lol, yeah, no worries Dave cheers!

Lightwightmick- I wonder if it would help if you walked part of the route, for say three days, before attempting the crossing. You could start at Ingleby Cross and walk to Robin Hood Bay. Have a nights rest and then the following day begin your 5 day attempt from Robin Hood Bay.
A three day 'warm up' would help get you into the mental zone needed to churn out the miles.

It's a good idea! - would foil any feelings of trail shock. Maybe better to arrive at RHB say from Cleveland Way though rather than have to face that Blakey railway track twice! But you are quite right - it's a matter of getting into the right 'mental zone'...
cheers
mick

well here's how this year's July attempt panned out...

Day0 (Thur)
Set off from the slipway in good conditions at 6:20pm - after arriving a bit later at the Bay this year - and what with a queue at the busy chippy - hmm, walking and digesting greasy fare at the same time maybe not such a good idea...
I stayed with the Rain Dale alternative expecting it to get dark on me again and avoided the Intake Road (always resulted in early wet legs and feet!) to continue to the road junction - picking up the Graystone track a few hundred yards farther on.
All went well though and I made it through May Beck woods with enough light to get the shelter up on the lawn at Hilltop Farm where the lady proprietor kindly made me a most welcome mug of tea. Campers are allowed access to the shower too: an unexpected luxury.

(Dave's current attempt must have spurred me on to complete my write up lol! Here's hoping Dave can keep the nut in the crack - as an experienced fell walker, I think his chances of getting to RHB are good - for me, unfortunately, going E-W the nut began to loosen maybe around Reeth...)

Day1 (Fri)
The 'tarp/tent' took more packing up than a bivvy bag and it wasn't until 6:06am that I set off up the hill. The plan was to continue on through Grosmont to rely on the Post Office at Glaisdale - just as well as the Co-op in Grosmont doesn't open till 9.00 now...
After refuelling at Glaisdale I went wrong overlooking the head of Great Fryup Dale, believing, for some reason that the path (George Gap Causeway) was overgrown - there is no need for the large cairn there and I remembered the turn off was at a large cairn... hmm... well, this lost me around 15-20mins. I regained the correct line after picking up the Lyke Wake Walk east for around a quarter of a mile before coming to the distinctive white-topped marker stone where the causeway crosses the Lyke Wake route.
A quick foot-check/coffee stop near Dale Head Farm revealed no problems and a second coat of super glue was quickly applied before crossing the beck and climbing out of Rosedale, knowing this time exactly where I needed to be... only to discover I'd dropped my maps once I started on the railway track bed... fortunately they weren't far back - just t'other side of the road.
Tuning to a bit of 'Coast' radio helped ease the trackbed along and I was now in sandals which suited the surface perfectly and helped cool the feet. I hadn't found the climb up the Rigg such a slog this time either but the track bed soon began to make up for it... but I was determined to get to the stone 'seat' (formula: bum+feet=seat) after Bloworth before a lunch stop as I was still feeling 'in front' but uncertain about reaching the next supply point before closing time. Lordstones has proved a useful stop in the past but now closes at 5pm. Apparently the owner was getting hundreds and hundreds of bikers turning up most evenings and decided that, as a small cafe, they could no longer cope with the demand - a shame really for the relatively few walkers and campers/Coasters who come through at odd times. Between the road crossing at Clay Bank (B1257) and Lord Stones at Green Bank are the three 'peaks' of Hasty Bank and the Wainstones, Cold and Cringle Moors. On last year's attempt I skirted all three in favour of the lower route, though on the recce tackled 'em all. I took in the 1st two but decided to skirt Cringle on this occasion and conserve some energy as it became obvious that there was to be less respite at Lord Stones this time...
And closed it was... but there was time enough for a quick brew and some left overs from Glaisdale, before the weather turned a tad nasty beyond the glider station. Something of a test for the brolly, but fortunately it wasn't too windy and I managed to stay mostly dry for the next mile or two before it cleared up and I'd time to dry out before Scarth Gap.
This time - with a plateful of badly needed calories in mind and a fast approaching food closing time - I intended taking a footpath that takes a more direct line down to Ingleby Cross. Initially, this line didn't look very promising, but the stiles turned out where expected and a delightful path dropped steeply through the woods. All was well until I hit the main forestry track below, where it was soon evident that the path line was lost to tree felling work in progress... with little help from the footprint map I managed to carve a line for South Wood and emerge onto the track near Arncliffe Hall making it to the bar in the Blue Bell for ten past nine. After protestations of food being available till 9:30 on the internet, the landlord relented (to be fair, I think he just wanted to get the quiz under way!) and I enjoyed a plateful of rather nice and easy to eat Chicken Korma.
Being dark thereafter tent setup needed head torch but it wasn't a difficult decision to slip back in for another cold drink after a shower... well it was quiz night after all...
Two nights, two showers; and now beer - all very civilised!

