Distance: 17.6km (328.9km), time spent: 5:03.
Weather: Slightly overcast.
Looking out of the window, I am met with a slightly better weather than yesterday. Which, in a way, is amusingly not what I secretly had hoped for. Having walked over the three tallest summits on the Pennine Way, Knock Fell, Great Dun Fell and Cross Fell, in much fairer weather than usually befell these fells, something in me hoped for foul weather today. I would like to see how the fog could settle around Cross Fell and Greg's Hut, obscuring everything from view, and then experience how it would be to walk in it (that means the Cross Fell fog, I have walked in fog before of course). First off, maybe to challenge myself in a way, in finding the way. Although, I do suspect the path from Greg's Hut and down would be far easier than over the fell. And the fact that I have the whole route on my GPS, which smacks of cheating, would not make it much of a challenge either if anything should go astray (meaning me).
View in the morning from Greg's Hut.
It is definitely time to wash my clothes, probably to the point that if it were to be bad weather today, anyone who would be walking over Cross Fell today could probably just follow the smell of my clothes and be safe over. Therefore, I have planned for a shorter walk today, setting sails for Alston. I slept good in the bothy during the night, disregarding any noise coming from the ghosts of miners past. There are no cleaning staff working at this accommodation, so after I have prepared and eaten my breakfast, I pack together my belongings and start cleaning up a little. Including the plaster sprinkled on the chairs in the large room. As the last thing I do before I go, I write some silly words in the guestbook.
Cross Fell with Greg's Hut below.
Elton John should be theme of the day on the walk down, but I will not come to him yet. Leaving Greg's Hut behind, the Pennine Way is following the Corpse Road further down. Solid footing, but still patches of water lingering on the track. I can follow the track as it winds downwards towards the horizon, becoming more solid the further away it goes. Old mine spoils are passed by, and I can look back towards the bothy with Cross Fell still close by behind.
Going past old mine spoils.
Meandering down, Knock Fell and Great Dun Fell comes back into the view, providing insight in how much of a loop the Pennine Way takes to pass by the features of High Cup Nick and Cross Fell. A shortcut could probably easily be found directly from Langdon Beck towards Garrigil, byways allowing. I notice old mine shafts along the path, barred over by metal crates. Spoils of heap are also left behind. Greg's Hut becomes smaller and smaller, how different it must have been there in old times. It is a pleasant walk at the start, with a peaceful weather on the sky.
Remains of the mining operation.
Looking down a mine shaft.
For there is no getting away from the fact that the descent should revolve around one thing, the yellow brick road. It does stand out in the landscape, a yellowish scar running through the bleak moorland. The footing is that of the equally coloured stones, neither big, nor small. Seemingly going on forever. There is little change in scenery along this part of the Pennine Way. I wonder how the walking here would feel like if you do the stage from Dufton to Alston all in one go (which is the usual way), wandering over those remote fells and then suddenly find yourself trudging along this track.
Pennine Waymarker at a junction with the long and winding road behind.
From the yellow brick road you can see where the settlements begin again, but almost not the settlements itself. The yellow hue of the stones changes to a more black hue. Tiny quarry lakes are passed by, and then drystone fences starts to rise again on the sides of the track. Goodbye yellow brick road. Houses in the valley below starts to come in view, the vale ahead becomes clearer, where the Pennine Way goes. Walking down to Garrigil is a pleasant return to form.
The yellow brick road. Great Dun fell and Cross Fell in the background.
Garrigil is a sleepy little village, as a matter of fact, today it is so sleepy here that I wonder if there is anybody living here at all. And it is a Saturday even. But from a building I can hear voices. It comes from what on the outside looks like the post office, but likely mostly serves as the local food store and a good old fashioned country shop as that. I buy something to drink, sit outside on a bench and watch life unfolds. Meaning nothing really. A lonesome biker arrives, probably the most action I will see here.
Old quarry lake.
Descent to Tynedale.
The scenery after Garrigil is what will follow me for some time now, when the Pennine Way stays down in the Tynedale for most of the journey up towards Hadrians Wall. After the desolate feeling on the yellow brick road, walking next to the River South Tyne through trees and fields are welcome. The water is humming and a sleepy atmosphere lies over the landscape. Cross Fell can at times be seen back in the horizon and on the sides other fells lurks. The tiny spot that would be Greg's Hut is not discernible from here.
The Garrigil Post Office (and country shop).
There are some bleak spots though. A group of rickety buildings and camping cars posing as a farm, but looks more like a junkyard. Even the gate to a stile next to it appear like a makeshift installation. A sheep lying dying next to the path, and I could not see anybody at the farm nearby either to give a notice of the sheep to.
Patchwork of fields, between Garrigil and Alston.
I reach Alston in good time, according to plan. Not according to plan is that the accommodation that I have booked, Victoria Inn, does not open until 17 o'clock. I go for lunch at the café next door and thankfully they let me leave my backpack there while I go out to explore Alston. Although many years since a market was held here, Alston is said to be the highest market town in England, at least according to their own claim. Despite this claim, mining is what has played the most important role in this town, having been linked to it since Roman times.
Farms in Tynedale.
Not a big town, but for a town this size it has plenty to see. A feature of several of the houses in Alston is the outside staircases, which was used to get to the living quarters above the ground level, as is where many inhabitants kept and housed their cattle. Alston also has a Market Cross that has been the unfortunate target by runaway lorries twice, first in 1968 and secondly in 1980. Walking through the narrow street of Back o' the Burn you can hear the water of the mill-race that provided power for at least three of the past mills here. Also noticeable is the narrow back alleys of The Butts, named so due to the men who practiced archery there before the houses. Houses that are amongst the oldest in Alston.
A low waterfall in River South Tyne.
Approaching Alston through a tunnel of vegetation.
Eventually the clock turns 17 and I can occupy my room at Victoria Inn. Good news is that they can do my laundry. While I wait for Henry and Ana to arrive from their walk over the fells from Dufton today, I make a second round of the Butts, Gossipgate, Back o' the Burn, Potato Market, Pigeon Lane and Front Street. No runaway lorries today, only a few runaway beers for me on a local pub.
The unfortunate Market Cross in Alston, not the biggest fan of lorries.
Henry and Ana had a long and hard walk over Cross Fell today and are tired when I meet them again, but the weather was at least favourable. We eat dinner at our accommodation, which has a recommended Indian restaurant attached to it. Good food that also could provide a hot feeling after a long walk over the cold fells and moors. They are pleasant company, so it was nice to meet them again. They will have a zero day here in Alston tomorrow, so this might be the last time we see each other.
The Church of St Augustine of Canterbury in Alston. Or a car parked for good.
A sort of an anti-climax is what I would call this day. After all the excitement of the previous days, today become just a footnote, but there are days like this almost on every trail there is. Meeting Henry and Ana again, and getting to wash my clothes properly, made only walking to Alston today worth it, but otherwise I would have preferred to seek accommodation (or a campsite, but that are unlikely) further ahead on the Pennine Way. Tomorrow there is a wall rising in the distance, familiar scenes awaits.
Alston.
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