Price comparison - multiply by 2.20 for 2023 equivalent
Having walked the Pennine Way twice before, once in each direction, it didn’t require the same amount of planning as would normally be the case. I was quite happy with my seventeen day schedule from 1994, so intended to follow that in reverse, as that had been when I walked from north to south rather than the more usual way south to north. However, thirteen years had elapsed since then, so there were bound to be a few changes with regard to available accommodation. Many rural youth hostels have been closed over recent years, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that many along the Pennine Way had managed to avoid the axe. The only ones that had been lost were Keld and Bellingham, whilst Crowden had just been rebuilt: the new hostel opening this year.
To get up to date on B&Bs, I found a copy of the Pennine Way Accommodation Guide online and was able to work from that. Not wishing to find a lot of places already fully booked, I started to book in March. I intended to start my walk on Monday 4th June, travelling to the start on Sunday 3rd. The reason for setting off on the Sunday was because our hotel was going to be very busy over that weekend, so I didn’t want to leave until after the rush was over. Most people set off on either a Saturday or Sunday, so I would be a day or two behind them. There were some advantages and disadvantages to this. In one respect this would make it easier to book accommodation, as there would be less people trying to book for the same time, whereas when it came to doing the walk, there would be less people that I would meet up with along the way.
My first booking of Edale Youth Hostel was no problem, but the second one at Crowden drew a blank, as the new hostel was fully booked with school parties – part of the reason for the funding being found for the new building. The warden suggested their ‘local’ B&B, which was about a mile away, but not too far off route. This actually helped a little in balancing up the daily mileage by knocking one mile off the first day, which had been increased by nearly two miles by the walk from Edale Youth Hostel. The next place on my list was Globe Farm at Standedge, but, when I phoned, I was told that they no longer did B&B, so I had to start looking for somewhere else. The best option was to drop down into Diggle, which would add a little extra mileage, but day 2 and day 3 were both fairly short, so this would not present much of a problem.
Mankinholes Youth Hostel and Malham Youth Hostel both had beds, and between the two hostels I was able to book a B&B in Cowling instead of the one I used previously in Ickornshaw, as that one was no longer listed. In Horton-in-Ribblesdale I discovered that the Golden Lion had a bunkroom, so I was able to book there instead of Dub Cotes Bunkhouse, which is in a lovely setting, but quite a way from the village and its facilities. Hawes Youth Hostel was OK, but then I was faced with the fact that Keld Youth Hostel had closed, as was Baldersdale, and accommodation in this area is very sparse. Keld is often very busy and fully booked, as it is on the Coast to Coast walk as well as the Pennine Way and both Keld and the area round Grassholme have no pub within reasonable distance, which would tie me into eating at the B&Bs. It then occurred to me that I could easily carry on past Keld to Tan Hill Inn, and from there I could reach Middleton-in-Teesdale, a village with plenty of B&Bs and other facilities. The Tan Hill Inn were even advertising a new bunkhouse opening this year, but when I tried to book I was told it was not going to be ready, but I was offered a room in the staff accommodation instead.
From Middleton-in-Teesdale, it would be possible to walk to Dufton with a push, but I had already booked Langdale Beck Youth Hostel by this time, and there was also a tough day’s walk to face from Dufton to Alston, so I decided to leave my booking of Langdon Beck in place and just have a short day of less than 8 miles as a rest day. Dufton, Alston and Greenhead youth hostels all had beds available, but Bellingham hostel is now closed, though this was never an ideal hostel, as it was only self-catering. Bellingham is a reasonably sized town, so it was not difficult to book B&B there. Byrness hostel is still open, but now privately owned, so I booked there too. Although Byrness hostel is still officially self-catering, the new owners go half way towards providing meals, which is very helpful to walkers.
All that now remained was to book at Uswayford Farm, in a remote valley about a mile and a half off route half way along the Cheviots, but I rang only to find that the farmer’s wife was going to be on holiday then. This left me with two options, the first being to walk the whole 25 or so miles in one day, the other being to use the services of one of the B&Bs in Kirk Yetholm, who will arrange to collect people from a point two and a half miles off the route, returning them there the next day and allowing them to walk to the finish with only a small day pack. I am never keen on pickups unless they are absolutely essential, and the latter arrangement all seemed a little bit strange, staying at the finish the night before completing the walk, then returning to finish properly the next day. In the end, I decided to do as most people do and go for the whole lot in one day, starting off early in the morning so as to finish at a reasonable enough time to get a meal on arrival. I do not particularly like doing such long stretches in one day, as they tend to turn an enjoyable walk into a feat of endurance, but as it would be the last day of the walk, I would be able to rest the next day. My final night in Kirk Yetholm Youth Hostel, one of the Scottish YHA hostels, was then booked and all my accommodation was complete.
The journeys to the start and from the finish took a little planning in order to get the right connections between buses and trains, although all the timetables were online, making this a great deal easier. It wasn’t helped by the fact that I was travelling to Edale on a Sunday, when there is a very limited rail service, but it just meant I would have to spend more time waiting for connections. Although all the trains could be booked online, I was surprised that, even a long time in advance, no special saver fares were on offer, only standard ones. My daughter then suggested that I tried checking each leg of the journey separately, and sure enough, I found that I was then offered a vastly discounted fare from Berwick-upon-Tweed to York. I also realised that the journey from Rhyl to Manchester, which I would cover at the start and at the finish, could be booked as a return for little more than the single fare, just leaving the other bits of the journeys to be booked as standard singles. All was now in place and it was just a matter of waiting for the start day to arrive.
Day 0 - Sunday 3rd June - Home to YHA Edale
Distance: 2 miles to Edale Youth Hostel
Accommodation: YHA Edale
The time had finally arrived for me to set off so, having packed all my things following a list that I have used for many walks, with a few amendments from time to time, I was driven by my daughter to Rhyl station. I offered to get there by bus, which would have been free with my bus pass, but she insisted in saving me from the indignity of travelling by public transport. I have no problems with this, but she has had a few bad experiences so sees it as her daughterly duty to protect me from this whenever she can.
The limited Sunday train services meant that I had changes to make at Chester and Manchester Piccadilly, where I had to take a coach to Hazel Grove then wait over an hour for the train to Edale. The journey was largely uneventful; the weather was very sultry and the journeys through the urban sprawl of Greater Manchester depressing. I don’t like big cities at the best of times, though some capital cities with broad avenues, fine buildings and large open spaces, can be interesting for a limited period of time. The northern cities and towns, built up around the Industrial Revolution, however, are a different thing altogether and, though many have been given facelifts, they are generally places I prefer to avoid. What makes matters worse is that the railways always tend to run through all the worst of the industrial squalor and urban decay.
A great transformation took place once I caught the Edale train from Hazel Grove as, after a short time, green fields and hills came into view and I was transported into a completely different world. A long tunnel finally led towards Edale itself, and the cool air within the tunnel was a welcome relief from the sticky, humid air elsewhere. I have spent a lot of time in the past walking in this area, so all the hills were familiar and evoked fond memories of the walks I used to do. One of the favourites of these was the Edale Skyline walk, a complete circuit of Edale, starting from Hope and Lose Hill, then over Mam Tor and round the edge of Kinder Scout to Win Hill and back down to the start.
I had booked Edale Youth Hostel without stopping to think that it was nearly two miles from Edale station, which meant that I would have to walk over a mile and a half to get to the start of the Pennine Way the next day. I could have found accommodation quite near to the start as there were B&Bs as well as a bunkhouse in the village, but it didn’t matter, as it was a pleasant walk along the dale to the hostel, which is a fine old building in magnificent grounds. It took about 35 minutes to walk there, and by the time I arrived, I was soaked in sweat in the warm, humid conditions. Dinner was already being served when I arrived, being from 17.30 until 19.00, but as there were only 5 hostellers in, they wanted to finish early if possible so, after a quick shower to freshen up, I went to the dining room. I had a very nice meal of garlic bread with goats’ cheese, roast beef dinner and strawberry gateau, washed down with a pint bottle of Black Sheep.
Grounds of Edale Youth Hostel with Lose Hill behind
Lose Hill and Back Tor from above Edale Youth Hostel
A phone call home revealed that a band of torrential was following me from the west and should arrive tomorrow – not the best prospect for the first day, but I would just have to wait and see what was in store. A short stroll up the hillside above the hostel revealed fine views across to Lose Hill and Mam Tor, but it was not long before a cool breeze sprang up and a few darker clouds appeared in the sky, causing me to return to the hostel.
The room I was in was part of a new block, partially funded by EU money. The four rooms were all en-suite, mine, and I think all the others, had full disabled facilities, with a shower room that was big enough, not just to swing a cat, but to swing several cats at once. The only criticism was that the en-suite, in common with the toilet facilities of many energy saving hostels, had the light operated by a motion sensor (NO, not that type of motion!), and there was a very short time delay before the light went off. The only way to avoid this was by waving my arms about on a regular basis to avoid being plunged into total darkness. Despite the brand new plumbing, there was only a tiny trickle of hot water from the washbasin tap in the room, though the shower worked fine without any problems.
Day 1 - Monday 4th June 2007 - Edale to Torside
Distance: 15 miles on Pennine Way + 1.5 miles from Youth Hostel - 2,400 ft ascent (GPS 17.7 miles)
Accommodation: The Old House B&B, Torside
After a good night’s sleep, I awoke to uncertain weather conditions outside. It was reasonably bright, but with cloud descending over the hilltops – at least the rain had not arrived, unless it had passed over in the night. I went down for breakfast at 8.00 and there was a fair choice of hot and cold items, the hot ones being already cooked and keeping warm, apart from the egg, which was cooked to order. None of the other hostellers looked like Pennine Way walkers, but I didn’t really get to know as they weren’t very talkative.
I set off at 9.00, having seen that the forecast was pretty good for the next five days. The peaks of Lose Hill and Mam Tor were still covered in cloud as I set off, but over Kinder there soon developed patches of blue sky, with the light cloud lifting all the time. For the first part of the walk I had to retrace my route from the hostel for about a mile and a half to the official start of the Pennine Way outside the Nag’s Head, which I reached at 9.35. The first part of the walk follows the valley, ascending gently on a well-made path to Upper Booth Farm, where it drops down for a little before a mile of gradual ascent towards Jacob’s Ladder for the ascent towards Kinder Low. The weather was improving all the time, with clear blue sky over Kinder, but still a little cloud further south.
The Old Nag's Head, Edale - Start of the Pennine Way
Towards Jacob's Ladder and Kinder Low from Edale
Edale Rocks on Kinder Scout
The real climb started at Jacob’s Ladder, with a steep ascent up the head of the valley. I was feeling the extra weight of my pack a little at this early stage of the walk, especially up the steeper bits, but my training around the mountains of Snowdonia paid off well, and it was not long before I reached the top, where the path turns right towards Kinder Low. I passed a group of three walkers on the way, but two of them had small packs, so I assumed that they were just out for the day. Edale Rocks, with shelter from the cool wind, made a convenient place for a break, having done five miles and a large portion of the day’s ascent in two hours. A man and his dog were also resting there, but again, he only looked like someone out for the day.
Kinder Scout is renowned for its central area of peaty moors, with rocky outcrops of all sorts of shapes and sizes around the perimeter. The main route now follows a path round the edge of Kinder, which is much easier and has better scenery than the original route straight across the wild landscape of the moor, covered in peat bogs, and devoid of any landmarks. It was this and other boggy parts that put many people off the Pennine Way, especially after a period of wet weather when it was difficult to find a route that didn’t involve sinking up to the knees in oozing peat at one point or another. For anyone who has not experienced this part of Kinder, it is interesting to try it out when it is fairly dry, just to see what it is really like. It is often described as a lunar landscape, covered in peat hags and deep groughs, some of which turn to liquid peat in the wet.
After my rest at Edale Rocks, it was just a short walk up to Kinder Low followed by a path along the edge of Kinder Scout to Kinder Downfall, which had just a trickle of water at the moment. The predominant view when walking along the edge of Kinder is of Kinder Reservoir down below, with a backdrop of hills, the angle of view gradually changing as the walk progresses. The path goes up and down a little and is stony in places, but is generally quite easy going, and there are many of Kinder’s rock formations to look at along the way. I was already starting to get used to the weight of my pack and everything was progressing well.
Before dropping down from the Kinder Plateau, I stopped for a lunch break overlooking the Kinder Reservoir at 12.30, having walked about 8 miles from the Youth Hostel. There were a few other walkers about, but I hadn’t come across anyone who looked as if they were walking the Pennine Way as yet, but I wasn’t particularly surprised, as Monday is not a day that many people choose for starting the walk. Another factor is that, although the Pennine Way was immensely popular some years ago, there are now many more national trails to choose from, as well as walks devised by local authorities and ones like Wainwright’s Coast to Coast walk devised by individuals, and some of these have achieved more popularity in recent years. There is also a feeling that, at one time, any walker worth his or her salt, had to undertake the Pennine Way as a badge of honour. Having done the walk once, not many then choose to walk it again and move on to other walks instead.
Rock Formations on Kinder Scout overlooking Kinder Reservoir
Flagstone Path over the Peaty Bogs of Featherbed Moss
At 13.10 I set off again with the weather still fine, but with more cloud gathering. After the steep descent from Kinder, there is a small ascent up to Mill Hill. Here the landscape changes considerably to that of a large area of open moorland with only distant views towards Bleaklow ahead and the gradually diminishing Kinder Plateau being left behind. The whole way is paved with stone slabs which, in my opinion, was a bit of overkill. It is true that there was a definite need for them further on over Featherbed Moss, where it was very boggy, and there would have been benefit from putting a few slabs in places along the rest of the way, but only about a third of the total was really necessary. I commented on this at the time they were being laid, but the response was that they didn’t want to do part of it and then have to come back again to do some more. With the slabs, the walking was easy on the legs, but hard on the feet, and the whole stretch is rather tedious, with only a very gradual change in scenery.
After a while, the Snake Pass came into view and the feeling of wilderness was then lost, with a stream of cars only a few hundred yards away. Eventually I reached the road crossing, but it lacked the ice cream van that would have been there on a weekend, so I just continued onwards towards Bleaklow. The ascent is very gradual and easy, though most of the views are lost along Devil’s Dike, which is sunken below the level of the surrounding peat moor. There were a number of birds for company, including golden plovers, and there was quite a lot of cotton grass along the way. By Alport Low at the top of Devil’s Dyke, I stopped for another rest with about five miles left to go to my B&B at Torside.
Bleaklow has a large area of peaty moorland, covered in peat hags and groughs, which can make walking very difficult, but the route of the Pennine Way has been carefully chosen to find a relatively easy route through these. The deeper peat groughs have had the peat washed away by the elements, leaving a gritty bed, which makes a very good footpath. By waymarking a route through these, with a few sections of stone slabs where peat is still present, the route has been made very easy. It was interesting to see that, where some slabs had been laid, the surrounding peat had now been washed away leaving the slabs raised above the bed of the grough. Eventually, there were no more slabs and the rest of the route was left to its own devices, following a small stream bed, or grain. This was a little harder going, but it did at least give the feeling of walking the Pennine Way and not a pedestrian motorway. This path is fine in good weather, when most of the grains are dry, as was the case now, but no doubt there can be problems in heavy rain, when the water demands the right to flow down its natural course, regardless of whether it is footpath or not.
From the rounded and rather barren top of Bleaklow Head, Black Hill, part of tomorrow’s walk, came into view, easily identified by its television mast. The way off Bleaklow Head is not very clearly marked, and it is easy to get confused, as it does not head in the right direction at first, going in an arc to pick up an easier route down. I picked up a path that I thought was correct, but found it started leading me further away from the direction I needed to be going. At this point I decided to enter into my GPS the grid reference of a point on path I wanted and headed over the open moorland until I picked it up. Although this sort of thing is easier with a GPS, it is still possible to do it by conventional methods using a compass bearing. The good thing about using the GPS is that it also shows how much further there is to go to the waymark that has been entered. One thing I always find is that, as soon as I feel lost, time seems to go much more slowly, and I think I have walked a lot further than I actually have. Thus, if I have say half a mile to walk over open moors, I keep thinking I should be there after a few hundred yards, which all helps to compound the feeling of being lost.
Bleaklow from Hope Woodland Moor
An Empty Torside Reservoir, Crowden and Black Hill
Once I had regained the proper path, it was fairly easy going, though there were some rather stony and uneven stretches for part of the way, which made things a bit more difficult at times. The weather by now was rather cloudy with just a few patches of sunshine here and there, as I made my way along Clough Edge with views over Torside Reservoir to Crowden. I was surprised to see the reservoir completely empty, but then I realised that it was undergoing maintenance and the water from the reservoir above was being diverted along a channel to the reservoir below. The view didn’t look quite the same with a bed of mud and sand rather than water, but some patches of sunshine lit up Black Hill and Crowden from time to time, which improved the outlook.
I noticed a couple of walkers ahead of me and, as I got closer, they looked like two of the three that I had passed by Jacob’s Ladder, so I wondered what had happened to the third one. Before I had chance to catch them up, I stopped to phone home whilst I was able to get a good signal, not being sure whether I would have any reception lower down. I continued on to join the road towards my B&B for the night, past a lovely show of rhododendrons at the bottom of the hill, and noticed that the two walkers were heading along the road as well, turning down to the same B&B as me. I got in just after them and started chatting with them and the owner Mr Crook. It turned out that one of them, Pete, was walking the Pennine Way as part of his length and breadth of Britain walk for various cancer charities in memory of his wife who had died the previous year. He had already raised £4,500 of sponsorship money and had started by walking the Coast to Coast in March. He was doing the Land’s End to John O’Groats part in a number of sections with a break back at home between each. This section was taking him from Edale to Edinburgh, and the others two walkers were friends who had joined him for the day. One friend lived in Edale, so did part of the walk to Kinder Downfall, then looped back towards home. The other friend was waiting for his son to collect Pete and him and take them to the pub for a meal before returning home, leaving Pete back at the B&B.
Mr Crook was recounting tales of Pennine Way walkers who turned right instead of left at Kinder Downfall and ended up back in Edale, from where they rang in the middle of the afternoon to say what had happened. He also had a number of stories of walkers who were ill prepared for a walk like the Pennine Way, and various other amusing anecdotes. The son then arrived to take the others to the pub whilst I went to have a shower and get changed. I had the choice of either eating at the B&B or having a lift to the pub, but as I was the only one left wanting a meal, it seemed better all round to have a lift to the pub. I had agreed to a lift at 19.00, and went outside into the lovely evening sunshine to find Mr Crook harnessing up his pony and trap, so it made me wonderer whether that was the transport to the pub, but a little while later, Mrs Crook pulled round in her car and took me to the Peels Arms in Padfield, about two miles away. She offered to pick me up later but, as it was such a lovely evening, I declined and said I would walk back.
When I went inside the pub, I saw the other three sitting at a table. They had already had their meals, so I joined them to have mine and we had a good chat. I had steak and kidney pudding with boiled potatoes and vegetables and a couple of pints of Theakston’s bitter. The other three also offered me a lift back, but I stuck to my plan and walked back along the disused railway that is now a foot and cycle track and part of the Trans Pennine Trail, which brought me back to just below the B&B.
Day 2 - Tuesday 5th June 2007 - Torside to Diggle
Distance: 12.2 miles on Pennine Way + 1.5 miles to Diggle - 1,950 ft ascent (GPS 15.6 miles)
Accommodation: Harrop Green Farm B&B, Diggle
I had a good breakfast at 8.00 chatting to Pete about his walk and also to Mrs Crook. It turned out that they have a new bunkhouse, with four beds in each room, which is a great help when Crowden Youth Hostel is full with school parties. Crowden was due to be closed by the Youth Hostel Association, and was very run down, but a new hostel had been built, financed partly, I believe, by Rotherham Council, who now have first priority for school parties. As with most hostels, when school parties are booked, even if the hostel is only half full, other members are turned away. The excuse given is health and safety or something similar, but I suspect it is more likely to be the worry about paedophiles amongst other hostellers.
