Joanna On The Trail

Sunday, August 16, 2026

💡PRO TIP: On Sundays, unless you’re in Richmond, you need a plan for your evening meal. Eat whatever snacks you’ve accumulated, order an extra lunch from your B&B the night before, stop if you see something open along the way, or ask your host for advice ahead of time. Even in Kirkby Stephen, the next biggest village after Richmond, I couldn’t order food after 4:40pm, and smaller villages had even earlier cutoffs. But if Sunday roast sounds good to you, you’re in luck. As long as you’re there by around 2pm, you should be able to find a pub serving it.

13.30 mi / 894 ft elevation gain

I was so excited to start the day today! I woke up at 6am, after getting 8 hours (!!) of sleep. I stretched my feet for a while before standing up, and they were relatively pain-free. Lee’s train was scheduled to arrive in Grosmont at 3:15, and I was really looking forward to seeing him. It’s been over 2 weeks since I left, a really long time for us to be apart. And on top of that, today’s walk should be pretty easy: about 13 miles, generally downhill, less than 1,000 ft of elevation gain, no steep climbs or descents.

Leaving the Lion Inn

I got a late start walking because I wanted to get a blog post published since I was falling behind, and I knew I’d rather spend the evening with Lee than on my iPad. Breakfast, just after 9am, was granola, yogurt, and toast with jam, less than what I’ve normally had these last two weeks. Just after 10am, I was packed up and ready to go. First, though, I had to ask for directions to get out of the Lion Inn. Somehow I’d managed to navigate almost all the way across England, yet couldn’t find my way out of a single building.

I’d heard rain while getting ready; it had stopped by the time I left, but it was chilly, with off-and-on rain expected, so I put on my lightweight windbreaker, which I thought was at least a little water repellent (spoiler: turns out, it is not). I also had my rain cover on my pack already, so I wouldn’t have to fuss with it later. With a 5-hour walk ahead, I figured I’d arrive around the same time as Lee, as long as I kept up the pace.

The first mile followed the busy road that passes the Lion Inn, not the most pleasant way to start, with uneven footing rather than an actual path and cars whizzing by. By the time I turned off onto a path across a valley, it was lightly raining, but I didn’t mind. The book said this section can be boggy, but that wasn’t the case, given how dry it’s been, even with today’s rain. Good thing too, since I’d put on my trail runners without even considering whether boots might be smarter for the wet.

To Glaisdale Moor

When I rejoined the road, just off a footpath (not directly on the C2C route) I spotted Fat Betty. Tradition is to leave a food offering and take one someone else has left, but there weren’t any offerings there (not sure I’d want to eat one anyway), so I skipped it. The next several miles followed the same pattern: road, then a path cutting across a valley, then back to road. Luckily the roads kept getting smaller, with less traffic each time.

Around the 3-mile mark, the trail turned off the road for a much longer stretch, which I was grateful for. I’d been walking about an hour by then, keeping roughly a 20-minute-mile pace. Not quite the “be the tortoise” pace I’d been aiming for, but the walking was easy, and I wanted to make sure I reached Grosmont on time. I hadn’t seen any other walkers yet, just a few cyclists, so no dog petting today. At least there were sheep.

Shortly after turning off, I passed Trough House, apparently used by grouse shooters as a lunch spot. It sat right on the path, so I couldn’t resist peeking in the window, just a big table and some chairs, not much else. This stretch, along Glaisdale Moor, offers beautiful views of Great Fryup Dale, its name making me hungry for the eggs I’d skipped at breakfast 🍳.

Doggie Joy and Travel Woes

Finally, I got to pet some dogs! 3 cocker spaniels and their owners walked by, soaking wet from the wet grass and clearly having a great time. As I continued on I found myself thinking about Lee’s 3 train connections today, wondering how much buffer he had between them, since trains are notoriously unreliable. Right as I was thinking about it, Lee texted: he’d just arrived in Doncaster and learned his second train was canceled, due to an object caught in the overhead electric wires. The station attendant told him to hop on the train to Leeds and figure it out from there. He eventually worked out a route from Leeds to Middlesbrough and then Grosmont by 6pm, so I would arrive much earlier than him, without rushing.

Around mile 5.5, I turned onto a road for about a mile, and while I was on it the rain and wind picked up significantly. It wasn’t long before I realized the windbreaker wasn’t nearly as water resistant as I’d hoped, but by then I was already soaked, so I decided to just push through. The rain lasted about 20 minutes, roughly where I turned off onto a gravelly track along Glaisdale Rigg, which would take me into the village of Glaisdale, 2.5 miles away. By then I was famished, hoping to find somewhere for a takeaway latte to go with the sandwich I’d brought from the Lion Inn.

Finally I reached a gate marking the final approach into Glaisdale. As I walked, a boxer and her owner came toward me, and the boxer immediately dropped to the ground in the grass, refusing to move. I asked her owner if she was scared of me. No, apparently this is just her move: lie down, wait for you to engage, then explode into play. Sure enough, once I knelt down, she leapt up, ran circles, and smashed straight into me, nearly knocking me over. She REALLY wanted to play! She was adorable, and I left covered in doggy drool.

