by John Ryder Snr
We’re three generations of Ryders
As close as butter on toast
We’re walking the width of England
We’re walking the Coast to Coast
For 15 days we lace wet boots
Heave rucksacks on our backs
We stride off proudly into the sun
Down dale and mountain tracks
It’s 200 miles from St Bees Head
To the Bay of Robin Hood
A deeply daunting test of grit
Through moor and mist and mud
Off we set from Lulu’s pub
T’ward sylvan fell and mere
The Lakes in all their glory
(And pints of Theakston’s beer)
Derwood’s at the heart of things
With her wise and witty blog
A memorable memento
Of this beautiful, arduous slog
Ryder Jnr sets a searing pace
‘No coffee breaks or rest’
‘Onward Derwood,’ comes the cry
Tough days of trial and test
I myself prop up the rear
My glory days long gone
Content myself with rate sedate
My mantle passed to my son, John
But Jumping Jack is full of beans
He bounces down the track
O for the wings of youth again
I wish I had mine back
Ennerdale is our first aim
It’s really not that far
Just 15 miles of blood and sweat
It’s easy in a car!
Stonetwaite is our next goal
A hot and sunny day
Tough terrain tears at our feet
For roof and rest we pray.
An answer to our prayer is found
The Vicarage snug and cool
A sanctuary and a shelter
A post-Arcadian jewel
With lingering looks at Lakeland
We rest awhile at Shap
Dad and Jack win games of pool
I’m not a happy chap!
A blistering pace becomes the norm
And Pat and Meg fall prey
Four feet alike in their joint grief
Soul sisters you might say
Soul sisters you might say
Our next stop is the Pennine Peaks
Our country’s splendid spine
A brazen backbone of rusted iron
Peat bogs of dark red wine
Strange structures reach up to the sky
The cairns of Standards Nine
Their unclear meaning is their charm
An heritage proud and fine
Now Yorkshire looms up thro’ the mist
Where Jack and Pat were born
Splendid isolation is all around
With Swaledale sheep forlorn
Shy Yorkshire Dales reveal their charms
Our senses to enthrall
Exquisite verdant tapestry
For creatures great and small
A rest day next in Richmond town
Fleshpots lust and sin
Alas it did not happen,
None of them were in!
North York Moors now rear their heads
Last barrier on our quest
50 miles of terrain and tor
Then downhill all the rest
At Grosmont station we call a halt
We’re running out of steam
But Hogwarts’ train fans our fading flame
And reignites our dream
Hooray! We’ve reached our Bay of Dreams
Worn out but joyful too
We’ve gained our goal of C to C
A disheveled, triumphant crew
So, raise your glasses, one and all
One final heartfelt toast
Our glorious trek has reached its end
We’ve done the Coast to Coast