The first train out of Barrow-in-Furness rattles along in the dark. Despite desperately trying not to nod off, I wake up just in time to see a blurry sign for Millom, grab my gear — hopefully all of it — and step down to an empty platform.
My headtorch beam illuminates the path round the coastal lagoon in Hodbarrow Nature Reserve, leading to Haverigg Lighthouse, as dawn fails to break through the gloom.
The sand and shingle beach, stretching ahead for miles, is deserted.
Cartman and Kenny have seen better days.
Black Combe fell, just 30 feet short of mountain status, broods under the dark cloud. It’s dominated the horizon since Barrow-in-Furness.
Leaving the beach, a long road passes the MOD Eskmeals Firing Range — all is quiet.
A murder of crows rises and falls.
A sign recommends catching the train from Bootle to Ravenglass, as there’s no safe river crossing on the England Coast Path. That’s clearly not an option, so I press on.
The ford on the OS map is somewhat non-fordable, without flippers and a wetsuit. Worse, there’s no access to the road heading inland due to floodwater under the railway bridge, which means backtracking and taking the paths shown through fields and marshes to Waberthwaite Hall. Perhaps I should give warning signs more respect, but where’s the adventure in that?
The paths are a nightmare — waterlogged and muddy — passing through fields of cows with calves, separated by gates too narrow to squeeze through without removing my backpack. I need to catch the last steam train on the small gauge Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway at 3:10 pm, or else it’s a long haul on foot to Eskdale.
The second ford at Waberthwaite Hall remains hidden, so onwards to Muncaster Bridge.
All this heavy trudging makes for slow progress, so it’s nice to be rewarded with a pretty bridge. There’s no way I can make it to Ravenglass for the last train if I follow the footpath next to the River Esk. The A595 is more direct, but it’s suicidily busy, winding up a steep hill, with no verges on either side. My only hope is to cut over Muncaster Fell and try to catch the train in the next valley at Muncaster Mill station.
I’m forced to walk further east, ignoring the Private Golf Club signs, before cutting sharply back to climb 500 feet up the Eskdale Cycle Trail. It’s a beautiful path through the woods, although I’m dripping with sweat at the summit, racing against the clock.
Despite the steep descent into the next valley, inviting a tumble over tree roots coated with wet leaves, I arrive intact at the request stop minutes before a plume of steam rises above the trees. Toot toot — all aboard!
What a gorgeous journey, sitting in an open carriage, with the hills rushing past. The smoke has a lovely woody smell, which is baffling as the engine runs on coal.
I’m staying at the excellent Eskdale NT campsite, busy with campervans, although I’m the sole camper and get the choice of the field. The staff are friendly and enthusiastic, keen to chat about hiking.
Fortunately, I’m pitched and my gear stowed away before the heavens open. The weather changes so quickly.
I pass through Hobbiton on my way to the nearby inn for dinner.
The campsite provides hot pastries for breakfast, so I pre-order a pastie on my way back, fuel for my climb up Scafell Pike. I’m still not decided on which route to take as it will depend on the weather in the morning … and the state of my legs.
Walk distance: 23 miles.
Total distance: 3,381 miles.
Sometimes I envy you having the leg power to do this. Other times, I just read a post like this and think – no!
Ah, you would be fine with a good book to curl up with in a warm sleeping bag at the end of the day! 🙂
The river Esk is definitely fordable at that point, I did it, though perhaps a bit riskier when it’s as full as it was when you were there! It’s a long walk round on soggy ground if you don’t use the ford, as you discovered.
Just re-read your blog. Based on the level in your photos, if it came up to your thighs then, it would probably have been up to my chest! I normally try to work around tide times but the logistics failed me that day, with a train to catch. Muncaster Bridge is very pretty, just getting there’s a slog.
Yes, my son and I forded the Esk at Eskmeals Viaduct last August, and the water at no point came up to our knees (see my bog) – but that was at low tide. There is no way that I would attempt the crossing at high tide.
An interesting account. There is no way that you could have safely forded the Esk at high tide, so you made the correct decision. But there is nothing like a ride on La’al Ratty to put a smile on your face!
Good luck with the rest of your walk around Britain.
Thanks, Richard. It was a wonderful ride and very welcome after a long day.