Day 7: 12 July - Reeth to Richmond and Bolton on Swale - 18 miles

Despite the dire warnings I found the accommodation at the Black Bull fine. The only criticisms I could raise were that the bathroom had a bath but no shower and - shock horror - the fittings were in avocado.

The damage so far to my body has not been too bad: there’s a bit of tingling on the skin from the sun but generally I have managed to keep it protected; I have chaffing on the hips from the bag I am carrying; a couple of toe nails are nearly off from the impacting of my boots (especially downhill); and of course there are the blisters. This morning, in the cleanliness of the room, I decided it was time to redress the feet which I have left alone until now since there have been no recent problems. Unlike a couple of day ago they felt tight this morning as I walked around my room. The sore areas are protected by blister plasters and then covered by tape. While this will not encourage them to heal it does prevent them from getting worse and allows me to walk with little discomfort. However, they do weep a fair bit.

I left after breakfast and headed out of the village. The landscape has changed over the course of the walk. First it was mountain and then moor and now it is becoming a quintessential English countryside walk: fields and woods and pasture, the smell of elderflower in the open field, wild garlic in the hedgerows and fungi in the cool dank woods. The day was spent largely in the Swale valley, in part walking alongside the river then crossing green pastures full of cows and then sheltering from the sun in cool and shady woodland. As the walk took me higher up the open Swale valley there was the lift of a cooling breeze in the heat of the day and the views of the river below me, glittering in the sun.

I was in Richmond by 2.30 in the afternoon and stopped for a rest, some lunch and copious amounts of water at a small cafe before pressing on. I was not sure how far I wanted to go from here as this was the 'book' stop for today but I made a mental decision that I should get to at least as far as Catterick Bridge some four miles away. The route continued to follow the river Swale although now it was wider, shallower and - despite appearances - no doubt dirtier. After an hour, and feeling weary, I rested on a tree shaded path and lay there drifting away while looking up at the canopy above. I was within a mile of the A1 and Catterick Bridge at this point and could hear the gentle drone of the traffic to the east.

Eventually I got myself going again, under the A1 and into the Yorkshire countryside. I was now following lanes rather than tracks, farmland and small villages lending evidence to the fact I was now closer to civilisation. On the map I had seen a wood along the route some three miles away and decided I might bivvy there for the night. Tomorrow could be a 23 mile leg and the extra 3 miles or so tonight would make a dent in this. I passed through the tiny village of Bolton-on-Swale and outside one of the small cottages chatted to an older man tending his garden. I asked him if there were any pubs further along the route thinking extra effort for a decent bed, a beer and a meal might be worth it. Unfortunately there were none in the hamlets I would be passing through but he kindly invited me into his back garden and we shared a beer together before I pressed on. My faith in human kindness has taken a big boost.

I am now in my bivvy bag at the edge of a wood in an isolated point along the route, having followed a straight, narrow and quiet road east. The sun is setting and the sounds of birds and other wildlife surround me as another day draws to a close. I will let sleep help my body recover overnight before a long day tomorrow.