The Monday Page: The blog of our slog

The Coast to Coast, devised by Alfred Wainwright in the mid-Seventies, passes through the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales and the North York Moors.

Traditionally, walkers start out by picking up a pebble and dipping their boots in the Irish Sea at St Bee's head.

At the end of their walk, they deposit their pebble on the beach at Robin Hood's Bay and wet their boots in the North Sea.

Father and son, Ian and William Savage, from North Yorkshire completed the walk last summer. Ian, 45, is a management consultant and William, 14, is a pupil at Ripon Grammer School, Here is their diary.

DAY ONE

St Bee's to Ennerdale Bridge (14 miles)

Waved off at Harrogate Railway Station by my wife and our other four boys. William got a big hug from his mum. He was as responsive as a piece of timber. Well, he is 14. We'll see them all in Robin Hood's Bay in 12 days' time.

Put our feet in the water and pebbles in the rucksacks at St Bee's and set off by 8.30am.

A strange day's walk. The first stage, along the cliffs to St Bee's Head and beyond, offers great views to the Isle of Man and Scotland (don't look back as you gain height - Sellafield). The second part, striking inland, passes through slightly down-at-heel villages. The third stage takes you into Lakeland. Terrific.

DAY TWO

Ennerdale Bridge to Rosthwaite (14.5 miles)

Little sleep above the bar of our B&B. On the road by 8.20am. Great start, walking the length of Ennerdale Water, then through forest paths with views down the valley. It's quite a pull to the top, but the panorama, taking in some of the great peaks, makes it worthwhile. Gravity took us down to Rosthwaite.

Spare a thought for the lone male walker we passed, he was on his third day and broke his spectacles on day one - map reading was a bit of a challenge he said.

DAY THREE

Rosthwaite to Patterdale (17.5 miles)

Set off at 9am, a couple of hours steady, steep climbing, then the long descent into Grasmere. Lost half an hour walking in the wrong direction due to a map-reading mix-up (mine). William kept his thoughts to himself, but you didn't have to be a mind reader...

Another long, steady pull up to Grizedale Tarn and then the descent into Patterdale.

William has overtaken me a few times today. It's a sign of things to come. I once read a good analogy about fathers and teenage sons - they were likened to two buckets in a well, one ascending, the other descending. (My pebble weighs a ton...)

DAY FOUR

Patterdale to Shap (16 miles)

Our B&B, Wordworth Cottage (once home to the Romantic poet), has the perfect location, lying in the valley down a quiet lane with views of crags and fells. Even better, the lad of the house - about 11-years-old - knew all the footie scores for the last few days.

Unfortunately, from the window at breakfast I could see the steep climb up the side of the fell we were heading for. Heck, was it steep. I had to look away and find ways to distract myself.

Another early morning long, steep climb. Ended up on the top of the wrong peak. Pitying looks and a "Do you have a map?" from other walkers once we joined the correct trail. We increased our pace, up to Kidsty Pike - stunning views - and then a long descent. Hard on the knees. Trudge, trudge, trudge along the length of Haweswater. Obscured views and an annoying fly. Swat, swat, swat..

Suddenly, the Lake District is gone and we are into undulating meadows. William is becoming increasingly competent and confident.

From the bedroom window of our B&B tonight we can see Kidsty Pike back in the distance. Job done.

DAY FIVE

Shap to Kirkby Stephen (21 miles)

Nothing was too much trouble at our B&B, last night. The hostess did a washing for us, with the dry clothes outside the room in the morning, at no extra charge and a bespoke breakfast of porridge and fruit salad, which meant I could avoid the full sluggish.

Covered a lot of ground, mostly across remote open moorland and meadowland, mainly flat and gently undulating. We did a detour (deliberate this time) down to Orton, a busy little village today, with a sheep fair and farmers' market.

William finds the landscape a bit "baarring" (teen speak for "boring"). I know he's missing the crags and fells of Lakeland, but baarring it is not. Behind us the peaks of the Lake District are still visible, to my right for most of the day we've had the Howgills, and the Pennines have been growing in front of us throughout the day. The vivid purple bloom of the heather provides welcome colour and then there are the Roman roads, the stone circles, the old sheep folds and enclosures, an ancient settlement site, a disused railway and a viaduct. There is much to reflect on. To William, it's still "baarring".

He had opted to wear a knee support. I suspect it is a bit of a fashion accessory. It spent most of the time round his ankle until we came across other walkers, when it was quickly reapplied to the knee.

DAY SIX

Kirkby Stephen to Thwaite (14 miles)

Kirkby Stephen is not a place to dwell. Started out on the road at 8.45am, through the lovely hamlet of Hartley and then onto moorland. A good hour-and-a-half climb up to Nine Standards Rigg. William starts out slowly, but he's at the top a couple of minutes before me.

The views are pretty impressive, but as we rested against one of the cairns the wind got up, it started raining, we were engulfed in fog and the temperature dropped sharply. Time to move on. It is wild, remote and boggy. Didn't see a soul until we got down to Keld. (You don't have to go far in the North to find solitude and a sense of wilderness.) But we did manage to walk between a bull and a herd of cows. He charged across, but thankfully the subject of his interest was the cows, not us.

William's knee support has been discarded - isn't fashion so quick to change these days?

DAY SEVEN

Thwaite to Reeth (11 miles)

Told William he could lie in until 8am today - what better news could there be for a 14-year-old?

