Day 8, the last day of the run!

I woke up with really stiff and painful lower legs. I had a nice swelling at the bottom of my left shin, and a swollen achilles area on my right ankle. So standing, walking and moving about proved tricky, it didn't seem to ease up with the normal morning faffing about.

I headed out in the mist, trying to run 50 steps at once through the pain before walking again, then upping it to 100 paces before walking again then extending it again until I was running/hobbling again.

This time it took a lot longer for the pain to drop from excruciating to just painful, probably about an hour. Running along the road in the mist was hard work, encloded in my own little world, no music on as I had to listen out for cars approaching through the murk.

By the time I got off the road and round the top of Fryup Dale I had my music on, the clouds were lifting and I was feeling a bit better.

But the going was still tough! I dropped down into Glaisdale, one of the steepest villages in the world! And lots of downhill shuffling. It was then a nice route through the woods to Egton Bridge, then down an estate lane to Grosmont where there seemed to be 101 trainspotters at the level crossing.

There was a steep climb out of Grosmont up the road, where I checked up on some of the encouraging text messages pushing me through the last day. I came into the lunch stop a little shorter than planned as dad had been struggling to find somewhere suitable for the bus.

A last lunch in the bus so I took it leisurely, a few phone calls to organise the finish!

it was then off across Sleights Moor, down to Littlebeck, up and over through Hawsker and to the coast, it was great to seee the sea again, the finish was near!

The run along the sea tops was a nice chilled out finish, getting ready for the end, although there were still some climbs, the Yorkshire coast is far from flat. Finally I neared Robin Hood's Bay:

A little sunnier this time:

I managed to pick up some pace going down the hill, all the pain started to disappear! Dad, Liz, Dave 1 and the Kitchings were already down there enjoying the beach.

And caught me coming down the slipway

I then ran into the sea, that didn't seem to get deep so I lay down backwards flat out, a refreshing finish in the sea and sun!

I even ran back out.

It was then time for the celebratory champagne and pictures, with Dad, top chef/driver/team manager, he kept me going all week long:

The rest of the welcoming party, Liz, the Kitchings and Dave 1.

It was then time to scare the locals and remove the nipple tape!

And what better than fish, chips and mushy peas to follow!

Then some beers at the finisher's pub.

Cheers!

Walking back up thr hill from Robin Hood's Bay after another 45kms was a challenge! Back to Kirkby Malzeard for a couple more beers and curry then bed!

Thanks for all the text messages, sponsorship, training and support from everyone, it was much appreciated, and if you still want to sponsor or give even more feel free! :

www.virginmoneygiving.com/TimHurfordC2C2C

All I can now say is that walking today has proved very tricky!

Day 7, Day 5 of the run, Lanes, Leg Aches and the Lion.

So off and at them again! Every morning was now harder to get started, I hobble ran out of Ellerton lake, taking a good 30 minutes to ease into running properly.

I now felt like I was running like an old man. When running on flat roads I found my pace was now dropping by approximately 1 minute a kilometre per day! I now had lots of small country lanes and footpaths over the Vale of Mowbray, flat which was a benefit for the legs, but made for some dull goingfor the mind. So over half a marathon later I came into Ingleby Arncliffe for an early lunch, not yet halfway.

From there it was a tough climb up through the woods up onto the North Yorkshire Moors, the Coast to Coast route joining the Cleveland Way. My hobble was slow by now. I was also starting to feel some new interesting feelings from my legs, one being feeling my achilles tendon rub on its sheath with every step, nice!

The run along the northern edge of the NorthYorkshire Moors meant a surprising number of climbs, descending to small wooded valleys or the dips between the northern peaks. By this stage my headphones had given up the ghost, so I was left alone with the sounds of my groans as I stumbled down every stony step, going down  was a lot more painful than going up by now.

Looking back at one section, unfortunately the cloud meant no long distance views.

Heading up to the Wainstones.

Looking back at where I'd come from:

I was soon nearing Clay Bank Top for another rendez-vous with Dad, also Dave 1 was going to join me for that day's final push across the moors. Heading down towards Clay Bank:

And coming in for pit stop No2.

Dad had been up the hill to take a few photos, on the way down  he overtook some C2C walkers, however he lost control and fell down the hill head first on his back! Luckily there was no major damage done to the support crew.

Dave 1 then joined me on his mountain bike for the run along to Blakey Rigg. After the climb up to Round Hill it was a good run along the old railway line from Bloworth Crossing, contouring round the different heads above Farndale. With the good mainly cinder surface I settled into a nice rhythm, upping my pace very slightly from slow hobble to medium hobble. Just before Bloworth we came across some more C2C walkers who seemed pretty useless at navigation, so Dave gave them a hand whilst I ran on. The run through to Blakey Rigg seemed to fly by in no time, it was good to have a bit of company. The last few hundred metres were up to the famous Lion Inn where Dad had set up in the car park.

A long day, a total of 57.2km, which is a fair old run! My legs were in less pain at the end than the previous day, perhaps helped by the lower temperature?

Supper was Yorkshire Pudding and gravy for starter, followed by Beef Stroganoff with rice and chips and the odd pint of Theakstons or three whilst it hammered down outside. Sleeping was hard though as the ankle pain intensified overnight.

Day 6, Day 4 of the Run, Swaledale, fields and a soak.

Well woke up feeling quite fresh after the previous days walking stage with Derek! It was a bit cool in the camper, but given there were a few touches of frost outside it wasn't surprising! However at least the sun was out.

