August 16, 2000: Osmotherly to Clay Bank Top
Our lunch spot on Holey Moor
I was delighted to see bright sunshine as I got up on the morning of August 16, our third day on the trail. We had breakfast at 8:00 – again indulging ourselves in the full English. Tosh was fascinated by old Grace (another character just out of Dickens, or so she said) and got the full story from Mr. Abbott – who said that the old lady owned several village properties but had just let herself go. After breakfast Tosh dragged me along to see the Thompson shop, which was indeed very grotty and disorganized. Grace herself was a white haired lady with a sweet face and a bit of a hump, but quite pleasant. Our bags were left in the hall for the Sherpa people and our daypacks were lofted onto on our backs so that we were able to begin our march back up the Cleveland Way at 9:00 – a very early start for us.
We met a lot of locals out walking their dogs as we headed back up the lanes to the moorland. A young couple went by, the first of many other walkers we saw today on this very popular stretch of footpath, one used by both Coast-to-Coast and Cleveland Way walkers. The route was steadily up, but not too steep and I was surprised to notice that it took us no longer (thirty minutes) to get back up to the entrance to the Arncliffe Forest than it had taken us to get down.
Here, back on the C-to-C, we headed up Beacon Hill in deep woods, still damp but full of wonderful woodland odors. There weren’t many wildflowers here, but I did notice some honeysuckle twisting around the pines and, as we reached the top and a wonderful viewpoint to the west, the first of the heather. The red berries of mountain ash were also very much in evidence. There were a lot of workmen in conference at the BT transmitter station on top and one of them, in a black and gold baseball cap, said helpfully, “There’s a pub about ten miles down the track.”
A stone fence on our right prevented a full view of the scene ahead but at last a gap was reached as the dramatic panorama of the Cleveland Hills was spread before us, much of it covered in purple heather. The blooming heather was one of the reasons I had wanted to walk in August rather than June and I was gratified to be able to do today’s twelve mile stretch in such sunny conditions. I was in for one surprise, however. My study of this route (and the many photos I had seen) had led me to expect wide bands of eroded track in peaty surroundings climbing hill after hill. We were now walking, however, on a marvelously engineered pavement of stones that had been painstakingly laid in place by an army of volunteers in the last few years. We had the accompaniment of this walkway throughout the day and in the first sections of the next day as well. It almost took the adventure out of our progress but many of the stones were themselves works of abstract art and they certainly did aid progress.
So we bounced down Scarth Wood Moor to Scarth Nick where a brief dogleg on tarmac put us onto a delightful path through woods again. Most of this was level and much of it provided wonderful views to the north – where we could see farmland, villages, distant industrial sites and the sea itself. There was a bench at one overlook and at 10:45 we paused to eat some apples here. Skies darkened quite a bit as we resumed our walk though Clain Wood, with a few more ups and downs as we reached the open fields of Scugdale.
Harold and I reach the summit of Carlton Moor
A steep road slowed me down a bit as we began a long ascent with a climb up to Holling Hill Farm and the telephone kiosk at Huthwaite Green. A man in a NiT van was stomping around this structure and Tosh suggested I might have to loan him my mobile phone, but he was actually here just to clean the glass. We continued to climb gently along the edge of a bit of woodland but eventually we reached a steep ride that invited us to ascend sharply onto a flank of Live Moor. Our ribbon of pavement lead us over to Holey Moor and here, just past noon, we decided to stop for the packed lunches given to us by Mr. Abbott – with the summit of Carlton Moor off to our right. A lot of other walkers came by as we were eating and I was able to advise one on of them just how long it would take him to reach Lord Stones Café.
When we resumed our walk we had a brief pull onto the ridge, which also supported the runway and hangar of local hang gliding enthusiasts, but the climb to the top of the moor itself, at 1338 feet, was not too onerous. On the other side, however, there was a very steep flagged path requiring a lot of concentration and effort in our descent – and this we did very slowly (me slowest of all), arriving at the bottom of Carlton Bank shortly after 2:00.
