Breaking Trail and the Not-So-Great Day

Day 14: Danby Wiske to Ingleby Arncliffe (9.4 miles, flat)

The day started out so beautifully.  There were sunny skies and grassy paths, long hedgerows and fields of wild flowers. The mileage was low and our pace was kickin'.  We snacked on string cheese and apples on a comfortable high stile overlooking a train track.  Why we even had visions of an early pub visit and maybe a nap before dinner.  How great was this?

Maybe we should have taken heed when we passed over the stile dressed up for Halloween, complete with a skull, plastic rats and a motion-activated hoot owl.

But today, we were invincible.  After all, what could possibly go wrong?  We were traversing the lovely Yorkshire Dales, where trails are well-marked and terrain is easy.  We confidently bopped along referring only to our Stedman strip map and route markers . . . Until our trail disappeared before our very eyes (sheep trails have a way of doing that).

No problem, we'd had to shoot a corrective azimuth before.  We picked a known point on our Ordinance Survey map, set a compass heading and set out cross country (cross field in this case) to intersect dear Alfred Wainwright's path.  What pioneers were we -- breaking trail through the flora of Northern England!  The informed are nodding already, keenly aware of the proliferation of stinging nettle in the fields.  Like tiny hypodermic needles, the hairy edged leaves injected our legs (only my second day to wear shorts), with enough histamine and other chemicals to make us rue the day we set out with such reckless abandon.  Oh my gosh, how much more could this sting and how long would it last?  We soon both were covered from boot top to knee cap in burning, angry, red welts.  Arriving sheepishly at the pub, I tucked my flaming legs under a table and called our B&B for an early arrival (wondering where I could find some baking soda for relief).

So, everybody has a not-so-great day.  Having so far dodged rain, bogs and mist, we needed a horror story, and the nettles delivered.  Good thing there was no wifi last night.  Our experience in the dales is much more calmly recalled given a good dosing of antihistamine and Claritin (all downed with a Thatchers Cider, of course), followed by a perfectly lovely moor walk today.