Day 18 - Blakey Ridge to Grosmont

The dining room, where we ate dinner last night and breakfast this morning was very cozy with its very low ceiling. 
Breakfast was memorable for all the wrong reasons; we attempted to eat the very hard poached eggs served to us  - Mum would have been impressed because she used to say, "It's got to stick to your ribs for a hard day's work".   Unfortunately it didn't help us get energized as we didn't eat it.

We were surprised at the amount of traffic that passed by The White Lion during the early hours of the morning, considering the remoteness of its location, high on the North Yorkshire Moors.

We began today's walk along the tarmac for 5-6 kms.  According to the guide book its better to follow the road than try to go overland.  Maybe harder on the feet but in the end a much more efficient pathway.  Fat Betty was our first point of interest.  Tradition goes that you leave a snack but we decided not to. Fat Betty doesn't eat the snack, the other travelers enjoy the previous sojourner's generosity...

Fat Betty, which one is she?   

Trough House was once a shooting-box, and is still a nice spot for a rest.  

  We turned onto Glaisdale High Moor and overlooked  Great Fryup Vale (perhaps Fat Betty has spent too much time here!) and almost immediately found a family of grouse scurrying across the top of the heather.   The game keepers burn patches of the moors to create stages of growth in the heather so the birds can nest, raise their young, find protection and food.

Once again the vista was stunning.

The colours on the moors are lovely even without the heather flowering

The sheep are our constant companions in these lovely hills and valleys

The stone walls create a beautiful patchwork quilt in the valley

 Glaisdale village sits beautifully on the River Esk and rises to lovely elevations which challenge weary legs at lunch time.

Glaisdale promised the opportunity for a delightful lunch in one of its many eating nooks. However, as we reached and passed each one, they were all shut for lunch!!  We trudged on, 'enjoying' our walk through this little village until we happily fround the Arncliffe Arms, where we met up with some of our fellow walkers and enjoyed sitting on the benches outside chatting and eating typical English pub food.

Beggar's Bridge crosses the Esk River just up the road so we walked  over and then came back to continue our journey, heading for Arncliffe Wood.

Why is this bridge named the Beggar's Bridge?  The story goes that Thomas Ferris, a humble pauper, was courting the daughter of the wealthy local squire.  In order to win her hand, Ferris thought he needed to improve his standing in the community and planned to set sail from Whitby to make his fortune.  The night before he put his plan into action, Ferris went to visit his beloved, who lived across the river.  Unfortunately, the river was swollen by heavy rains and Ferris' plan to farewell his beloved with a kiss was dashed.  Thomas left, survived adventures on the high seas and returned a wealthy man, married his sweetheart and with part of his fortune, arranged to have the Beggar's Bridge built so that other young lovers from the neighbourhood wouldn't have to suffer the same torment.

Arncliffe Wood was a welcome change from the bleakness of the moors but equally challenging with more muddy pathways to negotiate.

We emerged from the trees and joined the road.  This was a beautiful walk into Egton Bridge.  Yes another steep hill but surrounded by majestic trees and thick woodland of either side as we descended in absolute beauty.

Egton Bridge has to be one of the prettiest villages on the Coast to Coast.  The reality is all the villages are pretty in their own way.  I think the setting of these villages adds to their beauty.   

It seems that every village has a river running through it 

Only a short walk followed which brought us to Grosmont, a village famous for its steam trains - a train enthusiast's dream.

I'd have to say this is the busiest village we have been in so far.  It was bustling with activity, especially when the trains came through. The traffic stops, the gates close across the road to allow the train to continue its journey to the shed, where it retires for the night. Such a lovely sound as the steam rises and then the shunting of the train as it starts to move.  The whole village seemed to be covered with soot, I guess you can't have everything perfect.