Pete and I started out together at 9.00, taking a path down the field to a tunnel under the old railway, then on to the dam of Torside Reservoir to rejoin the Pennine Way. This avoided the busy road that we had walked along last night. Just past the dam, I had a panic call from home to say that all the landing lights had gone off in our hotel, so I had to talk my wife though finding the circuit breaker panel and switching back on the breaker that had tripped. As I suspected, one of the lights failed to come on indicating that it had caused a surge as it had broken. By the time this was sorted out, Pete had already gone some way ahead, but I would be seeing him again, as he had a similar schedule to mine for the next few days.
Rhodeswood Reservoir from Dam of Torside Reservoir
Laddow Rocks
All the way to Laddow Rocks I could see Pete up ahead, and I could see the new hostel in Crowden as I went past up the hillside. As expected, I was a little less energetic today, but there were fewer miles to walk, so I had plenty of time to take things easy. For about nine months now I had been having problems with my left heel because of a fairly common condition called plantar fasciitis, an inflammation of hard tissue on the base of the foot. This results in pain when putting weight on the heel first thing in the morning and after periods of rest. The pain tends to go away after a while, but the condition can still be aggravated by too much weight on the affected area. I had not been suffering badly, but was worried that it could get a lot worse throughout the walk, so had been trying to lessen the pressure on my heel by taking more of the weight on the ball of my foot. This was all well and good as far as my heel was concerned, but had the effect of making the ball of my foot rather sore. Things were not too bad this morning, but I decided that I would be better off walking more normally and just try to avoid walking too heavily on it.
The weather, which had been sunny at first, started to cloud over and there was a fresh easterly wind making it feel quite cool, which was fine for walking, but not so good for taking a break without shelter. By Laddow Rocks, I found a little hollow beside some of the rocks and was able to have a rest there with some protection from the wind. The scenery was now looking rather drab and gloomy, with thickening cloud and a general murkiness all around.
On previous long distance walks, I have always had a problem finding something to give a bit of taste to my drinking water without being too heavy to carry. When water is cold it is not unpleasant to drink, but if it warms up on a hot day it can taste disgusting and is certainly not at all refreshing. Fruit squash is alright, but comes in litre bottles so the unused part adds extra weight that has to be carried. It can also taste too sweet, particularly when drunk in large quantities. I found a product called Kool-Aid, which comes in small sachets, each of which makes about two litres of drink. The only problem is that the instructions say “add one cupful of sugar, more or less to taste” (it is from America). There is no way that I would want to add that amount of sugar, but it still needs quite a bit to offset the bitterness of the drink. I was trying this out now for the first time, not that my drink was getting warm, but just because I wanted something I could use all the time. I had only put in a fairly small amount of sugar, about eight teaspoonfuls in two litres, but it certainly made a far more refreshing drink than plain water, even if it were somewhat on the bitter side.
After my rest break, Pete was now a long way ahead, and I could just see him in the distance, almost at the top of Black Hill, so I doubted that I would see him for the rest of the day as he had booked a B&B in Marsden, whereas mine was in Diggle. Today’s walk had had little work done to the footpaths so far, except for a few of the steeper parts, so it was not so good for making rapid progress, but more in keeping with an area of wilderness. I met a chap coming the other way and he was bemoaning the inaccuracy of the weather forecast, saying it was like the middle of winter on Black Hill rather than the fine, sunny day that was promised. In fact, the main landmark on Black Hill, the Holme Moss transmitting mast was barely visible as all but a very small section at the bottom was lost in the low clouds, which were only just clear of the summit.
Paved Path over Summit of Black Hill
The path up to the summit used to be quite boggy, but now it is paved with flagstones for most of the way. About half way up, I passed a chap with camping gear having a rest and assumed he was a Pennine Way walker, though I didn’t stop to ask. At the top, the path levels out onto the flat summit plateau and I was amazed at what a difference there was from the last time I was up here. A meandering path of flagstones goes right up to and around the trig point which was previously often inaccessible in the middle of a sea of liquid peat. The trig point is elevated about four or five feet above the ground with a neat stone cairn built around its base, but at one time this trig point was at ground level. Over the years the peat has been eroded away leaving the trig point sitting high above the ground. The other noticeable thing is that there is more vegetation growing back on what still remains of the peat. When there was no proper path, everyone used to wander around the summit area trying to find the best way across the peat, but now there is a clear and easy stone pathway, few people venture off, giving some chance of recovery. Not all of the erosion is caused by walkers, however, as the wind and rain cause a considerable amount of erosion on their own without the help of man.
A little way past the summit, I came across Pete, who had been taking a rest. He normally likes to press on to get to his destination in good time, whereas I tend to spread my walking out to fill the whole day unless the weather is bad. After a brief chat, he was off again whilst I stopped for lunch. He is following a similar schedule to mine as far as Malham, so I expected to meet up with him again.
By this time, the weather had brightened up again with quite a lot of blue sky but still a cool NE wind. Years ago, it took a while to find the correct route off Black Hill, as there was no distinct path and everywhere looked the same with peat hags and pools of liquid peat, but now there was no possibility of mistaking the route, as the flagstones lead over the edge of the plateau to join the path going down. From there the view opened up to reveal the valley leading down to Holme Firth and the road running past the top of the Wessenden Reservoirs. There was still a distant haze, but it was just possible to see Huddersfield.
I had resorted to putting on my fleece to keep out the cold wind whilst I rested, but removed it to continue on my way, as it would tend to get warmer as I dropped into the shelter of the valleys below. On the way down I met up with a chap from Hyde who was out walking for the day and I walked with him for a while until we parted company by the dam of Wessenden Reservoir where he headed onwards to Marsden. He had done a lot of long distance walks including the Pennine Way, Coast to Coast and Offa’s Dyke Path so we had an interesting chat. The bright weather brought out the best of the scenery around Wessenden and, with more shelter from the wind, it was pleasantly warm for a change.
Wessenden Reservoir
Waterfall near Wessenden Reservoir
Landslide on Path near Wessenden Reservoir
After crossing the Wessenden Reservoir dam, I headed round the hillside towards the little waterfall, but before very long I came to a sign saying “Footpath Closed”. I hadn’t been paying much attention earlier on whilst I was chatting, but I remembered an account of Phil Northall’s walk last year when he mentioned the closure and diversion. I had obviously missed the sign by the dam, but I didn’t want to turn back now, so decided to continue and find out the reason for the closure. The problem was caused by subsidence of the path in places, some of it having crumbled away down the steep side of the valley. However, it was easy enough to walk around this on stable ground, so I continued on my way. It was obvious from a number of boot prints that I was not the only one who had taken this option. By the waterfall, I stopped for a rest and some more of my packed lunch at about 14.45. I only had about four miles of fairly easy walking left go, so I had plenty of time.
Returning from the waterfall along the opposite side of the valley, I made my way further along with fine views of Blakely Reservoir below and Wessenden Reservoir above with its colourful show of rhododendrons. A steady climb brought me up to the moor-top reservoirs of Swellands and Black Moss. Swellands Reservoir was completely drained and a track of hard core had been laid right down into the reservoir itself, where there was a large digger and huge pile of straw bales. Black Moss was also having work done, but was only partially drained revealing rather incongruous sandy beaches. Two ladies with two girls arrived to take advantage of the little taste of seaside up on the moors. Apparently there is normally just a small patch of sand, on which the girls liked to play, but now there was much more. One of the ladies said that she had heard of putting barley straw in ponds to keep them clean, but had not heard of putting it in reservoirs, which is what appeared to be taking place now.
Blakeley Reservoir
Playing on the Beach at Black Moss Reservoir
Redbrook Reservoir and Pule Hill
Past Black Moss, the view opened up over Redbrook Reservoir with the main A62 road running past and a backdrop of gentle hills with the steeper and more distinctive Pule Hill to the right. Here it looked like the Pennine Way had had another change of route, as the flagstone path continued on down towards the reservoir, whilst the path marked in my guidebook was quite overgrown. However, I had had just about enough of flagstone paths, so I decided to take the original route instead, but first I had a break in the warm sunshine to admire the view and to rest my feet, which were feeling a little sore.
The way along the old route was not very easy, but it was good to walk on some soft, peaty ground for a change, as it was much easier on my feet, though harder on the leg muscles as there was a lot more hopping about to do and more ups and downs over the uneven ground. There is a big difference between the rough walking of the early Pennine Way and the sanitised footpaths of the present day. Of course, a lot of it came about through necessity when the number of walkers escalated, and erosion started to become a major problem. Drastic action was then taken on the assumption that numbers were going to rise even further, but in hindsight that proved not to be the case once other walks started to take over in popularity, and the measures that were taken now seem like overkill and are disliked by many walkers.
I rejoined the new route of the Pennine Way near the road and then found my way down to Diggle along part of the Oldham Way, also shared by the Pennine Bridleway. I wasn’t quite sure where my B&B was, so asked directions in the middle of the village, only to be directed round in a large loop approaching it from back up the main road and from the opposite direction. I found out from the landlady that there was a shortcut from where I first entered the village that could have saved me quite a bit of extra walking. She was also concerned that I would want breakfast early enough to catch the bus back up to the top of the hill, which is apparently what most people do, but I told her that once I was on foot I preferred to stay that way if I could. In any case, it was not going to be a very long walk the next day, so I didn’t mind the extra climb back up the Oldham Way.
After a welcome shower and washing out my walking clothes, I went down to the Diggle Hotel for a couple of pints of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord and a meal. It was a beautifully warm evening, so I sat outside in the sunshine to have a huge pork chop for £6.95. Diggle is one of the many small towns and villages on the fringes of Greater Manchester, but almost into the Pennine Moors so, although it has been heavily influenced by the Industrial Revolution, it still enjoys a lovely setting amongst the surrounding hills. I decided to have a little wander around, as I thought I had seen a canal on the way down, so I took a bridleway going in that general direction only to find that it was badly overgrown with nettles and part of the wall and fence had collapsed across it making it even more difficult. To add insult to injury, it appeared to come to a dead end at the bottom so I had to retrace my route back, though I did manage to see that there was a fishing pool across a stream, which is the water that I had seen from higher up.
Day 3 - Wednesday 6th June 2007 - Diggle to Mankinholes via Stoodley Pike - GPS 15.9 miles
Distance: 12.4 miles on Pennine Way + 1.5 miles from Diggle + 1 mile to Mankinholes
1,000 ft ascent + 600 ft from Diggle
Accommodation: YHA Mankinholes
The weather forecast was for an east-west divide in the weather at the start of the day, with sunshine in the west and a band of cloud covering the east, gradually clearing through the day. I woke with sun streaming through my window but looking up to the hills I could see the band of cloud hanging over there. I had a good breakfast at 8.00 and set off at 9.00 wearing my walking clothes that were still a bit damp from last night’s wash, but they would soon dry out once I got walking. The shortcut soon took me back to the pub, but I missed my turning for the Oldham Way and went up the road for a little way before realising and turned back. The cloud had already lifted from the hills and it was a lovely sunny morning as I made my way back up to rejoin the Pennine Way. Despite the sunshine, though, it was quite chilly due to the strong NE wind that was meeting me head on, so there was no chance that I was going to work up a sweat. It should have been about a mile and a quarter to the top, but I did a little more by missing my way near the start.
There were some fine views back down to Diggle, as was the case last night, and I then crossed the main road to pick up the Pennine Way. I could have cut a corner off by taking a bit of the Pennine Bridleway, but that wasn’t shown on my guidebook, which was published before the Pennine Bridleway came into existence. The views from Standedge were splendid, and it was good to be walking on a natural footpath for a while. Although there is still a lot of peat around here, it has eroded near the edge to leave a bed of gritstone, which makes a good footpath. I saw a couple of well bronzed walkers with large packs coming towards me, so I assumed that they had been walking the Pennine Way north to south, though I didn’t stop to chat.
View back to Diggle from Standedge
Diggle and Harrop Edge from Standedge
Castleshaw Reservoirs from Standedge
The walk along the edge was marvellous, giving a gradually changing view on the reservoirs below, until the point came to turn away, leaving the Oldham Way to continue along the edge, with the Pennine Way veering NE over Marsden Moor. The wind, which had been sideways on for a while, was now back straight into my face as I headed across a totally different landscape of wild, rolling, grassy moorland with little else in sight. The pathway had been made up of hardcore and chippings, and was little better for the feet than flagstones. I tried walking over the grass for a while, but it was not very easy without a trodden path, so I reverted to the footpath. For a brief while, the mast on Windy Hill came into sight until I went down a dip. As I made my way up the gentle ascent of White Hill, there was a view of Readycon Dean Reservoir, and further up, by the trig point, where I stopped for a rest and a drink, much wider views opened up of the hills to the west. The arrays of pylons and masts was evidence of the large urban area beyond, but not much of this could be seen because of the distant haze, though on a clear day I suspect that the whole of Manchester can be seen from here.
Windy Hill Mast and Truck Stop looking towards Blackstone Edge
Pennine Way Crossing over M62 Motorway
It was not far then to the Windy Hill Mast, which loomed large ahead, then past the lay-by offering snacks to passing truckers and motorists, and on to the Pennine Way footbridge over the M62 motorway. Of all the bridges over the M62, I always think this one is the most aesthetically pleasing with its graceful curves, even if it is cast in concrete. As usual, the motorway was busy as I crossed over, being treated to an even chillier wind as I did so. As I reached the other side, there was a sudden blast of heat as I was briefly sheltered in a hollow and the sunshine was being reflected up from the light sandstone path. A steady ascent leads up to Blackstone Edge, with views to the east of Green Withens Reservoir along the way. Near the trig point on Blackstone Edge are a number of large gritstone rocks sculpted by the weather into various shapes, some resembling faces from certain angles. This made an ideal place to stop for lunch, as I could find shelter from the wind beneath the rocks and enjoy the lovely views down into the valley around Littleborough below. Various stretches of water could be seen, with Hollingworth Lake to the south and Higher Chelburn Reservoir further north.
Strange Rock Shapes on Blackstone Edge
Higher Chelburn Reservoir from Cow Head
When I returned to the ridge from my sheltered position, I was soon reminded of the chilling wind that I had escaped for a while. The route then drops down towards the Aiggin Stone, a small standing stone, leaving Blackstone Edge behind. An old Roman Road, once known as Dhoul’s Pavement, leads down the hillside for a way before meeting a track by a drainage channel that follows a contour round the hillside to the A58 road and the White House Inn. They seemed to have been doing quite a good trade for lunch as I went past, and I might have been tempted in for refreshment had the weather been warmer, but as it was I continued on by.
Rock Shapes on Utley Edge
More Strange Rock Shapes on Utley Edge
Warland Reservoir
A section of reservoir walking starts from here, first with the Blackstone Edge Reservoir, then Light Hazzels Reservoir and Warland Reservoir. These are all moorland reservoirs with only gentle slopes surrounding them and, on a dull day, the scenery can look very depressing with everything including the water looking black or grey, but today was a different matter. In the bright sunshine it all looked lovely with bright blue waters and views of the hills across the valley near Todmorden towards Heptonstall Moor. This long, level trek could be quite tedious but, with good views along the way and easy walking, the miles soon melted away. I stopped for another break by the start of Warland Reservoir. The wind was not quite as cold now in the middle of the afternoon, and I had had some shelter from it along the way, but as I set off again along the side of the reservoir, I got the full force of the wind from across the open moor. After a few hundred yards of open railings, there was a wall, and I suddenly felt pleasantly warm as the wind was deflected upwards and over the top of my head leaving just a gentle breeze and the warmth of the sunshine.
By the end of the reservoir, the route heads away from the edge and over open moorland with less of a view, but now a beacon in the form of Stoodley Pike is there to beckon walkers onwards. It stands majestically overlooking the steep edge of Calderdale, still about two miles distant, but gradually getting larger and larger as I made my way onwards. About half way there, the view into Calderdale opened up, with Mankinholes just below - my destination for the night. It was now a much more interesting walk following along the edge of Calderdale with views down into the steep sided valley and across to the surrounding hills. I finally reached the monument and climbed the spiral staircase inside up to the viewing platform. I did have a torch in my rucksack, which would have been useful, as halfway up the staircase is in total darkness, but instead I managed by feeling my way along until I started to get a faint glimmer of light from above. The views all around were very good, but the cool breeze soon persuaded me to return back down to find a sheltered spot near the base for a rest. A number of footpaths lead down the steep hillside, and I took one of these to join a track below to Mankinholes and the Youth Hostel, which I reached at 17.30.
Monument on Stoodley Pike Built in 1856 to mark the end of the Crimean War
Lambutts Water Wheel Tower
The very pleasant and helpful young lady warden said that I was one of a dying breed of Pennine Way walkers, which confirmed what I had already started to suspect. The hostel was very quiet and I had a dormitory to myself, unlike on my first walk of the Pennine Way in 1991 when it was packed solid, though not all with Pennine Way walkers. This is now only a self catering hostel, but the Top Brink pub is not far away so, after a shower I walked down there, first taking a closer look at Lambutts Water Wheel Tower just below. The water wheel itself is no longer in evidence, but the tower is huge, so the wheel must have made an impressive sight. Down by the pub it was quite sheltered from the wind, so I was able to sit outside to have my beef and Guinness casserole with a pint of Landlord. It was quite surprising how busy the pub was for a Wednesday evening, but on a fine summer’s evening it makes a good place for a drive for people who live in the surrounding area. I tried a pint of Castle Eden for a change and found it tasted very strange. It was not off, but had a rather watery taste that was slightly sweet and nutty. I didn’t like it at all, but then realised that it was probably their mild, not their bitter. I can enjoy some milds, but this one I didn’t get along with at all and it was a struggle to finish it, so I decided to return to the hostel for an early night.
Day 4 - Thursday 7th June 2007 - Mankinholes to Cowling - GPS 20.4 miles
Distance: 18 miles on Pennine Way + 1 mile from Mankinholes
2,750 ft ascent + 250 ft from Mankinholes
Accommodation: Woodland House B&B, Cowling
I woke after a rather disturbed night’s sleep caused by a muscle I had pulled in my back. It was a struggle to get my things together as it was painful bending down and not helped by the low level of the bottom bunk. Down in the hostel kitchen there were a few items of spare food going free, so I bought some slices of bread, marmalade, Weetabix and a tin of tuna and used the spare margarine and milk. This enabled me to have a breakfast of Weetabix plus toast and marmalade, and to make tuna sandwiches for lunch – I still had some malt loaf and Kit-Kats that I had brought from home to supplement the sandwiches. Using some of the hostel sugar, I also mixed up some more of my Kool-Aid drink. Even with quite a bit of sugar, it still has a rather bitter taste, but then I added only a fraction of the sugar that was recommended.
I managed to get off by 8.55, watching the other hostellers setting off in their cars. Going back along the route I came down by yesterday, I could see Stoodley Pike looming up ahead on top of the ridge. The track is part of the Pennine Bridleway, and I followed this past Stoodley Pike to where it crossed the Pennine Way, which I rejoined to drop down through Collis Wood to the main A464 road. The weather was cool with dark cloud just clear of the hilltops, but there were a few bright patches around so I could but hope. There was not much wind this morning, so it didn’t feel any cooler than yesterday in the sunshine. There was not a great deal of interest down through the wood, but I crossed over the canal, then the road and up through a railway arch to join the steep path up the opposite hillside, which was the first steep climb that I had had for a while. This area consists of a number of steep sided valleys that have to be ascended and descended, which makes it a fairly strenuous day, even though no great height is achieved. High Underbank sits up the steep hillside, with very steep, narrow roads giving access to the houses, the residents of which must have a few problems getting to work at times in winter.
Path up steep hillside to High Underbank
Packhorse Bridge at Colden Clough
Up the hillside, Stoodley Pike was again in view looking back towards it across the rather industrialised valley. There came a point where there was a sign for either the Pennine Way or Wainwright’s detour, so I took the latter, past a tiny graveyard perched up the steep hillside. The route was then not very clear, so I just kept taking the steepest route up the hillside until I came to the road, where I discovered that I had come up the Pennine Bridleway about 300 yards west of the Pennine Way. After walking along the road to pick up the way again, I climbed up over the top of Pry Hill and began the descent to Colden Clough, down one of the narrowest paths imaginable, with the walls on either side extremely close together in places and also badly overgrown – it was obvious that they were very parsimonious with the land around here and didn’t intend to waste much on mere pedestrians.
