(15th March 2013 – 14 ½ miles inc. 3 to and from my St Bees B&B.)

My biggest fear for my first day on the Coast to Coast was that it would rain; and then rain and rain for the next eleven days.  And, sure enough, on waking up at my St Bees B&B, yawning, scratching my head, throwing back the covers and blearily pulling back the curtains, it was absolutely … tipping … it … down.

I sighed, dressed, went downstairs, ate my breakfast, looked out of the window (still raining), tied up my boots, hauled on my waterproofs, sighed, fastened the rain cover onto my rucksack and, with a cheery wave to the B&B owner, walked to the beach and the Start Of The Walk.

First off, I dipped my boot in a salt-water pool (a tradition suggested by Wainwright – to be followed by a dipping at Robin Hood’s Bay), picked up a small pebble to throw into the sea at RHB (a tradition started by … who knows, doesn’t matter) and dropped the pebble into an empty pocket.  It clunked against metal.  Curious.  I fished about and found the cause of the clunk.  My room key.  I sighed, walked the mile or so back to the B&B, returned the key, sighed, turned about and walked back to the beach.

Right then.  Three miles under my belt and ready to start.

I stopped by the information board at the official start,

took a deep breath and studied the route.  Goodness, but what a long, long, long way stretched before me.  Today, the first twelfth of the route, would only get me as far as Ennerdale Bridge.  Barely a finger length.

I’ve walked this first stage of the C2C before, in similar weather, and I can’t honestly say that the prospect of walking it again enthralled me.  It’s an OK day’s walk, I think, but hardly an OMG-this-is-amazing kind of day.  Still, less moaning more walking (and actually I enjoyed it more than I expected).

Initially, and after a quick climb, the path follows the cliffs northwards to St Bees Head – a slippery, slide-y path that slowed me right down and, on one occasion, sent me sprawling in a cloud of foul language.

The rain continued to fall as I traipsed along the coast, splattering my lens whenever I stopped to take a photo.

There are several RSPB viewing stations on the cliffs.  From one, I looked down on a guillemot colony clinging precariously to the rock face.  Doesn’t seem much of a life.

I’d not seen guillemot before nor hipster razorbills, both unfazed by my presence.

The last time I walked this stretch of path between St Bees and Dent, I got a little lost.  Today, forewarned, I consulted my guidebook often and was grateful for the occasional unofficial signage too.

After leaving the cliffs, the path turns abruptly to the right and heads off, at last, in the proper direction:  eastwards towards Robin Hood’s Bay.  But as cheering as that might have been, I still had the dreary towns of Moor Row and Cleator to get through. I’m not  a fan.

I popped into a shop in Cleator, which despite the sign outside, boasted a large tray of freshly baked pies on the counter.  I worried about their advertising acumen but didn’t like to say anything.  Being English and all.  But if you’re in need pie in Cleator don’t believe all that you might read.

All that rain had turned parts of the path to soup; soup with helpful signage.

Beyond Cleator, and after about 11 miles, I began the first long climb of the C2C: Dent Hill (1131 feet).  My back began to ache at starting a long distance footpath and with the weight of my 30lb rucksack.

With plenty more mud

and enclosed by dark, dank Forestry Commission plantations this was warm, slow, hard work.

But at last, I emerged from the close conifers onto the open flank of Dent. The rain had stopped and I had views even – back to the Irish Sea and across the miles I’d covered from St Bees.

From the summit of Dent, the view forward to the Lakeland fells is a fine one.  But not today.  As I approached the summit, I was enveloped in low cloud and mist, and lost those short-lived views.  This was my second ascent of Dent and my second in poor visibility with no views whatsoever.  (And then, in December 2014, I climbed Dent for a third time …  yep. In thick mist).

After the summit, I descended through the cloud layer and onto the steep and slippery slope above Nannycatch Valley – but try as I might I couldn’t.  She was well fleet.

The walk alongside Nannycatch Beck is pretty and easy.  It was only about 3.30pm, and I slowed right down as I approached the end of Day 1,

following more of those unofficial signs.

With my first day almost complete, and as late reward, the sun broke through at last and lit up the way ahead tomorrow: through that gap in the fells to Ennerdale and Lakeland proper.

I walked into the pretty village of Ennerdale Bridge and found the ‘The Shepherd’s Arms‘ – my comfortable stop for the night.  And if that evening, my room hadn’t filled with cooking fumes from the kitchen directly below, why, it would’ve been perfect.Save