Ingleby Cross to Swainby via Repeater Station and Cote Ghyl.

The morning is idyllic weather for walking with blue skies and sunshine, but only about ten degrees, so winter attire is still the order of the day.

We’re carring our way to Swainby if you’ll pardon me corrupting the noun for a verb, then bussing our way to Ingleby Cross followed by the walk back to the cars in Swainby. Our reward for this exercise is the threat of an English breakfast created and presented by the lovely people at the village hall who run a pop-up cafe there every Wednesday. At a fiver, what’s not to like?

The drivers gather their cargo, and everyone is dropped near the toilets in Swainby. We’re gentlemen of an age, and most of us celebrate the fact with an oversized prostate that’s already spent most of its life arranging a lift for millions of excited little wrigglers going out on their first blind date. It’s an ingenious means of transporting the little beasties and not without interest; however, in later life, the payback is toilet spotting through the day and a few visits to the bathroom at night. So here we are, outside the toilets in Swainby, waiting for the bus.

Today, we are accompanied by Lou, celebrating her birthday. There’s nothing like an eight-mile walk as a birthday present, and we’re all delighted that she’s with us for a change in the conversation topics together with her natural wit and charm.

The walk takes us across the A172 and upwards to pass All Saints Church which has had a structure on the site since Norman times (circa 1066 until 1154 – to save you looking it up) and the one that stands here now is Grade 2 listed so it’s important and may be worth a look. We don’t today and carry on past Arncliffe Hall and onwards.

We’re following the Coast to Coast track currently to a point that will see it merge with the Cleveland Way, and we’ll have the double pleasure of walking them both without extra exercise. It is a bit of a test as it winds its way up through Arncliffe Woods in a direction that feels wrong. Swainby is north of here and we’re heading south towards Mount Grace. It continues to be ‘up’ although there are one or two respites and our little group begins to stretch out with a wonderful display of fitness as one of us gives their new stents are real run out.

At the junction of the two footpaths, we make a tight turn left and begin a new ascent through the woods. The merged tracks are well used, but the expected mud from recent rain doesn’t materialise, so the going remains easy but still ‘up’.

At this point we stop for a banana break to take in the wonderful view across the vale towards the Pennines that are disappointingly obscured with the haze. I had been sitting on a rock and hadn’t realised I’d been resting on a nerve, so that when I try to get up, my left leg, quite literally, won’t work. There follows a cabaret of me being pulled up off the rock to the concern of those passing and the huge amusement of my friends, who are aware that my issue is only transient.

As we approach the top of Scarth Wood Moor, decisions need to be made, and we decide on a split so that those who prefer it can do a longer walk through Cote Gyll, about five hundred feet below and an extra two miles

Three of us take the alternative route and the rest carry on along the ridge and pass the repeater station.

Our route is on the access road to the repeater station and the surface is good for a while. Walking on tarmac is OK but it’s not if it goes on for several miles. In this instance it’s little more than a mile so by the time we reach Cote Gyll we’re happy to reenter the woods and slightly softer tracks.

I’ve mentioned the beautiful weather, and it’s had a fabulous effect on the wild flowers that have responded to the extended light and spring warmth with vivid displays of yellow, blue and white. It’s idyllic.

We walk by the reservoir where numerous other people are taking advantage of the fabulous day and most with a cheery smile and greeting.

As we pass Sheepwash there are anecdotes of sixty-odd years ago when, if we were lucky and somebody’s parents who had a car might bring us here with a picnic. We’d play in the river and our feet and ankles would be numb with cold, but it didn’t matter. The sandwiches always tasted better if it was a different person that made them. Perhaps it was the butter or even the bread, but they always tasted different.

The next leg is along the road to the cattle grid, then a quick turn right into the woods and rejoining the Cleveland Way. In the summer there are often adders along this leg. They lie in the sun but soon wriggle away as they pick up the vibrations of our feet as we walk.

The time is slipping by very quickly and we’re in danger of missing out on our full English reward, so we put a bit of a spurt on for the final twenty minutes, which is all downhill and easy going.

This is a lovely walk but quite challenging for the first couple of miles but the views across the North Yorkshire vales are spectacular and if you read up about the “Harrying of the North”, you can look down at where it all happened in the 11th century.

Enjoy the snaps.

Love G x

Thanks, Louise Graydon, Peter Hymer, George Renwick, Hayden Kirby, Dave Rider and Dave Bowman