At Colden Clough, a local beauty spot with an old stone packhorse bridge over the stream, I stopped for a break having walked about five miles. My breakfast of toast and cereal had not been very filling, so I ate some of my malt loaf to keep me going before setting off up the next steep hillside. I found a confusing number of footpaths, but I couldn’t see any of them that was waymarked for the Pennine Way. The path I ended up on was a very overgrown one by some houses, which then came to a road. My gut feeling was to take the path straight across the road, but I couldn’t see any indication of it being the Pennine Way, only a sign for the High Gate Farm Shop, which was a little way west of the route. I thought I must be in the wrong place, so turned right along the road hoping to find another path up the hillside, but there were none, as I had been right in the first instance. A minor road doubled back to return me to the route without having wasted too much time or effort, but it just showed that the waymarking around this area was not up to the same standard as I found for most of the way so far. The other thing that can cause confusion in these parts is the fact that the Pennine Bridleway runs very near to the Pennine Way, so care has to be taken not to mistake the two when looking at signposts, as they both have acorn symbols and can look very similar at a glance.
The route now headed up onto the open moors, which provided some fine moorland walking that was easy on the feet with hardly a flagstone in sight, apart from a few forming little footbridges over boggy streams. Although the moors are rather featureless, the views across to the NE of gentle hills and moors are never lost. Eventually Gorple Lower Reservoir came into sight, as did the Pack Horse Inn just off the Pennine Way. The track leading down to Gorple Cottages by the foot of the dam was rather stony, but it was possible to walk on verges for some of the way. A pleasant walk along by Graining Water leads back up to the road where I was treated to a patch of sunshine for a while. After a short walk along the road the next destination was the Walshaw Dean Reservoirs following the access road along with the Pennine Bridleway, again with the possibility of walking on verges for much of the way. By the dam of the Lower Reservoir, I found a change to the route from that in my guidebook, as the Pennine Way now crosses the dam to take a path along the SE side of the reservoir whilst the Pennine Bridleway keeps to the old Pennine Way route ahead, crossing the dam of the Middle Reservoir, where it meets up with the Pennine Way again.
Bridges across Reaps Water and Graining Water
Graining Water near Clough Foot
Rhododendrons by Walshaw Dean Middle Reservoir
This was a convenient place to stop for lunch, with a view across the reservoir and some shelter from the cool wind provided by the dam wall. At 2.10, I set off again past a fine show of rhododendrons by the edge of the reservoir, with about nine miles left to walk. Again, the Pennine Way and Pennine Bridleway have been separated, with the Pennine Way taking a track slightly closer to the reservoir for a while before the two join forces again. As well as the rhododendrons on this side of the reservoir, there was also a fine show across the water on the opposite bank. After about half a mile, the route departs from the reservoir to make its way over the Bronte moors on yet another line of flagstones. Bleak moors lie ahead and on both sides, but the reservoirs still provide an interesting view when looking backwards until the profile of the hill cuts off the view.
Over the top of the hill, Top Withens came into view, considerably restored from the ruins that I remember from previous times. This didn’t surprise me, as it attracts a large number of tourists, especially the Japanese who seem to have a great fascination with the Brontes. The weather was still overcast and rather dreary, but then this place is meant to be seen in bad weather, preferably with mists swirling around. The Bronte Society has had to put up a plaque on the ruins to dispel any notions that this was Wuthering Heights. It reads:
Top Withens
This Farmhouse Has Been Associated With “Wuthering Heights”, The Earnshaw Home In Emily Bronte’s Novel. The Building, Even When Complete, Bore
No Resemblance To The House She Described, But The Situation May Have Been In Her
Mind When She Wrote Of The Moorland Setting Of The Heights. Bronte Society 1964 This Plaque Has Been Placed Here In Response To Many Inquiries.
Passing various signs in Japanese and English for the Bronte Way and other points of interest, I headed down towards Ponden Reservoir, for a while on a flagstone dual carriageway, presumably as a single track path is not enough to cope with the hoards of tourists, or maybe it was just to carry 4 x 4 vehicles up there. Views of the reservoir and the moors beyond opened up – a little dreary now in the dull weather, but lovely on a sunny day. Walking past Ponden Reservoir, I heard the screams of a group of schoolchildren who had been building rafts made from oil drums, then sailing them out into the reservoir. One of them had come apart and various children were in the water, suitably equipped with wetsuits, otherwise they may not have found the cold water so much fun.
Top Withens associated with Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Ponden Reservoir
I decided upon one more break before making for Cowling, so I pressed on past the reservoir and up the steepest part of the hillside so that I would then have a fairly easy walk for the rest of way, with about four and a half miles left to go. As I was walking along the short stretch of roadway before starting the ascent, I stepped aside for the traffic to pass and my foot went down a dip at the edge of the tarmac making me trip over. Fortunately, I didn’t come to much harm other than a grazed elbow, but it just goes to show that it is not just over the hills where danger lies. After my rest looking back over the reservoir, I set off again at 4.25, skirting round the hillside by path and road to where the route headed in a perfectly straight line by the side of a wall before reaching the large expanse of open moorland of Ickornshaw Moor. Once onto the flat-topped moor, the path was paved with flagstones, though in this case there was good reason, as the ground was very boggy. Once I was out of the valley, there was little to see other than a large expanse of desolate moorland with just the sound of a few birds for company. There is a small rocky outcrop near to the trig point some way to the west of the Pennine Way, but otherwise just wilderness.
Coming down towards Ickornshaw and Cowling, the views opened up more to the valleys ahead, and there were the first few signs of human intervention in the form of some grouse butts and a few wooden buildings by a wall. Further along I had been given instructions on a detour, taking me directly to Cowling rather than going to Ickornshaw and having to walk along the busy main road. Unlike the Pennine Way, this footpath was not sanitised, and for the first time so far I actually got my boots muddy. The detour took me right down to within a very short distance of my B&B, where I arrived at 18.15, having paused on the way to make a phone call home.
I had a very good welcome with a cup of tea and a chat before going up for a shower, washing out a few things and getting changed to go out for something to eat. Towards the end of the day’s walk, the sun had come out to brighten up the landscape and turn it into a very pleasant evening, though from beside the main road there was little to see of the surrounding countryside. The Harlequin, just down the road had been recommended for a good meal – this was the place that had been recommended when I stayed in Ickornshaw in 1994, but I gave up looking for it before I got there and opted for the fish and chip shop instead. This time it was easy to find, but I was a little surprised, as it is more of a high-class restaurant than a pub, though they do also serve meals in the bar. The prices were not cheap, though they were in keeping with the quality of food and service that was provided, which was excellent. Normally, I would have found their nouvelle cuisine ideal, as I don’t like being over-faced with food, but after a long day’s walk there is more need for calories, so it is a little different. The Timothy Taylor’s Landlord was the best that I had tasted up to now on the walk so, although it was a little expensive at £2.60 a pint, it was worth it.
Today had been a long day’s walk, but my feet had been holding up very well. After all the worries about my left heel and the problems I had had on the first day by trying to keep most of my weight off the heel, I had reverted to walking normally, but just trying to avoid excessive jolting when putting my foot down. From then onwards, the problems with my feet diminished and, though I still had some soreness in front of the balls of my feet, this had tended to diminish over the past few days, so that they had not given me much trouble today. My left heel, that I was so worried about, had actually been giving me less problems than I had been experiencing daily at home. Admittedly, my boots have shock absorbing insoles and arch supports, both of which are recommended for the complaint, whereas my normal shoes do not, but the main recommendation of rest could hardly be the case whilst walking the Pennine Way. I had hoped that I might meet up with Pete today, as he was staying in the other B&B in Cowling, but I didn’t see anything of him, though I should see him tomorrow, as he is staying in Malham Youth Hostel as am I.
Day 5 - Friday 8th June 2007 - Cowling to Malham - GPS 18.8 miles
Distance: 17.5 miles - 2,000 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Malham
I had a very good breakfast at 8.00, with lots of things homemade such as bread, jams and muesli – the rhubarb jam was very good, though not everybody likes rhubarb. My washing hadn’t dried very well overnight, including my walking shorts, so I put my damp things on, as it is the best way of getting things dry. I picked up a few things for lunch from the shop across the road and set off along a shortcut to join the Pennine Way on the way out of Ickornshaw.
Ickornshaw from Cowling
Lothersdale
The weather was overcast and humid with not a breath of air, which seemed to make the going harder. The start of today’s walk was a bit like yesterday’s, with a series of ups and downs, not reaching any great height, but still rather tiring in the clammy conditions. The views were very hazy and the mist was down over Ickornshaw Moor as I looked back. The route was quite well signposted, but took a little care as it went in and out of fields with several twists and turns to look out for. I missed one of these, but soon realised and turned back to find a stile with the Pennine Way sign missing – there were just a couple of nails where it should have been. Eventually, I dropped down into Lothersdale with its distinctive tall mill chimney, then up the gradual ascent to Pinhaw Beacon. At last a breeze came up to refresh me and I was then able to get into my stride on the way up through heather moorland to the summit, which is high enough to give a good panorama, and a convenient place to stop for a break.
As I was resting at the summit, a lone walker came along and started chatting about the Pennine Way. He envied me for being able to find the time and energy to do the walk. Suddenly the sun broke through, though the view was still rather limited, as there was still a lot of mist lingering about. The descent of Pinhaw is initially over heather moorland, but soon joins a minor road for a while through pastures and meadows, and the route then takes a footpath for the rest of the way down into the valley. At this point, the route is not very well marked as it drops down a grassy hillside with no clearly visible path on the way to Brown House Farm. The familiar Pennine Way signs give way to ordinary footpath signs of yellow arrows in a number of places, but the walking was easy and the route not difficult to find.
It was starting to get hot now in the sunshine, as I walked past hedgerows and verges that were abundant with wild flowers, with all the land looking rich and fertile in contrast to the large tracts of bleak moorland of previous days. The village of Thornton-in-Craven is very picturesque, though the tranquillity was shattered by the rather busy main road passing through. Many of the houses had beautiful displays of flowers in their gardens, now being shown off to their best in the sunshine.
Approaching Thornton-in-Craven
Double Arched Bridge over Leeds Liverpool Canal
Williamson Bridge over Leeds Liverpool Canal
Beyond Thornton-in-Craven, I stopped for a lunch break at Langbar Hill in a rich meadow, and did a spot of sunbathing whilst also trying to dry out the remaining damp in my clothes. I didn’t bring too much to drink, as I didn’t expect it to get this warm, but I would be passing through Gargrave in three and a half miles, so I would be able to get something there to see me through the rest of the way to Malham. The scenery now was of gently rolling pastures, the higher hills having been left behind, but with more to come up ahead as I progressed along. It was very tempting to stay here a lot longer, soaking up the sun and relaxing, but I still had ten miles to walk, so set off again at 13.40.
It was not long before I reached the Leeds Liverpool Canal, which the Pennine Way follows for a little way, passing under a double arched bridge, where one bridge has been built on top of another to carry the road over the canal. Just past there, I wasn’t sure whether the route continued by the canal or parted company before the next bridge. There were no signs that I could see, except for one that could easily have indicated either of the two directions, so I carried on along the canal, but soon found that this was not the right thing to do. Without turning back, I could either follow the canal to Gargrave or drop down through a field to join the proper path. I decided on the latter, walking through some long grass to the gate opposite. The rest of the way to Gargrave was not very interesting, crossing field after field until at last Gargrave Church came into sight. In many ways, the canal towpath route would have been a more interesting option, though that would have bypassed Gargrave and rejoined the Pennine Way on the northern edge of the village. I started looking for a small shop to buy a carton of orange juice, but the only places there seemed to be tea rooms, so I bought a couple of cold cans there, drinking one straight away and saving one for later.
St Andrew's Church Gargrave
River Aire near Airton
Hanlith Hall near Malham
Gordale Scar in Distance, from near Hanlith
I reached Malham Youth Hostel at 18.00 and ordered a three course evening meal for £8.40 plus a small packed lunch for £3.80 – I had already paid for bed and breakfast online. Pete was in the same dormitory, so it was interesting to hear how he had got on over the past couple of days since I last saw him. There were not many having dinner at the hostel, but I joined a chap from my dormitory who was just walking around the area, plus a woman who was walking the Pennine Way and started on Sunday, the day before I did. She was planning to do the walk with her daughter, but the daughter had to drop out for some reason so she ended up doing it on her own. She had owned a shop and letting property in Rhyl for many years, so knew our hotel, which is only about six miles away.
After dinner, I went down to the Buck Inn and had a pint of Landlord for the extortionate price of £2.90, and it wasn’t even a good pint. I then tried the Lister’s Arms, which was more reasonable at £2.50 for Thwaite’s Bomber. I sat outside near a good hearted group on the next table who were all trying out the different Thwaite’s beers on offer, as Thwaite’s had just taken over the pub. Nobody seemed very keen on any of them and they kept changing from one to another to see if anything was more to their liking. Apparently the pub had been closed on Wednesday whilst they changed everything over to Thwaite’s beers and reopened with a new manager on Thursday. They were having a few problems working the tills and other things, but seemed to have got to grips with them when I went in.
The group on the next table were saying that Malham had a visit from CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) on Wednesday. A group of them arrived in a minibus to sample the local real ales, but were thwarted by the fact that the one pub was closed and the other pub had run out of everything other than John Smith’s and Old Peculier, so they didn’t have a very fruitful visit.
Day 6 - Saturday 9th June 2007 - Malham to Horton-in-Ribblesdale - GPS 15.9 miles
Distance: 14.2 miles - 2,400 ft ascent
Accommodation: Golden Lion Hotel, Horton-in-Ribblesdale
My night’s sleep was disturbed by creaking bed springs, which is a common problem in hostels with some of the older type of bunk beds. Pete was having a rest day in Malham, so I would not be seeing him again, as he would then be a day behind me for the rest of the way. Breakfast consisted of a very good cold buffet, with plenty of variety, plus a limited selection of hot food left in heated trays for self-service. The sausage and beans were alright, but the bacon was dried out and the only eggs available were cold hard-boiled ones. However, this does mean that it is a lot easier for the Youth Hostel staff, and must make things quicker and more efficient at busy times.
Bridge over Malham Beck
Malham Cove
Dry Valley above Malham Cove
Malham Tarn
It was 9.30 before I set off, having had a long chat with Pete, but there were not as many miles to cover today, so that didn’t matter. The weather was very warm with quite a lot of sunshine but some hazy mist and cloud in places, so the steep ascent up Malham Cove made me very hot. I got caught up in the middle of a large crowd of people who were doing a sponsored walk, with the next checkpoint by Malham Tarn, but they eventually went off in a different direction. I kept getting interrupted by calls from home on my mobile phone, but the reception was too poor to sustain a conversation. The first problem was that our computer had died with what appeared to be a power supply problem, and the next problem was how my wife and daughter could turn off the hot water supply so they could change a tap washer in one of the hotel bedrooms. It was not until I neared the Field Study Centre by Malham Tarn that I was able to sustain a conversation for long enough to suggest what to do.
On the way to Fountains Fell, I met up with a chap called John who was walking the Pennine Way and had started out the day before me, planning to complete it in twenty days just taking it at a steady pace. I went ahead after a while, and then met up with the woman from Rhyl I had met in Malham Youth Hostel. She had stopped for lunch before the ascent of Fountains Fell, so I had some of my lunch there with her whilst chatting about the walk. We both had some strange brown thing wrapped in cling film as part of our Youth Hostel packed lunch, but when I tried to get into mine it just disintegrated into a pile of crumbs, so there was no way I could eat it unless I used a spoon. It didn’t look very appetising anyway, so I decided that it was better suited to a rubbish bin. She was doing her own version of the Pennine Way, not sticking strictly to the route, but taking short cuts here or there to bypass some of the hillier bits when she felt like it. She was very slow walking, much slower than John, but kept plodding along and got there in the end. As we were sitting there, John came along and then went ahead of us.
The walking today had been very easy so far, with lovely sheep cropped grassy paths for much of the way. A deputy warden from New Zealand at Malham Youth Hostel was saying how hard the ground was at the moment and how there was a need for Sorbothane insoles, as I have in my boots. He then went on to say that half way through the day’s walk it was best to change into a nice fresh, fluffed-up pair of socks. I had to point out that this was a luxury that just didn’t exist when walking the Pennine Way, especially as they are the most difficult things to get dry, so they have to last as long as possible. Also, even with the ground dry and hard, it was still much softer than the miles of wretched flagstones on other parts of the walk, so this was luxury in itself.
Higher up it was a little cooler with more cloud about, so it was better for walking, but not so good for the views. The ascent of Fountains Fell brings with it a complete change of scenery, leaving behind the limestone and returning to peaty moorland, which was mainly grassy but with some heather and bilberry. Although it was a little cooler, it was still quite humid, making it a hot and sweaty climb even though it was fairly steady with only one or two steeper bits. The route does not go right to the summit, as this is a rather flat-topped and peaty hill with a better view from around the edge than from the top. There are remains of old mine workings all around, with warning signs telling people to stay on the footpath because of the numerous mineshafts in the area. I stopped for a rest by the highest point on the path and was eating another bit of my packed lunch when John came along. I had kept meeting the other two from time to time as I had stopped once or twice on the way, letting the others go ahead, then had overtaken them a bit later. It just shows that someone who keeps going at a very steady pace without taking many breaks can get there just as quickly as someone like myself who walks at a faster pace, but keeps stopping from time to time, often for longer periods.
Penyghent and Ingleborough from Fountains Fell
Penyghent from Gavel Rigg
There is a fine view across to Penyghent, Ingleborough and Whernside from Fountains Fell, although today it was a bit too hazy to get any more than a profile of them. These are the Yorkshire ‘Three Peaks’ making up a challenge walk that has to be completed in 12 hours, not to be confused with the other ‘Three Peaks’ of Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon, which make up a 24 hour challenge walk. The route down from Fountains Fell was quite easy with a grassy path much of the way down to the road at the bottom, which then has to be followed for about a mile before picking up the track to Penyghent. This climbs steadily up onto a ridge called Gavel Rigg, which gives some very impressive views of Penyghent from close up, before the final climb of the steep face up towards the summit. The sun started shining again, making it very hot, especially up the steepest part, so I had to keep stopping to catch a bit of breeze to cool me down a little. The steep face looks very daunting from a distance, but it is not as bad as it looks, and there is a stepped path all the way up the face. The final few hundred yards to the trig point are much more gentle, and I stopped there for a while for another rest and a look at the view.
I always find that Penyghent is a hill that is much more impressive to look at than the views it offers from its summit. Fountains Fell to the east is just a featureless moor; to the north is the rather flat topped ridge of Penyghent itself; to the south is lower lying land, and it is only to the west where more interesting views of Ingleborough, Ribblesdale and Whernside can be seen, and even Whernside is rather lacking in distinction, despite its being the highest of the three peaks. The sunshine was rather short-lived and a cool wind sprang up prompting me to continue on my way down towards Horton-in-Ribblesdale.
The route down starts with a section of path-work that is intended to trip and injure as many people as possible, which is why most people avoid it and walk by the side. After a little way, the main path winds its way down the hillside. This was laid about 15 years ago with brilliant white limestone chippings that looked horrendous at the time, and even this many years later it still looks an eyesore – talk about making things sympathetic to the landscape. It is obvious why this surface was chosen, with a huge limestone quarry just across the way, but sometimes people should look at the broader aspect and not just at the most convenient and cheapest solution.
I didn’t take this path, as I prefer to make a small detour to visit Hull Pot, so I followed a route down the hillside a little further to the north, which looked like it had been the route of the three peaks challenge held today. It was a nice, grassy slope, easy on the feet and soon led me down to where the slope levelled out and I was able to pick up the path to Hull Pot. This is a very large and impressive pothole, fed by a river valley that is dry most of the time, but after heavy rain feeds a waterfall into one side of the pothole. At other times, the water sinks below the dry valley and emerges by the bottom of the pothole, only to immediately disappear again underground. This is only about a quarter of a mile off route and a very worthwhile detour.
Hull Pot, just off the route
Looking back at Penyghent<
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From Hull Pot, I picked up the main Pennine Way path again for the rest of the way into Horton. It was very stony for much of the way, and not the best thing for feet at the end of the day. My accommodation for the night was in a bunkroom at the Golden Lion, just opposite Horton church, and as I passed through the village, there were people in great numbers, mostly in campsites, presumably here for the three peaks challenge. When I arrived, it turned out that I had been allocated a static caravan, as a group had wanted to book the bunk accommodation for themselves. That was fine by me as it provided me with my own private accommodation with all the facilities and plenty of space.
