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The Pennine Way // day 20 // Auchope Rigg - Kirk Yetholm

The Pennine Way, day 20.
Distance: 11.6km (478.1km), time spent: 3:51.
Weather: Heavy rain and wind.

I wake up in the middle of the night. By myself and not from the sounds around me. For outside it is far from being quiet, the wind is raging and the creaking from the hut is intense. Rain is pounding angrily on the hut, the window is covered by water. I am glad that I decided to stay in the hut instead of my tent. I wrap myself tighter in my sleeping bag, sheltered from the deepened darkness outside.

Looking outside the Auchope shelter in the morning, it is a grey world out there....and gusty.

The window of the Auchope shelter says all about what I can expect of the walk today.

It is no better in the morning, maybe even worse. Opening the door lets in a roar from the weather outside, it is all raging grey out there. I take my time in the morning, there is no need to rush, I have only about 12km to go down to Kirk Yetholm. Still, I have to brave the weather in the end. I have had a great time in this little shelter. It is also where I leave behind the little companion I have carried with me from the start, the Lego mini-figure Pennine-Jack has found a new home.

In a sudden gap in the storm, a view from Auchope Rigg down towards the College Valley.

Stepping out of the door, I am almost instantly gone by the wind, it will be tough going today. There is a short gap in the clouds, when I leave however, giving me some good and dramatic views of the College Valley below. Although it is closing again just as quickly. The wind is fierce. Everything of paths and surfaces that I walk on is soaked. The stone slabs are turned into small rivers, even resembling tiny waterfalls, Slab Force.

A wet surface to walk on.

The force of the wind is often catching my feet, getting me out of balance. Worst is it when the path is going close to a fence with barbed wire on. Then I am afraid to be pushed into the atrocity (barbed wire fences are just that, atrocities, relics of wars), possibly ruining my clothes or backpack, or me. Only thing to do is to buckle up, wrap my rain coat more tightly around me and use more force when moving my feet. Watching the clouds blowing hard over the ridge is however wickedly cool.

Rainbows below The Schil (but where do the sunrays come from?).

The Schil.

Even in this weather, I have to make the short detour to The Schil, at 601m. The summit is surrounded by clouds and the rocky outcrops feels like ancient tombs in the mist (you should know by now that I have a highly imaginative mind). Yesterday I went in and out of Scotland, but now after the Schil I am fully in Scotland. Going down, I feel that the rain as lessened some, but the force of the wind is still making it feel like a lot of rain. It throws the water straight at my face.

This is one of the worst things I have seen on any of the trails that I have done. Here the barbed wire was hidden behind the wooden board and so I could not see it when I climbed over the fence on the stile. Only by luck did I not put my hands directly on the barbed wire.

At Black Hag (what a name again), the Pennine Way orignally went down towards Halterburn. This is now an alternative route and is also the encouraged route if the weather is foul and appalling. Which it is now, but taking that option is still out of question. I will go the main route heading over Steer Rigg and White Law.

The wet Pennine Way heading towards Black Hag.

Despite the miserable weather, I am still enjoying the walk, only have to forget or put aside that I am wet and cold. I cannot see far away, but what I see is dramatic. Nature besieged by angry clouds are always fascinating and I can see the clouds flowing fast over the landscape. The valleys below are sometimes barely visible, mostly not.

Over Steer Rigg with barely discernible views of the landscape below.

Misty and rainful Cheviot Hills.

Walking the St. Cuthbert's Way to Lindisfarne was also included when I planned how many days I would have at my disposal in Britain. Either directly from Kirk Yetholm or from the start at Melrose. After I changed to a more leisurely pace due to my troublesome feet, time ran out for that option. I had laid out a too tight a plan, although those days would always be considered a bonus. Seeing the signpost is still making me feeling sorry for missing out on it, but the good thing is that it will probably still be there if I should return.

A view through the clouds.

Looking back up at the storm.

