Captain's Log

Last Day Of The C2C

This was my last day on my Coast To Coast WeBo Venture. Well, hopefully. I still had another 25 miles to walk before the finish at St Bees on the west coast. Last night had been as warm and sticky as the previous three, even though I’d left my tent door open. The morning was as still too; the Lake District section of the C2C had been a bit like crossing the doldrums. I was up and moving at 5am and all packed up by 05:45. I wanted to make the most of whatever coolness was available in the early morning.   

Today’s walk would start with a 9 mile plod down the Ennerdale valley to Ennerdale Bridge. Most of this would be on forestry plantation roads, but it also included a 2 mile awkward stretch along the south side of Ennerdale Water. I hoped to find a café in Ennerdale Bridge to regroup and then continue westwards over Lakeland’s western outliers. The largest of these would be Dent Fell, which would be my last significant hill to cross on the C2C. Looking at the OS map, I would then be faced with a 7 mile field-hopping stretch to the coast. It was unclear whether I might find any shops or cafés open along this part. The last part of the C2C would involve a 4 mile cliff walk to St Bees where I intended to celebrate the trail's completion with a pint or two. There was a long day ahead of me and I set off at a prompt pace. 

Ennerdale

I used the footbridge to cross the River Liza. It really had been a great wildcamping spot last night. When I reached Black Sail Hut, I found somebody mooching around outside, even though it still wasn’t 6 am yet. Maybe he couldn’t sleep from the heat either. I started the long plod westwards along the forestry roads. Trees surrounded the road and so you couldn’t really get a decent view of the fells. Sometimes there  would be a gap in the trees allowing a view. Pillar Rock looked very impressive. I found another couple of campers packing their stuff up on their plantation pitch. They were WeBos and I’d meet them another couple of times during the day. The forestry road was easy walking and I made good time. It didn’t seem long before I was approaching Ennerdale Water itself. I had a choice here to follow the official route around the south side of the lake, or continue along the forestry road on its north side. Without doubt the forestry road was the easiest and quickest option. It wasn’t the official route though and so with a sigh I headed off towards the more difficult south side path. 

Ennerdale Water didn’t actually look that long when I viewed it along its length. From past experience though, I knew this path was deceptive and by the time I reached its western end, I’d know that I’d been in a fight. In fact, the path has actually improved over the years. It used to be boggier and rougher, but some sections have been improved to ease the way for walkers. The views over the lake were magnificent to Great Bourne on the other side. I made slow progress and felt frustrated. At least there were plenty of streams running into the lake and I could drink my fill of water. I was unsure about water sources from Ennerdale Water to St Bees and so I made sure that my 2.5 litre water bottle capacity was going to be full by the time I reached the end of the lake. I had thought about continuing down the Ennerdale Valley yesterday and pitching on the one only viable pitch on this side of the lake. I considered that somebody might have pitched there already and so didn’t risk it. I didn’t find anybody there when I reached the pitch. The C2C made its way around a  rocky section at Anglers' Crag. An EaBo had complained to me yesterday that nobody said anything about the ‘technical scramble’ at this point in any of the guide books. The reason they don’t is because it isn’t. A little bit of care was required, but there’s no hands-on scrambling. A wild water swimmer followed me along the lake. Depressingly, she was swimming faster than I was walking. There were also some early morning kayakers out too. At last I reached the end of the lake; in fact my last lake in the Lake District on the C2C. 

Ennerdale Bridge

The C2C fingerpost pointed me along the lakeside path, heading towards the forestry road on the north side of the lake. Was this an EaBo or WeBo sign? Or maybe even both. Could there be a C2C route that branched off westwards to Ennerdale Bridge? My Harvey’s Map and gpx route didn’t indicate such a path. Even though the fingerpost indicated differently I decided to play safe and stick to the gpx route and follow the roads to Ennerdale Bridge. It did mean a bit of tarmac plodding, but at least I knew I wasn’t leading myself into a cul-de-sac. 

