Saturday, August 8, 2026
💡PRO TIP: When offered an alternate route around the cows and calves, TAKE IT!!!
7.73 miles / 1,310 ft elevation gain
Many people take full rest days on the C2C. When planning my walk, I thought keeping to the routine of walking every day would be better for me. Plus, I didn’t know what to expect of the walk or the villages along the way, in order to pick the right places to stop. Instead, I decided to split some of the 20+ mile segments into 2 days. Today and tomorrow are one of those: the book describes a 20.5 mile segment from Shap to Kirkby Stephen, but I opted to stop in Orton, a village that’s just a short detour off the path. So, today was a “rest day.”
I slept in until 7am and had booked a later than normal breakfast at 8:30. It would be a short day and I was really beat by the time I went to bed last night, I figured a late start was warranted. When I woke up, my feet were still sore but felt a lot better than when I went to bed. Since it wasn’t expected to be cold or rainy today, I wore shorts and my Topo trail runners. By the end of the day I wasn’t happy with the trail runners. Any time there’s a slope to the footing (which there often is), the trail runners twist around my feet which puts a ton of pressure on the top of my outer metatarsals. It’s quite uncomfortable and feels like it might lead to injury. With the boots, my feet stay firmly planted in the right position.
Breakfast at the Kings Arms was yogurt with muesli and fried eggs on toast, only 2 breakfasts this morning, since it would be a short day. I set off just after 9:30, winding through the village streets and across train tracks via a footbridge, until the trail hit the farmland.
The Cow Incident
Before I’d actually gotten into any fields, only 10 minutes into my walk, I saw a sign pointing to the right that said “Alternative route for the Coast to Coast footpath avoiding cows and calves (please follow red topped posts).” It said “alternative” so I thought it was optional, and since I don’t have anything against cows and calves, I continued on the normal path. I continued until I hit a fence and climbed over the stile into a large pasture.
As I was going up the hill I saw 20-30 cows, with not super young but still nursing calves, and a bull. Many were standing, but some were lying down. I approached slowly and tried not to get between the cows and calves, but there was no clear path that went fully around them. Instead of backing away as I’d hoped, the cows all stood up and turned towards me, encircling me and closing in. The bull seemed to be encouraging the cows forward, and then one of them came at me, pushing me in the arm and knocking the Hydroflask coffee tumbler out of my hand. For the first time on the walk, I was truly scared. I wasn’t about to bend down to pick up the tumbler (sorry, farmer, for littering; also, can you update your sign to say “temporary route” so it’s clearly not optional?). Afraid that running might trigger them, I faced the cows with my back towards the stile I needed to get over, backing away as they continued to move closer. Another cow came from my left and pushed me again. At that point, I raised my hands high in the air, making myself bigger, and said sharply “No!” while continuing to back away, trying my best not to trip and fall in the gross cow-poopy mud, until I finally made it to the fence and climbed over.
I couldn’t have been happier to find myself in a sheep pasture, trying to settle my nerves, heart rate, and breathing as I walked. I felt foolish for not turning around as soon as I’d seen the cows crowded around the gate/stile I needed to reach. I’d been feeling too comfortable after my last cow encounter to realize how different this situation was, with the calves present. After crossing the walkway over the M6, I caught up to the Dutch family and asked if they’d taken the alternative route. They had initially gone into that pasture but turned around and took the alternative, because the woman had previously been in a similar situation with cows and calves in England. I have now learned that lesson, too.
Crossing a large field later that morning, I came upon a group of cows lying down close to the road. There was a Highland cow with shaggy hair and pointy horns right at the edge of it. They seemed uninterested in even standing up, much less charge me, but I still felt apprehensive walking by. Luckily they just watched me, with the Highland swishing its tail slightly (which I believe is a sign of mild irritation).
Rolling to Orton
The rest of the walk was pretty uneventful, through rolling fields. The terrain was a mix of limestone road and grass. While the grass was softer on the feet, it was very mound-y and embedded with rocks, so I still had to watch where I stepped to avoid twisting an ankle. By 11am, the sun was behind clouds and the wind had picked up, so I stopped behind a large boulder to put on my windbreaker and wished I wasn’t wearing shorts. Eventually the wind calmed and the sun came out, so I took off my windbreaker and was comfortable again.