The end is nigh, but only for my hike of the Pennine Way. The last part of the walk is on road. I have come down from the hills, with both the wind and rain abating, the colors of the walk in dark blue and green. A strange feeling. The rain changes to a drizzle. I head over a low hill and then I can see the outline of Kirk Yetholm below me. There it is, twenty days later since I left Edale.

At White Law.

The Border Hotel marks the end of the Pennine Way, just as The Old Nags Head marked the beginning. From the nag to the border, I have done it. Underneath the sign announcing the end of the trail, there is a collection of discarded hiking shoes. I go inside and sit down for a break, with a coke and coffee. As I sit inside, the sun appears on the sky outside. I think I will call that arriving in nice weather and I have to go outside to the enjoy the sensation.

Descending underneath the clouds.

When I tried to book a place in Kirk Yetholm back in Cottonshopeburnfoot, every place that I called was fully booked, except for a cottage that the Border Hotel offer. Most expensive so far, but seeing that I most likely would arrive in bad weather and in that state would not want to spend time searching for a place to stay, I went for the cottage. Lets call it some well earned comfort at the end of long hike. It is not a cottage. At least not what I associate with a cottage, it is a full grown house that I get for myself. Two storeys, one big kitchen, a backyard with a barbeque, two living rooms, two bathrooms and three bedrooms to choose from. Best of all, it has a washing machine and I get some detergent so that I can wash all of my dirty clothes. The first thing I do, of course, is to clean myself and get into some dry clothes (although the clothes I wore had begun to dry).

A world in dark blue and green.

Back at The Border, I sit down with the half-pint you get for finishing the Pennine Way (you also get a certificate of completing the way here). I see in guestbook that Eloise and Deborah finished some days before me. The Australians has arrived too. They had been adviced not to go today and so instead of getting back on the trail had taken a taxi around from Byrness. Sophie and Roxanne had on the other hand disregarded the advice. I see they arrive, both of them wet, but seemingly happy. I eat dinner together with Kylie, Tracy and Peter, which is nice. In the evening, I return to my huge cottage and spend the rest of the time relaxing.

Kirk Yetholm and the end of the Pennine Way in sight.

20 days and about 480km through the backbone of England, the slog is done. Feet aside, it has been some wonderful days. Will I do it again? I guess not, but not because I did not enjoy The Pennine Way. There are just so many other trails to do out there, and also in England. But you never know.

The Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm.

Highlights of the Pennine Way (or some of them) was for me High Cup Nick, the many waterfalls, the open moorlands, Pen-y-Ghent, exploring Malhamdale, the first day, Greg's Hut, the shelter at Auchope Rigg, the revisit of Hadrian's Wall. The best day was when I walked from Hardraw to Tan Hill Inn. Some of the letdowns was the descent from Auchope Cairn, the barbed wire fences (especially the one mentioned above), that yellow brick road, the sudden changes between soft and hard surface (from boggy paths to stone slabs), but most of all my shoes (which is not the Pennine Way's fault of course).

Cheviot Churches, Kirk Yetholm.

The Pennine Way is finished. I will not walk St. Cuthbert's Way. Tomorrow I will take a bus to Edinburgh and The Fringe, where I will spend two nights before the flight home back to Norway. Happy trails!

At the end of The Pennine Way.

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The Pennine Way // day 19 // Cottonshopeburnfoot - Auchope Rigg

The Pennine Way, day 19.
Distance: 36.2km (466.5km), time spent: 11:59.
Weather: Mostly nice, rain around me, and then very windy later.

Morning arrives, after a good night sleep. Awaiting me is the last obstacle on the Pennine Way, The Cheviots, and the promise of awful weather. While I prepare breakfast in the small kitchen provided for campers at the campsite, I see Sid leave. From Byrness it is about 45km to Kirk Yetholm, from here it is slightly longer. If I had pushed on further yesterday, I would probably have tried to go all the way to Kirk Yetholm today, like Sid will. Instead I have set my sight on a small mountain shelter just after The Cheviot itself, named Hen Hole Hut in the guidebook. Plan is to camp outside, then go inside if the weather should turn too bad. The final day would then be a short day.