When I phoned home, I discovered that my wife and daughter had been unable to turn off the large stop tap feeding the hot water tank, as it was seized up with calcium deposits. Rather than be defeated, my wife held towels over the tap whilst my daughter replaced the washer, both of them getting a good soaking in the process, although most of the water found its way onto them and down the plughole rather than over the floor. When I returned home, I didn’t get round to checking out the tap, but we then had an elderly couple staying in the room. They were just getting ready to go to a wedding when they managed to unscrew the top off the tap, as it hadn’t been tightened down properly. The man was in his underwear trying to hold the tap in place to stem the flow of water, whilst his wife summoned me for help. It was then my turn to go through the same routine of trying to screw the top of the tap back on with water rushing out everywhere, as I was unable to turn off the stop tap either. Once I had got the tap back roughly together, I then managed to free up the stop tap and complete the job properly. Oh the joys of running a hotel!
After a much needed shower, I went to the bar and had a pint of Landlord. I would have liked a meal, but it was so crowded that there was no table free, and I couldn’t sit outside as it had just started to rain. The best option seemed to be to go back to the caravan for a while to rest and return later once some of the earlier diners had moved on. It was still quite busy when I returned, but I managed to get a small table that had just been vacated, so was able to order a lasagne to have with my pint of Timothy Taylor’s Golden Best. As a single person in a busy pub, it is not easy to keep a table. The moment you get up to get another pint from the bar someone else leaps in and grabs the table. However, once I had eaten my meal, it didn’t matter so much, so I wandered into the other bar with my next pint and managed to find a place free in there. Before long a chap from British Telecom who was in the same position as me, trying to find somewhere to sit, joined me. He had taken place in the challenge walk, which was organised by BT. They had fielded about 60 to 80 teams of four themselves, but they also opened the event to other associated companies, many of which were parts of BT before being split off. MacMillan Nurses also joined in, making a total of about 400 entrants altogether.
Day 7 - Sunday 9th June 2007 - Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Hawes - GPS 14.9 miles
Distance: 13.5 miles - 1,350 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Hawes
After a sound night’s sleep in the seclusion of my caravan away from everyone else, I woke up to another fine day. I went over for breakfast at 8.00 and met four BT men waiting outside. Breakfast didn’t start until 8.30, but nobody had told me, which was hardly surprising with the bedlam that prevailed yesterday. The other four had stayed there the night before and went in, so I followed and, although we were somewhat early, we were eventually served with tea and toast and then a cooked breakfast. Amongst those who came down for breakfast, which included a team of girls from an associate company, very few seemed to have qualified. To be successful, the whole team of four had to complete on time, as well as passing a checkpoint before the ascent of Ingleborough by 16.00. The girls had one member who was holding them back and was two minutes late for the 16.00 deadline. The others weren’t too unhappy about not finishing and were relieved to have the excuse to take the minibus back, but the girl who had missed the deadline decided to carry on and actually completed before the final deadline of 20.00, even though she was disqualified. The men didn’t seem to have done any better, with one of their team dropping out due to the heat. All competitors had to carry a minimum emergency kit including waterproofs, jumper, survival bag, rations and various other pieces of safety equipment, though there were various water stations set up along the way, which saved them carrying a lot of weight in drinks.
Horton-in-Ribblesdale Church with Penyghent behind
Track towards Birkwith Moor from Horton-in-Ribblesdale
Ingleborough and Simon Fell
The Golden Lion were not geared up to early starts, and my packed lunch was not ready, so I went back to get myself ready and picked it up as I was leaving. Today was a short day, so it didn’t matter about getting off early. The weather was warm and sunny, with some cloud around, so the steady climb up from Horton was very hot, especially as the walls of the lane blocked off any breeze. The sunshine brought out the best of the glorious limestone scenery, with views across the Ribble Valley towards Ingleborough, Simon Fell and Whernside. After a while the Ribblehead Viaduct came into view, carrying the Settle to Carlisle Railway across the head of the valley.
I met up first with John, with whom I walked at his more leisurely pace for a mile or two, and then with the woman from Rhyl, who was walking at an even more leisurely pace, so we passed her by. The views became more limited for a while around Birkwith Moor and Ling Gill Bridge, which is a picturesque spot and perfect for a break. John had stopped about half a mile before Ling Gill Bridge, but then passed me as I rested there, knowing I would catch him up later. A little further on at Cam End, where the Pennine Way joins and then crosses the Dales Way, there was a fine view over Ribblehead, with Ingleborough to the left and Whernside to the right, and the viaduct in the middle. The two National Trails follow the same route for about a mile up Cam High Road, an old Roman Road. For quite a way, the track had been rather rough and stony, but it had generally been possible to find an easier path, either on the verges, or by picking out the best line along the track.
Ling Gill Bridge - lovely place for a break
Ribblehead from Cam End Railway Viaduct is to left and Whernside to right
Meeting Point of Pennine Way and Dales Way Ingleborough is in the distance
At the point where the Pennine Way and Dales Way parted company, I came across a walker who was taking a break. Just then another walker came towards us along the Dales Way and stopped, so I decided to take a break there myself and eat some of my lunch. The first walker was a Dutchman who was not on any official walk, but just following his own route and heading for Hawes tonight, then over to Reeth. The Dales Way man was heading for Sedburgh, making it a 26-mile day, of which he still had 16 miles left to go at about 13.00. Although the going would be quite easy, I didn’t envy him, as he would need to press on quite hard, and he was having problems with his Achilles tendon into the bargain. John passed by as we were sitting there, but then I caught up with him a little while later where he had been cooling down his feet in a spring, something he likes to do when he gets the opportunity.
Being a Roman Road, Cam High Road is very straight, so tends to be a bit tedious, though there were fine views all along the way of the wild, open moors and valleys at the head of Wharfedale, which make quite a contrast to the typical Dales landscape further down the valleys. The track was badly rutted in places from the passage of wheeled vehicles, but then became a metalled road past the access road to Cam Houses, a most remote farmhouse providing B&B accommodation. A mile further on, the Pennine Way takes a route along the hillside west of Dodd Fell, where there are some very good views down into Snaizholme. It was about 14.00 and I had only four and a half miles left to go, so a long stop was called for if I didn’t want to get into Hawes too early. I climbed a little way down the valley side to where I had a fine view of the valley and over to Great Shunner Fell, and settled down there.
The weather was a little mixed and I had a few spots of rain from a passing cloud but then patches of sunshine. A huge flock of crows or, to use the correct collective noun, a murder of crows came flying overhead. I thought I had heard a lot of them as I turned off the Roman Road, but now they were here in force. After an hour, I decided to move on and, just for interest, I thought I would climb to the top of Dodd Fell Hill, which appeared to be only a short distance off-route, not that I expected there to be any particularly good views from there, as it is rather flat-topped. However, it took longer than I thought to reach the summit, as there was a lot of peaty ground to traverse with very little in the way of footpaths. From the trig point there was a complete panorama of distant hills from the Three Peaks to Great Shunner Fell and numerous others I couldn’t identify.
The way off to the north was a lot easier, as there was a reasonable path that took me down to meet the Pennine Way, which I reached just as the woman from Rhyl came along. I walked with her for a while and she told me that she hadn’t liked today’s walk very much. Her husband had come to stay with her in Horton last night and they went down to the pub to try to get a meal, but people were six deep at the bar so that gave up and drove into Settle, where her husband had spotted a nice looking place on the way. They had some beer, which was pretty bad, but they couldn’t leave, as they had already ordered a meal. They fancied some wine, but were not prepared to pay the price of £5 a glass for it. Some people may wonder why, if the beer was bad, that they didn’t complain about it, but to people in the older age group, this comes from bitter experience (if you pardon the pun). In my earlier years, anyone who complained about a bad pint of beer usually got a very poor reaction from the landlord, who would take it as a personal insult and would be more likely to throw you out of the pub for being a troublemaker than to offer either a refund or a drink of something else. The usual response would be “everybody else is drinking it, and they aren’t complaining.” Never mind the fact that half of them couldn’t tell a good pint from a bad one, so long as it contained alcohol, and the rest were probably afraid of complaining anyway. Times have changed quite a bit now, so the reaction is likely to be somewhat less hostile, but old habits die hard.
John hadn’t fared any better either in trying to get a meal. He was intending to eat in Horton before having his landlady pick him up, as his B&B was some way out of the village. He found it impossible to get served, so rang up the landlady to pick him up straight away, and didn’t get an evening meal at all. In contrast, I had fared very well having both a good meal and good beer, even though there were a few minor problems in doing so.
The woman from Rhyl asked me to go on ahead, as she was struggling to keep up with me even though I had slowed down quite a bit. She was saying that she might not walk over Great Shunner Fell tomorrow, as her guide book said it was not very interesting, so she was thinking of walking along the road over the Buttertubs Pass, which was both shorter and possibly had more to see. I went on ahead and started to drop down towards Hawes. The track got worse and worse, with lots of loose stones and hardly anywhere to walk that wasn’t either stony or badly eroded and, as I progressed to the point where I could see Hawes, I couldn’t quite work out where I was. A check with my guidebook and with my GPS showed that I had missed a right fork to Gaudy Lane, and had continued down Cam Road instead, so I was approaching Hawes from a different direction. There was little point in trying to correct things now, as it was far easier just to carry on and meet up with the road, which would bring me into the right side of the town for the Youth Hostel.
I checked in, ordered my evening meal, phoned home, had a shower, washed out quite a few clothes, hoping that the drying room would do a good job, and then went to the dining room for my meal. When ordering a meal there is the option to choose what time to have it, so I had chosen 18.30 to give me more time for wandering into town on this very pleasant evening. I had soup, cod chips and vegetables and ice cream, which was all very nice, especially the vegetables that were all very freshly cooked, which is where so many places, even expensive restaurants, often fall down.
Gayle Beck, Hawes
Being a market town, Hawes has so many pubs that it is difficult to know which one to choose, so I walked past all of them to the bottom end of town to have a browse around before calling at the Crown for a pint of Old Peculier at £3.30, which I thought was a bit steep, even though it is normally dearer than ordinary beers. It was a warm evening, so I sat outside to drink my pint. With the big meal inside me, I felt a bit too full for another pint, so made my way back to the Youth Hostel and had an early night. There was one other chap sharing my dormitory, but he didn’t return until after 23.00 when I was already in bed. Fortunately, though, the bunk beds were solid without any creaking springs, so it was a peaceful night.
Day 8 - Monday 11th June 2007 - Hawes to Tan Hill - GPS 17.2 miles
Distance: 16.2 miles - 2,950 ft ascent
Accommodation: Tan Hill Inn
Breakfast was served from 7.45 to 8.30, and I got down for 8.00. There was another very good cold buffet plus sausage, bacon and hash browns in the hot trays. Not many were having breakfast, just my roommate, who had been there for the weekend taking part in a cycling and running event, and two girls who were walking the Pennine Way. They had done the first section to Horton last September, and were now taking two weeks for the remainder of the walk, making for Keld today. For the Cheviot part of the walk, because they couldn’t stay at Uswayford Farm, they had brought a tent, which they were carrying for a whole two weeks just to use for one night. It would have made a lot more sense to post it ahead to Byrness, which would have saved them a lot of wasted effort.
My washing had not dried fully, but most of it was reasonably dry, so I would try to dry out the rest when I took breaks along the way. It was rather misty to start with, but clearing gradually with temperatures of 24 degrees forecast. I set off just after 9.00, calling at the bank cash machine to top up my cash, though I could probably have managed until Middleton. The sun started to break through and the mist started to clear, though it was still very hazy but already quite warm. The first couple of miles are up to Hardraw, following the river for a while to start with. At Hardraw, it is possible to visit Hardraw Force with a drop of 98 ft by going through the Green Dragon Inn and paying an admission charge. When there is a good flow of water, this is very impressive, but today the stream was just a trickle, so I didn’t bother with the detour, especially as I was walking four miles beyond Keld to the Tan Hill Inn today.
Hawes
River Ure near Hawes
Squeeze Stile near Hardraw - No fatties this way!
Some of the stiles in this area leave a lot to be desired as far as walkers are concerned, especially those carrying large rucksacks. There are squeeze stiles that are very narrow, which is not too bad if this were just where legs have to go through, but sometimes the tight part is high enough to obstruct rucksacks as well. I can understand this with old stiles that were built originally for farm workers getting to work unencumbered with rucksacks, but there were a couple of newly rebuilt ones that were just the same, and these could have been rebuilt with long distance walkers in mind. There are other places with kissing gates that also have insufficient room for rucksacks, as well as stiles going over high walls having small gates with strong return springs at the top, which can also present difficulties. The ladder stiles that were specifically put in place for the Pennine Way are generally the most suitable, but it is the odd collection of old stiles and badly maintained gates that cause most of the problems.
From Hardraw, the long traverse of Great Shunner Fell commenced with a sign saying “Thwaite 8 miles”, all of which is on a relatively straight track running the length of the fell, with only very distant views and a lot of wild moorland. The ascent was very steady, but quite hot work with very little movement of air, but a bit further up the ridge, I started to catch a cool breeze, which made it more pleasant. I stopped for a rest about two miles from Hardraw, where the slope started to level out to a gentle incline. The back of my shirt and shorts were already soaked with sweat, which is par for the course in these conditions. There is a large shelter at the summit in the form of a cross, and this can be seen for most of the ascent, although it seems a very long time before it is finally reached. I continued the walk without my shirt, which helped to keep me cooler, though with the gentler slope I wasn’t generating as much heat now.
Some guidebooks describe this part of the walk as being very dreary, but on a fine day it is quite a reasonable walk, though not what I would describe as one of the highlights of the Pennine Way. The going was easy and there were views of distant hills and moors plus a number of birds for company. Another noisy murder of crows came over, intermingled with black-headed gulls; there were grouse with their chicks and I could hear the cry of a golden plover in the grass. I hadn’t seen any Pennine Way walkers so far and would not be likely to see any now, as they would mostly only be going as far as Keld, so would not be in a hurry.
There were one or two short climbs up onto ridges towards the summit and there were a few stretches on flagstones, though these were not done to overkill and there were often parallel tracks that could be taken to avoid them if desired. I stopped for another rest and part of my lunch by the summit, laying some of my damp clothes out to dry in the sunshine. I hadn’t bought a packed lunch today, so was just using up various leftovers from previous days. The Pennine Way does offer a wide contrast in scenery with sections like this showing the wild side of the Pennines, and other parts like Malham and Upper Swaledale showing the picturesque valleys.
Cross Shaped Shelter at Summit of Great Shunner Fell
Looking back at Great Shunner Fell
The Villages of Thwaite and Muker in Swaledale
Just as I was about to leave the summit, a walker came along, but he was only out for the day, despite having a large rucksack. I chatted with him for a while before starting the long descent. It had clouded over quite a bit by now, so was not too hot as I made my way down. The track on this side of the fell had been paved with flagstones for quite a bit of the way, but in this case it was through necessity, as there is a lot of boggy ground on the northern facing slopes. The views started to improve as Swaledale came into sight, with rich, green valley scenery gradually replacing the wild moorland views. I could see vehicles driving up and down Buttertubs Pass over to the right, and I wondered if the woman from Rhyl had decided to go that way as she had talked about doing. Beyond the flagstones, the track was rather stony on the way down to meet the road into Thwaite, but it wasn’t too bad.
Passing through Thwaite, I started off up the southern edge of Kisdon Hill, then round the hillside overlooking Muker and further up onto the high level route along Upper Swaledale. This to me is one of the highlights of the Pennine Way, with some magnificent views down into the valley below and, in particular, up Swinner Gill. As I made my way along, it was overcast so the magic of the view was somewhat lost, but I stopped for a rest and, after a while the sun came out – not completely covering the landscape, but enough to improve the scene considerably. The path down towards Keld deteriorates badly, with lots of jagged rocks; so all eyes were on the ground to avoid tripping. By the time the path improved, the view had been left behind with trees screening off the valley.
Swinner Gill and Upper Swaledale
River Swale near Keld
Keld from Pry Hill
The Pennine Way crosses the river just before reaching Keld and then starts to climb the other side of the valley. It is obvious that to reach the highest inn in England from the river valley some climbing has to be done, so I stopped for a rest and drank the last of my drink before carrying on. There was a moderate climb up out of Swaledale, then the route levelled off, taking a line along the hillside with views of the river to the left with a minor road that followed alongside on its way to Tan Hill. Once again, the scenery changed from the picturesque scenery of the Dales valleys to wild, open moorland, though the walking was easy with a good, grassy path for much of the way. After a while, the path turned up the hillside. It was not particularly steep or difficult, but most walkers schedule the majority of the climbing early in the day, and the last few miles are either downhill or on the level, so it took a bit of effort for me to face any climbing at all at this stage in the day.
Stonesdale Bridge on road to Tan Hill
Tan Hill Inn, Highest Inn in Britain at 1,732 ft above sea level
Once at the top of the hill, it was not long before the welcome sight of Tan Hill Inn came into view. It was still about three quarters of a mile away, but growing larger in my view by the minute. I was already working up a thirst, and when I arrived I downed a pint of Black Sheep in double quick time before going up to my room for a shower. I had asked for a bunk in the bunkhouse when I booked, but was told that that wouldn’t be ready, so I could have a room in the staff quarters instead. It seemed a bit strange going behind the scenes and passing by staff who were doing various jobs as I made my way to my room. I had the use of the staff bathroom, though this was attached to the laundry room, so anyone using the bathroom blocked access to the rest of it.
It quite surprised me that I could get reception on my mobile phone, but outside I had quite a good signal for making my call home. There were three Dutchmen who had been in the bar, but who then came out and started talking to me. They were doing the northern half of the Pennine Way starting from here, having done the first half last year. They were taking ten days to Kirk Yetholm as opposed to my eight days, and they were using the Sherpa van for their luggage, but then one of them was 80 years old.
Outside the inn stood a snow tractor covered with advertising for the inn and for Old Peculier. It can get pretty bleak up here in the winter, with snow drifting in the high winds, so this is no doubt a great asset at times like that.
Inside there was quite a mixed bag of people with one large group out to celebrate someone’s birthday. They looked like they were from some remote farming community from a different era – just as if time had stood still for fifty years or more where they came from. Another group came in and sat at the corner table where, from behind the bar, they can lower a tarantula spider from the ceiling to give everyone a fright. In compensation, the lady nearest to the spider was given a brandy to help her recover from the shock. There were two dogs in there, one of which kept settling down on a seat near the fire. Even on a hot day, it can still get very chilly in the evening at this altitude. A sheep kept trying to get in through the front door, but they told it to go away as it was baa-ed.
Food wasn’t served until 19.00, at which time there was a great rush of everybody who was waiting to order, so I waited until that had all died down before ordering a giant Yorkshire pudding with a lamb hock along with some Timothy Taylor’s best bitter. The landlady served me and just put my 10 pence change in the charity box without so much as a “by your leave”. A young chap who was on his mobile phone was told he had to put a pound into the charity box as well. I don’t know whether there was a sign anywhere to that effect, and if there were it would have been very difficult to find, as they had a huge collection of signs about anything and everything, particularly of a humorous nature. I finished off with a pint of Old Peculier, a total of four pints in the evening, but very little of it came through my system, most of it having been absorbed to replace lost body fluids during the warm weather of today’s walk, and this is on top of the two litres I drank along the way.
Day 9 - Tuesday 12th June 2007 - Tan Hill to Middleton-in-Teesdale - GPS 17.6 miles
Distance: 16.2 miles - 1,400 ft ascent
Accommodation: Belvedere House B&B, Middleton-in-Teesdale
There was mist outside when I got up, but that is probably not unusual up here. Breakfast was at 8.30, though nobody had said what time it was supposed to be, as everything seemed a bit disorganised. It looked like there were five of us for breakfast, as there was a table laid for five in the bar. I started mine and a foreign man in a safety helmet came to get me tea, milk and orange juice, whilst the landlady was cooking the breakfasts. The Dutchmen had taken a pot of tea down to the other room and were sitting chatting down there. When the cooked breakfasts were ready the landlady came out to serve them and wondered why nobody else was at the table, so she went down to the Dutchmen and shouted “Get your arses up here – when a good woman has gone to the trouble of cooking breakfast, don’t leave it waiting!” The Dutchmen then meekly followed her up to the table and joined me. Another chap who was also supposed to join us didn’t realise that he should have been on the same table as us, so sat somewhere else.
