I got off around 9am and got back down to the river to continue my route to Bowness.
The weather at this point was ok, with just light rain. The scenery around Dent continued to be really lovely.
The path along the river went on for about 4 miles and as usual for the Dalesway, in the wrong bloody direction!. I was heading for Sedburgh, but in a roundabout way. Once I got to Sedburgh, I started to head north parallel to the M6, some 5 miles west of me. This went on for hours, with me constantly being within the boundaries of Sedburgh as I skirted around the town. This was really disconcerting, as it made for the impression I was getting nowhere. Here is an image of what the paths were like now. Seemingly endless, with no civilisation in sight.
The road to nowhere.
I came out into a beautiful hamlet called Millthrop with gorgeous gardens like below:
By now the weather was getting worse. I was still only wearing a T-Shirt, but the persistent drizzle was turning to heavy rain, and I was getting soaked and cold. I had done about 15 miles by now and decided to stop for lunch in a little wood as I crossed a stream. There was nowhere dry to sit, so I sat in the middle of the footbridge and dangled my legs over the edge.
Video of my lunch spot.
By now my feet were really sore, especially my left one, with the ominous feel of a developing blister. The problem was, the fields were incredibly boggy, making progress slow, and every time I stumbled into knee deep sludge, I was getting water in my boots. To make things worse, the stiles I had to get Rufus over (at 16kg) were getting more and more challenging. Gone were the nice simple step ladder wooden stiles Rufus could climb up and drop down unaided. These were replaced by 7ft high stone walls with a couple of stone plinths to climb up. I had to carry Rufus over each one. Get him to stand still at the top so I could climb over and carry him down , struggling as he does, to the other side. I was steadily becoming exhausted and the sun was dropping fast, and I checked my sat nav for the distance to Kendal. I still had 5.5 miles to go, and my pace had now slowed to a pedestrian 1 mile per hour, and it was 3.30, so the prospect was I would still be put on the moors until 9pm!
Another bridge to add to my fetish list!
In order to get under this bridge I had to cross a deep ford, with no visible stepping stones. Rufus just swam across, so I had no choice but to wade in and get yet more water into my sodden boots.
This reminded me of a river crossing earlier this day. I was behind a couple who seemed really quick. I came across them standing puzzled at a really deep ford. They said there was no way across, and yet the guide said there was a footbridge over. I walked to the edge of the river and said, "is that the foot bridge just next to us, you know, that massive suspension bridge?".
The scenery, as if I cared by now, was definately becoming more Lakeland like, rather than Dales.
The problem I was having was that my sat nav only held maps for National Parks and I was leaving the Dales and had not entered the Lakes. Also, my Dales maps was running out, and my Lakes maps would not kick in until after I crossed the M6. This left me with only my crappy 1:50000 strip map. This meant I was now reliant on the Dalesway signposting. Unfortunately, this was not always evident, or at least not so after a bloody spiteful farmer had torn down the signs. This led me to wade through about a half mile of unholy cow shit slurry 6 inches deep having missed the sign at a farm in the middle of nowhere. I had to ask at the farm and trudge / wade back through the crap to a gate with no markings on it to realise this was the turning.
Missing exits from fields became common place at this stage. You would follow the alleged path based on worn or trappled grass, only to find it was a sheep trail, and you would have to retrace your steps and start again. This was adding miles to my journey, and it was getting late.
As the light was fading, I finally crossed the M6, such a delight for the weary traveller. However, it did represent a landmark, as I was now officially crossing into the Lakes from the Dales.
Ummh! What a delightful sight!
Once again, as I approached the M6 footbridge, I find a farmer has gathered his entire herd of cows to mingle. This is absolutely not a coincidence. This is done deliberately to spite walkers who need to pass through to the footbridge. This particular enclosure was tiny surrounded by electric fences with a blue loop of plastic over one section for walkers to straddle. Clearly in this rain, there is always the thought you are about to get your 'nads fried as you step over. This is compounded by the fact cows hate dogs, and you are warned not to guide your dog through a field of cows on a lead. There are many stories of humans being trampled to death. I had therefore learned to leave Rufus off the lead, and he would wait in the distance for the call when I had opened a gate. He would then sprint round the edge opf the field to get out as quick as possible.
I even found myself stopping and holding up my hand in a stop motion and shouting."NO!" to cows who were running after Rufus. I felt like I was back out on the town on a Friday night in Blackburn in my youth!
At soon after 8pm, after walking solid for 11 hours I eventually arrived at Burneside. The destination for the day, and some 22 miles plus diversions.
It was a great sight to be greeted with a row of walking boots outside to signify the end of a marathon journey, literally.
My feet on inspection were far more damaged than I had thought. There was no way I could finish the final 8 miles into Bowness, so these will have to wait for another day. No time for heroics when I could do permanent damage to my feet.
I fully intend to do one challenge walk every year, and I have no regrets about the pain and discomfort. Otherwise it would not be a challenge. I always believe you have to earn your rewards, and there were certainly some treats I witnessed on this trip. I also met some great people along the way.
See you next year folks!
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