m not sure I’ll need it.” The words were no sooner out of my mouth when I knew that these utterance would rile up the rain gods. The rain gods took some time, but they eventually awoke. We left the town of Kirby Stevens on the 8th day and my comment of not utilizing rain gear was a regretful lament. It rained hard, the wind blew and we got lost. We were walking aimless through grassy hills, trying to keep our map dry (unsuccessful), trying to keep our glasses dry, and all the while trying to pretend we were heading the right direction. In the midst of our desolation in the hills, surprisingly we eventually saw a parked car in the distance and perceived that there were people moving near the vehicle. We made haste to reach the car before they left. We reached the car we found three men putting on rain gear for a pleasure hike in the wind and rain. We asked for directions to Keld and they suggested us two routes. We could climb back over the hills and find the trail, or just walk along the road which would lead to the village. We elected to go off track and take the road. While not wanting to totally give up the adventure of the hills, we chose the road. We consulted our compass since we had a specific location as a reference point, and off we trekked. After about an hour, the rain subsided and we had a pleasurable country road walk with occasional sunlight, green valley hills, and stone homes and fences all leading us to Keld. I’m still struck that these three people at the car were electing to take a walk in such inclement weather. Hiking is a special passion in England.

Free advertising here. While we stayed at some beautiful and lovely BnB’s along the way, several owned and ran by enterprising couples using the C2C route as an opportunity to create some tourist income, the Frith Lodge (Frithlodgekeld.co.uk) in Keld stood out. At the Firth, high on a hill overlooking the valley, we were hosted at converted 1800’s large stone farm house that had been completed lined with two foot thick finished walls, and wonderfully appointed with the comfortable furniture and lovely bedrooms. They also had a two tap bar serving cask ales and we were served the best and most tasteful food we had eaten. An experience that will never been forgotten. The Frith Lodge is worth the trip by itself.

After a fantastic breakfast at the Frith Lodge, we left Keld in the rain and wind. We were beat up by the weather and and at times confused during the whole day. We did get slightly lost twice, and we forced down a quick bag lunch hunched down behind a stone fence to get oh so slightly out of the driving wind and rain. We kept reminding ourselves we not only chose to do this hike, we paid to do this hike. Our most challenging hiking day by far, but we were rewarded with another lovely country BnB, The Manse in Reeth. We were met with fresh baked bread hot coffee and welcoming hands to take our wet clothes and boots. After a warm shower we struggled to get off our couch for dinner at the King’s Arms, but like our trudge through the rain that day, we arose from the sofa and endeavored on.

We now entered to the Yorkshire Dales. These are high plateaus with picturesque valleys filled with streams, stone fences and everywhere you looked were sheep. Though less long climbs, still short climbs to get on top of the Moorlands are like quick HIIT workouts. The days continue through mostly beautiful landscapes and the occasional small village. We were now in the last section on the hike and some of the days were flat farm fields. As the days went on were were rewarded with beautiful walks along ambling rivers, treks through small forests, but also some long, flat boring sections. One particularly extended and challenging walk was in a long flat valley on a trail of an old abandoned rail line that served lead and iron mining industry in Swaledale. While all mining has been gone since the 19th century, lead mining in this area dates back to the Roman days on the island where the Romans would send ingots of lead back to Rome to seal aqueducts and roofs. The old rail path of dark crushed stones never seemed to end, and I personally had to suck it up and say internal mantras keep my feet moving. I should not complain, one of the British hikers we meet and walked with the last few days said he walked that valley earlier that day in rain and lighting crashing down. He wondered what sort of target he was carrying his metal trekking poles in his backpack.

