...nothing but footprints

Our sixth and final day on the Yorkshire Wolds Way dawned overcast but dry, although looking out of the window I could see that it had obviously rained heavily overnight.  I didn't really mind.  Today we were going to complete an unfinished ambition dating back 17 years and we weren't about to let the weather get the better of us.  At the same time, I was a little sorry that our adventure was drawing to a close.  Typically awake earlier than necessary, I drank coffee as I waited for breakfast time to arrive and reflected upon what a wonderful holiday this had been.  I hadn't really considered it as a holiday until this point, but then it struck me that this was exactly what it had been.  And, in its own way, it had been a relaxing holiday, each day mapped out for us, with no choices to be made other than whether to stop for a break.  I'd loved every minute of it.  Even the previous day's long slog in a persistent downpour had been rewarding, in the way that overcomi

I awoke from a deep sleep with that strange feeling you can get when you're not entirely sure where you are.  It was a little after 5 a.m. and there was a steady, rhythmic tapping noise coming from outside.  I looked out to discover that it was the sound of rain beating down on a flat roof beneath our bedroom window.  Clearly it had been raining heavily for most of the night, judging by the size of the puddles in the pub's car park.  Ordinarily the sound of rain lashing against a window can be rather cosy.  If you've nowhere better to go, that is.  But we had 15 miles to walk to the village of Ganton where our next (and final) night's accommodation was booked. There was no sign of the rain abating as we made our way down for breakfast a little after 8 a.m., to be joined shortly afterwards by the couple from Whitby.  From our table by the window we could watch the circling ripples on the car park's puddles as I provided a running commentary to our two fellow Wolds

My mobile rang at exactly six on the morning of our fourth day on the Yorkshire Wolds Way National Trail.  I had set an alarm, although we hadn't really needed it.  We were already awake and ready to pack up and go.  Over dinner the night before we'd decided to leave the Wolds Inn as early as possible and walk to the next village, Fridaythorpe, where we could have our breakfast at the popular Seaways Cafe.    This was a distance of just over three miles and a quick check on the cafe's website confirmed that it would open at 8 a.m.  We'd calculated that if we left Huggate at seven then we should be there in just over an hour.  The route is one we were already familiar with, having walked in the area several times before.  It seemed like an altogether better way to start the day than to hang around, waiting until the pub served breakfast at nine - a ridiculously late time in my opinion. I had an inkling that we'd been the only guests staying at the Wolds Inn that ni