The landlady then started doing things to the pumps on the bar, cursing and swearing about others who had not done their jobs properly. Between all this, a pet lamb and two dogs were wandering in and out of the bar. The whole thing seemed rather surreal, but then if you were running the highest inn in Britain, it would all be rather mundane if it were just like any other pub, and a bit of eccentricity provides a good talking point for visitors.
I was quite amused a few weeks ago, when I read an article in the paper about KFC, who were threatening to take Tan Hill Inn to court because they were advertising their traditional Christmas Dinner as a Family Feast, which is a registered trademark of KFC. The Times newspaper and Times Online took up Tan Hill Inn’s cause, ridiculing KFC and eventually the resulting bad publicity made them back down, although I now had my suspicions that the real reason they backed down was that full might of KFC’s legal team would not be able to face a tongue lashing from the landlady if it went to court.
The breakfast was good, and I went back upstairs to pack my things ready for off. It was about 9.30 when I started out; the same time as the Dutchmen, but they were only going as far as Clove Lodge in Baldersdale, so had not got very far to go. Outside the front door was a rather scraggy sheep with half its winter fleece coming adrift. I suspect it was the mother of the lamb indoors, wondering why her offspring was allowed indoors but she wasn’t.
Tan Hill Inn's Snowmobile
Waiting for Opening Time They get some odd customers at Tan Hill Inn
Bog Scar and Intake Bridge over Sleightholme Beck
By now the mist had lifted leaving a totally grey landscape. To the northwest the horizon was almost flat with empty moorland, and there were only some small, distant hills in the other directions. The path, however, was good and easy to follow with only occasional boggy patches. It seemed a lot better than I remembered, but then I realised that the route had been changed to the opposite side of Frumming Beck, where the ground was firmer with less peat bogs. It was also a bit more interesting, being a lot closer to the beck and keeping it in sight for much of the way. Working from an old guidebook, it is necessary to accept the fact that route changes may have taken place over the years and just go with the waymarked route, trusting that it will lead in the right direction.
After about three miles, the new route rejoined the old one on a firm track towards Sleightholme. Here the valley gets deeper, making the scenery more interesting, and there are more signs of habitation with a few farms around, and the busy A66 road over to the north. To the east were a number of small hills, which looked more like a series of spoil heaps from some old mining activity, but I am not sure whether they were natural, as they are marked as ‘Seven Hills’ on the map. Higher up on the moors there was hardly any sign of life, but further down I started to find oystercatchers, lapwings and a number of other birds that I couldn’t identify.
God's Bridge over River Greta
At Trough Heads, I found I was at the wrong side of a wall, the route having been a little vague in places causing me to miss the place a few hundred yards back where I should have crossed over. It was not a problem as I was able to climb over a gate to pick up the waymarked route to God’s Bridge, a natural limestone bridge over the River Greta, which I reached at 11.45, six and a half miles from Tan Hill. I stopped by the river for a rest and a snack and even had a few patches of sunshine, though the weather was generally rather cloudy. From here, the route climbs out of the valley up onto the moors, but first has to negotiate a tunnel under the A66. When the road was widened, it became necessary to create this crossing point to avoid the increasing volume of high-speed traffic, but it does involve a diversion of two hundred yards to the tubular corrugated iron tunnel, then the same distance back again at the other side.
The next few miles were again over open moorland, going up and down over a few ridges and not quite as bleak as some moorland, but still with not a great deal to see other than the birds, which were quite abundant, some of them being in huge flocks. The path was generally quite good and none of the hills very steep, though it was difficult to imagine from this rather thinly trodden path that this really was the great Pennine Way. This I suspect is due to the fact that not many people other than Pennine Way walkers come this way unless they like wild moorland or are birdwatchers. The other reason could be that since the closure of Baldersdale Youth Hostel, many more Pennine Way walkers take the Bowes Loop to find accommodation, so don’t actually walk over this stretch. Although the path runs over peaty moorland, there has been no necessity to do any path work, the path still being in good condition in most places.
As I came over into Baldersdale, the scenery changed from that of moorland to a green valley with three reservoirs. Dropping down, I passed Clove Lodge, where the Dutchmen were staying and at this point the rain that had been threatening started to come down more steadily, so I stopped for a lunch break, sheltering as best I could behind a wall, hoping that it would pass over. The drizzly rain lasted for quite a while, but it was only enough for me to need my waterproof jacket for a while, the first time I had needed it so far in the walk. The rain didn’t spoil the walk too much, as there was still reasonable visibility and the scenery was much more interesting with lots of reservoirs to see, meadows full of flowers, and a whole lot of birds including many lapwings.
Nature Reserve at Head of Blackton Reservoir
Grassholme Reservoir
The route goes past Birk Hat, the former home of Hannah Hauxwell, who came to television fame some years ago when she was discovered running the farm on her own with no running water or electricity and with severe weather conditions in winter. The land she farmed had never had any artificial fertilisers or herbicides, so had a wide diversity of plants that had not survived in most other places. Hannah’s Meadow, a little further on has been made into a nature reserve dedicated to her name.
From Grassholme, the route climbs quite a way up Harter Fell before dropping down into Middleton-in-Teesdale. Like yesterday’s walk, it was a bit of an effort right at the end of the day’s walk to have quite a bit of climbing to do, but at least it was cool, which made it easier. It had been very noticeable today just how much less fluid I had needed. I could easily have managed with one litre, though I drank a little more as I had plenty available, whereas yesterday I could have done with far more than the two litres that I drank.
I finally arrived at the hilltop overlooking Middleton and stopped for a short rest before making my way into the village, though I always tend to think of Middleton as a town because of its facilities such as pubs, shops and banks, which are a lot more than most rural villages have to offer. The waymarking had not been very good today, with Pennine Way signs only in strategic places and only ordinary footpath signs for much of the way, whereas the addition of a little acorn sign would have given that much more reassurance of being on the right route. Nevertheless, I didn’t really have too much trouble in finding the way.
I soon found my B&B and went in, being convinced that I would have a signal on my mobile to enable me to call home. I was quite surprised when there was none, so had to have a quick shower and go out to a phone box, as there was no signal outside either. I went down to the Bridge Inn and had some very good Adnam’s Broadside, then called at the chip shop for cod, chips and peas before returning to watch TV for the rest of the evening.
Day 10 - Wednesday 13th June 2007 - Middleton-in-Teesdale to Langdon Beck - GPS 10.1 miles (including detour to High Force Hotel)
Distance: 7.7 miles - 900 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Langdon Beck
I got up for a leisurely breakfast at 8.00, as I had only half a day’s walk ahead of me and the forecast was bad with rain predicted, and unsettled weather for the next few days. There was a couple in for breakfast with me, the lady being Canadian but living in Germany, with relatives around Teesside. They had done a lot of walking around the Dolomites and other mountainous areas in Europe, but not much recently because of knee problems. The breakfast was very good.
Outside it had dried up a little after some rainfall overnight, though it didn’t look too good. I was a little unsure whether to spend the morning in Middleton, where there was some shelter and a little, though not very much, to do, or to make my way to Langdon Beck Youth Hostel and hope I could take shelter there. As the rain had stopped at the moment, I decided on the latter so, after posting part 1 of my guidebook back home and picking up a few things from the supermarket, I went down to rejoin the Pennine Way. One of the things I picked up from the supermarket was a pack of sweeteners that I could add to my Kool-Aid drink to avoid needing large quantities of sugar.
Middleton-in-Teesdale
Low Force on River Tees
Sculpture near River Tees Teesdale's answer to the concrete cows of Milton Keynes!
I started walking along the Tees valley at 10.05. For the first couple of miles, the river is not in sight, the walk being though meadows with long grass still wet from earlier rain, so it was not very interesting, especially in the very dreary weather conditions. Once the riverside was joined, it was a lot better, even more so after another mile when various rapids and small waterfalls started to appear, followed by Low Force. At about this time, the rain returned, prompting me to put on my waterproof jacket, though I refrained from putting on my over-trousers, as the rain wasn’t very heavy and I dislike being cluttered up with them. I also dislike the difficulty in getting them on and off with boots that only just manage to squeeze through the bottom of the legs, so I try to wear them only when absolutely necessary. Wearing shorts, there is only a small part of the leg material that is exposed to the rain, and in light rain this evaporates off as quickly as it collects.
Low Force seemed a good place to stop for a rest, as there was shelter under some trees across the suspension footbridge with a good view of the falls. I had a drink and a few biscuits for a snack, but soon the rain started dripping through the trees. That wasn’t too bad, but I started to suffer an infestation of midges that tend to gather near trees, particularly coniferous ones, so it was time to leave. The rain came and went intermittently for the next mile towards High Force so, faced with what to do to pass the time in the wet, I decided to head for the High Force Hotel for a pint or two in the dry. It is all well and good planning rest days or half days into a walk, but when the weather is bad, it is difficult to find things to do to pass the time. There is a bridge a little way before High Force, so I was able to cross the river and reach the road to the hotel. I settled into the comfort of the bar and had a pint of High Force Forest XB, brewed at the back of the hotel. I have tried some of their beers before and am not too keen on the taste, though other people find them quite palatable, so I switched to Tetley’s cask for my next pint.
Having had the joy of being smoke free in Wales since 2nd April it was unpleasant to come back to the nauseous stench of cigarette smoke that would not be banned until 1st July in England. I chatted to a chap in the bar, who said that he could remember back to the time when a chap was running the Pennine Way, trying to beat his own record of three days. My only comment on this would be “Did he enjoy it?” There are always people who look at a walk as something that has to be the subject of a record breaking challenge, when in my opinion, the whole object is to enjoy the scenery and the walking, which is impossible if you are trying to break a record.
High Force on River Tees from Above
High Force from the Main Viewpoint
After about an hour, the weather looked a little brighter, the rain having just about stopped, so I returned to the bridge, this time using a path by the river to avoid the road. It wasn’t long before I reached High Force, with a constant stream of school parties passing by. High Force, with an unbroken fall of 21 metres, is not the highest fall in England, but the others that are higher, including Hardraw Force are mere trickles compared to the mighty torrent of brown water thundering over High Force. The classic view of the falls is from the end of a small path a little way downstream, but some feeling for the power of the water can be felt from just by the top of the falls, which is where I stopped to eat my sandwiches.
I can remember the times in the early 1960s when I used to come here with my parents before the dam of the Great Cow Green Reservoir was built upstream. The flow over the falls was then more variable, depending entirely on recent rainfall, and it was particularly impressive on occasions when the rain had been heavy. Now part of the flow is regulated by the output from the reservoir, though some of the water flows freely from tributaries below the dam.
I still had a lot of time to kill, but it was difficult to know what to do with it, so I continued on my way. The river above the falls is less interesting, but the surrounding landscape is more hilly and dotted with white painted houses and farms. There was a requirement from the local landowner that all houses had to be painted white, though I do not know whether this is still enforced today, being unduly restrictive and less likely to be tolerated in today’s world. I noticed that the white paint is badly faded now on many houses, so that makes me believe that tenants have more freedom to do as they choose, or possibly they have exercised the right to buy out their leases.
The riverbanks were rich in wild flowers, with several varieties of orchid in abundance. Much of the area is now a nature reserve, and farmers are given subsidies to grow meadows using traditional methods to encourage a wider variety of wild flowers. The rain started again, but this time with much larger drops, so it was time to make for the Youth Hostel to seek shelter. These days, most Youth Hostels allow access, or at least have a wet weather shelter that can be used before the official opening time of 17.00. The rain was getting heavier, so I was glad to reach the hostel at 15.30 and get into the dry, where I was able to get a cup of tea and sit in the warmth and dryness of the lounge. A few other people started to arrive; first one woman who arrived by car, then two other women who were walking the Pennine Way, and two chaps and a lady who were walking the Teesdale Way, having just come over from Dufton.
The warden opened up reception so that everyone could check in and it then emerged that they had had a fire in the warden’s kitchen, which had put it out of action and meant that hot meals were not available, only a cold breakfast buffet. I had paid for everything in advance, so was given a £10 refund. There was not much of a problem with this, as I intended to go to the pub for a drink, so it just meant that I would have a meal there as well, and I could manage with a cold breakfast once in a while. The warden even offered a lift to the pub, but I decided I would make my own way there unless the rain got very bad.
The rain eased off, so I set off up the road for the 10-minute walk or so to the Langdon Beck Hotel. The bar had changed dramatically since I was last here in 1994. They had knocked through from the old bar into what had been the downstairs part of the hotel, making a very cosy extended bar and dining area in place of the stark four walls of the old bar. It was still too early for food, which started at 19.00, so I had a pint of Golden Plover, which was very good, and chatted to some of the locals, who were all very friendly. Others from the hostel started to arrive by car, the Teesdale Way three having had a lift from the other woman with a car. One of the Pennine Way women arrived as well, the other one having decided not to bother. I sat with the other hostellers and had a chicken Rogan josh plus one of the other local beers, which was also very good. It was still drizzling when I made my way back, but not enough for me to get wet. The others had offered me a lift, but it was hardly worth it for half a mile or so. Back at the hostel, I sat with the others in the lounge until it was time for bed.
Day 11 - Thursday 14th June 2007 - Langdon Beck to Dufton - GPS 13.2 miles
Distance: 12.6 miles - 900 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Dufton
I went down for breakfast at 8.00, which was a cold buffet, but there was enough there to fill up on. The weather was still unsettled, but the cloud base was fairly high with only light rain on and off at the moment. There was no rush to set off early, as it was only a short day’s walk with not much opportunity to stop on the way in the poor weather. My things were almost dry from the drying room, but it is seldom that everything dries out properly. Last night I had to re-wash some of the things I washed in Hawes because they were still damp and starting to smell.
It was eventually 9.40 before I set out into drizzly rain and a cool wind, wearing my usual shorts and polo shirt plus my waterproof jacket, as that is normally sufficient for walking if the rain is not too heavy, nor the wind too cold. However, it wasn’t long before the cold wind and rain started to get through to me and I had to put on my over-trousers. The way was easy at first, with fairly level walking following the river for a few miles until the obstacle course started around Falcon Clints. This is an area where the rocky hillside comes right down to meet the river, which means there are a lot of angular stones that have to be negotiated. Care is needed in dry conditions, but in the wet every footstep has to be chosen with extra care, as the stones become very slippery. I made plenty of use of handholds on the nearby rocks to give me more stability, as I didn’t want to risk taking a nasty fall.
The worst part lasts for only a short way, but there are a few other sections that still need care in the wet, and these weren’t the only hazards, as there were some manmade ones to contend with as well. There were several sections of duckboards and other planks all made of bare wood with nothing covering them to improve the grip. With a little bit of rot on the surface of the wood, these can be extremely slippery in the wet, and in most other areas these have been abandoned in favour of other types of pathway improvement. Another place where the pathway makers had gone awry was a section of flagstones that had been laid, or had sunk, below the level of the surrounding ground, making a very good course for a stream in wet weather.
Once round the clints, it was not long before Cauldron Snout started to come into view. This series of cataracts in the River Tees is very impressive, but here the flow of water is totally dependent on how much the tap is opened from Cow Green Dam, which stands just above. This means that the flow tends to be fairly constant regardless of the rainfall, except in extreme weather conditions when the flow may be adjusted. If care were needed on the clints, even more is needed when negotiating the rocks beside Cauldron Snout, as there are potentially far more serious consequences of a bad fall here. Again, on a dry day, it is relatively safe, although the rocks can still get wet with spray at times.
Above Cauldron Snout, there is a well-made track that crosses the river and follows Maize Beck for the next few miles, gradually ascending the hillside as it progresses. The route diverts off for a way around a Ministry of Defence area, before meeting up with the beck again. On the approach to High Cup Nick, there is now a nice new bridge across Maize Beck, leading to a very good, firm, grassy path on the southern side, which was luxury compared to what I remember of the boggy path on the northern side, especially in wet conditions like today. I had seen the two women from the hostel a long way ahead of me for some time, but I was gradually closing the gap and finally caught them up by High Cup Nick. The only thing was that the wind suddenly increased in strength to gale force just near the edge, making it very cold and difficult for walking. I did get a view, but only a brief one, as it was too dangerous to go where the best views were to be had, and I was too intent on making sure I kept on my feet.
I had hoped to take shelter just over the lip of High Cup for my lunch break, but I was in danger of being blown off my feet by the ferocious blast anywhere near the edge, so had to move away and keep on going, as did the two women. We did eventually reach a little hollow further along where there was some respite from the wind so I decided to take shelter and put on something a bit warmer by wearing my fleece under my waterproof jacket. This was easier said than done, as my hands were going numb with the cold, not so much because of a very low temperature, but more because of the enormous wind chill factor. Eventually I got things sorted out and was able to stop for a while to eat my sandwiches and have a drink, whilst the two ladies decided to keep on going as quickly as they could.
Another hazard was that the rain had made all the little streams down the hillside very full, so it was often quite tricky finding ways across without the risk of slipping on stones or treading into deeper water. At one point the water was coming over a rocky slope forming a little waterfall, which had to be crossed with great care. Again, there was not much chance to take in any views, but I did manage to do so briefly before hurrying on hoping for some shelter from the wind. I thought that as soon as the path descended a little way things would start to improve, but the improvement was only marginal and the gale force wind followed me all the way down to Dufton. The only thing in my favour was that the wind was behind me rather than blowing rain into my face.
I reached Dufton Youth Hostel at 2.35, after less than five hours walking, as I had just kept going with just the one brief stop. The hostel was open when I got there, so I was able to go to my dormitory and then have a shower and get changed, leaving check-in until 17.00. The two women were already there and, after getting changed had gone over the road to the pub. I was quite surprised that I was not all that wet, although the rain had not been very heavy, it was the wind that was more of a problem. It would appear that the particular layout of hills and valleys around here can cause extreme localized weather conditions, in particular high winds, when nearby places are not affected to anywhere near the same extent. There is even a name given to the wind; the Helm Wind. A few things in my rucksack had got a bit damp but in general I had fared pretty well.
The two women, Sue and Maggie had decided that they were going to miss out tomorrow’s walk over Cross Fell. This was partly because Sue had been finding that she had some sort of allergic reaction that caused her legs to swell up if she did a lot of mileage in one day. This had happened when they took the wrong route on the way to Tan Hill Inn and ended up doing a 20-mile day, six miles more than they should have done. The other reason, of course was the weather, which was not likely to improve tomorrow. They were having their luggage transported by the Sherpa van, so had arranged to travel in the van with their luggage to Alston.
A chap who was doing the Pennine Way north to south arrived at the hostel, having come over Cross Fell in appalling weather conditions of heavy rain, wind and mist. He had been camping all of the way so far, but after two nights of bad weather everything was damp so he needed a night in the hostel to dry things out. It ensued that I was the only one eating in the hostel, as Sue and Maggie were going over to the pub, the other chap was self catering, and the only other hosteller was an elderly man driving down from Aran to Cambridge, who said that he was not very hungry. I had tomato soup, fish cakes, chips and peas and fruit pie.
Outside the hostel, in the back garden was quite a wildlife centre, with rabbits on the lawn and a couple of playful red squirrels climbing around by the shed roof, and a lot of birds around the bird feeder. Although red squirrels have been almost wiped out in many parts of the country, this is one area where they still have a hold, although I have heard that they are making a comeback in some other places now.
I went over to the Stag Inn and joined the other three Pennine Way walkers for a drink. The chap who was walking north to south was on his fourth walk of the Pennine Way, which he seemed to have taken up doing on a regular basis since his divorce a couple of years ago. He had the air of a schoolboy who was excited about everything, talking about things in a giggly sort of way. Sue was also divorced, always bright and cheerful, and liked a drink or two, whereas Maggie’s favourite tipple was a nice pot of tea. Her face was set in a permanent scowl with only the occasional hint of a smile, not that she was unpleasant in any way, but with her accent from the Todmorden area, her face seemed to say “Eh but its grim up north!” Whether Todmorden has that affect on other local people, I do not know, but it seemed to have left its mark on Maggie.
