September 30th - Catterick Bridge to Osmotherly
I don't do long distance walking.
However, having done the first half of the walk in 2012, I was expecting it to start hurting around day 3. I wasn't disappointed. At Catterick Bridge, we stayed in a pub B&B (which was, incidentally very pleasant). Here, I had to see to my feet. Twenty minutes with a needle and compede, and the work was done. My feet felt remarkably better after this. Evening meal, a beer, and bed.
It took about half an hour before my feet started hurting the following day, but luckily, it wasn't that bad that it slowed me down.
I like walking with my dad. We have the same pace really, although I tend to be quicker on the uphill, Dad is quicker towards the end of the day when I'm flagging. Still, we compliment each other well.
This section took us along a flat plain towards the Cleveland Hills which you can see for ages, and promises more interesting walking that is a little more up and down than the Mowbray valley.
We left Catterick Bridge, passing some humungous, yet filled in gravel pits, through Bolton in Swale (past the village pump - ornamental I presume), and the pretty church.
Then the Bolton Beck is followed until the road. Here, we then had 8 miles of road walking. Although pretty tedious, this proved to be pretty fast and makes you realise how slow it is walking across even good paths cross country.
On this section we got talking to a couple of old dears on their first day of walking, having split the walk into several sections. They should have been following a slightly different route to ours, but for some reason decided to follow us, overtaking us and forging ahead. It was only after a couple of miles that they realised their mistake and we had to point out where they should have turned off.
A salutary lesson in why not to blindly follow walkers in front of you in the assumption they're on the same route.
This had an up side however, as they promised to buy us a pint at Danby Wiske before again forging ahead, enthusiasm before map-reading. Never make that offer lightly, We gladly took them up on it in spite of Dad's reticence.
After Danby Wiske, we passed the old railway station and crossed it, and proceeded to Oak Tree Hill. Eventually we left the road at Deighton lane, and plodded on past rectangular fields where we stopped on the side of a corn field. Dad had another snooze while I just rested my feet, and from here you could virtually smell the Cleveland Hills. Shortly after this, we crossed the busy A19 - bloody dangerous road, we waited for some time to cross, then Ingleby Arncliffe and Ingleby Cross.
Ingleby Cross is a lovely little place, only spoilt by it's proximity to the A19, but we weren't staying here, so we passed the Blue Bell Inn and ascended the hill past some enormous houses to gain the Cleveland Way, and further towards the North York Moors.
Pleasant walking up through the forest on really good paths was easy, and a short detour off the path soon brought us to Osmotherly Youth Hostel, in a converted mill. It was a Monday and there was only one other guest in this expansive place. We had to call the warden, who happily came down to let us in.
After a make do tea in the self catering kitchen, we retired to bed to rest the feet. Well earned.
Bit of reading, then sleep.
However, having done the first half of the walk in 2012, I was expecting it to start hurting around day 3. I wasn't disappointed. At Catterick Bridge, we stayed in a pub B&B (which was, incidentally very pleasant). Here, I had to see to my feet. Twenty minutes with a needle and compede, and the work was done. My feet felt remarkably better after this. Evening meal, a beer, and bed.
It took about half an hour before my feet started hurting the following day, but luckily, it wasn't that bad that it slowed me down.
I like walking with my dad. We have the same pace really, although I tend to be quicker on the uphill, Dad is quicker towards the end of the day when I'm flagging. Still, we compliment each other well.
This section took us along a flat plain towards the Cleveland Hills which you can see for ages, and promises more interesting walking that is a little more up and down than the Mowbray valley.
We left Catterick Bridge, passing some humungous, yet filled in gravel pits, through Bolton in Swale (past the village pump - ornamental I presume), and the pretty church.
Then the Bolton Beck is followed until the road. Here, we then had 8 miles of road walking. Although pretty tedious, this proved to be pretty fast and makes you realise how slow it is walking across even good paths cross country.
On this section we got talking to a couple of old dears on their first day of walking, having split the walk into several sections. They should have been following a slightly different route to ours, but for some reason decided to follow us, overtaking us and forging ahead. It was only after a couple of miles that they realised their mistake and we had to point out where they should have turned off.
A salutary lesson in why not to blindly follow walkers in front of you in the assumption they're on the same route.
This had an up side however, as they promised to buy us a pint at Danby Wiske before again forging ahead, enthusiasm before map-reading. Never make that offer lightly, We gladly took them up on it in spite of Dad's reticence.
After Danby Wiske, we passed the old railway station and crossed it, and proceeded to Oak Tree Hill. Eventually we left the road at Deighton lane, and plodded on past rectangular fields where we stopped on the side of a corn field. Dad had another snooze while I just rested my feet, and from here you could virtually smell the Cleveland Hills. Shortly after this, we crossed the busy A19 - bloody dangerous road, we waited for some time to cross, then Ingleby Arncliffe and Ingleby Cross.
Ingleby Cross is a lovely little place, only spoilt by it's proximity to the A19, but we weren't staying here, so we passed the Blue Bell Inn and ascended the hill past some enormous houses to gain the Cleveland Way, and further towards the North York Moors.
Pleasant walking up through the forest on really good paths was easy, and a short detour off the path soon brought us to Osmotherly Youth Hostel, in a converted mill. It was a Monday and there was only one other guest in this expansive place. We had to call the warden, who happily came down to let us in.
After a make do tea in the self catering kitchen, we retired to bed to rest the feet. Well earned.
Bit of reading, then sleep.
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