Pennine Way: The Cheviot and into Kirk Yetholm

Friday 26th April 2019

The last stage of the Pennine Way is a long, gruelling trek across the Cheviot Hills that has slightly differing opinions about its length from twenty-five miles according to Harvey Maps all the way up to Wainwright’s exhausting twenty-nine miles, although the shortest estimates are probably based on avoiding the highest point in the range. There is no accommodation anywhere near the trail on this section so the only options are to stick it out for the duration and arrive into Kirk Yetholm crawling on your knees, or find a hole somewhere around Windy Gyle to hide in overnight. I decided I would take my time on the trek splitting the journey over two days and wild camp on the Scottish side of the border near Windy Gyle. Wild camping in England is illegal without the landowner’s permission, but in Scotland permission is not required, so I had crossed the border on a track that comes down over Windy Rig and found a spot to camp near the top of the valley of the Calroust Burn. The weather had deteriorated the previous day forcing me to stop early and wait for the rain to stop. Fearing that a similar deterioration would happen on this walk I got up early and was ready to set off by seven o’clock when I could see stunning, sunny weather to the north into Scotland but thick, dark clouds lingered on the ridge and south into England.

Back on the Pennine Way I climbed up to the top of Windy Gyle, which was still enveloped in clouds, but beyond the large Russel’s Cairn at the summit I was surprised at the lack of a clear path with just footprints in the peaty ground. However, soon I noticed the clear, paved path on the other side of a fence, with my Harvey Map revealing that I should have turned south at the summit and then east beside the fence. In the end I was easily able to cross the fence and resume my walk along the Pennine Way dropping once more below the clouds where great views were revealed again into Scotland where the weather looked great in stark contrast to the poor weather in England. Continuing along the Pennine Way I followed the border along the top of the ridge passing the Border Gate, over King’s Seat and finally climbed up to the west top of the Cheviot. There I had a choice to make, whether to take the two and a half mile round trip to the miserable summit of the Cheviot, the highest point in the range, or miss it out by turning left and head straight towards Kirk Yetholm. I went up the Cheviot in 2006 and with the weather still being quite poor on the tops I did not need to go up again.

Nevertheless I turned right and followed a paved path across the dreary bog passing over Cairn’s Hill where the Scotsman’s Cairn briefly had me thinking I had already reached my target. Continuing through the bleak, cloud-covered landscape I thought the sun might be trying to make an appearance and even glimpsed blue sky as I approached the summit of the Cheviot. Sadly, by the time I reached the trig point on the large concrete platform that marks the summit the sun had disappeared, so turning around I headed back along the path I had just taken, however now the clouds did clear and I had a view of the boggy desolation that covers the top of the Cheviot. Eventually I returned to the junction on the Pennine Way and with the weather clearing I was afforded tremendous views across the hills north. It was fantastic being at the top of high hills in good, sunny weather with far-reaching views across a stunning landscape. At the Auchope Cairn I was ecstatic at the scenery with all my frustrations about the weather on the previous day completely gone as I stood in awe beside the tall cairn in the bright sunshine.

A steep descent took me down beside the craggy cutting of Hen Hole to the Mountain Refuge Hut on Red Crips where I stopped for a bite to eat and to enjoy the sunshine and surroundings before continuing along the ridge. As I sailed along the trail it seemed awesome to be on these hills in this weather only for my enthusiasm to be slightly abated by the steep ascent to the top of the Schil. There was a sharp, cold wind on this top, which continued throughout the rest of the walk, as I continued along the ridge down the other side of the Schil and along the signposted path around Black Hag and then since the weather was so good I decided to take the high level route of the Pennine Way that keeps to the ridgeline. I was still following the border between Scotland and England, but now I was staying resolutely on the Scottish side, but after another agonisingly steep climb over White Law I finally left the border and turned towards Kirk Yetholm. I remember walking this section of the Pennine Way thirty years ago while on a family holiday in the area when I thought it would be a good idea for my family to walk along the first couple of miles on the Pennine Way. Most of my family disagreed and it was only my father and I who actually reached the English border.

