England Coast to Coast: Parris Two Britian: Day 8: Scar Side to Kirkby Stephen

Subtitle: Land of the Lost.

After breakfasting with our hosts at the lovely Scar Side Farm and well-wishing all our fellow hikers (all of whom set out before us), we finally set off toward Kirkby Stephen (pronounced Kirby Stephen apparently). The proprietor gave us a helpful "shortcut" to the Stone Circle just outside Orton. "Follow the lane there until the second farm then the public footpath to Knott Lane." In our experience it ended up being NOT Lane, because despite the path being directly in front of us, the gate appeared hopelessly closed. We went through a sheep pen of bleating lambs and then around the ubiquitous stone fence and about a half mile in, we recognized we were headed in a direction not suitable to our goal. It was raining and after standing in the pasture getting rained on, we decided to go back to the Scar Side Farm and ask for help. Off we went, but when we got there, the cupboard was bare...i.e., the whole fam damily had left the place empty. The chickens were not helpful and finally the luggage transfer man came up. No help there. He's not walking after all. Eventually, the mistress of the house showed back up and told us, "Just go through the gate." Paul explained that we were unable to open the latch and she said, "Just lift the gate up and take out the slack." That goes to show you that 4 undergraduate degrees , 3 graduate degrees (including one in engineering)and 3 fellowships do not equal about 3 oz of common sense. Oh well. Let's just say the initial head scratching set the tone for the day. We had wasted an hour and pretty much knew we'd be the last draggers into Kirkby for the night. That is until we met all the people who had left before we did and got lost at the stone circle, who apparently had gotten lost themselves for roughly an hour. We then managed to do quite a bit of walking mostly over open moor land with Stuart Swift, our new buddy from the south of England. Parts of the path were marked well and we were in the constant company of horses and riders and calls of "Horse behind." Ordinarily, I would have taken offense at that, but it just meant, "Get out of the way!" (Or did it?) We trekked over field after field and finally to the (now dreaded) Bent Farm. Somewhere in the vicinity of the farm, apparently, we were supposed to turn right and pass under some telegraph wires. Did we do that? Apparently not! After trekking off down a gravel road and speaking with some lovely gents who were theoretically repairing the malfunctioning electric fence and who told us we were definitely well on our way to Kirkby, we realized that the town in the distance was actually Crosby Garrett and that we'd made about a 1.5 mile mistake. On the bright side, the rain had stopped. So we couldn't stand around in a pasture cogitating in the rain, but we were "outstanding in the field." Eventually, with the help of Paul's GPS, we oriented toward the Smarsdale Bridge and headed toward the goal of Kirkby Stephen rejoining the path somewhere in the middle of nowhere. From Smarsdale Bridge, things went pretty well following the stone walls and paths through muddy, boggy heather through a railroad tunnel past some Power Bar begging miniature horses into town. We arrived in Kirkby Stephen to find that none of the other hikers from Scar Side had arrived meaning they got more lost than we did! Shortly, the two ladies from Oregon ended up at our lovely lodging, Fletcher House and asked, "Did you guys get lost at that farm?" We left Stuart to his lunch just before Bent Farm, but noticed later in the day that he still hadn't picked up his bag. So we figured everyone made the same mistake turning a 11 mile hike into a nearly 15 mile one. As my dad would say, "Oh my aching back!" We had a reservation to eat at the really tasty Black Bull Pub and although very good, it was similar to a fine dining experience in Atlanta or New York...it took about 3 hours only with pub food. But good pub food mind you. If ever in the vicinity, I highly recommend the lamb shoulder. You can cry on it about spending all day lost.

Paul's ponderings: Despite all our missed turnoffs, we still got to Kirkby Stephen about 4 pm. After having dirty clothes in the suitcase for a week, we decided to do laundry. We walked a short distance to the local laundrette. Our clothes could have served as chemical weapons from the smell of them -- despite cool weather, all this hiking has generated a lot of sweat. Once again, despite all our advanced education, after pumping eight pounds into the machine, it would not wash. Turn out the owner of the chippy shop (fish and chip shop to the non-UKers out there) owned the laundrette, so he came out after a visit. "Just pound the machine a bit" he said, "I was going to put up a sign". After a few knocks, the coins dropped and, voila, clean clothes about 90 minutes later, including the dryer. What a relief. As noted above, without the GPS in hand, we would have had a big problem -- thank you Garmin for good maps. And, we followed that old rule of thumb of "when you are in a hole, quit digging" and turned around and found our way back rather than sorting it out from Crosby Garrett onward. Kirkby Stephen is a decent sized burg, but like many towns thru here, most of it lies along the main road or just off it, so it's long and skinny. In general, we are glad to have a day's rest ahead, because after 80 miles "official path" and another 10 miles or so of "unofficial path", we're ready for a layover.

Some things we've learned not to believe:

- "Follow the obvious path" -- it's never obvious.
- "It's a short distance" and its cousin "It won't take long" -- It isn't and it will.
- "The worst is behind you" -- not.