We took the low path down to Reeth, hugging the River Swale, with lush, green meadows, wild flowers and plenty of wildlife. What I didn't like was the large number of stiles or spring loaded gates you have to go through - 60 or 70 - and the narrow path gaps between dry stone walls.

In Reeth before 1pm. We probably should have stopped a few times.

One of the games William and I play is giving names to the other walkers on the Coast to Coast and creating stories around them. Others do it too. I heard one family telling another group they had christened us Dick Dastardly and Mutley (she didn't know I could hear).

We have named one group of mature ladies, some of whom have difficulty moving smoothly in a forward direction, the Wombles. They have their own language, English but with the odd word thrown in that only they understand - like "okeydokeydiddle". They are slow, always missing paths, taking the wrong trails and getting lost. Still, they always make it through each day, with smiles on their faces. Good for them. Let's hear it for the Wombles.

DAY EIGHT

Reeth to Catterick Bridge (15 miles)

WE know Reeth and the surrounding area well. But today was a revelation, taking me on routes I'd never been on. Into Richmond before 1pm, lunch and a final push on to Catterick Bridge by 3pm.

Ruth and the boys bought me a GPS (Global Positioning System, which can guide you through a route if you insert waypoints). Lots of walkers use them. For the moment, mine remains unopened in my bag. Today we came to a point where we were unsure which path to take. Along came a fellow walker, waving his GPS. We'll call him Well-Meaning Git. "It's a no-brainer - the correct route is over that way," he said. I wasn't so sure. Off we went in different directions. In a few moments he was behind us again. I kept my thoughts to myself. "Back of the net", was one, "One nil" and, oh yes, "A no-brainer".

We call another pair of walkers, an Australian husband and wife team, in their Sixties, Kim and Jim. They're always getting lost, clinging to anyone who can read a map and refusing to let go. I hope they never meet the Wombles. We also have Moses and his followers. He can be seen, map in hand, marching at a rapid pace, with his wife behind and his eight-year-old daughter breaking into a run behind her. I think she's enjoying it. I'm sure she'd scream and scream if she wasn't.

DAY NINE Catterick Bridge to Osmotherly (21 miles)

A full day's walking through to 5pm. The cross country route is a bit slower than the road, but more enjoyable.

It's been a tough day. There are signs of William's accumulating tiredness (he's put a lot into the last nine days). One is his incoherent sleep talking. I think he even said "okeydokeydiddle" last night. There are a couple of guys we call Mr Snoozy and Mr Sleepy doing half the CtoC. Whenever we see them they are horizontal in a field, stretched out in a tea shop or lounging in the pub. We've never yet seen them doing any walking. How do they do it? I'll have some of what they're having please.

DAY TEN

Osmotherly to Clay Bank Top (12.5 miles)

The church clock chimed all night. I grumped about it in the morning, but William heard nothing, slept like a log.

A later start over moorland, all ups and downs, with a number of sharp pulls to the peaks. This route - heather in full bloom, stunning views of industrial Teesside in the distance - blew me away.

Stopped off at the foot of Carlton Bank for lunch and reached Clay Bank Top by 2.30pm. Then walked three miles off-route to our hotel. "Wassapoint..." William grunted.

DAY ELEVEN

Clay Bank Top to Glaisdale (18 miles)

I told William he could write today's blog.

"What... there's nothing to write about... it's rained all day, we've been soaked all day, it's been foggy all day, we've not been able to see more than a few feet in front of us all day, and we've just walked all day..."

Thanks William, that just about sums it up. He did add that it reminded him of the film American Werewolf in London where the two guys are walking across the Moors. "Be sure and stick to the paths, lads," they are warned by the villagers.

We got an occasional glimpse of the Moors when the fog cleared but that was about it. "Not much of a day is it?" said the old timer in Glaisdale in understated Yorkshire.

Came across Well-Meaning Git who informed me my new GPS (still in my bag) will be useless unless I purchase the expensive software he's installed on his. I thanked him for that.

The Wombles were about again, we encountered them at a point where they had four path options to choose from. Did I hear: "eenie, meenie, miney, mo"? Mr Snoozy and Mr Snorey have turned up at our B&B. Once again, we've not seen them do any walking.

You can sense a bit of de-mob happiness amongst those due to complete the CtoC tomorrow. Almost there.

DAY TWELVE

Glaisdale to Robin Hood's Bay (20 miles)

William has worked out there are faster ways of getting to Robin Hood's Bay than the walk route. "We're going the short route, aren't we?" he's said several times. I've never given a direct answer. Of course, we're going the full route, no short cuts. Later I got thanks for taking the true route. Sometimes, just sometimes, Dads know best.

To be fair to William, he has been moving at a fast "last day" pace. We started walking at 9am and were down into Robin Hood's Bay around 3.30pm. Only stopped twice. First to scratch our heads when we took the wrong path, second to ring my mother after she sent us a text (a major technological challenge for her) which said "Nearing the end, Mum." Thinking she might be on her last legs we thought it best to ring.

William is ready to get back home. Yesterday, from nowhere, he said: "It's going to be really embarrassing when we see mum at Robin Hood's Bay. She's going to be waving and be... like... all over me." Roughly translated I think this means: "I can't wait to see mum." I asked what he's most looking forward to at home. An unequivocal: "Dunno."

As we hit the cliffs, and the last three miles, William found a new gear and was off. He went too soon. I kept my pace and, slowly, he pulled back. We descended into Robin Hood's Bay together.