It was quite humbling to realise how short that walk had been as I descended into the valley of the Halter Burn to a narrow road where a cruel climb over a low hill finally brought me triumphantly into Kirk Yetholm. Because of my early start it was not yet two o’clock and yet the walk was over and I had finished the Pennine Way. I wandered around the lovely villages of Kirk Yetholm and its neighbour, Town Yetholm, for a short time, but eventually I headed towards the youth hostel where I spent the rest of the afternoon. I started my trek along the Pennine Way in 2009 when I walked from Gargrave to Alston, and two years later I walked from Edale to Gargrave, but now I had finally completed the Pennine Way walking from Alston to Kirk Yetholm. It was satisfying to have completed the trail, which was the first of its type in Britain and is still one of the toughest. The Pennine Way is a great test of a walker’s abilities and I hope it is not too long before I set off once more along this challenging trail.

Pennine Way: Byrness to Windy Gyle

Thursday 25th April 2019

The night before this walk I had spent in Spithope Bothy, which is a lovely place hidden amongst the conifers at the north-eastern tip of the vast Kielder Forest Park, not far from Byrness. When I woke up the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky while the area around the bothy looked stunning as wild flowers grew beside the Spithope Burn including primroses and celandines. This is a beautiful location and I was reluctant to leave the bothy, but I was making my way north along the Pennine Way to complete a trek that had started ten years previously. It is common for walkers on the Pennine Way to tackle the final section from Byrness to Kirk Yetholm, at the end of the trail, in one big day as there is nowhere on the trail to stay for the night. I had originally planned to do the twenty-five miles in one day, but when I changed my plans to start from Alston instead of Dufton I was gifted an extra day which I intended to use by taking my time between Byrness and Kirk Yetholm stretching the last section of the Pennine Way into two days with a wild camp in between. If I did have a long day ahead of me I would have felt motivated to start early and cut the corner heading straight towards the Scottish border from the bothy.

Instead I headed down the valley back to the point where I had left the Pennine Way the previous day and climbed up through a delectable line of crags that defends Byrness Hill onto the hill top. From now on the Pennine Way follows the ridge line across the Cheviot Hills all the way to Kirk Yetholm, and in the sunshine the view along the ridge was fantastic lifting my spirits as heather moorland and conifer plantations can never do. I had missed this sort of upland ridge walking during my last couple of days when the dull weather had thwarted my enjoyment with the monoculture surroundings. Now, I joyously set off from Byrness Hill towards Houx Hill, but by the time I reached Ogre Hill clouds had enveloped the skies once again and dull weather set in with rain looking ominously likely. Soon after Ogre Hill I passed the path where I would have come up from the bothy if I had taken the short cut and very soon after that I crossed a fence and entered Scotland. At Coquet Head I saw a sign that points towards an alternative route for the Pennine Way bypassing Chew Green, which may have been tempting if I was walking all the way to Kirk Yetholm in one day.

Since I wasn’t in a hurry I stayed on the proper Pennine Way turning right and heading down into the valley of the River Coquet re-entering England. At Chew Green I turned sharp left back up the hill passing the vague remains of a Roman camp and the medieval village of Kemylpethe while overhead dark clouds ominously threatened rain, but though the weather was deteriorating quickly the rain held off for now. Continuing on the trail north I stopped for my lunch and decided it would be prudent to prepare for the coming rain by putting on all my waterproofs including the cover for my rucksack. Of course, as soon as I set off again the sun came out, but it wasn’t to last and by the time I reached the Yearning Saddle Mountain Refuge Hut it had started to rain. Fortunately I had a good surface to walk on with flagstones underfoot meaning I was easily able to keep going simply by keeping my head down against the rain up to the trig point at the top of Lamb Hill and beyond that alongside the fence that marks the border between England and Scotland.

Wainwright describes the journey between Byrness and Kirk Yetholm as “a long, hard walk. Damned long. Damned hard. Especially in rain.” I plodded on climbing to the top of Beefstand Hill and then Mozie Law before finally deciding that I had enough. The flagstone path had ended, replaced by grass, and with the two thousand footer, Windy Gyle, that marks the halfway point looming up ahead of me, enveloped in cloud, I decided to find somewhere to camp. With the rain continuing to fall I crossed the Border Fence into Scotland and walked along a track that descends Windy Rig into the valley of the Bowmont Water. Crossing a fence beside the track I dropped down slightly into the valley sheltered from the wind and rain behind Windy Gyle to make camp and wait out the weather until the following morning. This walk had started well, but as the weather deteriorated so did the walk. Before the rain started I had been enjoying the isolation on the Cheviot Hills, but in the cold and wet weather it was no fun at all.