Up and at 'em again, starting with a nice climb straight out of the valley.

See me waving?

Along and up out of Swaledale, hard work first thing with tight legs, but some great crystal clear views.

On, along, and a fair few downs and ups where gulleys and valleys cut into the side of the main valley. After  Swinner Gill I had this nice track to look back at.

Where I practised my big chin look!

Further along Swaledale, a tough haul out of Bunton Hush Gully, up to a wasteland, the scar of the old mine workings, but loads of grouse shooters about. It was then a bit of a crusie down a long track for a few kms, but I had no speed left in my legs to take advantage.

More skirting the valley, up and down a little before dropping into Reeth, then heading out along the vallet bottom, skirting the River, passed Marrick Priory then climbing up through the woods to Marrick. The legs were really starting to feel heavy. A few stiles to get over and numerous hay meadows, it was soon a steep road descent for lunch, my legs were not enjoying this pounding:

Starting up after some grub was painful, time for some hunched forward running style!

A few gentler ups and downs to Richmond, however by this stage I'd worked out that it hurt if I ran on the flat, up a steep incline, up a shallow incline, down steps, down steep slopes, down gentle declines, on stones, grass, mud or tarmac, basically it just hurt! So with a bit of manning up and talking to myself I dragged myself out of the hilly castle town. I kept aiming for little goals, talking to rabbits, cows, farm dogs, cows and ponies to keep me going! The last bit was flat and slow to Ellerton Lake where I managed a nice cold soak.

And a nice protein recovery snack, aka a bacon sarnie, the chef is performing well!

Dave 1 popped by with another old colleague as they were doing some open water swim training in the lake, so a chat about tomorrow's route, painful legs and Dave's 120 mile ride home filled the evning nicely before more Spag Bol! About 48km down today. Tomorrow is looking like a big one with tired legs....

Day 5, Day 3 of the run, Outhouses, Nine Standards Rigg, Derek and Bog.

Day 5 started of nicely with a few breakfast rain showers and nice rainbows.

Dad caught me setting off slowly:

It took a while to get going, a climb immediately up and over the M6. It was then heading round Orton Dale where the sun had come up, and there was a view of the Pennines:

looking back at where I had come from:

And a sweaty me! 

There was some reasonable running, mainly contouring with a few ups and downs, quite pleasant. However I soon had an urgent desire to lighten the load! I found a derelict cottage and in the backyard found the remains of an out house. Using an old steel gutter I fashioned a seat over the remaining stone upright, quite refreshing to be open air! I was then further distracted by a nice viaduct in Smardale.

Onwards and  Nine Standards Rigg came into view up in the distance, followed by the odd roof top for Kirkby Stephen in the foreground and a lunch stop with a weary arrival.

A long climb post lunch passed a quarry and into the peat that characterises the Nine Standards area, by this stage the Ipod nano had given up the ghost completely, it was just me and mud up to the Nine Standards.

Further along at the view point I met two ramblers who mentioned they'd seen an elderly gent heading off down the hill. I jokingly said I'd look out for him and carried on to the sign where the two routes off the top diverged, the scene resembled someting from the Somme circa 1916, not pleasant, I've never seen so much. The route away from this point was more of a peat bog covered with squelching foot swallowing mud, often hidden under thin layers of spagnum. There were posts to direct you every few hundred meters, but this was no path! It was even worse when a stream tried to cross this mess. I was wet and filthy by this point!

In the distance I could see a solitary dark figure, it was hard to tell if it was moving at all. With my new found bog hopping skills I was soon upon this mystery soul, and cheerfully asked how he was doing. The reply was not good, an old frail man appeared from under a hood, hands covered in filth, he had just spent the last twenty minutes extracting both feet from a bog, and it was clear he was very shakey, having troubles doing anything. After a couple of minutes it was clear he was not in a good way. I asked if he wanted some company for a bit, which he gratefully accepted. He slowly got moving, but his energy levels were low, he kept getting lightly stuck, struggled with the steep stream bed sides and was falling over alarmingly frequently. It was clear I would have to stay with him until off the bog.

Over the next four hours I learnt a number of things, firstly 83 year olds may not be ideally to wet cold boggy fells, even if  they had been to the Himalayas, Alps and Scottish Highlands in their younger days. Secondly I found out that Derek reckoned this was his scariest mishap whilst out in the hills. We got down to meet the stream at a slow pace, and no real improvement in derek, it was clear he was utterly exhausted, even the remains of his tea and a mars bar did little to perk him up. I tried to pick out the driest line out along the valley, but there wasn't a lot to go at. I tried to keep Derek chatting and found out he'd worked out on all sorts of interesting aircraft as a structural aeronautical engineer. However this didn't speed him up either. There were numerous falls, trips and stumbles, we were averaging an amazing 1.3 miles per hour! About 3 1/2 hours after finding Derek we got to Ravenseat farm where I left him in the capable hands of the farm wife.

It was now just before 7pm so I put the hammer down to get on to keld where I was heading, there was no mobile reception, and I knew dad would be getting a little anxious by now. I hit the road, and came round the corner to find dad out on a mini search! After a bit of jogging along side me I got away from him and beat him the last few hundred metres to the rather quaint little campsite!

Complete with waterfall in the back garden!

Spag Bol, and then on with the planning, it's not all fun, fun, fun:

A bit of a late finish, but another 34 miles done!