After completing an arduous journey of 28 miles, surrounded by the calls of cuckoos and curlews, enveloped in dust and enduring pain and sweat, Gerry Orchard arrives at Wheeldale Beck and gracefully lowers himself to one knee. Rather than a simple display of exhaustion, this moment serves as a precursor to a melodious expression.
With a robust Yorkshire voice, Gerry begins to sing, his voice resonating through the air. "This very night, this very night," he chants, "Every night and all. Fire and fleet and candlelight, and Christ may take up your soul."
The origins of this song, known as the Lyke Wake Dirge, can be traced back to the 16th century, if not earlier. Originally sung as part of local funeral traditions, it has since taken on a life of its own since 1955, lending its name and a touch of solemnity to the Lyke Wake Walk. This demanding challenge requires participants to trek 40 miles across the rugged landscape of the North York Moors, navigating between the villages of Osmotherley and Ravenscar, all within a strict 24-hour time frame. While singing the dirge is not mandatory, those who adhere to tradition and possess the energy may find solace and relief, a comforting remedy for their weary feet and worn souls.
I stand on the precipice of my inaugural journey along the Lyke Wake Walk, while Gerry Orchard clocks in his staggering 220th sojourn. This journey has been accomplished by this extraordinary 62-year-old countlessly, making him the record holder for this walk. The Lyke Wake Walk, a creation of North Yorkshire farmer Bill Cowley, is traditionally meant to be performed in “solemn silence” – a concept that seems alien to Orchard who is as passionate about conversation as he is about walking – a notion which he cheekily combines wherever possible. Intriguingly, the path was named after an old English vigil kept beside the body of a deceased from death until burial, 'lyke' being an old term for corpse.
As we embark on the Lyke Wake Walk, we pass by Lilla Cross on Fylingdales Moor, a mysterious structure believed to have originated in the 10th century, steeped in history and intrigue.
Contrary to popular myths, there is no evidence of coffins being transported across the moors in ancient times. However, a deep connection to mortality emerges towards the end of the journey, surrounded by age-old burial mounds. The contrasting sense of peace found within the tumuli resonates with the walkers, evoking contemplation of their own mortality.
With a hint of amusement, our guide muses, expressing a desire for his final resting place to be amongst these ancient grounds, playfully envisioning his ghost entertaining future hikers.
Our adventure commences in the early hours from Osmotherley, taking the west-to-east route, ultimately leading us towards the sea. Enthusiasm fills the air, though the chilly, damp weather adds a touch of melancholy.
Experience the excitement and perseverance of the first group to complete the challenging Lyke Wake Walk in October 1955. Bill Cowley, along with his fellow adventurers, proudly holds a commemorative tankard in Ravenscar, marking their achievement.
Embark on a remarkable journey through the lesser-known paths of the beautiful Yorkshire Dales. Uncover the hidden treasures of this captivating region, where encounters with adders, a common sight on the moors, add an element of thrill to the experience. To make the most out of your adventure in the Yorkshire Dales, finding a comfortable base to return to after a day of exploration is crucial. Whether you are hiking the majestic peaks, discovering quaint villages, or simply seeking the tranquility of the countryside, a restful night's sleep is essential. For your convenience and to enhance your stay in this stunning corner of England, you can book a room here at one of the region's cozy accommodations, ensuring you wake up refreshed and ready to delve into another day of discovery.
Immerse yourself in the tranquil ambiance as you listen to the whisper of geese's wings passing by. Be mesmerized by the crosier-like bracken that pushes its way through the hillside, adding a touch of natural grandeur to the landscape. The initial nine miles of the walk offer a semi-agricultural scenery reminiscent of the Scottish Highlands.
While the Lyke Wake Walk poses challenges and risks due to its lack of proper waymarkers, adventurous hikers have taken matters into their own hands. Look out for small wooden coffin shapes, painted black, ingeniously screwed on signposts for the Cleveland Way, providing a guiding light on your exhilarating journey.
During my preparations for the Lyke Wake Walk, I had the opportunity to speak with two individuals who were part of the original group of 13 trailblazers. This historic crossing took place on 1-2 October 1955. One of them, Bill Dell, now 78, was a boy scout hailing from Middlesbrough, while the other, Malcolm Walker, 81, was a member of the York Mountaineering Club (YMC).
