The
next day Andrew took the Canadians and myself back to the drop off point to
continue the walk to Blakey Ridge. The Australians taking a train as Granddad
had twisted his knee badly when crossing the A19. This was the shortest journey
of my walk and the easiest due to flat walking along a disused railway line,
except for the start as usual. The weather was again magnificent and showed the
Yorkshire Moors off to their best. I'd just missed the purple heather but that
did not distract from the brown colours that radiated across the valleys. The
Canadians and I soon came across the group of Americans who I had first met in
the Lakes. The dry stone wall chap, the lady who had walked the Coast to Coast
9 times who, I found out, was a pharmacist and used her trade to fund her love
for walking. As we passed each group of
individuals a conversation was struck up, finally we parted as they all
congregated for some lunch. The Lion Inn suddenly came into view, high on the
horizon, an isolated place and a natural stopping point. The low ceilings and
many rooms make this a maze within. The warnings about the size of the food
portions were not exaggerated, a five inch Yorkshire pudding and gravy for a starter had to be done and a very pleasant stop the Lion Inn made.