As the next morning was my third day of walking, I suggested to R that we get a taxi to the where I’d left the Yorkshire Wolds Way the evening before. I did not feel it was cheating as I would still have walked the entire Yorkshire Wolds Way. For R this was his first day so he was full of energy and so he rejected my suggestion and I was forced to endure a two mile hike back across the golf course to where I’d left the Wolds Way. To be fair, it was a glorious morning and the golf course looked so splendid it was almost enough to tempt me to consider taking up golf. Note the words “almost”, “tempt” and “consider”. My taking up golf would never happen!

The early part of the walk took us along the top of a dry valley known as Millington Dale. I had fond memories of Millington Dale as a child. I loved to come here and run up the side of the valley. With my tired legs now into their third day, I wondered now how I could have ever been able to run up the valley sides. It reminded me how wonderful it would be to have the energy of the 5/6 year old me and how we never appreciate these things until it is far too late.

Up above Millington Dale we passed an artist painting. We only saw one other person on the walk, and they were someway in the distance, for the rest of the day!

Millington Dale also really marked the end of my childhood memories for this walk since I hadn’t really experienced the rest of the Yorkshire Wolds. I was pleased therefore to have R’s company. For those who do not know the Yorkshire Wolds, it is a bizarre and unusual landscape. It is a unique combination of huge fields of wheat which are interspersed by a series of dry chalk valleys. The valleys, having no water, rarely have any sign of human habitation. Millington Dale is a bit of an exception as it has a minor road running through it. R spent most the day expressing his incredulity of the landscape and the amount of wheat!

So that was our walking day: wheat, dry chalk valley, wheat, dry chalk valley, wheat, dry chalk valley. The best part of the day was to come. We finished in the tiny village of Thixendale at a small pub called the Cross Keys. This is the perfect walking pub: great food, great beer and a great landlord. It was the perfect place to relax after a day’s walk, drink real ale and exchange walking stories with a couple of other walkers until closing time.

The fourth day was the day I had been dreading. I knew I would be tired and I knew it was about 37km and would involve some steep climbs in and out of more dry chalk valleys. However, fortified by a top breakfast from the Cross Keys, we confidently set off around 8am so we could make as much progress as we could before we stopped for the packed lunch the pub had also provided. Thixendale was perfectly still and a cooling mist hung around the valley in which it was situated.

We had walked for about an hour when the path split into two and there was no sign indicating whichwas the corrected route. I got my mobile phone out. “****!” I thought. There must be no reception as my Ordnance Survey map app showed us in completely the wrong place. Luckily, I’d brought a second phone with me which was on a different network, knowing from experience that the one phone usually dies by about 5pm. I checked the Ordnance Survey app on the second phone: “Oh double ****!” It showed us in exactly the same place as the first phone. Somehow, we’d strayed way off course and our early start had been completely wasted. I felt deflated as I trudged a re-plotted route back to the official walk. Shortly we came across one of the walkers we’d met in the pub the night before. He’d set off exactly an hour after us. So that was it, we’d lost a whole hour. Not just any hour but the freshest and most energetic hour of the day.

I could not get this lost hour out of my mind. However hard we got our heads down and just walked I was still getting crosser and crosser. I could not tell you much about the day because I was so annoyed as to how we had gone wrong. The more I thought about it, the more tired I became. We got to stage where we must have been about 2 miles from our overnight stop and I was psychologically finished as I kept saying to myself “We’d be there now if we hadn’t got lost”. As a result, the last two miles to Ganton took over an hour. R went ahead to get the beers in. I arrived, I threw my rucksack/refrigerator on the ground and stared at my pint. Indeed, I continued staring at it for about 10 minutes before I summoned the energy to start to drink it. Moral of this story and something I know to be true but failed abysmally to implement: if something goes wrong, just let it go!

Day 1140 - the Yorkshire Wolds Way, Day 5

And so to the final day; the last leg from Ganton to Filey. This was about 21 km or 13 miles or, to put it another way, a half marathon distance and about half the distance we had eventually walked the day before. This would be a doddle. Indeed, as we set off, I felt fresh, renewed and full of energy. I insisted that we picked up the pace. I wanted to be in Filey for lunch and a large fish and chips by the sea! The walking was indeed much gentler than the day before and I was confident about achieving our lunchtime target even though it had started to rain a little. There were, however, to be 3 real challenges which would seriously derail my lunchtime plans!

Challenge 1

The Yorkshire Wolds Way takes a detour around an RAF listening post at Stanton Wold. In order, it seems, to make-up the ground lost by this detour, the path takes the shortest possible route up the side of a short hill that could be better described as a cliff. To compound matters, now the rain had started, the cliff had the same degree of grip as an ice-covered mountain. We literally had to haul ourselves up using our hands whilst clinging to the adjoining barbed wire fence. So much for this being an easy walk!

Challenge 2

The relief at reaching the top of ice mountain Stanton Wold was short-lived. At this point the heavens opened. Whilst I luckily had a rain cover for my refrigerator, the waterproofs I had for me were totally ineffective. I was soaked through and now cold.

Challenge 3

The only thing keeping me going was now the thought of my fish and chips at Filey. I had studied my map beforehand. The walk didn’t end in the centre of Filey but followed the beach a bit further north along the coast to Filey Brigg. I envisaged a final straight of a seafront promenade consisting of a selection of amusement arcades, tacky beach shops and most importantly fish and chip restaurants.  We reached the beach at Filey soaked but nevertheless ready for a glorious sprint down the promenade with momentary glances to our left to choose the best fish and chips restaurant in which to celebrate later. Except there wasn’t a promenade and there were no beach front fish and chip restaurants! Instead, the path went up another cliff. Disheartened we made our way up the cliff, only for the path to plunge down another cliff into a valley with an equally steep climb up the other side. Our glory sprint had turned into a final soul-destroying trudge.

And that was it. The finish of the Yorkshire Wolds Way. No feeling of elation. Just cold, tired and wet and the depressing thought that we had to go back along the steep up and down path back to Filey before finding our fish and chips and the railway station for the journey home.

As usual selection of photographs from the walk are below.