Day2 (Sat)
Maybe not such a good idea to have slipped back in for that last drink last night... and the tiny air mattress proved rather comfortable on the back lawn... and that's why I wasn't away till 6:30, but I did intend on a good breakfast at the A19. If the cafe turned out to be closed, I'd planned to rely on the garage for a sandwich... When I'd phoned the guy had said that the Little Chef would be open... Funny thing is I don't remember seeing a Little Chef, but that's probably what the other building is nearby..?

Just after 7am and I was trying to zoom in on a shy fallow dear ahead... pah! don't mention the A19 Services... Services? What Services? Even wagons couldn't get diesel till after 7am... and all I came away with was a litre of horrible tap water. You need to be coming through here on a weekday for nosh (and after 7am to get less nosh at weekends) - I gave up waiting for the assistant to open up as she enjoyed her fag between a few decent bouts of coughing...

After around 5m something began to feel odd around my right foot... my toes felt funny - almost as though blistered... I eventually stopped at the style before Wray Hse. The quick foot stop revealed my little toe stuck to it's neighbour... the skin pulled away on each toe as they'd struggled to move about. It had been a bit dark and gloomy in the toilets at the Blue Bell and some of the superglue had run down between the toes thus marrying them in a most unhappy union...
Hodber Hill plantation provided a little shelter as it came on to rain and a change to the Jerusalems saw me along the Swale to Richmond - I was impressed with the whole sandals concept especially passing through a former Roman town! Well, if they were good enough for the Romans...
At the top of Bargate is the excellent Richmond Fisheries - open all day - what a find, and almost on route. The lady at the garage on the main street wanted to know why I was buying water when I could get it from the tap outside for free... the bottle of Buxton water compared like fine wine to the local tap water f'sure...
The flatlands were over - the Dales and Pennine watershed lay ahead - every step now taking me closer to those challenging Lakes.
For some reason (probably because they all set off together..?) Whitcliff Woods is where I hit the next wave of Coasters - previously it had been between Hodber, Ellerton Hill and Bolton-on-Swale - here a group of approaching youngsters were raising money for Help for Heroes.
With less concentration needed during summer months with much more of a line on grass paths the Applegarth hamlets either side of the delightfully and tastily-named Salmon Gill were soon passed and it was time for a footstop at the painted cairn below the picturesque Applegarth Scar.
Once back in running shoes I was able to draw on that stash of the now-available Richmond calories and a few jelly babies helped the climbs of Hard Stiles and Nun Cote. Two devilishly confident Jack Russells added their two-penneth around Marrick and the approaching rain clouds left my arrival in Reeth a bit on the damp side.
I'd allowed an hour for feeding and watering here... and 50 minutes later all I'd managed to obtain was a cold drink and a litre of water... Saturday night see, hmm, a bit of bad planning... busy busy honey pot Reeth. What, as seen from the comfort of home - the armchair planning Geoff Bell speaks of - to be perceived as a minor inconvenience, can, in actuality become a major problem where 600-800 calories of pub grub reduce drastically to a mere 100 of just-add-boiling-water instant potato mix... and with the insult of 3 more miles of infuriating little moor to cover beforehand. Cover it though I did with just enough light to find a level spot, get the shelter up and boil water before a chance to stir in the damn stuff... but food aplenty awaited on the morrow... oh yes...