Day 12 - Friday 13th June 2007 - Dufton to Alston - GPS 19.7 miles
Distance: 19.4 miles - 3,200 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Alston
I had a reasonable night’s sleep except for hearing things flapping and blowing around all night in the strong, gusty wind. It didn’t seem quite as bad as it was yesterday afternoon, but I had no doubt that it would be pretty bad on top of the high fells of today’s walk. My plan for the day was really just one for survival, the aim being to battle my way to Greg’s Hut against all the elements and to take shelter there for my lunch before completing the rest of the walk over the fells and down to Garrigill, where things should get easier for the rest of the way to Alston. To avoid having my map-case with guidebook flapping about in the wind, it would be better to make use of my GPS for route finding, so I took the trouble to enter the grid references of various points along the way to Greg’s Hut as waymarks, which should guide me there no matter what the visibility. From there onwards, it was just a matter of following the well-defined track over to Garrigill.
The drying room had been quite good, so most of my things were quite dry to start off the day. I put more waterproofing on my boots and then went down to breakfast at 8.00. The forecast didn’t look too bad, but then it was printed off at the time when there was a force 8 gale blowing yesterday and yet it was showing 20 mph winds for that afternoon, so I didn’t have a great deal of confidence in it with the same wind speeds predicted for today. However, the forecast was for Penrith, the nearest reasonable sized town, and this would not take account of the Helm Wind around here.
When I set off at 9.00, it wasn’t actually raining, but there was a lot of cloud around, though it was almost clear of the fells, but not quite. However, there were still some very strong gusts of wind. With everything packed as well as I could against the elements, I set off wearing just my shorts and polo shirt underneath my waterproofs, thinking that the heat I would generate from climbing nearly 3,000 ft would be more than enough to keep me warm. Making my way along the lane from Dufton by the side of Dufton Pike, the wind was blowing ferociously for much of the time and there was a trail of branches broken from the trees lining the way. In places there was some shelter afforded by parts of the hillside, which moderated the wind a little, but by now it had started raining steadily making it more unpleasant.
After a couple of miles it was apparent that the heat I was generating by climbing was being more than compensated for by the combined chilling effects of the wind and the rain. Rather than letting myself get into the situation where I was getting very cold and losing the dexterity of my fingers, I decided to stop by a wall for shelter and put on extra clothing. I was not very high up at this point, but it was obvious that I was going to need as much extra warmth as I could get. There was going to be a problem with my legs, which normally are OK just with my over-trousers to keep out the wind, but today this was not adequate and I needed to change from my shorts into my evening trousers for a bit more insulation. Of course, this meant getting myself almost undressed in the process, but with the wall offering shelter from the wind and rain I managed to achieve this without too much difficulty. I didn’t have to worry too much about getting caught with my trousers down, as there weren’t many people about, oddly enough. The next thing was extra warmth for my body, so I dug deep into the bottom of my rucksack and pulled out THE JUMPER. I have been carrying this jumper for years, both on long distance walks and day walks and I cannot remember the last time, if ever, that I have worn it, so it must have been carried for at least 2,000 miles as extra ballast in my rucksack. Now was its turn to earn its keep, so I put it on under my waterproof jacket, still keeping my fleece in reserve in case things got really bad. Fortunately I had brought a woolly hat and some mittens as well, though I only decided to include these after experiencing a spell of very chilly weather shortly before my walk commenced. The woolly hat went under the hood of my waterproof jacket and I tightened the cord around my face to keep things in place and to keep out as much of the wind and rain as possible. The mittens were made of the same material as a fleece, so were not waterproof, though they still provided quite a bit of insulation even when dripping wet.
One problem I would have to face later would be that my trousers would inevitably get wet and I had no others to wear in the evening, but it was far more important to look after myself now and worry about my trousers in the warmth and dryness of the Youth Hostel. With the extra clothing under my waterproofs I felt a lot better equipped to face the elements, and I packed away everything including my guidebook at this point, leaving only my GPS for navigation. I was now starting the main ascent of Knock Old Man, which is a steady climb, but with the wind whistling down the hillside blowing rain straight into my face it made things a lot more difficult. The wind strength did vary as I progressed, with some parts of the mountainside offering more shelter than others, but there were other places where the wind was funnelled down small valleys with even greater intensity than it was elsewhere. It was a slow and hard climb, and I just kept looking at my GPS to see how much altitude I was gaining and how far it was to my next waymark.
For most of the ascent, I was still below the cloud level, so I could look back and see Dufton Pike and Knock Pike, though these were not the ideal conditions for admiring the view. At about 700 metres, I started to enter the cloud and my visibility then dropped to between 50 and 100 metres. It was not too long before the shape of the large cairn marking the edge of the summit plateau loomed out of the mist ahead. As I reached it, the wind became even more ferocious and my face felt as it were being used as a pincushion by the raindrops that were being blasted into it at high speed. My old guidebook showed the route going over the plateau to the summit itself, and there was a reasonable path leading there, but when I turned to head for my next waymark on Great Dun Fell, there was no path leading in that direction, so I had to head across rough ground until I picked up the main path again. I should have remembered this from last time I was here when I had discovered that the well trodden path appears to omit the summit and takes a shortcut along the edge of the plateau. However, it wasn’t too long before I reached the path and then headed for Great Dun Fell.
Although the wind was stronger up here, the change in direction of the path meant that the wind was coming from the side rather than straight into my face, thus making it a bit easier and more comfortable to make progress. Now that I was on the main path again, it was just a matter of pressing on and watching the various summits I had waymarked on my GPS come and go. The next was Great Dun Fell with its large dome housing a radar station, which I didn’t see at all. I could see the perimeter fence and part of a building but the dome was lost in the mist. Little Dun Fell was next and, as I was approaching the summit, a most violent gust of wing stopped me dead in my tracks. With a great deal of effort I managed to force my way forward into the wind until I reached the summit where it eased a little.
From Little Dun Fell, there was a section of stone slabs over some of the more boggy ground, and I tried to avoid these, not because of my general dislike for them, but because I was finding them dangerous. With a powerful side wind and with some of the slabs having a camber in the wrong direction, my feet were nearly slipping on the wet surface. Fortunately it was possible to walk on the ground to either side without too much difficulty, and in other places I was able to place my feet on the edge of the slabs where vegetation was growing over them, giving me better grip. Where neither of these options was possible, I just had to exercise great care in where and how I placed my feet.
This left just one final climb onto Cross Fell, the highest fell of them all. Cross Fell has a large circular plateau with a craggy lip around the edge, though the Pennine Way route enters the plateau where there is a gentler ascent. The wind had eased off a little now, though the temperature was quite low at this altitude so I was starting to feel cold, especially as quite a bit of wet had got through into my clothing, and I was not now generating as much heat by climbing. The weather forecast for Penrith gave temperatures of 9 degrees Celsius, but here, being the best part of 2,000 feet higher, would be about 4 degrees less. Taking into account the wind chill factor, which must have been at least 20 degrees, made it feel as if it were way below freezing.
After the walk, I looked up the weather data shown for Howhill Weather Station near Garigill, only a few miles away. Surprisingly, this showed worse wind chill for the next couple of days than for yesterday and today, whereas my experience was just the opposite, though this just indicates the very localized nature of the Helm Wind as it swirls around the fell tops and funnels down the valleys. Some more searching on the Internet showed that the maximum mean hourly wind speed recorded on Great Dun Fell was 106 m.p.h. on 12th January 1974, with a highest gust speed of 133 m.p.h. on 17th January 1993 - not good days to be walking the Pennine Way! There was also an average of 114 days of gale force winds a year between 1963 and 1976. The Helm Wind occurs when an easterly or north easterly wind blows up the gentle slopes on the eastern side of the Cross Fell Range. The air cools as it rises to the summit and it then drops rapidly down the steep western slopes creating strong gusts of wind in the gullies leading down into into the Eden Valley. When the cool, descending air meets warmer air down in the valley, it is eventually slowed down to the normal wind speed. However, the cooling of the warm, moist air by the cold wind causes condensation, which rises in the form a ridge of cloud call the Helm Bar. The places most affected by this phenomenon are those on the western side of the fells, such as Milburn and Dufton, whereas places like Penrith, some miles further west are not affected at all, though the sound of the raging winds can still be heard there.
The way across Cross Fell is marked by a series of large cairns a few hundred yards apart, as the stony ground means that the path is hardly visible. This would normally be fine, but in the mist it isn’t possible to see from one to the next, so it is just a matter of aiming in the right direction and waiting for one to come into view. The summit has a large shelter in the form of a cross, but I saw little point in trying to shelter there when it was only about a mile to Greg’s Hut, the mountain refuge where I was planning to have my lunch. The route off Cross Fell seemed to deteriorate from a wide path into virtually no path at all, and I found myself walking over rough ground for a way before I picked up a feint path that joined the track to Greg’s Hut. It is all so much easier when there is good visibility, as there is a much better idea of where everything is, but I knew that if I just kept going, even if I had lost the path, I would soon meet the track.
It was a great relief when the hut finally came into view and it was not long before I was able to go inside and be sheltered from the wind and rain. The only trouble with mountain refuge huts is that, although they appear to offer shelter from the elements, the temperature inside is often lower than that outside, as the walls chill down overnight and are slow to keep up with the rise in temperature during the day. It was not long before I was shivering with cold, so I looked into the possibility of lighting a small fire in the stove. All the materials were there, but I first tried to light a cigarette lighter and, with my wet hands that were going numb with the cold, I couldn’t get it to light. There were two boxes of matches, one of safety matches and one of ordinary ones, but both lots were too damp to light, so it looked like it was going to be a hopeless task. Into the bargain, I needed to relieve myself and my numb fingers were unable to unfasten the zip of my trousers that had got wet and was jammed. Things were not looking too good, but I had some sandwiches and a few other things to eat, resigning myself to staying cold and having to keep my legs crossed.
Inside of Greg's Hut on Cross Fell, with the much appreciated stove
Greg's Hut on Cross Fell
My hands had dried out a bit by now, so I had another try with the cigarette lighter and managed to get it to light, as I was no longer making the flint wet with my hands. There was a supply of screwed up newspapers and kindling wood, as well as thicker pieces of wood, so I soon got a blaze going in the iron stove, though a lot of smoke was blowing back into the hut caused by wind coming down the chimney. Once the fire got going a bit, it was possible to press my hands on the top of the stove and get a bit of warmth into them, eventually bringing enough life back into them free the zip on my trousers. A sign said, “Please write in the visitors’ book”, but it was a while before I had enough dexterity to manage a pen, and even then my writing was very shaky.
In all, I spent an hour in the hut before I decided I would have to press on. My main objective had been to reach the hut, thinking that from there I would soon start to drop down and be more sheltered and warmer, but I had forgotten that the track from the hut stays at quite a high level over the moors for four or five miles before dropping down into Garrigill. Fortunately, the wind had now dropped considerably and the rain had eased off, so it didn’t make me as cold as I had been before, though I was still in and out of the mist along the way as the track went up and down close to the cloud base. Much of the way was rather stony underfoot, but it was generally possible to walk on verges or to pick out more even parts of the track most of the time.
It seemed never-ending as I kept on going over the bleak moorland, just hoping that round the corner I would find the way start dropping down towards Garrigill, but eventually my hopes were fulfilled and Garrigill came into sight. As I was approaching the bottom of the track, I saw a chap walking up towards me. This struck me as rather unusual in the bad weather, as he didn’t look like a walker, nor did he have a dog with him. At first I passed him, but then he turned round and said he recognised me - he was one of the three Dutchmen I had met at Tan Hill Inn. He had had a problem with his knee, so had taken a taxi from Dufton to Garrigill, whilst the other two had set off over Cross Fell, and one of these was the 80 year-old. The chap I met was expecting them to have reached here by now, but they had set off half an hour later than me and, judging by their slow rate of progress from Tan Hill, they could still be quite a way behind even though I had spent an hour in Greg’s Hut. It was more than likely that they would also have rested there for a while, but I was still somewhat concerned for their welfare, knowing how bad the conditions had been.
In Garrigill I called at the phone box to ring home and let Jean know I was safely over the fells, as I knew she would be worried, knowing what the weather conditions were like. All that remained now was a walk along the South Tyne Valley to Alston. The first part of this walk followed close to the river bank, and was quite pleasant, but then it crossed over a footbridge and followed a route up the opposite hillside, losing sight of the river for most of the way and crossing countless fields and stiles, making a generally uninspiring walk whatever the weather conditions. I had been on my feet for virtually the whole of the day, as even in Greg’s Hut I spent most of the time on my feet trying to get the fire going or thawing out my hands, so they were now starting to feel the effects, and I was looking forward to reaching Alston so that I could get warm and dry and give them a rest. It was not just my feet that were feeling the effects of today’s walk, as my wet clothing had been rubbing, making me quite sore in places, so it was a great relief when Alston came into sight; first the graveyard (for those who hadn’t made it over Cross Fell), and then the Youth Hostel for those who had.
I reached the hostel at 17.50, dripping wet and very glad of the good drying room, which even boasted a spin drier so that I might stand a chance of drying out my washing. The Youth Hostel Association website didn’t show that meals were available, but this was a mistake, so I was able to order breakfast. They also do evening meals, but nobody else had ordered one, so I opted for the pub to save the warden the bother of making things just for me. After a long hot shower to warm me up again, I sorted out my things to find out what had got wet and what had not. Most of the things in my rucksack appeared OK, or just slightly damp, whereas the things that I had been wearing were mostly soaking wet, including my jumper that now weighed a ton, but went into the spin drier with the rest of my washing. The only thing I could do with my trousers was to wear them, which was the quickest way to get them dry. To give them a head start, I delayed going to the pub until after 19.30, but then when I got to the Blue Bell they had already finished serving meals so, after a quick pint of Black Sheep, I went across the road to the Cumberland Arms Hotel for a steak and ale pie, before returning for an early night, as I was rather weary from the day’s efforts.
One thing that illustrates how much difference the weather makes to the amount of fluid required is that, in the whole of today's walk, which involved nearly 20 miles of walking and over 3,000 ft of ascent, the only drink I had was a 250 ml carton of fruit juice. I had plenty of drink with me, but just didn't find the need to have any more. On a warm, sunny day, I could well have had ten times the amount and still been thirsty at the end.
Day 13 - Saturday 16th June 2007 - Alston to Greenhead - GPS Not measured
Distance: 16.5 miles - 1,800 ft ascent
Accommodation: Greenhead Enterprise Hostel (taken over from YHA by Greenhead Hotel)
Breakfast was at 8.00, and I ate with Sue and Maggie, who had come here with their luggage on the Sherpa van. There were a few other hostellers, but they were all self-catering. The combination of spin drier and drying room had done a fine job, and all of my things were dry, with the exception of my boots, which I never really expected to dry out properly. I then discovered at the bottom of my rucksack several things that had soaked up any of the water that had managed to get in. The water had run past things at the top without wetting them too much, but then collected at the bottom and soaked into the things down there. I sometimes wonder whether it would be better to have a hole, or holes in the bottom of a rucksack liner so that there is an escape route for the water that inevitably gets in during prolonged periods of wet weather. It was a pity that I hadn’t noticed this last night, as I could have got them dry along with everything else.
The weather was overcast as I set off at 9.10, but it was a great relief to have hardly any wind and no rain. I called at the petrol station just across the road for a couple of things to supplement what I had left for lunch, then headed across the bridge and along by the river, from where there were some quite good views across to Alston and the hills beyond. After a mile or so the route heads up the hillside and along, giving wider views across the valley of the River South Tyne. Although this is not one of the most spectacular sections of the walk, it still offers some good scenery, which still looked fine even in these overcast conditions. Walkers often fail to appreciate this area after the grandeur of High Cup Nick and Cross Fell, as I did on my first walk of the Pennine Way, but now I was enjoying the walking here, and not just because the last couple of days had been spoiled by awful weather.
Alston from across River South Tyne
River South Tyne Valley
River South Tyne Valley near Eals
I met up with Sue and Maggie and walked with them for a few miles before stopping for a rest just past Lintley, having walked about five and a half miles. The route here can be bypassed for a few miles by walking along the track of the disused railway line, but I tend to find these rather tedious, even though the walking is easier and drier, so I stuck with the original route. The path meandered about, going by the river a little way, then along the road to Slaggyford before heading up the hillside to Merry Knowe, where it clambers over stiles in and out of people’s back patios. In most places where this happens, planning permission is sought for a footpath diversion, but here they seem quite happy with the situation, even putting up laminated signs saying “Pennine Way Straight Over Wall”.
At Burnstones, the way climbs further up the side of the moor, and I found a pleasant spot by a small waterfall to stop for lunch, just catching a glimpse of Sue and Maggie a little way ahead. For a while now there had been a number of ominous black clouds hovering about with a few bright patches in between, and there had been a few spots of rain, with a band of rain visible just across the valley. I set off wearing my waterproof jacket, which was enough to cope with any light rain for the moment. Earlier along the way, the ground had been fairly waterlogged, but around here it was getting progressively worse, and my boots were starting to feel wet as I squelched though all the water.
I had a few problems following the route in places, as the waymarking was not as good as many parts of the route, but I managed not to lose my way to High House, where I caught up with Sue and Maggie. They were now slowing down a little, so I went on ahead, finding my way around a legal footpath diversion and up to Greenriggs. The scenery had deteriorated somewhat after leaving the River South Tyne valley, and the rain kept coming and going, but was never too heavy.
At Greenriggs the problems really started. The ground was very badly waterlogged and some boggy parts had been flooded. Over a stile there was water several inches deep, which meant working a way along by the fence and hanging onto the wire to keep from falling into the water. Having managed to detour round the water, I had now lost sight of the path, so went first one-way and then another to try to find it. I eventually managed to see a stile that looked characteristically like one belonging to the Pennine Way, so was able to regain the way for a while, but it was not long before I lost it again, as it was not very well defined. Eventually, I decided that I would enter a waymark about half a mile ahead, where the Pennine Way should be and just keep going over the rough ground until I got there. I came to a large area that was completely waterlogged, where a small stream had burst its banks and flooded the surrounding area. By this time, my feet were so wet that I had nothing much to lose by wading right through the middle of it all rather than wasting a lot of time trying to find a way around. The water came up to my knees in places, but at least I was able to head in the direction I needed to walk.
At last I picked up the path again and was able to squelch my way along for the rest of the way over the hill and down towards Greenhead. Before reaching the main A69 road, the route went through a field of cows along with their calves and a bull. The cows were unusually inquisitive and were also being protective of their offspring, so I tried not to antagonise them, nor upset the bull, though he was the only one who didn’t seem to be taking any notice of me. Nevertheless, I thought it prudent to take a roundabout route to the next stile. The road was very busy with cars travelling at high speed, so I had to wait for a good gap before going across, as I didn’t feel in the right state to make a dash with boots still half full of water, and my feet feeling rather sore.
A little further on the way crosses Greenhead golf course. Oddly enough nobody was playing golf, probably because they didn’t have tees that were long enough to hold their golf balls above the level of the surface water. Finally I dropped down off the golf course and along the side road leading into Greenhead. The Youth Hostel at Greenhead is now an enterprise hostel, owned and run privately by the owners of the Greenhead Hotel, though still advertised through the Youth Hostel Association. I checked in at the hotel and then a girl showed me across the road to the hostel, just as a heavy downpour started. Although I had not met any heavy rain all day, this had not been the case here, where torrential rain had flooded four cottages which had needed the fire service to pump out the water.
The only plus point about the bad weather was that the central heating in the hostel was on, so I had a large radiator on which I could hang my things to dry, rather than having to rely on the variable efficiency of hostel drying rooms. I returned to the hotel to have a very good meal of braised rib of beef together with some John Smith’s Smoothflow, as the real ale was still settling and wasn’t ready to serve. Sue and Maggie arrived about half an hour after me, having been caught in the latest downpour that I just managed to avoid. When I had finished my meal a chap came into the bar to warn anyone who was staying at the caravan site that it was flooding and they may need to move their cars. Looking out of the window, there was a stream running down either side of the road, and this was forming a huge pool at the bottom of the hill, though apparently it was nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day.
