Ennerdale Bridge to Borrowdale, 15.5 miles.
The Hotel dining room was full of walkers the next morning. They were pretty easy to spot in their fleeces and in particular the maps covering the tables, which annoyed the serving staff.
‘Full English sir’
‘Oh, yes please, Full English’ I replied.
I was determined to complete the walk and was reasonably sure I could make the distance but I wasn’t sure I could manage 13 consecutive fry-ups on the trot, still this was the second serving – my plate of fried stuff arrived with a smile and the cheerful proprietor started discussing the weather with us.
Our appearance obviously gave him little cause for encouragement as he informed us that on the whole we should be lucky - a sunny day beckoned but if the weather turned for the worst then we would get wet and probably lost. I let him talk to Pete while I studied my Wainwright guide.
Although Wainwright wrote about crossing from East to West many walkers now start in the West and ‘save the best to last’. In this they mean the Lake District and who can blame them. In his book AW agrees but argues that by walking from East to West the weather should always be behind the walker and goes on to hint at the more subtle pleasures the Moors and Dales can offer the walker.
From the dining room window the day seemed pretty grey and the temptation to stay at Ennerdale bridge, supping beer, staying warm by the fire and swapping walking stories with anyone who would listen was great. But, we had a schedule to keep.
"course, you look pretty fit so you should be alright" the proprietor added. He hadn’t looked at me when he said that.
It seemed hard getting going again after yesterday’s treck and we plodded up the road out of Ennerdale heading for the lake of the same name. Ennerdale is just about the most secluded lake in the district passable by a rough road on one side and by a winding footpath on the other. We hugged the shoreline avoiding the high path by Anglers Crag and scrambling through the rough terrain to get round Robins Hood's Chair.
A large party of serious looking walkers was catching us up, there were ten of them and they confirmed they were C2C’ers. They were aged between 30 and 70. Sadly they seemed to be going at the pace of the youngest who looked like SAS material and the eldest, whilst very fit, gave us a look which said "can’t these young idiots slow down". We smiled at him and watched them disappear quickly into the distance.
"Silly people" said Pete, "why do they have to rush"
He was right, why rush ?
Ennerdale was beautiful that morning, the sun was now high and the mountains were in view. Pillar and the High Stile range were a dramatic back drop to the lake with the forests nestling in between.
We came to the head of the lake and started up the forest road that went up to the head of the valley. Twenty minutes later we startled the serious walkers as we rounded a corner. They were having a coffee break. The young ones jumped up and put on rucksacks at first sight of us, the old guy looked very comfortable lying on the grass with his thermos admiring the view and wasn’t best pleased that his break was being curtailed. We passed them but soon they were overtaking us again, Pete and I exchanged glances. I smiled at the SAS man,
"morning, lovely day for a march"
He was too serious to reply but managed a gritty "aye" and sailed past.
And so the morning progressed as we made our way up the long forest roads of Ennerdale. We would overtake the group, stop for a break and then they would soon overtake us. SAS man always looked pleased to be going past.
It was midday and the valley was very hot. Rounding Pillar mountain seemed to have taken all morning but Great Gable standing tall at the valley head was now drawing close. Finally the trees ran out and we were on open fellside. Tracking above Black Sail Hut we felt our way across to Loft Beck and started the stiff climb up to the top of the Honnister Pass.
A group of path restorers were at work half way up the beck, we exchanged pleasantries but they seemed keen to keep working so we turned and left them to it. They’d probably not get a bit of work done if they allowed themselves to be bothered by walkers every few minutes. A few moments later it started to rain. Blast, up to this point it had been a glorious day. Gloomily we took off our packs and put on waterproofs and, as is so often the case, just as I put my on jacket the rain stopped.
There are two notable sections of the Coast to Coast where it’s positively easy to get lost, areas where even confident walkers, who like to think they’re a bit handy with a map and compass, come unstuck. The area at the top of Loft Beck is one. In clear weather it can be tricky, in mist it's just plain easy to go wrong unless you're confident. The ridge above is criss-crossed by paths, the objective initially uncertain and the walking further than the map or guide books seem to allude to. We had clear weather and I had trudged this way during other fellwalking visits so gradually we felt our way across the top, found the Moses Trod path and started working our way down to Drum House.
The views in retrospect were rather fine, Ennerdale water which we’d passed just after breakfast was glistening in the valley below and beyond that we could just make out the coast line from the day before. The view disappeared as we tracked along. Drum House a former quarry winching to the quarry at the top of the pass and started working our way down to the road. Suddenly we were temporarily back in civilisation, walkers nodding hello, an ice cream van humming, cars shunting. The quarry was closed although it has re-opened since of course. We found the old road and sauntered down to Borrowdale. The views from this little trod were surprisingly good, Great End the northern buttress of the Scaffel range in view. The sun was out, life was good.
We were staying with Mrs Jackson in Stonethwaite (a great B&B I've used many times in the years since) and she welcomed us with surprise. It was 3pm and she hadn't expected us so soon. We blamed SAS man but, in truth, we hadn't hung about.
The Langstrath Inn just a few yards away was still a traditional pub in Sept 2000 and not the rather more exclusive and expensive stop it has since become. We grabbed a corner, had something and chips and chatted to a fellow C2C'er who was carring everything on his back (We were using Sherpa baggage transfer). He teased us that we weren't doing a proper job but we weren't envious.
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