In the centre of Ennerdale Bridge I looked for a café. There was none to be found. In fact, there weren't many signs of anything moving since it was still fairly early on a Saturday morning. I resigned myself that I wouldn’t get any coffee and cake that I’d fantasised about all away along the Ennerdale valley. As I headed out of the village, I was surprised and delighted to find a café-cum-shop called The Gather, tucked away just off the road. I stuffed myself with drinks, flapjacks and even an early morning ice cream. As I was eating these at a seating area outside the shop, three EaBo Swiss girls turned up and sat next to me. We started chatting and they said that I was the second WeBo that they’d seen today. My ears pricked up.  
‘We met the other one early this morning on Dent Fell. He was carrying a sun umbrella,’ added one of them. So the Terminator was still in the game and only a couple of hours ahead of me. He must have stayed in Ennerdale Bridge last night and made an early morning start to the finish. I very much doubted that I’d make up 2 hours on him, but there was the possibility that our paths might cross in St Bees.  

Dent Fell

The road out of Ennerdale Bridge had a C2C footpath running alongside it. Unfortunately the vegetation had grown across it and the wading proved tiresome. I reverted back to walking along the road. It was all uphill to Scarny Brow and then a fingerpost directed me towards some lowland fells. The trail followed the small valleys and it turned out to be a pretty section of the walk. At a junction of valleys at Nannycatch Gate a C2C fingerpost directed me on to the path to Dent Fell. Excellent! I started to follow it. After a while, I thought that I should be turning off to head up Dent Fell by now. I got my OS map out and found that I’d walked way past the entry point to the fell quite a while ago. I retraced my steps back along the valley and found a track heading through ferns up the hillside. There was no C2C signage saying that you should go that way. Well, that was another extra mile on the day's tally. I started climbing up the hill. Reading about this section of the route later; sometimes the fell was closed to walkers due to forestry operations. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t properly signed.     

 Whatever the reason, the route up the  hill was arguably the steepest and hardest climb that I’d come across on the C2C. It was exhausting. It was made even harder by the heat and lack of breeze. I was sweating and snorting like a thoroughbred when I reached the top. The trail briefly entered a forestry plantation and then exited onto Dent Fell itself. I followed some other walkers to the cairn on its summit. At last I could see the Irish Sea. It didn’t seem that far away and the intervening landscape looked more rolling than hilly. Groups of EaBos were also appearing from the other direction. One group stopped and asked whether I’d be doing the coastal route.    
‘Well, sure,’ I replied. They told me that a temporary diversion had been put in place, because of a coastal cliff landslip. The route they’d taken involved following country lanes from Sandwith to St Bees. I looked at the OS map. Crikey, that looked like a totally uninspiring way to end the C2C. It wasn’t good news, but I thanked them for the information. The descent from Dent Fell was far easier than going up. I followed forestry roads through nuked plantations, before I eventually reached a tarmac road. 

Trails And Field-Hopping

The traverse of Dent Fell had depleted my water supply somewhat and I was gagging for a drink. I reached the small village of Cleator, but couldn’t see a shop. A young bloke was wheeling his mountain bike out of the front door of a terraced house. He was wearing a black hoodie and had the vibe of somebody who I’d be zipping my valuables into my pockets, if he approached me along the trail. Even so, I was desperate for water.
‘Is there a shop around here, mate?’ I asked him. He then recounted half a dozen directions. Unfortunately I only remembered the last two.
‘How far away is it? I asked. It turned out to be a half-hour round trip; it was in Cleator Moor, the next village. I wasn’t adding more miles to a long day. I’d just have to ration my water.  

The next section of the C2C was a bit discouraging and disorientating in a way. The route seemed to meander along cycle trails and across fields. It wasn’t possible to see the sea and without looking at the map, it was impossible to gauge what progress was being made. The signage became vague in a field section and I had to use my phone to get back on track again. I crossed a railway line and started heading uphill. Three walkers approached me from the other direction. I was startled to find that two of them were a couple that I’d met on the fourth day of my recent Pennine Way trek in April. What were the chances of that! They also had a YouTube channel for which I was also a subscriber. They remembered me from the Pennine Way and we had a good natter about what we’d done since then. They'd cycled from Land’s End to John O’Groats and then found that all their footage was lost on a damaged SD card. That must have been a blow! I asked them about the closed coastal section.
‘Sure, it’s okay to go along it. Other walkers are doing it as well. There are signs telling you the path is closed, but it is still possible to get through’ they informed me. Well, that was a relief. It seemed a shame not to do that last little bit of the C2C. I asked them about their future walks and they mentioned the GR5 which is a 1,400 mile route from the Netherlands to the Mediterranean. I doubted whether I’d meet them again along that. We parted company and I wished them well on the C2C.  