A quick picture after another climb

We did have two rest days in our 16 day hike. We stopped for a rest day in a lovely village in the Lake District, Grasmere, and the large town in the Yorkshire Dales, Richmond. Both towns bear the history of England’s many foreign conquests. The name Grasmere is of Norse origin and there is a large Norman castle in downtown Richmond. And supposedly the name Richmond comes from the French words meaning rich hill or mound. Well, that’s what I read in some local literature anyway. In Richmond I bought some hiking shoes that are very cool and a brand only sold in England. Grasmere was the location of the vacation home for William Wordsworth, and he is buried near downtown. It also had the first microbrewery I had seen in England that had a very tasty IPA. Grasmere is a great putz around town, and our BnB hotel was run by Quakers. There was a bottomless bucket of free pastries in the lobby. Richard Nixon was a Quaker. I’m just sayin’…

The last few days the vistas weren’t as dramatic as earlier in the hike, yet the less hilly section with small villages was enjoyable but not as physically challenging. The risk of getting lost also diminished as the trail became more clear, though we did have to use our compass one day to find the exit point out of a large pasture that was populated with several cows that wanted to be too close. Too, we had the pleasure of hiking with an English couple, Barrie and Carrie, which made the days go faster and the dinner conversation more interesting.

The very last day is interesting. It is a nice testing 15 miler that starts in a small quaint village of Grosmont. You turn out of town and walk up a very steep hill of Sleights Moor for over one mile in an area called Eskdaleside Cum Ugglebarnby, which is how you may end up saying your name if you didn’t have enough breakfast. The day was warm so the sweat wicking clothes earned the investment. Several more smaller hills, past another crumbling Abby, and then a long walk on low moors and fields. Finally, we walked to the end of one field and came upon a precipice that revealed the illusive North Sea below. I read where the cliffs above the North Sea cold be quite blustery, but we were blessed with a calm, warm sunny day. After a few minutes walking, we came around the corner with a view of Robin hood’s Bay in the distance. We were almost there, right? No, the fact is we had another 45 minutes of cliff walking until we arrived. According to our English hiking companions, Robin Hood’s Bay is so named as it was a smuggling entry point to the island because of its remote location and the several sea caves warn in the cliffs were perfect for contraband storage before illicit distribution. As you can imagine, tax avoidance in many parts of Europe have a long history. When we did reach our BnB in Robin Hood’s Bay, we checked in and our bags were soon delivered from the tour company along with our honestly deserved “I Hiked the Wainwright Coast to Coast” tee shirts. Adorned with our gay appeal, Paula and I, along with our new English friends, departed for the final cask ale at, of all places, Wainwright’s Bar situated in the harbor right on the sea. We soon toasted our success and then Paula and I performed a duty I had thought about for two weeks, especially when I was climbing some rock strewn hill or wiping the driving rain from my eyes. We tossed our St Bees stones into the North Sea. Finished, now onto the Mariondale chippy for our first fish and chips meal and another round.

Finally, Robin Hood’s Bay

I read a quote by Alfred Wainwright where we said, “When you finish the Pennine Way you feel relief. When you finish the Coast to Coast, you feel regret.” This was so true. Yes there were anxious moments of being lost in the rain and fog in the hills, and the damp rain walking was not easy, but the pleasures and adventure far out weighted the challenges. Again, the best thing I every did.

Overall, I have told many people that the Wainwright Coast to Coast hike was the hardest, scariest, and most satisfying adventure I had every experienced. Yes, all that and more. The daily presence of history; the classic villages and towns; the majestic and sweeping beauty, and the many people we met were things I never expected to experience. Several English people we walked with opined we were seeing parts of the England most English will never see. Plus, just the deep feeling of accomplishment each day when we sat down for a well deserved cast ale and dinner. I would look at my wife and knew that this was something special we were sharing and made me feel so complete. Too, sharing this experience with my wife, Paula, was also a dynamic that, in many ways, reminded me why I love her so much. We trekked and traveled through difficult and beautiful days and we were truly co-dependent partners. It was such a pleasure to be with her each day and enjoy the adventure as it unfolded. Paula was the best with the maps and got us back on track and “unlost” during several key longer hikes. The shear breathe of adventure that comprises the C2C is something to share with a partner.

Take a chance on an adventure. I’m not sure of your age, but I’d do it at any age. Being in our 60’s,, we can see the day we can’t psychically do such endeavors so our urgency is more current. Have fun, but be sure to buy good quality hiking boots. These will be your best friend, but real close is an end-of-the-day cask ale.