Byrness Chapel.

I say goodbye to Gil, then I leave too. From the longest placename on the Pennine Way it is roughly 2.5km to Byrness, the last place before Kirk Yetholm and the end of the Pennine Way. Those kilometres are a pleasant stroll through trees before crossing over the River Rede and arriving at the tiny chapel in Byrness. The Pennine Way is a long trail through the backbone of England culminating at the bleak and remote Cheviot Hills in the Northumberland National Park, which now stands before me.

The Cheviot Hills from Byrness Hill.

View of Catcleugh Reservoir from the ridge.

Several options are available for the hikers after Byrness. Some, like Sid, goes all the way. Others opt to either camp out along the way or go down from the hills to find accommodation somewhere, or are being picked up by the hosts of the Forest View Inn halfway (at the time of writing this, the Forest View Inn has changed owners, I do not know if the new owners will provide the same service). Whatever the option you choose, the path leaving Byrness is muddy and rather awful. Reaching Byrness Hill is a boon.

Danger signs and an archaeological area sign (do not use a shovel in case you either hit an archaeological or explosive device).

The cairn at and view from Ravens Pike.

A boon not only for escaping the toil of the ascent, but for the view of the ridge spreading out in front of me. A green and rolling landscape with a small and narrow path making its way through it. The view resembles that of the approach to Great Shunner Fell earlier on the Pennine Way. May I hope for the same display of light now? The upcoming weather report is just as dark as is was then, possibly even more, but there is no darkness to see in any of the horizons. Clouds are inbound, but no mean looking ones.

The Pennine Way through the Cheviot Hills.

I start making my way over the grassy hills, the path only visible by being trodden solidly down. Behind me lies the trees of the Redesdale Forest, I can see a lake in the valley nearby, but ahead of me the only view is of bare and lonely hills. The only company is the usual sheep, it does not take long before I start wondering about how many of them that wanders aimlessly into the military firing range nearby. The path of the Pennine Way protects me from venturing into the same range, but the same cannot be said about any stray bullets (although I do not fear that).

A network of undulating valleys.

The Cheviot in the distance.

These hills might just be the inspiration for the Barrowdowns in The Lord Of The Rings books by J.R.R. Tolkien, or so I can imagine. It is not difficult to imagine getting lost on these rolling hills if the clouds are down, then imagination can conjure up whatever it might see of barrow-wights, will-o-the-wisps or other mythical creatures lurking in the mist. One of the hills I pass over is even named Ogre Hill, but the only Ogre-looking being walking over there now is probably just me. I am venturing further into the Cheviot Hills on a mix of soft path on grass and hard flagstone paths. The flagstone paths alternates between being of stone and wood, gently swaying up and down as it follows the contours of the land.

The path to Windy Gyle.

The walk is enjoyable and I feel that I make good progress. I take a break at a site where the Romans once had an outpost, only the dents in the grass reveals that it may have been a settlement here. Being at the opposite end of the Pennine Way, this area is also in the opposite end when it comes to the amount of people around. I meet almost no one else, whereas Kinder Scout was crowded. A signpost announces the direction to what is only referred to as The Street, quite amusingly.

A fence and The Cheviot.

View north from Windy Gyle, The Cheviot now clear of clouds.

Feeling hungry, I sit down on the porch of the tiny and very basic shelter of Yearning Saddle Hut, guessing the Hen Hole Hut will look quite like it. Close to Scotland, the 'border fence' is a good navigational waymark and should probably be followed closely in thick fog. I venture off route once, by chance seeing my error when taking a look at the map. The scenery is a hilly landscape criss-crossed by sinuous valleys, quite fascinating.

Rain showers around me.

