getting closer – 18 sep, 2018
Day 41 Land’s End to John O’Groats – High Pike to Carlisle
Distance: 30km
Cumulative distance: 1040km
One thing that changes quite radically on a long hike is what I like to call acceptable odour, or what someone else might describe as shower frequency. This is despite the fact you tend to burn a lot more calories than normal, and that quite often you’re tramping around sweating like a bush pig for hours on end. Quite often there’s no shower at the end of the day (wild camping, staying in a farmer’s field or in a bothy), and sometimes you simply can’t be bothered even if the option is available. I’ve been using a light weight synthetic towel, which doesn’t always have enough time to dry in between shower sessions. So when you’re relying on a slightly damp towel, and the weather is already a bit chilly outside, dodging the shower becomes a pretty attractive option. Now I didn’t quite retreat into a ‘Sunday is bath day’ schedule, but I would often go two or three days without a shower. I was well and truly used to the smell by now, and starting to look like someone who would probably boast a funky aroma anyway so this didn’t bother me in the slightest. I’m afraid I can’t speak for those I came into contact with though.
As I packed up this morning, I briefly allowed my mind to wonder what the two ladies who stayed in the bothy last night were thinking. For starters, I’d hung up a lot of my wet clothing and my sleeping bag in the hours before they came in and the latter was particularly pungent. I also hadn’t showered for three nights, and during that time I’d walked through heavy rain, sloshed through a fair bit of mud, scaled some decent hills in the Lake District and fallen into a bog. The beauty of it all was I couldn’t smell a thing! And while I was immune to my own essence, my sense of smell had sharpened incredibly over the last six or seven weeks – I couldn’t believe how fragrant day hikers smelled when I walked past them. But I digress – after saying goodbye to the two ladies from the hostel, I stepped out into the thick fog and headed for High Pike, the 658m pass that would show me Scotland and mark the final stretch of my romp through the Lake District. There was still a little bit of the wind around that slammed into the bothy for hours last night, and visibility was about 20m so I carefully stuck to the skinny trail through the yellow grass. Soon enough the fog started to thin out and not long after passing the cairn atop the wide expanse of High Pike I could see for miles out to the north. I wasn’t sure exactly where Scotland began, but I knew it was off there in the distance somewhere. I was aiming up for Carlisle today and it’s only a handful of miles north of that. More immediately ahead of me was the little town of Caldbeck where I was hankering for a late brekky and a spot of load-lightening relief.
Before that I needed to haul myself back down this hill, and there were a bunch of paths spitting off in each direction between clusters of sheep. I figured I would be right so long as I headed down, and eventually I found the path which would take me most efficiently to Caldbeck. It was a lengthy downhill stretch, which took me past some rural properties and across roads and about two hours after setting off that morning, I found a cafe serving hefty English brekkies. I’m glad that bothy turned up when it did last night – in fading light I’m not sure where I would’ve ended up between there and Caldbeck the evening before. The lady running the cafe was lovely – she offered to fill my water bottle up, gave me extra sausage and bacon and asked me all about the walk I was doing. It was a much-needed pitstop as the persistent drizzle kept falling from the sky. I ate slowly trying to wait it out, and by the time I left about an hour later it had just about stopped.
I crossed the river in town and headed uphill across some wet fields before swallowing several road miles and finally reconnecting with the River Caldew which put me back on the Cumbria Way. The sun was out now and before me were several miles of delightful river walking across gentle farmland with plenty of cattle. I passed a beautiful old bridge and a ruined castle before turning away from the river and passing a particularly stately looking school.
At a farm gate I chatted away to a few older local ladies for 10 minutes, then I cut across more fields went through Bridge End and came to Dalston which isn’t too far away from the outskirts of Carlisle. School was just out in Dalston and there was plenty of foot traffic to wade through before finally escaping the main street and picking up the river again. Now I walked parallel to a railway line for several miles, strolled under some towering powerlines then came to the industrial Cummersale which boasted a massive printworks smelling of firecrackers. Further along the way as Carlisle’s outer neighbourhoods began to surround me, I met a chap who is also quite keen on his walking, and we chatted for almost half an hour. He’s done the Pennine Way, the Cumbria Way, the Coast to Coast Path and a stack more throughout England. He was full of questions for me and I enjoyed chatting to him – it broke up the monotony of the walk which had been pretty uninspiring since I hit the sunny banks of the river earlier in the day. Walking through Carlisle was no more exciting, and I eventually found my bed and breakfast where I was going to stay two nights. Then, it would be onward to Scotland!
