August 20, 2017: Ganton to Filey

A long last day begins with a walk along the streets of Ganton.

And so the stage had been set for our last day on the YWW and I was preparing myself for something of an ordeal, a challenge that I hoped to meet by completing an eighth day of walking. (It must be remembered that last year, when Gavan and I had walked on the Wye Valley Way, that, after a fall the week before our trip, I had walked on only six of the seven scheduled days and that on three of these I walked only part of the day’s route.) Given the length of today’s assignment we would have liked an earlier breakfast than 8:00 but, this being a Sunday, such a request could not be granted. So we ate our morning meal at 8:00 and by 8:35 were crossing the highway again and heading up a village street in Ganton.

I had accepted Gavan’s suggestion that he carry the only knapsack needed today and I had transferred my rain gear and water to it. Gavan, who had been using only one of Adrian’s walking poles to this point, now added a second one as well. (He was always urging me to use such poles – suggesting that I was often listing to the right on my cane – but I was resistant.) Today I wore only my map case, wondering what to do with my left hand, which I usually tuck into the strap of my knapsack, as we passed a cottage with a blue plaque honoring the famous golfer, Harry Vardon, and turned left to pass behind the village church of St. Nicholas.

We passed through a belt of woodland and turned right to climb uphill adjacent to a second one. Another left turn brought us to Wold Lane, where we turned right to climb up to another five-mile marker. A few more twists and turns followed as we crossed the B1249 and continued along a dry farm lane that ended with the Staxton Wold Farm on our right and, ahead, the forbidding fences of RAF Staxton Wold. Military buildings faced us as we turned right and warnings about radiation sped us on our way.

As we headed south we had tarmac for a while and then only a track and path as we dropped down into a little dale. I say “we” but it must be admitted that much of the time I walked alone, Gavan frustrated by my slow pace. I found him having a rest at our next turnoff and joined him on the grass. He suggested that we would now face a bit of steep uphill as we headed east again but I was shocked by the angle of incline – steeper than anything encountered before this. I found that I could manage only a few paces at a time, struggling forward to the next tree and hanging on to its limbs as I gasped for breath. At last I reached the top and here we could follow a roller coaster path along the harvested fields as we crossed Flaxton Wold and Lang Dale.

A minor road was reached and we turned right on it, then left again. There was a lot of farm machinery around and at one point I was pursued by a chap in a harvester who was combing the margins of a bare field with his machine. He waited for me to clear his space; Gavan said he was been waiting for thirteen minutes for me at this point. He had been observing a camping ground to the north, where some jerks had been letting their Dachshunds chase the nearby sheep. He suggested that we were perhaps near enough civilization here that a call might be made to summon a taxi and thereby call it quits for the day – but I declined the offer.

The tracks of the harvester offer these interesting patterns as the afternoon wears on.

We now had Raven Dale on our right and Gavan, ahead of me, shouted from a perch above this sheep-filled spot that we were now on a diversion. It looked like the route I had marked out in my guidebook but I made my way over to him and sat down in order to pluck a little from the food sack. This was a nice and quiet spot and I was certain we had come at least to today’s half-way mark. Indeed, as we resumed a southerly direction to drop round the bottom of our hill in the precincts of The Camp (site of another ancient village) I later determined that here I had achieved another milestone, my mile 5300 on British and Irish footpaths.

After a brief rest we were able to continue in a northerly fashion on woodland paths up Stocking Dale, regaining much of the altitude we had just lost and climbing up to another shelterbelt of trees – one we had met before (and should have been allowed to accompany to this point without a southerly addition). Here we turned right for a final bit of uphill in order to reach a minor road at Stockendale Farm. It had been sunny for most of the day but it was more overcast now. On our right you could now obtain views of the distant North Sea.

We now had some two miles to reach the village of Muston, an outlier of Filey itself, and Gavan had assumed that here is where that much needed taxi could be summoned. I surprised him somewhat by suggesting that, no, I wanted to walk into Filey on my own after all.

The route was mostly level as we headed in a northeasterly direction, the distant houses becoming ever closer in the late afternoon haze. Of course I was very tired but I was hoping that once we had reached the A1039 a pub might be located in Muston. At last we reached this road and its pavements and Gavan spotted The Ship Inn ahead of us. As I neared this spot a local lady said, “Not far to go now,” but I couldn’t tell if she meant the pub or the end of the walk itself. It was 5:30 or so.