Coast

I was down to my last 600ml of water when I reached Sandwith, the last village before the sea. I did think about getting a drink at the pub there, but they’d rigged up a speaker outside that was playing music so loud, that it actually made my ears ring. The 600ml of water would just have to suffice until the end of the C2C; it was only 4 miles after all. 15 minutes later I reached the cliffs and the Irish Sea beyond. After 11 days and 180+ miles, I’d walked from the east coast of England to its west. A sign indicated that the coastal path was closed, but it wasn’t fenced or barbed off. I started making my way along the path towards St Bees. Initially the path was squeezed between the fields and the cliffs. The path was overgrown and it felt like not many people had been down here. Unbelievably, there was still no breeze. Not even on the coast. The midges and flies took advantage of this to pester me. I wondered whether I’d made the correct decision to walk the coastal path.     

Thankfully the path diverted to the fields, which made the walking much easier. St Bees Lighthouse came into view. The coast turned south towards it. The lighthouse stood away from the cliffs by about 200 metres. I wasn’t really sure whether you could go right up to the lighthouse, and given that the footpath was officially closed, I decided not to visit it. I continued southwards. As I approached Fleswick a wonderful view opened up along the South Head cliffs. I drained the last of the water from my water bottle. The last pee I’d had came out like treacle. There was not far to go now though. 

The path diverted inland a bit at Fleswick and then gradually climbed to the top of the South Head cliffs. It felt never ending. I hoped that there might be just one breeze to cool me down and help me on my way. I’ve never known four days when the air has been so still. The breeze never arrived. Near to the summit of South Head, the nuclear facility at Seascale came into view further down the coast. Over to the west I could see the undulating skyline of the Lake District. The footpath started to descend and gradually St Bees came into view. I could see the caravan park where I wanted to camp. There were people on the beach. The path was all downhill now. Just before reaching the village I came to a fence across the path. My hamstrings sounded like the plucked strings of a Japanese guitar, as I clambered over it. There was a sign on the village side of the fence saying that the footpath was closed and that C2C walkers should take the alternative route. 

After 11 days of remote walking, it seemed odd to be around so many people again. Families and tourists were pottering around the beach and carpark. I made my way over to the stone monument that signifies the start and finish of the Coast To Coast walk. An information board showed a map of the route and the walk’s history. There was even a photo of the grumpy old bugger, Alfred Wainwright himself. The St Bee’s councillors had got their money’s worth out of this monument since I found an anchor strapped to the other side of it. Apparently, it was the one from SS Izaro that was wrecked here in 1907. It didn’t seem a very big anchor; maybe that was their problem. An elderly couple were reading the C2C information board and so I waited patiently for them to move on so that I could get a clear photo of it. The fellow looked at my rucksack and said,
‘Are you doing the Coast To Coast? It’s a bit late in the day to start it, isn’t it?’
I told them that I’d just finished it, which seemed to confuse them. 

The tide was out of course and so I had to walk quite a distance to perform the Coast To Coast ritual. I dug out the pebble that I’d safely zipped away in a pocket at Robin Hood’s Bay 11 days ago. It had accompanied me 190 miles across northern England. In fact, it had actually done a few more miles, since I’d forgotten to take it out of my pocket when I washed my trousers at the Pennine View campsite at Kirkby Stephen. God knows how many times it got spun around in the washing machine. I felt a little bit sad to lose it; we'd been through so much together. My feet entered the Irish Sea and I placed the triangular pebble on its end so that it looked like a shark fin. I left it to be reclaimed by the sea or by some EaBo looking for a C2C pebble at a future date. 

Seacote Campsite

I missed the closing time for the office of the Seacote campsite. A sign asked me to knock on the door of the warden’s house. I knocked on the door and nobody answered. The sign also gave a mobile number to ring. I rang it and nobody picked it up. I walked around the side of the building to see if I could see anybody inside. I couldn’t see anything. I wandered back around to the front and found a fellow sheepishly letting himself out of the front door of the building. He said he was on his way to a barbecue, but ‘...yes, if you fill in this form and pay me £10 in cash, you can camp on the campsite.’ I filled in the form, paid the money and wandered to the campsite area of the caravan park. To be fair, the pitching area was good and I started to set up my tent. I heard some buzzing, which perhaps may not be that unexpected in a place called St Bees. I knew it wasn’t a bee though. Somebody was flying a drone directly above me. I purposely didn’t look up at it, but looked around to see likely candidates for a potential controller. Nobody seemed obvious. After all, it might be somebody in any one of the hundreds of static caravans on this site. They must have got bored after a while because it disappeared. 

