After breakfast
the taxi picked me up on time and off to Patterdale we went. The weather, with
some high cloud, was perfect a complete change to nine days ago. Whatever, I
was in no doubt this was not an easy section; the highest part of the Coast to
Coast to conquer with a difficult descent, then a long walk along Haweswater
reservoir before a tricky last section to Shap. The climb out of Patterdale was
not as easy as the first time; I suppose with 180 miles under my belt had tired me slightly. Past Angle tarn and it was not long before I came across
the dry stone wall that had sheltered me that day. The wind had picked up and
though not as strong, still made me cautious. But this time I could see things,
the mountain ranges around me, tarns and lakes and so on into the unknown
territory not reached before, still climbing steeply. Quite a few 'view' stops
were needed as I made my way around the Knott and up towards High Street,
Kidsty Pike coming more into view. A group of four bikers were pouring over a
map, they were trying to ride the ridge of High Street. I explained where they
were (GPS strikes again) and they back tracked. A sharp left and it was onto
the ridge of Kidsty Pike; the views of the mountain ranges around me, but also
my route out of the Lake District appearing. Lunch taken on top of Kidsty Pike
and then down the steep and rocky route off the mountain. Next was Haweswater
reservoir to tackle along the left shore line. This was not as easy as I'd
thought it would be. Where I was hoping for a nice lake shoreline walk, I was met
with steep rocky sides which went straight into the water. The path undulating up and down
and the last thing I wanted was more climbing. With the sun and temperature
rising it made the four miles to the dam a long stretch. A sit down on the
village green at Burnbanks allowed me to take stock of my situation. Five miles
to go with little water left and like most of the Coast to Coast you are
deliberately kept away from mankind. The legs were tired, the lactic acid affect
hitting them. The next stretch across farmland fields, which had one too many
styles for my liking (did I mention I'd had enough of styles?), was
interspersed with moorland bogs and narrow lanes. This was the most difficult
day and any doubts about retreating nine days ago were soon removed. Though no real
height the gentle roll of the fields was telling, every style required a pause
before I stepped over, the muddy sections taken with a bit more care. The ruins
of Shap Abbey came into view and with that the knowing that it was not far to
go. A long day and by the time I reached Shap the evening light was fading. But
I still had a mile to go, the Greyhound hotel being at the other end of the
village. With a final push the hotel was reached and with that I could switch off
my GPS for the final time.