Leaving the charm of Orton, we set off for Kirkby Stephen, one of the largest towns on our walk. It rained, as it has most every day, but the scenery was still lovely as ever. We spent our first big chunk walking on the road, partially because we missed our turn and partially because it's rather less difficult in the rain. Once we made it back onto the trail, the day looked much like this:
There were plenty of rolling hills, barns, rock walls, and of course, sheep. We even came across a particularly amusing herd of cows, carefully labeled by their obviously detail-oriented owner:
We also got a bit off track later in the day, passing through this railway tunnel:
Instead of this one:
Perhaps you understand our confusion...
But we got to Kirkby Stephen just fine, after ambling past a very important but unexcavated archeological site (a contradiction in terms, it seems to me). Walking into these old villages is an entirely different experience than driving in, as Dad keeps commenting. You can sortof feel them coming as you glimpse a few clustered chimneytops, but it's not until you reach an alley like this one that you really know you've arrived:
Though it may not seem like much from the snapshot below, Kirkby Stephen was a jarring and cacophanous metropolis compared to the villages we'd been staying in to date.
But the big city (and by big city of course I mean moderately-sized village) can have some benefits; we found ourselves an Indian restaurant and had a spectacular dinner. But the real excitement came at the end of a little alleyway between the church-turned-market and the Fish'n'Chips shop:
Yes, clean clothes for all. I'm sure our upcoming innkeepers will be grateful.
Tomorrow it's over the Pennines to Keld, the halfway point of the walk. More stories and pictures to come soon!
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