At one point the path hits a road that connects to the B6260. My apps disagreed about whether I should walk the road (Pedometer++) or take a path through a field (FarOut). The book suggests the road, saying it “is quiet enough.” While there wasn’t much traffic, I was happy to walk a tiny bit further to avoid pounding my feet on the tarmac.
Crossing the B6260, I met another solo walker who was carrying all her own stuff and staying in a mix of B&Bs and hostels. She was planning to finish in 12 days, and her husband was also meeting her at the end, on her birthday. Since she was continuing on to Kirkby Stephen, we chatted until we got to my turnoff to Orton.
Afternoon in Orton
Orton seems like a great little village, picturesque but not touristy, and I’m really glad I stopped here. I’d wanted to arrive in time for the monthly Orton Farmers Market, which runs until 2pm. Arriving at 12:30, I had plenty of time to look at everything and pick up some gifts (and a homemade lemon drizzle flapjack for lunch/snack tomorrow). I also stopped into Kennedy’s Fine Chocolates, where I picked up more gifts and 3 kinds of mint chocolates for myself. I hope I can stay within the luggage transfer weight limit with all these gifts!
Next it was the Orton Scar Cafe for a delicious lunch: a decaf latte and a slice of quiche with a very heavily dressed coleslaw, a side salad with no dressing, and chips. The server pointed to a bowl and said, “there’s your sauces.” Looking in, I recognized ketchup, mayonnaise, and malt vinegar, but I had to look up brown sauce (like a less smoky, less sweet BBQ sauce) and salad cream (like a more mustardy, tangier mayonnaise). So this is why I keep getting dressing-less salads! I put the salad cream on my salad; it was fine, but I can’t say I wouldn’t rather have basically any other kind of salad dressing.
After lunch, it was back to Kennedy’s for some homemade ice cream. I couldn’t narrow it down to one flavor, so I got two scoops: my old stand-by mint chocolate chip, and Cumbrian butter fudge, which was definitely the best ice cream I’ve ever had (puts the toffee fudge from The Gather on Day 1 to shame). The mint chocolate chip was on the bottom, and by the time I got to it I wasn’t even excited to eat it. Sitting outside Kennedy’s, I ate my ice cream and filled Lee in on the cow incident.
An Evening at The George
Fully satiated, I walked a few doors down to home for tonight, The George Hotel (aka “the pub,” as the market vendors referred to it when I asked where I was staying). I was about 30 minutes early for check-in, so I chatted with Lorna and Ettie, who were also waiting to check in. The Dutch family and 2 of the Australian couples are also staying here (turns out the 3rd couple had ended their walk and wasn’t traveling with the group anymore). While I’ve really enjoyed walking alone, it’s been nice to see familiar faces along the way and at the end of the day.
After checking in I had a long overdue chat with Mom, catching up on her and Elmo (her dog), and giving her the blow-by-blow of the days since my last post. Then I got cleaned up and went downstairs with my iPad to write in my journal and publish a blog post while enjoying a glass of wine. I was actually able to sit at the bar, which is unusual. Usually bars don’t have stools, so you can stand at it or take your drink to a table. I was the only one in the pub for a while, but eventually more people came, mostly friendly locals, some with their dogs. I met a very sweet whippet named Winnie who tried to climb into my lap. She seemed to be a frequent, popular pub guest and got treats from the owner.
I stayed at The George for dinner (easy choice; it’s the only place in the village that serves dinner): a halloumi burger with chips and coleslaw. I’d never had a halloumi burger before, and it was a pretty nice change from the Moving Mountains vegan burgers. The bartender confused me by asking if I wanted chips or fries; I chose chips, because I knew what that meant. I didn’t realize there was a thing called “fries” here, so I looked it up: fries are thin, shoestring-y, and crispy, while chips are thicker cut and soft in the middle. After dinner, I went upstairs, got ready for bed, and called Lee again to say good night.
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