C2C Day Seven - Shap to Orton

Today was a shorter and steadier day, which felt just right after the intensity of yesterday’s effort. 

I set off from Shap after breakfast at the King’s Arms and a quick stop at the village shop to get my Coast-to-Coast passport stamped—one of the more recent additions to the route, and a nice little ritual to mark progress. Along with a bottle of flavored water and a Wispa bar as a treat for midway through the day.

Not long after leaving the village, I crossed over a railway line and then, quite soon after, the M6 motorway. It’s a surprisingly big moment—crossing that long ribbon of roaring traffic feels symbolic, like leaving the wild drama of the Lake District behind and stepping into something different.

The terrain reflected that shift too. The jagged edges and bold contours of the Lakes gave way to more open and rolling countryside, with  limestone underfoot and wide horizons ahead.

The Yorkshire Dales don’t grab you with the same theatrical flair, but they have their own quiet authority—a kind of easy confidence in the land. Having lived in England most of my life, I've never experienced this change in such a way by travelling a relatively short distance, and this is something that will stick in my memory going forward.

The walk itself was straightforward, with the new gates and sign posts erected by the National Trails really helping the navigation, it was pleasing to just be able to plod along, I even allowed myself 30 minutes of listening to the cricket through my Sat Nag headphone as the walk and direction finding were under control for once.

Remember I picked up a Wispa bar at the shop in Shap? It was around now ( near a large stone called 'Robin Hood's grave', it's just a name), the mid trek snack popped into my head and another rookie mistake was realized. The day’s heat had turned it into a gooey puddle of melted chocolate, fortunately still in its wrapper, which I used as a kind of straw. It still tasted fine—messy, but fine—but the whole episode gave me a rather unappetizing insight into just how much air and how little chocolate actually goes into one of those bars!

As I neared the little village of Orton, I passed what looked like an old limestone kiln, a reminder of the area’s more industrial past tucked into its rural charm. And just before I reached the village, I was lucky enough to spot a red squirrel darting across the road in front of me heading off through the trees at the side—a proper little moment.

I arrived in Orton around midday with time to explore. I swung by Kennedy’s chocolate factory (how could I not?) and then put my feet up at The George Inn with a drink and a bit of reflection.

After yesterday, this felt like a breather —and a chance to take in the changing landscape as the trail moves steadily east.