I was feeling rather weary after the trials of the last few days, so went to my bunk to lie down. The heating hadn’t been on for long, but it had been enough to give a head start in getting my clothes dry. I nodded off on my bunk and before I knew it my watch was saying 23.00 and it was then time for bed anyway.
Day 14 - Sunday 17th June 2007 - Greenhead to Bellingham - GPS 23.5 miles
Distnace: 21.4 miles - 3,100 ft ascent
Accommodation: Lyndale Guesthouse, Bellingham
I had a good night’s sleep and dragged myself out of bed at 7.00, hoping to get as early a start as possible. Normally I have breakfast wearing my evening clothes, then change and pack everything, but today I decided to have breakfast in my walking clothes so that I could then just put on my boots and be off. Most of my things had dried except, of course, my boots. Normally the heating would not have been on if it hadn’t been for the exceptional weather conditions and I would then have had to rely on the drying room with only a fan blowing round cold air, and a dehumidifier, which in my experience are pretty useless at drying things unless the weather is quite warm.
Breakfast was in the hotel and a lot more expensive than Youth Hostel breakfasts. A fried breakfast including one round of toast was £5, but everything else was extra – tea, fruit juice, extra toast, cereals etc., so I just made do with a full breakfast and tea. Sue and Maggie were in there as well as an elderly lady who was walking the Pennine Way from north to south. She was walking in trainers, which had started to rub having got wet, so she was wondering whether to buy some boots in Alston. I told her that, although boots keep out the wet a bit more, in the conditions that prevailed at the moment nothing short of a pair of waders was going to keep her feet dry, and Sue and Maggie confirmed that their boots had got soaked as well.
Sue and Maggie had had a bit of an argument about the heating and drying room last night, as by the time they arrived the heating had already gone off and without heat in the drying room it was useless. They had said that they had paid their money and expected to be able to dry their clothes to which the landlord replied “Yes, but how much have you paid?” The heating costs a fortune to run, as it is driven by bottled gas, and the building is an old converted chapel and requires a great deal of heat to get it warm. In the end it was agreed that they could put their things in the tumble drier instead. The real answer to the problem would be to have some form of heater in the drying room that didn’t rely on all the rest of the heating being on and would, therefore, be far more efficient and economical, but the setup was a legacy from the Youth Hostel Association from whom they had only just taken over.
I said farewell to Sue and Maggie as I set off at 8.35 - they were only going as far as Once Brewed today then Bellingham tomorrow, so I would not see them any more as I would be ahead of them from now onwards.
After finishing the walk and publishing the account on my website, I had contact with Sue by e-mail. It appears that they decided to pack in the walk at Greenhead shortly after I left them, having had their spirits dampened by the awful weather of the previous few days. Maggie decided to hang up her boots completely and planted pansies in them (an idea she got from Langdon Beck Youth Hostel), whilst Sue decided that she was going to come back again sometime to finish off what she had missed of the walk. She told someone when she got back that the experience had scarred her soul, which I thought was a very profound way of expressing it, but I was pleased to hear that she still had the fighting spirit and wasn't going to allow the bad experiences to get the better of her.
The Pennine Way now shares this part of the route with Hadrian’s Wall Way, and I made my way to the ruins of Thirlwell Castle, where I nearly took the wrong route, having gone up past the castle, but I soon realised and went back down. This part of the way is quite strenuous, as it goes up and down over all the steep crags, but the effort is well rewarded by the lovely views. The wall adds historical interest as well, but this would make a marvellous walk even without the wall.
Thirlwall Castle near Greenhead
Walltown Quarry and Crags on Hadrian's Wall
Cawfield Quarry and Crags
After a couple of miles of crags, the way got easier for a while until the next section of wall and crags at Cawfield, where I stopped by the flooded quarry for a break at 10.30 with nearly five miles of hard walking done. The weather had been quite good so far with some patches of sunshine, but generally fairly cloudy. There were a lot of midges about because of the humid conditions, especially by the water. Continuing along more of the crags there were fine views back and forth along the Whin Sill, the layer of hard rock that comes to the surface here, forming the crags on which Hadrian’s Wall was built. By now there were large numbers of people walking the wall. Earlier, I had met several Hadrian’s Wall Way walkers who had obviously set off from Once Brewed, but now there seemed to be lots of people who were just out for the day, which was not surprising, as it was Sunday.
Hadrian's Wall on Cawfield Crags, overlooking Cawfield Quarry
Crag Lough and Highshield Crags from Cawfield Crags
Hadrian's Wall on Highshield Crags, overlooking Crag Lough
It was hot and sticky weather for all this strenuous walking, and I was constantly mopping the sweat from my brow as I went along. There were various marquees set up in strategic places for visitors, but I didn’t bother to look in as I wasn’t particularly interested in the touristy side of things, and I didn’t have a lot of time to spare – I was far more interested in the splendid scenery. At 13.00, I at last reached the parting of the ways where the Pennine Way departs northwards to the dreariness of the forest, leaving the rest of the wall for others. I have to say, though that I wouldn’t fancy walking the whole of Hadrian’s Wall Way, as only a small part of it goes through particularly fine scenery, the start being through industrial areas and council estates in Newcastle, and for much of the way there is not even any evidence of the wall to be seen.
Milecastle 39 on Hadrian's Wall
Highshield Crags from Hotbank Crags With Crag Lough, Highshield Crags and Cawfield Crags
I had my lunch break overlooking Broomlee Lough and took the opportunity to take off my boots and socks as my feet were feeling the effects of being saturated yesterday, which did them more damage then they had suffered for the whole of the rest of the walk so far. Both big toes had blisters underneath and there were several other sore spots as well. Because my boots had still been wet when I set off this morning, my feet had gone wrinkly again, so a good airing would dry them out a bit and help with the rest of the walk. I did a bit of surgery on the blisters, cutting them with a small pair of scissors to let the fluid drain out. A pin prick doesn’t work very well, as all the white blood cells form a clot almost immediately and stop the fluid from escaping. A definite cut works far better, though it needs the scissors (or a knife) to be very sharp for it to be accomplished both easily and painlessly.
I couldn’t stay too long as I still had over twelve miles left to walk, albeit faster and easier walking, so I set off again at 13.45. The views of the Whin Sill were not over yet, as it was nearly two miles before I entered the forest and there were good views in either direction on the way. Even when the forestry started there had been some clear felling with more sympathetic replanting, so the views were not lost completely for a while. I got onto a wide forest track, which had quite a good surface for walking, and I was able to make good speed along there. The partial drying of my boots and socks had helped my feet quite a bit and there were signs that parts of my boots were starting to dry out, though the thing that was holding this back the most was the padded inner lining that had soaked up a lot of water.
After a while I started to wonder why I hadn’t come out of the forest into a clearing for a while, as I should have done, so I checked with my GPS and found I was over half a mile off route. I couldn’t see which route I was actually following, as the wide track I was on must have been built after my guidebook was printed. There was no way I could make my way through dense forest to get back on the right track, so I just had to carry on and see if I could find somewhere to rejoin the Pennine Way. To help with this, I entered into my GPS the grid reference of the point where the way met up with the road, and was quite relieved when the way I was walking was taking me in that direction anyway. After a while the track swung round to the east, so I knew it would have to meet the Pennine Way at some point before long, and sure enough it did. The Pennine Way is a much narrower and greener track than the wide forestry road that I was on, though it had fortunately not cost me much in the way of time and effort, as I had enough distance to cover already without adding any more.
By the roadway, I stopped for another rest with eight miles still to go, and was off again at 15.55. The next part of the way, though not through forests, was still uninspiring. It wandered up and down over gently rolling countryside, offering only limited views, though the going was mostly easy and it was reasonably firm underfoot considering the recent weather. I had met one or two Pennine Way walkers coming towards me today, but so far none going in my direction that I knew of. With about four miles left to go, I stopped for another short break – my feet were rather sore, but didn’t feel too bad whilst I kept walking, as the pain from my blisters was numbed after a while. Following a rest, however, the pain returned for about half a mile or more, so I would be very glad to get to Bellingham to give them a proper rest.
Bellingham from Ealingham Rigg with Callerhues Crag above
The last stretch into town first of all involved a climb up to Bellingham Rigg, which is not very high but a bit of a haul at the end of a long day, although the climb wasn’t really the problem, it was more the state of my feet. From there I could see my destination of Bellingham, and it was just a matter of dropping down to the road and following that for the last mile or so into town. I phoned home whilst I was walking along the road, as it gave some distraction from my feet and helped to make the time pass more quickly. My B&B was right in the centre of town, and I found it very easily, arriving at 18.45. By now my feet were feeling very sore and it was a great relief to be able to remove my boots and socks and have a refreshing shower.
After a nice pot of tea, I went off to get a meal, trying first the Rose and Crown, which didn’t serve food on Sunday and then the Cheviot Hotel across the road that was serving meals, but only in their restaurant upstairs. As I was going across to the Cheviot Hotel, I was joined by Steve, a cyclist who was staying at the same B&B, so we went in together and I had a very good lasagne plus a bread and butter pudding along with a couple of pints of one of the local bitters. My feet were hurting quite a bit as I walked along, so when I got back to my room, I investigated further and found two more blisters that needed bursting. All this had come about by walking with wet feet, so I was hoping that I could get at least one pair of socks dry by the morning to help matters, as my boots were now a little less wet.
Day 15 - Monday 18th June 2007 - Bellingham to Byrness - GPS 16.6 miles
I had breakfast with Steve at 8.00, choosing from an extensive menu, which is not very common in a B&B. Steve had decided, as the weather was dull, to spend just half a day more cycling and then return home, whereas had it been better he would have stayed another night. My boots had managed to dry a little more, and my socks were fairly dry after warming them around the jug kettle in my room.
The local butcher had been recommended for their his sandwiches, so I called there for some, plus a steak and kidney pie for lunch, then at the bank to top up my cash. It was 9.30 as I set off up the road past the Youth Hostel, which was now closed, then up a farm road which eventually led out onto open, grassy moorland. The weather was cool and overcast, but the walking was fairly gentle and easy. I was rather slow at first, as my feet were still tender from my blisters, but as I got going, I was able to get back into a steady pace. There was nothing special about the scenery, with views of open, rolling moorland, but with the easy walking it was quite pleasant. The grassy moorland gave way to heather moorland higher up and there were a few boggy patches, but not enough to get my feet wet.
Bellingham with The Cheviot Hotel
Wide views opening up at Deer Play
Currick or chambered cairn on Padon Hill, just off the route
After a few miles, my feet were telling me that they needed a rest, but there were not many places to sit until I reached a grouse butt on the way to Deer Play. There was a rather chilly breeze blowing, so as soon as I stopped walking, I had to put on my fleece, and I was still quite cool even then. With recent blisters there is always the penalty after stopping for a rest of having to walk them in again until the pain eases off, so I was back to walking fairly slowly for a while until the pain was numbed again. At the top of Deer Play, the whole view opened out, with the Cheviots to the north and wide views across Redesdale to the east. The next two hills on the route could be seen ahead; Whitley Pike being the first, and then Padon Hill with its fine cairn standing out a few hundred yards to the east of the way. The cairn is marked as a currick on the map. I later looked this up online, as it wasn’t in my dictionary, and found that it is defined a chambered cairn; these often being built by shepherds as lookout points.
Unfortunately for my feet, the path started to get rather rough and uneven for a while, interspersed with some boggy parts and a section of flagstones, some of which was sunken below the water. The cairn, or currick was the place where I had decided to stop for lunch, being about half way to Byrness. Surprisingly, I could see little in the way of a footpath over to the cairn, so I had to walk for much of the way through heather, but this wasn’t very difficult as the heather was fairly new and not very thick. The cairn provided shelter from the cool breeze and gave me a good vantage point for looking at the views. I took this opportunity to remove my boots to give my feet an airing. My socks were damp but not wet, so I took off my thick outer socks, leaving my thin socks to dry a little from the warmth of my feet, then put the thick socks back on to do the same.
I had been told by Byrness hostel to ring ahead so that they could defrost a frozen dinner for me, so I called but was told that the ones they have now will cook from frozen in 35 minutes anyway, so I could decide what I wanted when I got there. I had seen no other walkers at all today, and even though I was spending my lunch break off route, I could see all the way along the ridge where the route went. For a while I kept hearing a noise in the distance and then I realised it was machine gun fire, not from an invasion of Scots, but probably from the military firing range north of Byrness.
I set off again just after 14.00 and managed to find a better path back to the Pennine Way this time. From here, the way dropped down a dip and then started to ascend at the edge of the forest up a very boggy slope, then levelling out into another very boggy section. The next couple of miles were spent picking my way round the worst of the bogs trying not to get my boots too wet. It was slow and hard going, so I was heartily glad when finally the path joined a forest road and there was no more bog to contend with. It is amazing that a fortune has been spent on path-work repairs to some parts of the Pennine Way, half of which was not really necessary, whereas up here nothing at all has been done where it is really needed. The difference is that not many people walk the route up here compared with the masses walking around the Peak District and other areas further south, so there is not the same problem with erosion. The main focus of all the money that has been spent is not on saving walkers from the problems of the Pennine Way, but saving the Pennine Way from the problems caused by walkers. Any benefits for walkers are either purely incidental, or a very poor second in priority.
Although this section was along the edge of the forest, any views that were to be had went by the board, as my eyes were on the ground all the way trying to avoid the bogs. Following the forestry road for a way, I was pleased to see that large tracts of forest near to the way had been felled and planted with a wide variety of trees that were more sparsely populated, giving a much more open aspect and allowing better views of the distant hills. The forest road was rather rough and stony, but soon the Pennine Way detoured away on a path, which, although it meandered around a little, was easier on the feet and had a lot of wild flowers for added interest. I then stopped for another rest with about four and a half miles to go.
The rest of the way was quite easy, after the initial pain from my blisters, as it followed the forest road, which in this part had a smoother surface for most of the way, apart from a few bits that had been repaired with large stone chippings. A couple of miles further on the Pennine Way follows the River Rede for the final stretch into Byrness, which is not very large, but boasts a church and a filling station with small shop and café. The Byrness, which used to be a hotel with bar and restaurant, now only offers accommodation.
Byrness Church
The rest of the village, about half a mile down the road, is an estate of terraced houses originally built to house forestry workers. Two of these houses next door to each other formed the Youth Hostel, which is now privately owned and run as an Enterprise Hostel in a similar way to Greenhead and a number of other hostels. The owners live in the next house along and have extensively refurbished the hostel and maintain it to a very high standard. Although the hostel was self catering only, the owners now provide a partial meals service with frozen meals from a local farm shop plus a salad followed by a microwave pudding for £7, and a breakfast of cereals and toast for £2 with an extra £2 for a bacon butty. Packed lunches are also available for £4 and there is quite a well-stocked shop with an honesty box for payment.
As I was leaving very early in the morning, my bacon butty was left in the fridge so that I could just microwave it in the morning. At first, only Pennine Way walkers tended to stay here, but now they have started to attract other people, so I hope they do well, as they have brought about a big improvement to the place and also saved it from closure. I chose moussaka and salad for my evening meal followed by a chocolate sponge pudding. There were two Australians in as well – they were touring Britain by car and heading for Scotland next.
My feet were in a pretty bad way, as I had picked up a few more blisters that had to be burst, so I was not looking forward to a 25 mile plus walk tomorrow, though there was a very good drying room containing an automatic stove burning wood pellets, which meant that I could get everything dry overnight including my boots. I wandered back along the road to the filling station to see what their shop had to offer, but it was closed when I got there and didn’t seem to stock very many things. I was hoping that it might sell cans of beer, but it didn’t look like it did even if I had got there before it closed. There was a sign by the road advertising a pub five miles away, but I thought that was just a bit too far to walk for a pint, so I returned to the hostel and tried to get as many things as possible done for the morning. My boots were almost dry after sitting on top of the stove, so I even managed to re-waterproof them, hoping that I might be able to keep my feet dry to help with the long walk ahead. I mixed up my Kool-Aid drink and packed as much as I could before going up for a reasonably early night.
I thought it might be a good idea to set up an alarm call on my mobile phone, so that I didn’t oversleep in the morning. I have never tried to use this facility before, but was sure there must be a simple facility like that somewhere on the phone that was able to do almost everything else. Having spent quite a while going through all the maze of menu options I could find, nothing as simple as that was to be found, but I have discovered in the past that modern phones have such a range of facilities, 99% of which someone like myself would never ever want to access, that to access even some of the simpler options requires combinations of key presses that I would never even guess at. I gave up and decided I would have to rely on waking up naturally.
Day 16 - Tuesday 19th June 2007 - Byrness to Kirk Yetholm - GPS 26.8 miles
Distance: 25.2 miles - 4,850 ft ascent
Accommodation: YHA Kirk Yetholm
I awoke from time to time during the night but it was still dark, but then woke again to find it was starting to get light. It was 5.15, so I got up as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the Australians in the next room, and went down for my breakfast. Everything had been left as promised and I had cereals, my bacon butty with instructions to put it in the microwave oven for 50 seconds, and toast. The bacon butty was just right after the stated time, and it was good to have something hot to start this long day’s walk. My packed lunch consisted of two corned beef rolls with what seemed like a whole tin of corned beef in them, two cartons of fruit juice, some flapjack and a yoghurt. I had wondered whether to take a few things from the shop cupboard, but decided that there was enough to last the day with one or two things I had still left from yesterday.
It was 6.20 when I left the hostel and 6.30 when I rejoined the Pennine Way. I could have saved a little way by going up a service road rather than following the road to the Pennine Way signpost and then having to double back. It was not very far, but every little helps when you have a long way to go. It had been misty when I first got up, but had cleared lower down as I walked along the road, though higher up was still in the clouds. I started the steep climb up through the forest, with midges insisting that it was time for their breakfast, but so long as I kept moving they didn’t trouble me too much. I was already into the mist and before long I was up above the forest, over a steep brow and then onto a much gentler slope with visibility of less than 100 yards all the way. The path was good in parts but very boggy in others, so my nice dry boots and socks weren’t going to stay that way for very long.
At one point there was a really waterlogged section near a fence and the fence was damaged where people had been hanging on trying to keep out of the mire. In the end, I climbed over the fence to where it was not quite so bad, then back again after the worst was passed. All this did nothing to help my feet stay dry, though the wet hadn’t actually come over the top of them as yet. I was getting a little damp from the mist, and it was rather cool, though not cold, so I put on my waterproof jacket, as it would be likely to get worse higher up. There was not much to see other than the patch of ground surrounding me and a few shapes, such as the warning signs for the military area, came looming out of the mist, be visible for a short while and then be left behind the white veil from whence they appeared.
The only thing to do was to just keep plodding steadily onwards to knock off a few miles. My feet were feeling quite a bit better this morning, thank goodness, but this was still early in the day, so I wasn’t expecting them to feel like that by the end, though it just meant that I could manage part of the way in relative comfort before they started to give problems. There was no point in stopping anywhere for a rest, as there was nowhere dry to sit, just boggy moorland, so my sights were set on the mountain refuge hut near Lamb Hill for a break. I had intended to miss out the detour round the Roman camps at Chew Green to save a little distance and to avoid losing height that had to be regained, but in the poor visibility I suddenly found that I had reached them anyway, and the climb back up wasn’t very much. There wasn’t a lot to see of the camps, but a number of nearby mounds stood out in the mist.
Mountain Refuge Hut near Lamb Hill
At last the hut came into sight at 9.50, and I went in for a good long rest. Taking off my boots revealed that my feet were already quite wet and I was only a third of the way into the walk. After a snack and a drink, writing a note in the visitors’ book and writing up my diary, it was 10.55 and time I was getting on my way. There was no real option but to keep on walking to the next refuge hut, as there is nothing much in the way of shelter in between. Fortunately, my feet were still doing quite well, so it wasn’t too bad, though it was still a very dull and tedious walk with nothing to see, and I just spent my time ticking off miles and counting down the remaining distance as I went along. The halfway point was a big boost, and then when I had less than ten miles to go, it was even more so.
I often look with contempt at walkers who have iPods, listening to music as they walk along, and think that it should be enough just to enjoy the walk and the scenery without having a background of constant music, but in conditions like this, I think they might have the right idea. The biggest battle is not so much with the walking, but with the total boredom of mile after mile with nothing to see, so anything that can take the mind off that must be a good thing. Of course, when setting out on a walk, I always have the optimistic view that the weather is going to be reasonably kind to me and that I will not be in this situation, or at least not for such a long period as this, so I never tend to give much thought to taking anything for distraction.