All eyes were now straining for a sighting of the famous café, but it was nowhere in evidence and Tosh was beginning to despair. I persevered and soon found a sign indicating a route to the right on grass; the café, which is built, in part, directly into the hillside, was below us. Although the cafe is licensed, none of us had any alcohol here. The Lees drank coffee and I had a Diet Coke. There were some interesting archeological and geological displays here and a very large crowd of walkers and trippers. I used my mobile phone to contact Mrs. Huntley, who had promised to give us a ride at Clay Bank Top, but I only reached her answer phone. It was only a little over three miles to go so I felt confident in predicting a 4:30 arrival, though I said I would call again. Just as well – for we were soon to encounter some very tough territory.
The Lees descend to Garfit Gap
The sun continued to play games with the clouds as we returned to the trail, marching through some picnicking kite flyers who were camped on the path, and heading toward the first of three afternoon summits, Cringle Moor. This was quite a steep climb though we didn’t have to reach the summit tumulus here. Then it was down another very steep rocky path into the gap between Cringle Moor and Cold Moor. A second steep climb got us up to the summit of the latter, at 1319 feet, and we again faced a slow bit of downhill on stone. On our left was forest (where grouse hunters were popping away) and, indeed, there is a path just above the trees that would have cut out some of our rise and fall – but we were all agreed that we wanted to keep to the original roller coaster. In Garfit Gap I used the mobile again and this time I reached Mrs. Huntley directly, revising my time of arrival to 5:00. She promised she would come up to the parking lot at Clay Bank Top at this time, and so we were ready for our last summit.
Hasty Bank was protected on its west side by the rocky outcroppings of the Wainstones. Tosh was very nervous, since they seemed, at a distance, to be impenetrable, and when we spotted abseilers and rock climbers she was not cheered up by my teasing suggestion to Harold, “I think it’s time we broke the news to her.” In fact there was a bit of a scramble through the rocks, which were clogged with a group of school kids anyway, but at last we made it to the top and had a fine level progress on pavement before beginning a final toe-twisting descent.
This brought us down to the busy B1257 at Clay Bank Top, where we turned to our left to descend briefly to a car park. It was 4:55. There was a kiosk here and for a while it looked like we might have to take shelter under its awning because a brief shower began. Cabbies were there to look for other walking parties and Tosh had time to chat with a chap who was launching a crate full of pigeons – but there was no Mrs. Huntley. She arrived almost fifteen minutes late, having had trouble getting her car out of the driveway because of a parked lorry.
We were very grateful for the lift (she charged a pound for this service) because without it we would have had to walk another two miles on a busy road with no verge. We got a running commentary on the food on offer in the various town pubs that we were passing now and just at the town roundabout of Great Broughton we turned right and a few doors later we were at Newlands House.
Our packs were arrived and we took them upstairs where Mrs. H, a very pleasant and accommodating soul, offered us our rooms. The Lees, as usual, preferred twin beds, but the only ones on offer here were bunks! “This will be a test for you, Harold,” I said, “will your preference for separate beds overcome your fear of heights?” In the event Harold agreed to climb into the upper bunk and I settled down to a nice double bed with a view of the hills we had just climbed. There was one other walker in the place already, an old chap who had made a mess with his talcum powder on the floor of the loo.
We took baths and at 7:00 or so headed back into the heart of the village (which was strangely uncentered, with lots of empty spaces between the buildings) to the Jet Miners, which had been recommended for its food. I was joining Tosh in double Jack Daniels these days and while the drinks were coming I went outside to phone Dorothy. A brief shower sent me scurrying for cover while doing so.
Harold and I had a delicious vegetable soup and everyone ordered the medallions of beef, but these turned out to be two large steaks and I couldn’t quite finish mine. Dinner was served in a wonderful conservatory, with koi swimming in a nearby pond. A huge dinner party was heading this way so we were glad to get started before they settled in. Harold and I finished with chocolate nut sundaes. A piece of jet was hanging above the bar and we all had a look before returning to the darkness and making our way home. I was asleep by 9:30 after a very strenuous but very rewarding day.
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