Day II: 9th September 2008.
Weather: Rain early on, clearing to overcast skies, followed by rain to end the day…doh
Carlisle to Low Rigg nr Walton: 12 miles (16.6 on Pedometer – due to trip to shops)
Total Steps: 35006
Acc Steps: 68269
I looked out of the B&B and saw sunshine instead of rain - hooray. So I tied my brolly up to my travel bag and went to brush my teeth. By the time I came out again it was raining - bother, only a light persistent drizzle, but it was enough for me to retrieve my ‘big’ brolly. Each evening of this walk I watched the weather forecast and generally over the five days it was correct. I never got really soaked as I did have the big umbrella whenever the forecast was a bit dodgy. My day sack has Velcro straps on to secure walking poles, and with the aid of a piece of string I managed to secure the umbrella easily enough. It didn’t prove to be any sort of hindrance and the extra weight was negligible, so when I do my next LDP in 2009 I will be taking the brolly with me. I walked down the busy A road into the centre of Carlisle at the same time as the commuters made their way into work, crossed the bridge over the river and dropped down to the riverside walk.
The bridge over the River Eden
Soon enough the sound of the city receded to a dull throb in the background. On the far bank in a park was a line of police vehicles, and I thought that maybe something bad had happened. But it turned out that they were training the police dogs – or throwing a ball back and forth. So if you’re a burglar in Carlisle you may want to carry a tennis ball with you and practice saying ‘fetch’. The walk past the golf course was pleasant enough, flat and muddy and closed. Beyond the golf course lay the training pitches of Carlisle United football club and I paused and watched the goalkeepers going through their paces. This led me to ponder my own football career many years ago, that was cruelly cut short at the tender age of 32 by lack of talent! I took a few snaps in the rain and then walked on to a lovely grey bridge that crosses over the River Eden to Rickerby Park. The bridge is a memorial to those that gave their lives for the country in the 1st WW. I was happy to see that it is well maintained as should all the memorials dotted around the countryside.
He shoots he…misses
Back across the river again, via the memorial bridge
I walked along with no particular thoughts about how fast or slow I was walking, and passed by more police cars with men throwing balls for the dogs. The feint hum in the air was becoming more persistent, and a quick look at my map showed that the M6 wasn’t that far away. As I passed through Rickerby there were some fine old buildings being converted, and standing lonely in a field was a tower folly built by George Head Head – must have been big to name it twice! George Head Head was a mayor, magistrate, & banker in Carlisle. The bank was started by his daddy, but was improved and rebuilt in his lifetime. His motto - seen on the gateway next to the entrance lodge – was ‘Study Quiet’. Very apt as the gates are now the entrance to Eden School! After crossing over the M6 (on a bridge) I walked on through the village of Linstock passing a ramshackle farmyard, a nice enough village but not much to look at, apart from an ivy covered post box that must look good in the winter.
Mr Head Head’s folly
The postbox at Linstock
The Pennines in the distance
At the end of Linstock I returned to the River Eden and the rain eased off; I rolled up the brolly and stowed it away. There were good views to the nearby Pennine hills and I watched the fishermen on the opposite bank for a while. They had driven along the flood plain and parked up behind where they were fishing – a bit lazy really, but a refuge if it pours down. The noise of the M6 receded into the background and the further along away from Carlisle I went the more rural the surrounds became. Although many of the villages had new houses springing up here and there, no doubt to supply the wealthier commuters to and from Carlisle. I was still away from all things Roman at this point and was looking forward to later in the day when I would meet up with the vallum and the course of the Roman military way. The next village to pass through was Low Crosby which was again a mix of the old with the new. There is a handsome looking stable yard and a pub across the road – it was too early in the day to pay a visit. A little further along was a lovely small school next to the village church. This has a handsome belfry, and would have made a good picture. But as I was a lone male and the schoolyard was full of children I couldn’t take a picture, which was a shame really (thankfully I didn’t have the ‘Glitter Band’ on my I-pod either). I stopped to have a spot of lunch while sitting in the graveyard of the church. Here was a beautiful grave to young Lauren, and it made me pause for thought and be thankful for all I have. A few nibbles later I started out along the Roman road (Stanegate) and soon reached Crosby-on-Eden and another self-service refreshment stop with an awning and comfy bench to sit on. So to support this initiative I stopped again and had a cup of tea while looking at the occupants of the nearby pens. There were two small horses (very small), two beagles that weren’t smoking, and a tiny highland calf. It looked like a teddy bear and was a little timid; it probably gets ‘aaaggghhhed’ to death at the weekends.