Day3(Sun)
The tumbling tributary of Barney Beck had proved difficult to 'switch off' - all very romantic... and, very, very damp. And it was a damp camper that surveyed his kit a little later than planned even after stirring to the 'necessary' alarm...
With so few calories the night before progress was very slow to a pre-arranged food/hygene stop at Park Bridge and on the stony tracks over lead mining country thoughts of blisters, early death and prayer flags speeded past with alarming rapidity. Here the reality of the 5 dayer began to kick in.
A saffron-robed monk stood beside the abandoned stone crusher smiling approvingly before giving a swinging log a half hearted shove... DO..ING. 'O mani padme Um...' echoed across the moor as I trudged along on empty.
With Gunnerside Gill behind it now seemed a little easier to trot but the spirit was crumbling and became in need of some coaxing... and arrival at Park Bridge was much later than planned - in fact the other place was open anyway, but I had to trudge another 1/4 mile to reach food now...
Though very fine it was too - the site owner kindly allowing use of the shower normally for site users only.
Fortified once more, I set of over the bridge somewhat down on schedule (around 2hrs)...
I'd changed back to sandals, having noted 2 small blisters developing, but as I progressed towards Ravenseat I knew a change back was imminent. A sharp shower was the decider and I used the cover of a roofless barn to swap into the nice clean Sealskinz...
Most Coasters use the track around to Ravenseat, understandably after the stodgy moor, but this has left the footpath route rather overgrown... in fact so little used that I came to find the stile completely blocked off! Soaked from the waistdown with the reedy tussocks, I wasn't best pleased to have to clamber over...
The moor crossing was indeed stodgy, much worse than the recce the previous October - progress slower too and I didn't drop into Kirky Stephen until mid afternoon in increasingly bad weather. I was able to sit out the worst in a shop doorway after stocking up in the all-day Co-op. But soon feeling chilled from sitting I was fortunate that the cafe next door was still open and serving nice hot tea till the brush came out at 5pm.
Thus I avoided the worst of the downpours and set of once again fortified in greatly improving conditions.
Meeting many Coasters coming off the moor at the end of their day lifted the spirits - many had amusing remarks too. Two girls sat beneath a wall complaining that they could go no further and a group arriving at the road visibly dismayed as I pointed and explained that they would have to cross yet more fields.
The rain returned, though with less aggression enroute to Smardale. It wasn't until the gentle pull to Brownber that I began to feel the mileage of the day.
To ease myself across Ravenstonedale Moor I tried to get a little radio... Alan Titmarsh being all I could find... even holding the headset lead aloft at that. Classical guitar at that - at least it wasn't 'Manuel of the Mountains'...
Approaching young Coasters were sensibly heading for the bunkhouse at Bents Farm and the dawning awarness then for me that I still yet had a long way to go and time was getting on...
The long Tarn Moor road stretch to Raisebeck and Orton was as nothing compared to the recce - maybe because I wasn't forever wondering on the whereabouts of that little white Panda, though more like due to the plastic bag of goodies from Kirkby Stephen Co-op I had to munch on - a good move, and I was able to pass through the planned food stop of Orton to crunch an apple as I made my way up to the moor via Bullflat. The price of many lost minutes tallied with the fading light through the heather though and a decision was going to have to be made: put down on the moor or descend to Shap on tired feet in darkness. A flat area of muddy grass beside the infant Lyvennet and within sight of the ghostly erratic boulder became the final decider. On unpacking it soon became clear that this was a desperate and bad choice as the midges began to gather out of the gloom...

