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.
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