Altogether now…aaagggghhhhh
Sandy Lane
Once I had my fill of PG tips I set out again from the small shed that houses the refreshments and made my way over the main road via a bridge and then turned up Sandy Lane – a farm track that was far from sandy, but was plenty muddy! I met three elderly ladies coming the other way and they were asking how boggy the fields were. They had been dropped off at Lanercost Priory and were walking to Carlisle – brilliant. They were all in their seventies and thoroughly enjoying themselves. I hope I can remember which way to go when I’m that old. There were views over to the Pennines to the south east getting closer, and more swallows were perching on the telephone lines preparing for departure to sunnier climes. Berries and nuts were a feature of the hedgerows with very little in flower at this time of year. The rowan trees were adorned with bright red berries, as were the rose hips. There were plenty of elderberry and sloe berries for collection and fermentation if you are that way inclined. The oak trees were bursting with acorns, but surprisingly I saw very few hazelnuts around. Maybe they have been harvested by the squirrels already or are very late this year. Mushrooms abounded along and among the tree roots, but that is one plant I wouldn’t pick for my own use, as there are some that can be not so good for you. This bit was on the BBC web as I write this – ‘It's easy to confuse edible mushrooms with poisonous ones. The Amanita family, which includes the death cap fungus (Amanita phalloides) and destroying angel (Amanita virosa), can cause particularly nasty symptoms. After several hours, the victim is gripped by sudden, severe seizures of abdominal pain, persistent vomiting and watery diarrhoea. They may seem to recover, but then, after a couple of days, develop liver, kidney and heart failure. There is no antidote or specific treatment, and the mortality rate with some Amanita species is between 50 and 90 per cent’. So if you are down in the woods this weekend – never mind the bears, it’s the mushrooms you have to look out for!! (the following week an unfortunate lady ate death cap mushrooms in error for some less toxic and died, her friend is still in hospital) At the end of Sandy Lane I finally met the course of the vallum again and the straight Roman military way which runs as far as the eye can see. At the first farm there were some lovely road signs, homemade by the farm children asking drivers to travel slowly.
A rural speed warning
The lanes around here away from the main roads are narrow so I had to be aware of the traffic when I could hear it, stop and move to the side. As the tarmac road ended the muddy fields began. Due to the wet summer we have had, the fields where the dairy cattle have grazed are particularly wet and boggy. This also happens to be at most of the stiles and gates, because inevitably there are big trees at the field edges where the cows come to shelter from the worst of the rain. Hence there was usually a muddy morass to work around when entering a new field. This varied from stone hopping, clinging to a fence line (more often than not made up of barbed wire), or just placing a great deal of faith in foot placement. I guess I was lucky again because the mud and water didn’t breach the top of my boots for the five days – definitely not due to good judgment. But the fact that my feet stayed dry also meant no blisters for me – joy! As I approached Bleatarn Farm the first signs of extensive earthworks could be seen with the ditch and vallum prominent, and lots of other bumps and lumps in the fields.
Bleatarn Farm
Earthworks and the Pennines in the distance
This was the theme for the rest of the day as the countryside became more undulating as I gently gained some height. There was a delightful cottage garden at Oldwall that had more plants in bloom than the rest of the day put together, lovely against the whitewashed cottage. This was in sharp contrast to the dilapidated farm buildings a little further on, but they had a character of their own as well. From this point the route gently undulates up and down across cow pasture which didn’t make for easy walking, as some nimble footwork was required periodically to avoid the worst of the water. I passed through Newtown which was made up of mostly new estate houses - just plonked down in the countryside – a strange place, just houses and nothing else as far as I could make out. Beyond Newtown the path continued to wend its way across pasture, more of the same but with good views ahead and behind. I reached The Beck Farm which had a sign for a water tap. Great if you need topping up but I only had a few miles left to Walton.
The steps down to Cambeckhill
Here above the valley I tried to take a picture of myself by balancing the camera on some stepping stones that led down a bank to the valley below. But once I’d set the self timer I realized that there was a great big horse behind me looking distinctly interested in the camera, so I abandoned that one. I dropped down the steps into the valley and walked towards a farmstead at Cambeckhill that looked interesting. There was a long barn with round pipes in the wall just below the eaves, and house martins were flitting in and out. Then I noticed some strange looking cattle and realized they were horses grazing with the cattle. In the next field was an awful braying sound and sure enough the donkeys were having a go at the cows and calves. But the cows were bellowing back in equal measure – what a noise. There is a Roman fort (Camboglannia) to the south east here but access to it is sadly denied by the farm despite there being a suitable roadway and bridge. This pastoral scene came to a juddering halt as I made progress to the farm where the farmer had parked some heavy machinery across the course of the path, leaving a narrow boggy strip for walkers to pass along – what a tosser! Things didn’t improve through the farmyard and this was the worse spot on the entire length of the path – all because the farmer couldn’t be bothered to put a proper path around his buildings.
The Roman fort is down to the right beyond this barn
But I made it through and then passed by a small waste pit with a couple of cow carcasses in – it’s a good job they don’t run a B&B because they can’t run a farm. Enough moaning as it only took away a little enjoyment on the day, and a little further on I had already forgotten the mess. I heard a great rushing of water and saw that there was a weir nearby and made a quick diversion for a look. A lot of the beck’s and rivers were running very brown this week – full of peaty soil particles on their way to the coast. The weir was in an odd location and didn’t seem to serve any of the local farmsteads. I couldn’t see any ruins nearby either, and none were marked on the map. Maybe it served the Roman fort in the valley below? The ever present Pennines were away to the south east and unfortunately the clouds were beginning to dump a load of the wet stuff once more. So I upped umbrella and as I passed through a field towards Walton I had to halt as a traffic jam of cows and calves made their way downhill towards the shelter of the trees. I was glad I was past the entry point of the field otherwise I could have been stuck there for a while. As it was I had to stand in the rain for a good 10 minutes, as the cows were quite aggressive in protecting their offspring. Soon enough I was back on the road and making my way through Walton to the B&B, passing the Centurion Inn and a lovely Victorian church.
The promise of a good day to come?
A good day was rounded off with a grand evening in the Centurion, with good food, a great ambiance and the only jarring note was the landlord’s finger which had a big steel pin in the end of it - messing around with the bacon slicer again, and not the sausage maker I hope. To be sure I avoided the home made Cumberland sausage and had fish and chips and several pints of ale. Outside the rain was teeming down, but inside the pub there was a roaring fire – a nice cosy September evening. Cheers.
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