Pennine Way: Bellingham to Byrness

Wednesday 24th April 2020

On the next stage of my attempt to complete the Pennine Way I started from the village of Bellingham heading wearily uphill in misty and overcast weather, although in a way it was easier walking in this sort of weather than in the hot weather that we had enjoyed over the Easter weekend. After passing Blakelaw the trail climbs through a field before reaching the open moorland where the impressive rocks of Callerhues Crag could be seen to my right, which the trail bypasses to continue heading north across the grass and heather moorland. Ahead of me I could see Hareshaw House, with a large collection of trees behind it, slowly getting closer until eventually I passed just below, but this was the only moment of interest or habitation for most of the day on my trek north. The Pennine Way soon enters a vast grouse moor where wooden butts shield the rich so that they can shoot at the poor, defenceless birds as they are driven into the air in large numbers. I continued to walk uphill reaching the cairn at the top of Deer Play and on to the top of Whitley Pike (also known as Lord’s Shaw), which in the misty conditions was no more appealing than anywhere else I had been all day. My map showed that there is a road near Whitley Pike, but in the murk I could not see any sign of it, however a good flagstone path led me from the top and down to the hidden road.

Climbing beyond I could see a monument at the top of Padon Hill, and although the Pennine Way bypasses it I thought I’d go across and see if I could have my lunch in its shelter. Wainwright recommended the diversion to the pepperpot cairn and although I could not read the inscription he informs us it commemorates a Scottish Covenanter and it provided me with a welcome shelter from the cold wind where I could have my lunch. Returning to the Pennine Way I resumed my trek down the hill and steeply up the other side between a fence and a conifer plantation whose windblown trees frequently barred my way making it difficult to squeeze past. Eventually I reached the top of the incline where, on the other side of a fence, I found a heavily manufactured stony footpath and this amazing sight effortlessly took me to the top of Brownrigg Head. Turning left the path headed towards the conifers, and although the path was very easy to walk on I also found it very dull and tedious with the same surface underfoot all the time and the same scenery around me, but soon I entered the conifer plantation of Redesdale Forest where extensive swathes had recently been felled.

The heavily manufactured path continues through the desolation until I reached a wide forestry road where I turned north again until I reached a path with a sign that directed me onto it. It would have been easier to stay on the forestry road, but fastidiously I took the slender path through the trees until it deteriorated to such an extent that my only option was drop back onto the track. When I reached the point where the Pennine Way is supposed to rejoin the forestry road I could see no sign of the path that I should have been on. Staying on the wide track I crossed the Wind Burn and Greymare Sike to find another diversion, but this one was much clearer appearing to be an old forest track that has been superseded by the current, wider road. Back onto the forestry road I stayed on it through the monochrome surroundings of the conifer trees until I reached Blakehopeburnhaugh where I finally came off the road onto a path that follows the River Rede through scenery that was lovely and wild in a way that the conifer plantations could never be. Sadly, this was woefully too short and soon I was approaching the village of Byrness where I could have found accommodation and indeed I did stay there in 2006. Instead I stayed on the Pennine Way crossing the main road and climbed steeply up the hill through another conifer plantation towards the top of Byrness Hill, which would be higher than any point I had yet reached on this holiday.

I could have wild camped near the top of the hill, which would have been delightful, but technically in England you need to get the landowner's permission to camp and I did not have this. In the end I decided I would make use of Spithope Bothy where one can stay legally, so I turned off the Pennine Way onto one of the forestry tracks that contour around the valley. Knowing that I was not on the right track for the bothy I descended steeply through a felled section of woodland onto the correct bridle way, but soon I saw ahead of me forestry vehicles engaging in felling operations. It was difficult for me to know what to do at this point, but fortunately it wasn’t long before the crane moved out of my way (perhaps the vehicle was being parked for the end of the day) and I was able to walk safely past and make my way to the Spithope Bothy, which is rather small, just a single room, but provided me with a fabulous evening as the sun finally came out through the breaking clouds. This was a rather dull day on terrain that had little variety starting with heather moors for half the day and conifer plantations later in the day, which was easier to walk through, but no more interesting. The best of the weather was in the evening, but most of the day it was very misty and grey, which didn’t help with the dull scenery, however the following day I would be heading into the Cheviot Hills and Scotland.