Although route finding was generally easy, even in the mist, I managed to take the wrong path down from Windy Gyle, but soon started to get concerned when the footpath markers had no acorns on them. I had already dropped down quite a way and didn’t fancy going back up only to come back down on the correct path, so I decided to skirt round the hillside to join the Pennine Way further along, where it was at roughly the same altitude. Although I could have done this without using my GPS, it gave me a bit more confidence by setting a waymark and heading for it, with the reassurance that it would tell me how much further I had to go. I had to cross rough ground for over half a mile, but most of it was fairly easy apart from a little section towards the end where there was tufty grass.
t was not long before I felt the security of being on the right path again. Now there was no mistaking the route, as there were flagstones for much of the way. There is a lot of very boggy ground over the Cheviots, so the flagstones were needed more so than in some places further south. There was quite a steep climb up to the shoulder of The Cheviot, the highest point of the day’s walk, that is unless a trip to the summit is contemplated, which definitely was not the case for me on this occasion. By taking a few short breathers on the ascent, it wasn’t too long before the slope started to level out and I reached the duckboards leading over to Auchope Cairn. These were in remarkably good condition considering that, as a sign indicated, they were put there in 1990 over this very boggy stretch of ground. At that time various different pathway alternatives were being tried, until it was finally decided that the flagstones, though costly to put in place, were more maintenance free and more sympathetic to the landscape.
After about half a mile of duckboards, I reached Auchope Cairn and found that it had grown a twin, or at least a smaller brother, but not quite as well built. The descent from here is very steep, and seemed to go on forever, especially as my feet and legs were now feeling tired. It made matters worse that I couldn’t see the bottom, nor could I see my goal of the second refuge hut. The mist was starting to clear a bit near the bottom, but I still couldn’t see the hut where I thought I remembered it to be, but then it appeared over the summit of the next hill. When I reached it, I realised it hadn’t been moved, it was just my memory playing tricks, as often happens.
When I arrived at the hut there was an elderly couple already in there. They were just finishing the Pennine Way after doing each section as a ’there and back’ walk or as part of a circular walk, so it had taken them quite a long time, but this was the way they preferred to do things. The lady had taken her boots off and was wearing a beautifully clean, fresh pair of socks, though she may have just changed into them. I would have liked to have taken off my boots, but the stench of rotting peat bogs that would have been unleashed might have knocked the other two over, so I kept them on until they went and there was only me left to put up with the smell. I reached the hut at 14.45 and departed again at 15.30, the mist having come down again after a brief interlude.
From the hut, the way leads along to the next hill along the ridge, The Schil, which is quite steep for this stage of the walk. It is one of those hills that have false summits all the way up, especially in the mist, so just when you think that you are on the final climb, another ridge appears ahead. I just kept taking a few short rests on the way until finally, the real summit came into view. The Schil is different from most of the hills around the Cheviots, in that it has quite a number of rocky outcrops instead of the bare, peaty summits elsewhere.
From the Schil, I had to make a decision as to whether I should take the high or the low level route to Kirk Yetholm. The low level route drops down into the valley and joins a minor road for the rest of the way, whereas the high level route follows the ridge for as far as possible before dropping down. The low level route is about a quarter of a mile longer, but somewhat easier. Reading my guidebook, it was implied that, except in extreme weather conditions, the low level route was only for wimps and that no self-respecting walker would contemplate it taking it in any other circumstances. It was a long time since I was last here, so I couldn’t quite remember what the ridge walk involved and decided to do as the book said. I was also starting to get a view at long last, so that was another reason for staying higher up to make the most of it.
The ridge walk was quite easy for a while, generally dropping down as I made my way along. My feet were getting quite sore by this time, and I found that on the gentle downhill slope, it was easier on my feet if I went at a slow running pace with my legs slightly bent at the knees. This way my feet hit the ground more gently than when walking downhill, with the added bonus that it was quicker and hastened the time when I could finally put my feet up. As I made my way along, I noticed quite a large hill ahead and assumed that the route dropped down before then. The detail on my map was largely obscured by the broad markings of the boundary between England and Scotland, so I couldn’t see the contours very well, but I soon realised that the hill ahead was White Law and that I had to go over it. This was a daunting prospect at this stage of the walk, but like most of these things, it is just a matter of pressing onwards, taking a few short rests and before long the summit is in sight and it is all over.
Looking North from Whitelaw Nick - some hazy views at last!
The Last Hill - on the road into Kirk Yetholm
The Border, Kirk Yetholm - End of the Pennine Way
After White Law, there was another smaller hill, and I was just psyching myself up to climbing that when I saw a Pennine Way signpost pointing down into the valley, which was a great relief. I had a good signal on my mobile at this point, so phoned home to let Jean know that I was not far from the finish, in case I lost the signal lower down. It was a relatively easy walk for the rest of the way, though it was still not downhill all the way, as there is a final hill on the road into Kirk Yetholm. I arrived at the Border Hotel, now just called The Border, at 18.20, exactly twelve hours after leaving Byrness Youth Hostel. Though the prospect of a pint was very tempting, all I could think about was taking off my boots, so I checked into the Youth Hostel, where a very pleasant and helpful young lady warden greeted me and showed me where everything was.
When I removed my boots I was again greeted with the overwhelming stench of rotting peat bog, so after having a shower, I had no real option but to try and wash out my socks and my boots, as well as a few items of clothing that were also rather rank. I couldn’t find a drying room, so was pointed to a washing line outside, which I didn’t think would do much in the cool damp weather, but I hung them on there anyhow. I then hobbled very slowly to the pub to get a much-needed drink and something to eat. Surprisingly, I only seemed to have picked up one or two more blisters today, even though my feet had been soaking for most of the day. The main problem was the aching from the soles of my feet.
I had a couple of pints of Jenning’s bitter and a very nice game casserole with perfectly cooked new potatoes in melted butter, courgette and tomato, and swede. No matter how I positioned my feet they were giving me a lot of discomfort and I was also feeling very tired, having got up at 5.15 and had a very strenuous day’s walk, so I didn’t stay for another pint and just headed back to bed. Before leaving, I looked around the bar to see if I could find any postcards of the pub or anything at all connected with the Pennine Way, but they had nothing, though they had a few pictures on the wall of Wainwright and one or two other items of Pennine Way memorabilia. This was just another sign that the Pennine Way has declined in popularity in recent years. There seem to be more cyclists around than walkers these days.
The Border had a fire last year, started when work was being done near the thatched roof of one part of the buildings after a period of very hot, dry weather. The rebuilt building was almost completed and actually now in use, with just the final touches being made to the thatched roof. Despite the obvious fire risk I assume that there must have been a requirement to rebuild in the same style.
After a painfully slow hobble back to the hostel, I was able to take off my trainers and socks and get some relief for my feet, as any pressure at all made them hurt. I settled down in bed and slept well without too much trouble from my feet, so long as I got them in the right position.
Day 17
Day 17 - Wednesday 20th June 2007 - Kirk Yetholm to Home by Bus and Train
At about 6.00 my roommate’s alarm went off, but I think he just took one look at the weather, which was pouring with rain, and went back to sleep. In my tired state last night, I had not checked on my bus times for the morning. I could remember that there was one some time after 7.00, which I didn’t intend to catch, and another some time later, so I got up at 7.45 and started getting things ready, thinking I would make myself something for breakfast before setting off. I knew my washing would be soaked, but I could just bundle that in a plastic bag with my boots until I got home. At 8.00, I got around to checking the bus times and realised that my bus left at 8.15, so I had a mad rush around, just bundling everything into my rucksack and dashed downstairs to grab my washing and my boots. When I looked on the line, the washing had gone, presumably because someone had taken it in out of the rain. The warden was nowhere to be seen, but a couple of hostellers in the kitchen said they had seen a note about some washing, but this was addressed to Alan and said that his washing had been put in the tumble drier. I hunted around the hostel and found the drier, but no sign of my washing anywhere around, and time was ticking by with only a couple of minutes until the bus left, so I just grabbed my boots and ran as quickly as I could to where the bus was waiting at the bus stop. I expected my feet to give a howl of protest at this undue haste, but to my surprise they hardly hurt at all.
I was breathless as I climbed aboard and got my ticket, explaining to the driver why I had been in such a rush. In about half an hour, I was in Kelso, where I then had a long wait for my connection to Berwick-upon-Tweed, and a kind lady who was getting off the bus with me pointed out a café where I could shelter from the rain whilst I was waiting. Walking along the street, it was obvious that my feet were not quite as good as they at first seemed, but I have had them feeling worse on other long distance walks at times, and still done a full day’s walk on them. It is surprising what a capacity they have for recovery when pushed. I had a very good bacon bap and two pots of tea in the café, and I could see outside that the rain had almost stopped, having been at its worst first thing this morning.
As far as my washing was concerned, there were not very many things, just a pair of thick socks, a pair of thin socks, a hankie and some underwear, so it was not enough to be worth worrying about, and not enough to be worth missing the bus for, which might have meant taking a taxi to Kelso instead.
Eventually, the time came for me to go to the Coledale Car Park, which was not too far from the café, for the bus to Berwick. One of the unfortunate things about public transport is that connections don’t always fit in well together, and this can mean long periods of time being wasted between various parts of the journey. In this case, there was a 70-minute wait because the previous bus to Berwick set off one minute after the Kirk Yetholm bus arrived and the bus stops were a quarter of a mile apart.
By now, the weather was looking a lot better, and my journey to Berwick had quite a bit of sunshine. The countryside around the borders is very nice, with lots of unspoilt villages and historic towns. The roads are not congested, and the people around are warm and friendly. The only problem is that getting to any large town for shopping involves a lengthy journey, though in areas like this you tend to find that the local shops stock a far wider range of goods, even if they are more expensive than in the superstores.
For the first part of the journey, there were good views of the hills around the Cheviots, but nearer to the coast, the landscape is much flatter. I kept on the bus right up to Berwick Railway Station even though it was the best part of two hours before my train departed, but I thought I would then get my bearings and know how far it was to the station should I wander into town. I didn’t feel like doing a lot of walking just yet, so I found a quiet spot in some gardens just below the station and spent some time there soaking up the sunshine, which had been in such short supply over the last several days. I needed a snack for lunch, so I walked into town, passing a place in the park, where there was a fine view of the railway viaduct over the River Tweed, before finding a Somerfield supermarket.
Railway Viaduct over River Tweed at Berwick-upon-Tweed
After picking up some sandwiches, I then decided to have a taste of Scotland to drink in the form of Irn Bru (even though I was now back in England), which the label informed me has been made to a secret recipe for over 100 years. Whenever I have a lot of time to spare, I always end up in a last-minute rush. I had spent a long time in the park writing up my diary, leaving about half an hour for going into town and now found, as I waited for the lady in front of me to finish gossiping to the checkout lady, that the minutes were ticking away, so that I had to make a dash back to the station, running part of the way, to get there just before the train arrived. I actually found that gentle running was easier on my feet than walking, something that I had noticed yesterday at the end of my walk to Kirk Yetholm.
The train moved off in an effortless glide, building up gradually to high speed, with fine views of Berwick harbour as we passed over the viaduct. Further along, the Cheviots could be seen free of cloud, which would make it far better for today’s walkers, though the overnight rain would no doubt have added to the collection of surface water. Some of Northumberland’s coastal resorts could be seen along the way and eventually, through Newcastle-upon-Tyne, the famous Tyne Bridge, with a very futuristic building close by, looking like Newcastle’s answer to the Sydney Opera House. I didn’t know what the building was built for, but later discovered that it is the Sage Gateshead described on its website as ‘A Home for Music and Musical Discovery’.
I got a little worried when a regular rail traveller commented that we were running a little late, as I had only four minutes to catch my connection to Manchester from York. Fortunately it was only a minute or so late when we arrived in York, and there was an information display next to where I got off, so I was able to find the right platform straight away. Even so, I had to run down the platform and over a footbridge to get there for the scheduled time. I need not have worried too much, as the train did wait for a while to make sure everyone was able to get on, though it could have been difficult for someone old or infirm. The rest of the journey was quite uneventful, with everything running on time. In fact, when I looked at all the information displays on the way, nearly all the trains were running on time, which made a pleasant change from the state of the railway services a few years ago.
I eventually reached Rhyl to be picked up by my daughter and taken back for a good welcome from my wife, but even more so from our dog, who had been missing his daily walks for most of the time that I was away. It was now back to reality again and tackling all the things that had built up whilst I was away, though my wife and daughter had made a very valiant effort to keep on top of the problems in my absence.
My wife was heartily glad that I was back, as it had been quite a strain on her, having to take on some of my jobs as well as her own. Unfortunately, the very next day I came down with a touch of gastric flu, which meant that instead of us going out together for a meal, as planned, I ended up in bed whilst Jean had to look after things on her own. I was sufficiently better by the next day to carry on, though I was not at my best, and also had the problem of a deep seated blister on one foot that left me limping for several days. It is not uncommon to catch some bug or other at the end of a walk, as the system’s defences are weakened by physical stress. There has just been a report published saying that the taking of large doses of vitamin C to ward off colds is, in general, a waste of time, except where a large amount of physical stress is involved such as with a marathon runner, when there can be a 50% improvement. It is probably safe to say that a long distance walker also comes into this category, so perhaps a lot of vitamin C could help.
As far as my plantar fasciitis was concerned, that had virtually disappeared by the end of the walk, rather than getting worse as I had feared. I can only put this down to the extra cushioning and arch supports that I have in my boots, which had more than compensated for the extra amount of pounding that my feet had received during the walk. I have noticed it starting again after being back home for a while, and suspect that it may be from walking the dog in my Wellington boots, which I have been doing for much of the time because of the wet weather, and this also ties in with the time when it first started, which was at the start of winter.
Normally, I lose several pounds on a long distance walk, which is quite handy because it gets rid of any excess that I have gained over the winter months. I stood on the scales when I got back and found that I had lost a total of just one pound, which seemed a bit hard to believe, as I had not been eating or drinking an excessive amount on the walk. In the morning I checked again, but still with the same result. The only thing I can think that may have caused this is that the Pennine Way is not as strenuous as some walks, as most of the ascents are quite gentle, but I did lose weight on previous occasions, though things do change with age.
A week later, I was walking the dog by the river on a path that had been flooded for a while and left with a coating of very slippery silt. My foot slipped and I landed on my backside. The bump was not very hard, as I saved myself to a certain extent with my hands, and I thought nothing of it at the time. As I progressed, my back got more and more uncomfortable, and later in the day, whilst out shopping, I had to return home and lie down. Once again, we were supposed to be going out, but I ended up in bed whilst Jean looked after things. From the symptoms, I had obviously trapped the sciatic nerve, but I was sure that after a night’s rest I would be much better in the morning. When the time came to get up, I was in such pain that I thought I was going to be sick, but I managed to struggle along and help with breakfast. Fortunately, there were not many people in and I was able to go back and lie down after a while, but then spent the next few days gradually recovering with the pain getting less and less each day, but still leaving me with a leg that felt half numb for quite a long time afterwards.
Normally, I try to get out for one or two walks around the mountains shortly after the end of a long distance walk, otherwise there is a tendency for lethargy to set in for a few weeks, but this time, with all my ailments and the very wet weather that ensued, I didn’t manage to do this and consequently didn’t feel properly fit again for a few weeks. In all, this year’s walk and the aftermath ended up being a bit of a disaster, but then, I have done very well on most of my walks, so there had to come a time when things didn’t go so well.
After Thoughts
It was interesting to come back to the Pennine Way after 13 years, as it was always one of my favourite walks, but I was never quite sure whether this was because of the sentimentality associated with it being my first ever long distance walk, or whether the walk really did merit this opinion. After all these years, and with several more walks under my belt, I was now in a better position to have a more objective opinion.
On the one hand, the Pennine Way offers a wide variety of scenery, which is always an important factor, and it has some very spectacular highlights such as Kinder Scout, Malham, Penyghent, Upper Swaledale, Teesdale, High Cup Nick, Hadrian’s Wall and the Cheviots as well as many more places where the scenery is of a very high standard and the walking is enjoyable. On the downside, however, there are a lot of long, tedious sections over uninteresting moorland, which are fine in small doses, but can be wearing when they go on for too long.
The other issue is that of the peat bogs, for which the Pennine Way has quite a reputation. I have mixed feelings about these, as they have resulted in remedial action in the form of long sections of stone paths that, in a lot of ways, have detracted from the character of the walk and have made it much harder on the feet than the boggy paths they replaced. However, they do save a lot of tramping through and skirting around soggy peat, which can be quite tiring on the leg muscles and also generally results in boots and socks getting much wetter and dirtier. I found myself cursing these flagstone paths when they were there, but cursing their absence where they weren’t. In my earlier walking days, most of which was spent around the Peak District, I just got used to the fact that walking involved a lot of peat bogs, so accepted it as a normal part of the walk when I encountered these on the Pennine Way. In more recent years, I have spent most of my time walking on firmer ground, and now notice the difference when confronted with peat bogs, which I find much more of a nuisance than I used to.
The best ways in which the Pennine Way has been improved over the years, is where route changes have been made to avoid boggy or uninteresting sections and replace them with routes on firmer paths and with more interesting scenery. Some of this happened about twenty years ago, when the present route around Kinder Scout became the official route instead of the alternative route, and the same thing happened with the Wessenden alternative route. In more recent times, there have not been as many changes, although I did find one notable instance north of Tan Hill Inn. Of course, in many places there are no such alternatives to be found, so other options have had to be taken.
Much of one’s impression of a walk is tempered by the weather conditions at the time and can make the difference between loving or hating a walk, but having done this walk three times now, I have experienced both good and bad weather on most sections of the walk, so am able to view the whole thing in a broader light. For instance, the Cheviots, which on this occasion I could be forgiven for hating, are actually a very beautiful range of hills and valleys that have given me great pleasure on many occasions in the past, although they do have the drawback of having a lot of peat bogs to contend with. As far as walking the whole of the Cheviots in one day, now that I have done this as well as splitting the walk into two days, I would definitely recommend the latter, which allows the walk to be enjoyed rather than being an ordeal of endurance.
To those who were doing the Three Peaks Challenge Walk and struggling to finish in time, I would say try doing it when still weary from about 230 miles of continuous walking, with feet already sore and blistered, with boots and socks soaked after the first few miles of peat bogs, with a pack full of all the needs for two or three weeks walking, with all the food and drink for the whole day without any convenient water stations to call at along the way, and over terrain that is much more boggy and harder going for much of the way. This is what many Pennine Way walkers do without the convenience of minibuses to pick them up if they are flagging and decide to opt out.
To compare the two walks, both have roughly the same amount of ascent, though that of the Cheviots consists of more numerous smaller ascents rather than the three main ones of the Three Peaks. Both are of a similar distance, with the Cheviots being, if anything, slightly longer. The paths on the Three Peaks walk are mostly firm and good, though there are a few parts that can get boggy in wet weather, whereas the Cheviots have much more boggy and difficult terrain as well as parts with flagstone paths that are hard on the feet.
Most of my walking is done for the pleasure of enjoying the scenery, but when the length of a walk is excessive, this starts to detract from the enjoyment, as there is an ever constant need to press on as well as the discomfort of sore or aching feet. Of course, in some parts it is necessary to press on a little further than is ideal because of the lack of accommodation in certain places, but when reasonable alternatives are available, such long days are best avoided.
To summarise my overall feelings about the Pennine Way now, I would say that it is not quite as good as my romantic memories of the first time I completed it, but it still ranks quite highly when compared with many other walks, particularly because it does try to maintain a high level route wherever possible, and avoids road walking probably more than any other walk I can think of. In fine weather, when there has been not very much rain for a while, the peat bogs present much less of a problem, though in this case it is likely to be the long stretches of flagstones that are more of a nuisance than the parts where no path work has been undertaken.
Photography and Technology
Over the years that I have been doing long distance walks, camera technology, Internet technology and display technology have developed by giant leaps from 35mm colour slides that had to be scanned to produce low quality digital images for the website up to the present day with high quality digital photography, almost unlimited memory and super fast broadband,
The article in the 'Other Items' section chronacles all of this throughout my walks.