Day4 (Mon)
4am: the alarm proved futile... dead as a door post. And I wasn't heading off the moor until after 6am. Pestered by midges (though coated in Avon's Skin So Soft) I'd emptied all the small stuff from the inner midge tent into a carrier bag and slipped into the Jerusalems for convenience. This worked okay, even with very sore feet, until the M6 footbridge where I changed into the trail shoes - all socks now reduced to stinking mush...
What an oasis the newsagents shop in Shap! There's even a hot drinks machine. The light rain had thickened and the bus shelter proved useful for munching and sipping on hot tea... and sorting the feet. Blisters were punctured and dressed and Second Skin applied. The lady waiting for the bus seemed happy enough to stand in the entrance as I tackled the blisters - though sympathetic to my plight, her husband, she told me, had helped refurbish a nearby bothy and planned a weeked away for them both. She didn't sound overly excited at the prospect as she grimaced at my safety pin...
What next? - hot water in the toilets and a shop full of box upon box of running shoes...
Not surprisingly then I don't get away from Shap till nearly 11am, but I do posses a half-price running vest and a nice new pair of socks that stay dry for about a mile, if that, but at least they were clean...
The recce coffee stop on the video made for a good lunch stop - the thick bracken before it well overgrown since the end of April and the approach up Measand End all the more difficult for it.
Progress up to High Raise was slow too and the steady pull seemed timeless, though the deer were less shy this time. I must surely have slipped into some kind of mind-altered state as the dew covered grass shimmered with millions of tiny jewels that I became enchanted with - trying to scoop up a handful after handful of the droplets to wet my lips.
A sudden shower on Low Raise tested the brolly but didn't last long enough to be significantly wetting... but on the descent from Rampsgill a guy behind seemed intent on whistling his way down... most annoying... but again an indicator that I was on the edge with tiny detail standing out much more than would normally be noticeable - like which way round I should be holding the map case... this way... no! this way up... difficult to describe really. In such a condition others may see you as slightly drunk maybe... I had a job shaking off that whistle though and Angle Tarn presented no joy whatsoever.
Patterdale Post Office arrived later than the second Christmas Post too. It's here I should have reapplied some the Second Skin but sat in a daze as I emptied the contents of a cold tin of mushroom soup, desperate as I was for something wet and savoury - much to the amusement of the couple on the same seat who had come up for a long leisurely weekend. It wasn't ideal - I'd hoped to find some of the vegetable kind...
Leaving Patterdale at 6pm I was now well down on schedule, hopelessly so - on the recce I'd left 5hrs earlier and arrived, on good legs, back at Stonethwaite by 7pm, which left an arrival time of 11pm on those same legs which were now far from 'good'.
Grisdale pass may well have been Everest for me - there seemed nothing left to draw on and at the summit as the tarn came suddenly into view again a decision had to be made. If I began the descent to Dunmail Raise I'd be committing myself to continuing in darkness beyond... or maybe put down on some level spot and rest allowing for a 5 day plus crossing. As I stood wondering at my plight a voice called out: 'If you're looking for a pitch, it's okay over here... You can camp next to me if you like.'
Now 8pm - it had taken 2hrs to get up to the tarn - I was shot and I knew it...
It turned out the guy camping here with his 18yr old dog was on some kind of respite holiday - his wife had been diagnosed with cancer and he needed some time away. In no time at all he'd sterilised me a litre of water from the beck with his 'Steripen' - like something out of Star Wars! - worked by UV light...
Feeling totally indifferent about the whole 5 day affair, as we chatted - mainly about gear, and my lack of it... I sucked with disdain on my remaining instant mash soon beginning to feel the evening chill. The little green bits added something of a luxury nibble at least.

Day5 (Mon)
I'd set the alarm for 4:15.
It had been a fitful chilly night with little sleep - the wind got up in the night stripping any warmth from the tarp and quite a bit out of the sleeping bag too: I kept stirring to the flapping tarp - little more than the top of a kid's play tent. I'd pitched the windward side to the ground but it had made little difference... at least it was still there... in all honesty I was ill prepared for a high camp and the bag and been well out of it's comfort zone even for August.
Aching, hearbeat-throbbing feet hadn't helped and though I woke to the alarm I hadn't the will to stir to the grey swirling mist...

I think the dog must have farted - they shared the sleeping bag, he'd told me the night before how the old girl suffered with wind - I woke to the ensuing cafuffle at around 8am needing the toilet... except there wasn't one...
The old dog and I eyed each other in a most dismal kind of way in the grey damp air... poor old thing she looked too: the pair of us, no doubt.
I hadn't the stomach nor heart for the last of the muesli and rolled up the wet tarp, packing as quietly as possible so as no to disturb my kindly albeit temporary neighbour.

It was over then: the Lakes had risen like a great ungloved fist and I was down - the count being 40 miles in less than 9 hours to reach St Bees on feet that were having difficulty negotiating the tarn path...
Top of to-do-list then: descend via the Tongue Gill to emerge at Mill Bridge and head for honeypot Grasmere in search of sustenance and transport.
A concerned woman on her way up kindly offered a trekking pole. Such a heart-warming gesture: 'I've a spare stick,' she said. 'You can have it if you like...'
I must have presented a sorry sight indeed hobbling toward them, each step clearly an agony - hardly able to put one foot in front of the other on badly swollen feet.
All the way to the bus stop I could only occupy myself with the inevitable 'what ifs' and 'if onlys'...

one 'if only':
Going over the video diary, as time permits of course (taking some sorting, though...) it was a big mistake for day 2 to be a Saturday. The planned A19 face-stuffing breakfast didn't materialise nor did a proper evening meal. This led to a very slow start on Sunday when all 'background calories' had been used up. At the time it's just a blur, but Ronald's 'Book of the Bivvy' comes to mind... 'failed at the eating' - if a food stop is missed it's going to show 12-24 hrs later - even if by then you've got to another food stop, the damage is done - you can't catch up by eating twice as much...