St Bees to Robin Hood's Bay

13 days, 192 miles, seven B&Bs, umpteen litres of fluid by day, the same measure of beer by night, more cooked breakfasts than we would normally eat in a month, nutty bars by the handful, suntan lotion, aching feet, but happy minds and memories.

The start.....

.......the finish.

More to follow.

Grosmont to RHB

Day 13 of our non-stop, no rest days, trek from Coast to Coast. Today was a 15-16miler that would take us over Sleights Moor into Littlebeck, out onto Sneaton Low Moor, onto the 1001 paths of the Graystone Hills, into Low and High Hawsker, before delivering us to the cliff tops for the saunter into RHB.
We arrived in Grosmont just as the 9.30 train was leaving, visited the toilets (by the girls as usual) before we started the climb up out of the village on to the moor tops. On the tops we met up with the GwP and so, as it was their last day and ours, we slowed our pace and walked the next couple of miles swapping histories. Then we pressed on to leave them to their own thoughts (or iPod sound tracks).
Passing through Littlebeck, that had nothing to offer other than a man cutting his lawn, we pressed on to

Falling Foss that promised tea-rooms. Before then though we had to pass through Little Beck Woods and the Hermitage which gave us our longest concern over whether we were on the right path or not (we were, it was a problem of scale). Falling Foss appeared and went but we gave the tea-rooms a miss as they were populated by children and mad-dogs (or was it the other way round?). Our morning biscuit stop was thus held in the wood after crossing one of the many bridges. Here we had our first conversation with a passing couple who had 'always wanted to do the C2C but had never got around to it).
Lunch was taken sat on the side of the path on the Greystone Hills - not much to say really other than Narg refused to eat the ham sandwiches and we ate the last of the cake (now nearly two weeks old, yummie).
Bottoms Lane was met and conquered (without the aid of paper) and we pressed on to the coast.

Funny, with three miles now to go we all had little aches and pains beginning to manifest themselves. Previously we would have shrugged them off but now, with the end in sight, there was no need to 'cover them up'.

As with all days the last three miles seemed to stretch out to act as twists in the tail. Today was no exception and our pace, rather than increasing to the end seemed to slow. However, as with all things they come to an end and we eventually found ourselves walking down the hill to the bay.

It's amazing what you see on a walk - The Girls with Pearls.

Blakey Ridge to Gro(s)mont - silent s.

This, according to accounts, was to be a 13-14 mile walk, and was to be considerably shorter than the 20 miler we had originally planned. It turned out to be our easiest day by far: we were fitter and more conditioned and the route was almost flat (or nearly so). Thus we were clocking off the miles at a little under three an hour. So, by half three the job was completed and we were sat in the tea gardens at Gro(s)mont eating ice-cream and cakes and drinking tea and coffee.

Which one is Fat Betty?

The walk started on the tops (passing Bell End Farm on the way) walking the side of the road for two miles until we paid our respects to Fat Betty - who obviously fancied Neil. We passed into Great Fryup Lane (wonder how that name came about?) and then Great Fryup Dale where we started to pass our day sighting Red Grouse (do they know the 12th is not far away?). We passed the Girls in Pearls, and then a bunch of soldiers playing army with a Gnat overhead flying dummy runs.
We also discovered who was responsible for the M&Ms we had found placed at strategic points on route - they were markers placed by the American 'Tankers' (a dad celebrating his 60th birthday, his two sons) for the GwP.
We breezed through Glaisdale and Arncliffe Wood (and the bench placed to the memory of two dogs)toying with the River Esk.We then, as instructed, turned down the driveway for Egton Estate and passed their sewage works (they must all be vegetarians) and the old toll house (diversification of income) before we entered Grosmont  and the tea-house. Fat Betty's relatives were here having taken the train to Whitby to find it stopped short at Grosmont! Now they were waiting for a lift to arrive to take them the rest of the journey. Question: should we have told her she had toilet paper hanging out the back of her trousers - pretty immaterial really because we didn't.

Lunch on a very nice seated. Probably rated about forth on the list of best places to eat lunch.

Even the dead have to pay!