Both Dell and Walker stumbled upon the challenge to cover the distance of the walk in one day through an article in the esteemed Dalesman magazine, written by Bill Cowley. Reflecting on the experience, Dell shared how it was much more challenging in those early days, as there were limited pathways and heavy heather to contend with. The group even took a break around midnight, setting up their tents atop Blakey Ridge.
With such rich history and personal anecdotes, it's no wonder that the Lyke Wake Walk has become an iconic trek. Embarking on this adventure allows modern-day hikers to follow in the footsteps of these brave pioneers, tracing their path through the stunning North York Moors.
A view over Rosedale.
With the hotheadedness of youth, Walker and two others from the YMC decided to set off from this camp before the rest of the party were awake and crossed the finish line, as he recalled with some regret, three hours before everyone else.
“I was in an awful state when I finished but the exhilaration was tremendous. It stretches the body of the average person to its absolute limit. For those of us who couldn’t aspire to climbing Everest, it was the greatest physical challenge we could hope to do.”
The Lyke Wake is an odd mix of the attritional and the intense. You grind out the distance, always mindful you are walking against the clock.
Historical image of the walk.
“It’s a war, not a battle,” says Orchard.
It’s also psychological. If the idea of walking 40 miles is overwhelming, try to think of it as several shorter walks. Our plan is to stop, briefly, every time the route crosses a road. Gerry’s partner Julie meets us to replenish water bottles and hand out snacks from the boot of her car.
This saves us carrying too much weight but even a supported walk can be tough. Three-quarters of the way across, I develop large blisters on the sides of each foot and will have to endure the last 10 miles in pain. The famous question posed in Corinthians, “O death, where is thy sting?”, finds a ready answer on the Lyke Wake Walk.
But blisters are nothing. Gerry has seen walkers forced to give up with broken toes, broken wrists and, most commonly, utter exhaustion.
Walkers often finish the route late into the evening.
“It can get highly emotional,” he says. “Grown men have been in tears.”
The Lyke Wake can be bleak, the hours slow; time snags and drags in the heather. There is a strong sense of the centuries collapsing into one another. A bronze age barrow, a medieval cross, the sinister pyramid of the RAF Fylingdales early-warning system … All are monuments raised by man, centuries apart – pagan, Christian, secular – yet each with the same twin purpose: hearkening to the universe while leaving some mark upon the Earth.
Gerry will leave his mark, too – if only in the record books. Of the four “centenarians” – those who have completed 100 or more crossings – only two are still alive: Louis Kulcsar, now 80, who arrived in Britain from Hungary in 1956 as a refugee, is the other. Kulcsar, a retired baker, has completed the Lyke Wake 186 times, and has the distinction of having walked it without shoes and socks, an unimaginable feat on unimaginable feet; he has also run it backwards. Gerry has walked the Lyke Wake so many times he could have walked from here to Papua New Guinea instead.
Your gaze falls upon the eerie swirl of fog on Urra Moor.
At the day's end, precisely 8.36pm, a misty veil drifts among us as we hobble towards our destination. The final stop: an unassuming stone marker peering out of the landscape on the outskirts of Ravenscar. Shaking off the fatigue, Gerry calls out, "Time!", signalling our arrival at the journey's terminus. It's been a gruelling 15 hours and 36 minutes. Clutched in Gerry's hands are two tokens - a patch whimsically designed like a coffin, and my freshly minted Lyke Wake Club pass. The card bears what is both a jest and a salute, "Condolences on your crossing" it reads. Embracing the newfound status, I may now choose to refer to myself as a Dirger.
Yet, amidst this personal feat, exultation seems out of place in the aftermath of the Lyke Wake. This is not merely a terrain to claim victory over. More poignantly, it serves as a living reminder of life's fragility, offering fleeting moments of strident vitality. While completion of the journey stirs in me a sense of satisfaction and relief, I am acutely aware that the joy of triumph is fading rapidly. My footprints, like many before me, have dissolved into the moors' mute testimony to passing travellers.
Find out more at lykewake.org