Distance: 10 miles
Ascent: 1,900 feet
Time: 4 hours 20
Weather: Bright sunshine. Cold easterly wind on the moors. Mild in the valleys.
Conditions: Country lanes, moorland paths, a beach.
I woke up this morning to the usual routine. My alarm went 45 minutes before breakfast. I hit snooze. The alarm repeated at 36 minute before breakfast. I got up; had my daily Berocca (you but on a good day); did my bathroom stuff; put on my walking clothes; and made a start on packing my rucksack for the day's walking and my big yellow holdall. I would finish the job after breakfast. I put the maps for the day to one side ready to take down to breakfast. All this the last time.
[photos: Final Day Walkers. Top Gun Rob, Carol, Mr P]
The climb out of Grosmont is brutal. It's relentlessly steep uphill for two miles, bringing you to the aptly named Black Brow, the summit of Sleights Moor.
[photo: The long pull out of Grosmont]
It is we crossed Black Brow that the North Sea came into view for the first time today. The sea would come in and out of view several more times during the ups and downs of our walk, each time drawing nearer.
[photo: First sight of the sea. Whitby]
After walking along a plateau at Black Brow we descended on a line similar to the one we ascend out of Grosmont. We dropped off the moor and into the valley, moorland heather being replaced by green fields, to our first rest stop at the picturesque hamlet of Littlebeck. We counted no less than seven salt boxes in the hundred yards or so of lane through the hamlet.
[photo: Rest Stop at Littlebeck]
I tried hard all day to be faithful to my philosophy of living the experience rather than pushing for the destination. It was hard, the end of the journey was of course the objective for the day, but there were some nice moments.
One such moment was the Littlebeck rest stop. Heaven knows how many there have been, but there is a ritual to them. The agreeing on the spot for a rest; slipping off rucksacks; sitting down at the bench or rock or whatever; the slurping and munching of fuel; the checking of maps; and the breakout of any kind of chat. Rob and I are old hands now and this has become automatic, although Carol quickly caught on.
[photo: The hill out of Littlebeck]
The second major climb of the day, and the last of my coast to coast, was similarly steep to the one at the start of the day but mercifully not as long.
[photo: Lovely Eskdale]
The brow of the hill gave way to a flat upland section initially on road and then across the moor. This was perhaps the hardest part of the day, with the knowledge that the coast and Robin Hood's Bay would soon break into view marking the start of the final section.
[photo: Walking Man]
[photo: Dressing in Layers]
[photo: Brothers in Arms. The Final Rest Stop]
Finally it came. We dropped over the brow of our final hill and the destination filled the view, for good this time. The walk-in was longer than expected, giving me plenty of time to reflect and share a few words with my walking partners. Rob has been my most constant companion and has himself covered close to 100 miles on foot, and it was special to have Carol with me for this very last stage. She may have only recently joined the walk, but she has been very patient with me during the many months of preparation.
As I walked I replayed the highlights of the last two weeks to myself, and tried to get my head around what I'd achieved and what it meant, if anything.
[photo: First sight of Robin Hood's Bay]
As we came to the top of the village my pace quickened to a march and I surged ahead of the others. This was a wonderful feeling. A wanderer from afar. I felt apart from the crowd milling about the narrow streets and coming in and out of gift shops, but at the same time amongst them. Few if any noticed me pass by but I still felt different, and special.
[photo: Robin Hood's Bay]
Finally, as I turned the final corner and spied the sea ahead I strode out. Hitting the beach I ran (in my case, jogged) into the sea. I had done it.
[photo: Done It]
Rob joined me moments later and we shared congratulations as Carol snapped away. It was an emotional moment.
[photo: End of the Road]
[photo: Quiet Satisfaction]
[photo: The Second Pebble]
I took the three St Bees pebbles that had travelled across the country with me from my rucksack. I hurled the first into the sea. The second I gave to McKenzie. He opted to keep the stone rather than throw it away. That's good for me, as he doesn't yet grasp the symbolism of his pebble and maybe I'll get to tell him about it again some time in the future. I will keep the third pebble as a keepsake of my fantastic adventure.
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