The Ship proved to be a very lively place, family and dog friendly, and we had to move a baby carriage in order to find a place to sit down. Young mothers kept rushing out to the front of the pub, where Whippets sat, in order to make sure that toddlers didn’t get into the highway. I drank a gin and tonic and very much enjoyed doing nothing for a while.

We didn’t get very far on the resumption of our march before Gavan fell into a conversation with a chap outside the local church, fascinated by the vehicle this fellow had brought with him, a restored jeep that had taken part in the D-Day landings. When we did get going there was a bit of a shock, one last hill to climb as we crossed a highway and began a descent adjacent to a school ground and so on into Filey itself. We had been provided with detailed instructions on how to follow a series of suburban streets to our b&b and on we plowed. At last we turned a corner and located the Abbots Leigh Guesthouse on Rutland Street. On our right this road ran to the cliff edge where you could see the bay below and Filey Brig on our left. Neither of us entertained any notion that it was necessary to walk out here as well. It was 7:10 and we had walked twelve and a half miles.

Our host, Chris, admitted us and we had two cruel flights of stairs to reach our room, an unusual set up with Gavan having his own sleeping alcove next door to mine – which also contained our bathroom. Gavan took a shower and ate one of the cream-filled buns just baked by our hostess. I said I would eat mine for dessert. Perhaps I was even too tired to eat at this point; I certainly felt no need to get at all cleaned up before heading out for dinner. I was knackered of course but also quietly pleased at the outcome of all this effort, one of my greatest achievements as a walker – 80 miles at age 79.

I celebrate the end of our walk in Filey.

We were introduced to our neighbor, a solo walker from Minnesota named Carmen – she had just completed the Cleveland Way. Gavan wanted fish and chips in celebration of our reaching this seaside town and Chris gave us directions to The First Catch, a few blocks away. I had trouble walking in an upright and straightforward position and I had trouble finishing my huge cod and chips as I enjoyed a celebratory pint. Gavan got into a long conversation with our server, a young man with two daughters (one fathered when he was fifteen) and a third on the way. It was dark when we got back to our b&b and I ate my bun.Filey has train service and I had booked tickets on the 10:15 back to Hull so we could have a late and leisurely breakfast on Monday, the 21^st. Chris even called a taxi for us so that we would not have to lug our heavy bags to the station and at 9:50 it arrived. The train from Scarborough arrived on time and we passed through some rather uninteresting countryside in a journey that took an hour and a quarter. I knew that we had the better part of an hour to go before our through train to King’s Cross so we found a café within Hull Station and ordered some coffees. Each of us undertook errands ­– I marched the length of a nearby shopping precinct looking for some chocolates for Linda and we both visited the W.H. Smith for additional lunch materials. I had just passed the statue of Philip Larkin for the fourth time when I noticed something ominous on the announcement screens – our London train had been cancelled!

I spoke to an official who handed me a printed slip with suggestions on how to remedy this deficiency – wait a few more minutes for a train to Doncaster and here switch to a Virgin train that would get us to King’s X at 4:00 – only half an hour or so behind schedule. So this is what we did. About ten people had to stand in the aisles on the way to Doncaster but there was plenty of room aboard the London train.

We took a taxi back to Maida Vale and I actually cooked dinner – too tired to go out. Otto was returned to me the next day but only after Gavan had flown off to France. He returned the following Sunday before flying back to the States as he prepared to move from Connecticut to New Brunswick, New Jersey – where his next posting as a hospital chaplain would soon begin. While he was with me for that brief time he helped me make some progress on my new Facebook account and I was able to post eight of the many pictures that both of us had taken on what has to be described as a most successful venture.

Footpath Index:

England: A Chilterns Hundred | The Chiltern Way | The Cleveland Way | The Coast-to-Coast Path | The Coleridge Way | The Cotswold Way | The Cumberland Way | The Cumbria Way | The Dales Way | The Furness Way | The Green London Way | The Greensand Way | The Isle of Wight Coast Path | The London Countryway | The London Outer Orbital Path | The Norfolk Coast Path | The North Downs Way | The Northumberland Coast Path | The Peddars Way | The Pennine Way | The Ridgeway Path | The Roman Way | The Saxon Shore Way | The South Downs Way | The South West Coast Path | The Thames Path | The Two Moors Way | The Vanguard Way | The Wealdway | The Westmorland Way | The White Peak Way | The Yorkshire Wolds Way