Day 45: Friday the 13th

Distance: 17.9 miles
Soakers: too many to count
I've never been one to worry about Friday the 13th. Maybe it's because my dad was born on June 13, so we had plenty of Friday the 13th celebrations. Well, that has changed after today. To give you an idea, the main reason I'm writing this is because Al didn't think he could without a lot of profanity.
It started first thing this morning. We knew today would be long and potentially difficult, so we wanted to get an early start. Unfortunately, the Charles Bathurst Inn doesn't serve breakfast until 8:30am. We asked if we could get anything earlier when we checked in and the lady told us they could leave milk for cereal in the fridge near our room, as well as a couple of bacon baguettes. Not ideal, but better than nothing. We had to go 17 miles, including up and over a moor, so we needed to get going. We got up, started packing and I went to check the fridge. Nothing. We went downstairs. The cereals were out and no one was there. (no surprise really, since we knew from the lady the day before that on one comes in until 8am.) So much for our early start. We decided to get ready to leave and wait until someone got there to give us some milk for our cereal. While we waited, I wrote my first negative trip advisor review. Eventually, we got some milk, wolfed down some cereal and headed out with much emptier stomachs than we are used to.
It was a nice morning and it felt good to finally be under way. The first mile or so was along the river. Very pleasant. Then the path headed up across some farm fields. The path deteriorated rapidly and the land became very damp. We started picking our way across one field, heading to the gate indicated on the map, only to find the same boggy conditions in the next one. Soon, Al was in up over his ankle just like the other day. We were frustrated by the conditions, but still in good enough spirits to take a picture of the scene.




And the result.




We slogged through many fields before getting to the last farm before the path headed up over the moor. We asked the farmer and his wife if the trail over the moor was passable and they assured us it was. On the map, it's the only path up there. Our previous experiences led us to expect boggy conditions but an obvious, well traveled path on slightly drier ground. We were encouraged that we'd seen the last of the picking our way around to find dry, stable footing.
That feeling lasted for several hundred yards.
Our technical knowledge of the structure of the moor is nonexistent, but we were quickly learning the practical side. There is a coarse grass that grows in thick tufts that are the best thing to step on. The bright green low growing stuff is a certain soaker. Sometimes it looks like a soaked lawn and its pretty good for walking, until it's not.




The problem is that between the tufts there is often just water. It's really hard to tell when you just look out over it.




Still, the tufts were the only thing that saved us. When there wasn't any, we knew we were in trouble.




The real frustration began when we discovered that not only was there no trail, but we had also wandered off the imaginary trail and weren't heading where we needed to be. That was when we realized that we would have to use the map coordinates and compass to make our way across the moor. It was an exhausting process and the water could not be avoided. We both had soaking boots before long, even without stepping into one of these.




It was like this for about 3 miles! We weren't out of it until we stepped onto the road at Sleightholme Farm on the other side of the moor. We captured that moment in this picture.




Can you see the exhaustion mixed with relief mixed with the realization that we still had over 10 miles to go? It was a miracle we got out with only wet feet. And further miracle that the rest of the day was on roads and bike paths, so we could change into dry socks and shoes.
Friday the 13th had its last laugh after we walked the 3.5 miles to the village of Bowes, planning on finally eating. There are 2 pubs in Bowes and both were closed. We stopped a lady on the street and asked about a village shop. Maybe we could get some bread and cheese. Nope, village shop closed 2 years ago. We ended up sitting on someone's wall eating the pears and cookies from yesterday's lunch and some chocolate covered raisins we still had.
Luckily, the Friday the 13th effect seemed to peter out, finally, around then. The last 7 miles were on a quiet road, then a rails-to-trails path. And we ended up at the Rose and Crown in Romaldkirk, an absolutely wonderful inn with an awesome room and great food.
Next Friday the 13th, I'm just going to stay in bed and skip it!