Day 1 - St. Bee's to Cleator

We said goodbye to St. Bee’s by dropping by St. Bee’s statue in the park. We met a young lady and her dog named “Puppy.” Irresistible.

You must dip your foot in the Irish Sea at the start of the hike. Here is my clean boot entering the sea. As you will see at the end of the first day, I seriously doubt I can lay claim to that adjective again.














A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. All I have to say after the first day is, thank goodness it isn’t a thousand miles. Ten was hard enough. In any event, this was our first step, up the cliffside at St. Bee’s.






We started with a full English breakfast: eggs with brilliant orange yolks, ham/bacon, the local sausage, broiled tomato, sauteed mushrooms, but no blood pudding, thank goodness.

Based on the previous day’s experience, I girded up for the first day’s walk in long underwear, a wool shirt, a lightweight hiking shirt, convertible pants/shorts, my poufy jacket, a hat, and a wool scarf. Standing by in my backpack were a waterproof jacket, waterproof pants, gloves, and handwarmers. As you can see by the pictures, the day was sunny and in the mid-60s, By the end of the day, my pack was crammed with the hat, scarf, wool shirt, and zipped off pant legs. For dinner in Cleator, I took off the long underwear, hiking shoes and socks, and put on sandals. That’s the kind of day it was.

The first part of the walk started with a strenuous climb to the top of St. Bee’s Head South. We stuttered along after that, starting and stopping to remove clothing, adjust shoelaces, take photos, drink water, kibbitz with other walkers, and stare at rare birds. It took us about 45 minutes to go a mile. At that rate, we realized that we wouldn’t get to Cleator, our first stop ten miles away, until sundown, so we picked up the pace somewhat.

I have to say it’s lucky that Frank put his foot down about how far we would go that first day. Traditionally, walkers go to Ennerdale Bridge, about 14 miles from St. Bee’s. It took us six hours to go ten miles. We learned a lot about what we should have done and what out GPS couldn’t do. Once again we were lucky. Other walkers helped to steer us the right way when we got lost. I didn’t trust that the walk would be as well posted as it was and was always second-guessing where our next turn would be. Plus the home-drawn map we were using had a serious scale problem. As Frank said, “Everything was farther than we thought it would be -- especially towards the end!” :)

Usually our map would point out the significant features that indicated a change in direction; e.g., go right at the first house; climb the second stile, not the first; turn by Birkham’s Quarry. At one point near the end of the first day’s hike, the information simply said “Stanley Pond” and “muddy.” No and yes and maybe. No, we never saw Stanley Pond; we saw a puddle where Stanley Pond should have been. Yes, the pasture was very, very, very muddy. Our feet made disgusting sucking sounds as we tried to extricate our boots from wherever we stepped. Maybe the whole field was now Stanley Pond, having wicked the water away from the legitimate site to ensnare unsuspecting hikers.




Looking back at St. Bee’s from the first steep climb up to St. Bee’s Head South.












And looking forward to St. Bee's Head North.










Hundreds of rare black guillemots crammed into the cliff face.











Looking back across the chasm to where we had been.









Making friends with “the loneliest bench” on the C2C walk.











The countryside was bucolic, warm, and quaint.








In fact, Cleator is only ten driving minutes away from St. Bee’s. Our hike had involved a semi-circular path from St. Bee’s to Cleator. I guess a straight line is the shortest distance between two points; it surely isn’t a semi-circle.

We talked to a lot of friendly and informative people (including the ones who steered us the right way occasionally). Faster walkers slowed down to talk with us. Locals stopped to let us admire their dogs. Bird fanciers/experts shared their telescopes and gave us mini-lectures on the bird population.

We’re not sure why that particular bench is called “the loneliest bench,” since 18,000 hikers started the C2C walk last year and some of them surely sat on the bench. A BBC production on Wainwright’s original C2C walk that’s now playing on TV has increased interest in the walk even more. We are all very glad that Frank and Mary urged us to make advance accommodations. I was ready to be a happy wanderer and just plant myself wherever I landed in the afternoon. Who knew?




“The Big Muddy.”











This picture does not do justice to how muddy we were, but these are “The Big Muddy” souvenirs.










Stile

Kissing gate.

Lesson #1: What’s the difference between a stile and a kissing gate. A stile is usually a one- or two-step stair built next to a fence so people can climb over. Sheep and cattle still haven’t learned to use stiles, so they are a popular method of traversing fields. A kissing gate is a gate that swings in far enough so a person can squeeze into a triangular space, then the gate swings the other way and the person can exit on the other side. It’s a very clever, low-tech invention. Frank and Mary misunderstood (on purpose, I suspect) what the gate was for. Tom thought it was the “air kissing gate.” Sheep and cattle don’t kiss, so they can’t use this gate.

Having washed my muddy clothes, scraped an enormous amount of mud from my boots, unpacked and repacked yet again, watched “Britain’s Got Talent,” and drunk a half-pint of Younger’s best bitter, I’m tired. Tomorrow is our last short day and it’s supposed to be sunny again. I plan on enjoying every single dry minute because the storm clouds are looming on the horizon.