Seacote Hotel

I had a shower and then headed over to the Seacote Hotel. The beer garden was full of people (England had a match in the football World Cup later on), but I managed to find a free patio table. Apart from my binge at The Gather at Ennerdale Bridge, I’d not really eaten anything significant today. I wasn’t really hungry though, just thirsty. The first Guinness didn't hit the sides and I needed a second one to hit the spot. It was £70 for a room at the Seacote Hotel and I wished I’d taken that option, rather than the campsite. After finishing my second pint, I returned to the campsite. A buzzing followed me to my tent. I zipped myself under the canvas and I heard the drone get louder as it hovered above my tent. I’d be quite happy if drones were made illegal. It flew off. I heard some communal cheering on two occasions across the caravan park. I assumed the England football team  were doing well against whoever they were playing. I drifted off to sleep knowing that I wouldn’t have to get up early for a long hike tomorrow. 

Postscript

Trap 1 was occupied at the Seacote Caravan Park toilet block and so I went into trap 2. The pan was full of bangers and mash. I pressed the flush button and it made a noise like an upset stomach. No water appeared. I tried a couple of more times, but got the same response. I sighed. As I walked towards the exit I noticed a maintenance white board on the wall where cleaners were supposed to timestamp their inspections and cleaning. It was totally blank and looked like it had never been used. Fortunately, the public toilets just outside the caravan park were open and their toilets had a flush like the Corryvreckan.       

I finished packing my rucksack at the same time as another backpacker who had camped nearby. Our departure coincided and I chatted to the Australian EaBo on the way out of the site. She wanted to complete the C2C in 11 days. I expressed my hope that she had cooler weather across the Lake District. We parted company and I set myself up at a patio table near the beach carpark to make a brew. As I was doing this, I noticed that the Australian EaBo had made her way up to the start of the cliffs and had come to the fence with the ‘footpath closed’ sign. I could see that she was debating what to do next. Some other walkers came up, read the sign and set off on the alternative route. She followed them a moment later. I felt a bit annoyed that I’d not told her about my experience along the coastal path.

So should you ignore the signs and walk the coastal path? The landslip occurred between South Head and Fleswick Bay in December 2025. They reckon the footpath will be closed until 2028. I’d say that whether you do it or not is down to your attitude to personal risk. I can see why the authorities issue a closure, since they don't want the possibility and responsibility for somebody’s death. From a personal point of view, I think you have to look at the probability of being caught in a landslip compared to other risks in your life. I was quite prepared to take the risk of walking along the cliffs because I considered the probability of a landslip occurring whilst I was there as being very  low. The route along this stretch goes through fields and you can mitigate any risk by walking well away from the cliff edge. It seems unfortunate that the authorities could not just divert the footpath slightly inland during this ‘stabilisation’ period, but I guess that there would probably be legal problems with the landowner. I can see why it was far easier for the authorities to just put up a few signs and provide an alternative route well away from the coast. This seems a shame since I think this stretch of coast to St Bees lighthouse is iconic to the Coast To Coast walk itself. So, at the end of the day, weigh up the probabilities and your appetite for risk and make your choice. I know what I’d do. 

My train didn’t set off until midday and so I went for a veggie breakfast at the Beach Road Bakehouse on the seafront. The meal and coffee were excellent and great value. Customers could also get glasses of cold water gratis. I considered this place with the extortionists at Honsiter Slate Mine Cafe…well, there was no comparison.     

Amazingly, all the 5 trains on my home journey arrived and departed on schedule. It did take me 6 hours to get home altogether, but there again, it had taken me 11 days to cross the north of England.     

I did get an email from the Terminator a few days later. He’d arrived at St Bees 3 hours before me and had booked a B&B there. He said that he’d struggled with the heat in the Lake District  (‘wiped out’ in his words) and felt so drained at the end that he’d considered catching the next train home. The next day he felt a bit better and decided to set off on the return journey to Robin Hood's Bay. If you see a walker carrying a sun umbrella across the moors, give him some encouragement and wish him luck on his journey. . ==