Day 6: Shap to Kirkby Stephen, 21 miles (Gordon’s Version)

Photos

As Lisa “accidentally” forgot to write about our 21 mile day to Kirkby Stephen (pronounced without the ‘k’), and instead accidentally wrote about the beautiful day up and over Nine Standards, I shall relate to you our supposed 21 mile hike from Shap. The day started off poorly to begin with as we missed our turnoff from the main road. This was of little problem as we only went about two block too far. We then ventured over fields, crossed the interstate like motorway, followed around an old rock quarry, passed a strange walled town that even more strangely doesn’t appear on ordnance maps, headed over grassy hills, passed Robin Hood’s Grave and then came the infamous fork in the road. We could have easily stayed on the main trail and arrived in Kirkby Stephen at a reasonable time and 21 miles was quite a long way to walk. But the power of gluttony on the taste buds got the better of us, as we detoured into the town of Orton for a stop at the chocolate factory. Mmmmm—dark cholcolate, nutty chocolate, milky chocolate, chocolate that tastes like Tiramisu—this place was a regular Willy Wonka Factory and did we ever enjoy it! After cleaning our chocolate rimmed mouths we headed out into a brief spell of rain where we were supposed to be looking for Knott Road, but unfortunately for us, the English country folk are so used to their back country roads that they’re only really signposted when they feel like it. So passed the road we went. And then there was another chance for a turn off to the right path. This time it even had coast-to-coast written on the sign, but somehow we talked ourselves into believing that this was for the coast-to-coast cycle route (which does exist) and we continued toiling on this road for miles and miles and miles. One would think road walking would be an easy, pleasurable experience as the trail is easy to find and follow. However as the pain increases on the soles of your feet with every step, you realize that those mountain passes weren’t all that bad compared to the incessent pounding of walking on tarmac and even worse concrete. So along we went, not so merrily, for miles and miles and miles. Eventually we ran into the right route more by accident than choice as our road ended at a major highway and there was no way we were going to walk on that thing. So we headed north for a bit and ran into the trail again at a gorgeous valley with a stunning river, the Smardale Bridge spanning its breadth. We rested here for a while and met two wonderful men. Peter was an older English gentleman walking the coast-to-coast in order to raise money for to build a school in Kenya. Steve was an American transplant living in England. He was walking the trail with his two collies, Stella and Bruno. We walked with them for awhile, enjoying watching the dog get so excited that they were in fields covered with sheep, only to be disappointed when Steve told them not to round the sheep up into neat little groups. We left them and headed on into Kirkby Stephen where we trudged along, all the way to the Manor House, on the entire other end of town. Our long 21 mile day had turned into a 25 miler, but I guess we wouldn’t have met Steve and Peter if we’d stayed on the proper trail. We dined at the pub, with Lisa sampling her basic, but most favorite food of the trip so far—beans on a jacket potato. I opted for the locally made cumberland sausages and mashed potatoes and we watched the World Cup before heading to bed for a much needed rest in the ancient, old Manor House.