Pennine Way: Once Brewed to Bellingham

Tuesday 23rd April 2019

To continue my progress north along the Pennine Way I set off from the youth hostel at Once Brewed and took the route of the Roman Military Way that runs just to the south of Hadrian’s Wall rather on the Pennine Way, which follows the wall, as I had taken that route the day before and I was trying to minimise the undulations before leaving the wall behind. Eventually I returned to the Pennine Way, but not for long as when I reached Hotbank Farm I turned off to take a shortcut around Hotbank Crags and back onto the Pennine Way. This was as far as I had come along the Pennine Way the previous day and now I resumed my trek north heading into bleak, open moorland. The hills that form the Pennine range ends at Hadrian’s Wall and ahead of me now were low moorland hills largely covered in trees as part of the Wark Forest. There would be little variation in height and little to maintain my interest until I reached the Cheviot Hills two days away. The Pennine Way continues north through Northumberland National Park and initially I found the going rather boggy underfoot across Ridley Common and past the National Nature Reserve of Greenlee Lough.

The skies were overcast and added to my dreary feeling for the walk, although I appreciated the cooler temperatures especially compared with the heat over the weekend. Eventually I reached a conifer plantation, part of the Wark Forest, which merges with Kielder Forest further north to form the largest man-made woodland in England. The Pennine Way skirts the south-eastern corner of the conifer plantation on good, wide tracks that were easy to walk on, though lacking in interest, before branching off onto a boggy path that took me to the edge of the wood. There I saw a sign pointing towards a viewpoint for Bellcrag Moss, which was too intriguing to ignore so I took the diversion to the boggy, border flow country where an “internationally important” bog has been preserved for its conservation value, but wasn’t worth the look. Back onto the Pennine Way I headed out onto Haughton Common, which was mainly grass and thanks to the lack of rain over the previous twelve months was reasonably dry.

On the far side I entered woodland again with an excellent path underfoot that took me onto a road near Willowbog Farm and after a short walk along the road, and a stop for lunch, I headed back into conifer plantation until finally I left the woodland behind. A pretty clear path directed me north to the edge of the deep valley of the Warks Burn, which Wainwright described as “the best thing met on the walk from the Wall to Bellingham”. A steep descent brought me down to a delightful place with a slender river trickling over rocks through a deep cut ravine that was simple divine, and contrasted sharply with the man-made conifer plantations. The north bank was decorated with celandines, primroses and stitchworts as I now left behind the rougher part of the walk to head through the farmland of Horneystead, The Ash, Leadgate, and Lowstead eventually descending into another pretty valley, that of the Houxty Burn and up to the unfortunately named Shitlington Hall. A gentle rise brought me up to the similarly afflicted Shitlington Crags, which despite the name was a welcome assemblage of rock after the grass and bog of earlier in the day.

At the top of Ealingham Rigg I turned right past a big mast and down off Ealinghamrigg Common onto a road that led me all the way into the village of Bellingham. The weather had tried to improve throughout the day with the temperatures slowly climbing as the sun began to peak through the clouds mid-afternoon. After the dull start to the day I was astonished to realise that eventually I was beginning to enjoy it, even though there was nothing special about the walk itself as I just enjoyed the feeling of heading out across the countryside on foot, in cooler weather than the previous couple of days. After buying supplies for the next couple of days and checking in at the Youth Hostel the weather had improved so much I rushed back out to take advantage of it and head up Hareshaw Burn on a detour recommended by Wainwright. A path almost opposite the hostel heads uphill beside the stream into a fabulous wooded ravine that was brimming with life including wood anemones and wild garlic. I was absolutely in awe of the surroundings and entranced by everything I saw. The sun was now pouring down illuminating this delightful place though in many places the bottom of the ravine was in shadow.

The wonderful walk kept going through many fabulous scenes and past several small waterfalls until eventually I came to the end of the ravine at Hareshaw Linn, which is a spectacular waterfall into a damp, moss-covered bowl of rock. The lack of sunlight in the enclosed surroundings was slightly disappointing, but it had still left me thoroughly satisfied with the result and delighted to have to walk back through the valley to return to Bellingham. This was a day that just got better and better from the dull and overcast start in Wark Forest it culminated in this fabulous walk to Hareshaw Linn that was tremendously enthralling in good weather. I love wooded ravines such as these and this is a wonderful example.