I had a surprisingly good sleeping the church, I thought I would have bad dreams about ghosts and nuns, but no, I didn’t.
We walked for about an hour into Appleby, which is a larger market town. We arrived wet and cold and soon followed directions to an open cafe. After piling our wet coats and packs into a corner, we ordered coffees and a scone and started to chat with the staff and other customers.
Everyone we come across is amazed at meeting two old ladies from New Zealand with full packs, including tents and food. Most walkers here are put for the day or use tour companies to carry their gear from pub to pub.
We try to find the next best camping spot or good places to visit but always need to be aware of a locals “just up the road” as it can can be 15km and a few minutes for a car, but 4 hours walk for us.
We visited Lady Anne’s Alm house which was built in 1651. It is a group of houses for ladies down on their luck. It still operates today in the sane fashion.
We walked on through the countryside.
Walked right through another farm and stopped to look into a big shed. Met the owner and his 2 workers who were shoveling shit for him on their Saturday off from working in a gypsum mine. Kay always has a good conversation with the farmers. I am the one who asks the silly but obvious questions. They were clearing out what had been pig pens so they could be used for rearing lambs.
All the farms have big tanks that they shovel all the mess into, mix it up with water, and then spread back on the paddocks. Perfect ♻️.
On this walk, I am constantly smelling unpleasant (to me) odors, which is contrary to my understanding of “fresh country air.”
The houses are so close to the barns that I guarantee that the washing doesn’t come in smelly like perfumed laundry powder. More likely to be smelling like the back end of an animal.
Come to think about it we have only seen about 4 lots of washing hanging on clothes lines, even though we have spent a fair amount of our time walking in behind houses. Maybe they don’t like the country smells or just prefer to use a drier.
Arrived 2.30 at Kirkby Thore, a little village with no shop and not even a pub. That was a first! We tossed up going further, but rain was expected, and the church was open and welcoming.
It had a kitchen and toilet added in recent years that meant moving the huge organ.
This was the first church I had seen with a clock on the steeple. In my experience, clocks are usually in the town hall or the post office.
So we made ourselves at home sitting around the table, me reading a book and Kay attempting a crossword she had ripped out of a newspaper earlier in the day. She didn’t have much luck with the clues, so screwed up the paper to suff in her wet shoes.
We had eaten our dinner when a man, with the compulsory dog , arrived to give the clock its weekly wind up. We had a long discussion about politics, as the elections are on this week. He obviously enjoyed a good chat, and eventually, his wife rang to make sure he hadn’t fallen down the steep spiral staircase. So he and the dog climbed up the staircase and wound the clock.
He said he would let the church warden know that we were there, so she didn’t lock us in. Kay had already put herself into her sleeping bag by the time the warden arrived to check that we were OK and had everything we needed.
So we had a good chat with her too.
We had a very comfortable night in this church too.