Glaisdale and Beggar’s Bridge

To my dismay, everything in Glaisdale was closed, it being Sunday. There were a few lovely benches where I could have eaten lunch, but I had to pee too badly to stop. The village spans the River Esk, meaning an annoyingly steep descent from the main commercial strip, then an equally annoying climb back up into East Arncliffe Wood. At the river sits Beggar’s Bridge, dating to 1619, named for a pauper named Thomas Ferris. Tom wanted to see his love one last time before setting off to sea to make his fortune, but couldn’t cross the flooded river to reach her. He came back years later, a rich man, married her, and built the bridge so no future lovers would be kept apart like that. I would have loved to see it up close, but the need to pee and eat took priority.

The walk through East Arncliffe Wood was beautiful and peaceful, following a ridge above the River Esk. I alternated between two side-by-side paths, a dirt/gravel one and what looked like very old stones forming the original route. I soon found a giant rock to pee behind, then a bench, dedicated to two dogs, where I stopped for lunch. The cheese savoury sandwich from the Lion Inn was huge, and I enjoyed every bite. Dessert was a mint chocolate truffle from Kennedy’s Chocolates, still riding along since Orton. By the time I left the woods I was a mile from Egton Bridge, then another couple miles to Grosmont. Still on track for around 3:15, with Lee still arriving around 6pm. We chatted while I ate lunch, and on and off throughout the rest of both our journeys.

Into Grosmont

The rest of the walk was easy, gently downhill on quiet roads or soft paths, crossing the river multiple times. Egton Bridge was every bit as pretty as the book promised. At the corner near the Horseshoe Hotel, signs offered two alternate paths into Grosmont, both 2 miles, one over stepping stones, one avoiding them. Not knowing what to expect, I took the stepping-stone route. But when I got down to the river and stepped onto the first stone, I started shaking, genuinely afraid I’d fall in. I don’t know exactly why it scared me so much, maybe I was just tired and a little off balance with my pack on. Either way, I retraced my steps and took the other route instead, over the bridge the village is named for. Past the bridge, the path follows Barnards toll road through the historic Egton Manor, where I spotted a mother and baby alpaca in a pasture, then past an old Toll Cottage that still displays its original toll prices.

Continuing on, I passed under a railroad bridge and found myself on the road, right across from the cricket pitch, where the Grosmont Cricket Club was playing a charity match against the Fat Badger Cricket Club. (Later internet searching revealed the home team won.) Passing under the railroad again and up a hill, I finally reached the village, and saw the sign for The Geallery (Chris Geall’s art gallery), above which sits the Gallery B&B, where we’d be staying tonight.

Improvising Dinner

There’s exactly one place to eat dinner in Grosmont, the Station Tavern, and I’d told Lee I’d make us a 7pm reservation. Since I was a bit early for my 4pm check-in, I went straight there and asked the bartender about booking a table. She got a look on her face that told me bad news was coming: they’d stopped serving food at 3pm on Sundays. I should have seen it coming, between the mad dash in the much larger Kirkby Stephen (where we’d had to rush to the pub by 4:40pm just to get our order in) and everything in Glaisdale being closed today. She suggested walking back to Egton Bridge, or getting a taxi to Whitby. Neither sounded great, especially with almost 3 hours to kill before Lee arrived. Instead, I headed to the Grosmont Co-Op (established 1867, apparently the UK’s oldest independent co-op society), which I knew was still open because I passed it on the way. It was small, without a ton of options, so after calling the B&B host, Jayne, to confirm there was a microwave, I picked up packets of black beans and rice, a wedge of blue cheese, crackers, jam, and a bottle of wine.

Jayne had told me I could just let myself in. The main door was unlocked, my bag waiting in the entryway, key already in my room’s door. I brought everything upstairs, cleaned up, changed, made a decaf latte, and settled into the common area’s comfy couch to work on a blog post while I waited for Lee.

Reunited, At Last

Around 5:30 I packed up and headed down to the train station. Grosmont is famous for the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, whose locomotives famously played the “Hogwarts Express” in the original Harry Potter film. The beautifully restored historic station has a sitting room that’s really more of a library/museum, plus a tea room that I learned too late sold sandwiches and toasties and was open until 4:30.

Turns out the historic station isn’t actually where the regular trains arrive. While waiting, I heard a train stop somewhere behind me but assumed it was just pausing before pulling into the station, until Lee called asking where I was. Walking between two buildings, I looked across the parking lot and saw him standing on a completely different platform. Turns out the woman who’d been waiting with me had made the same mistake, missing her train home to Whitby and left quite distressed. I wished there were something we could do to help, but without a car, there wasn’t much on offer.

After bringing Lee’s bag up to the room, we headed to the tavern for a drink, sitting at a table outside to start catching up on everything. Back at the B&B, we put together our makeshift dinner in the shared kitchen. While we ate, Lizzie, the other guest staying there, arrived, equally surprised there was nowhere to get food that evening. We offered to share ours, but she went to the pub instead for crisps and a slice of lemon cake.

We were both exhausted from our respective travels, with a big day ahead, so we turned in early.