A father and daughter is having a rest below Windy Gyle, on a daytrip coming up from Trows, they sometimes felt it was difficult to find their way. Up to now, I have only had a few rain drops, but while climbing Windy Gyle I can see dark clouds here and there in almost every direction, I feel I have been lucky so far. Standing on top, I can see the bulk of The Cheviot ahead. There are now other hikers approaching behind me on the Pennine Way, I assume it is the Australians. When I am down at the amusingly named Clennell Street (it is just a name, there is no actual street here), there is a rain shower moving over Windy Gyle and others are visible too. Omens of what to come perhaps, I am still walking uncontested by rain.

View of the sea.

Leaving Clennell Street and heading towards King's Seat I come in talk with a dayhiker, warning me that there will be a storm in the night, maybe even before. I appear to be heading for a night in the basic shelter, but first, The Cheviot. Many hikers omit the spur route to the summit of The Cheviot, as you have to walk up to the summit and back again on the same trail to continue. I know Sid would omit it, but he had been at the summit before. As dark as the very near future is, the sky is cracking open with sunlight as I begin my ascent of The Cheviot.

The Cheviot.

The Cheviot, at 815m, was one of the places I had targeted as a place to camp, the last camp of the Pennine Way in fact. The boggy climb up, helped by the flagstone path, is enough to tell me how far away from reality that plan was. The summit plateau is so boggy and squelchy that I can hardly imagine finding any place to put out my tent, though I might be able to squeeze it in just next to the trig point. It matters not now, I have some more to go. Above me, the sky is surprisingly blue, with only a few scattered clouds. And I can see the sea for the first time. Why that feels so comforting I cannot tell.

Dramatic clouds, storm approaching?

Going down, a young woman passes me by as if she is not touching the ground at all, then floating past me again on her way back. I feel old. Auchope Cairn stands guarding over the last of my walk today, although I have been fiddling with the idea of going all the way to Kirk Yetholm. From the cairn, I can see the young woman moving away at an impressive speed. The descent from the cairn is by far the worst descent on all of the Pennine Way. Not muddy at all, but my feet actually hurts going down that slope. My feet (or probably more likely my shoes) has not been good to me on this trail, starting off with the blood blisters, but they have slowly been steadying themselves. With the hurting feet, I discard any notion of going to Kirk Yetholm and is happy to see the square wooden box they call a shelter at Auchope Rigg, above Hen Hole.

Looking down from The Cheviot Hills.

Above Hen Hole, looking down at Auchope Rigg with its small shelter.

The hut is just as basic as I had expected it to be, there is just one room inside, with three benches in the inner part. And no porch or overhanging roof outside like at the Yearning Saddle Hut, but I have no need for anything more, it has all the space I need (and the benches here are better than in that hut). While walking here, the wind really started to pick up. Perfect for drying my tent. So, in the wonderful light outside, I pitch my tent on the grass in front of the hut, using the wind as a dryer. In the wind, the tent is being pushed down. Someone has left behind some tea bags, which I am grateful for. I heat up a cup of good hot tea and go outside to watch the sun and the wind over the hills.

Auchope shelter.

I have a wonderful (basic) evening in the hut, but the wind makes it chilly to sit outside for too long. The light is great, if it had not been for the strong wind, I would have difficulty believing a storm is coming. After preparing dinner, I sit inside reading and relaxing. It is a good feeling sitting warm and safe inside, listening to the creaks of the hut as the wind pounding at its walls. When the sky turns darker, I put down my tent and hang it over a cord inside. Maybe one of the best evenings I have had on the trail.

Sunset at Auchope Rigg.

And so the last night, tomorrow Kirk Yetholm and the end of the Pennine Way awaits. And a storm. A great day on the lost hills of the Cheviots. I go to sleep with the sounds coming from outside and the creaks from the hut increasing, wrapping my sleeping bag gently around me.

Inside the Auchope shelter. Only me here so I have made myself at home.

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The Pennine Way // day 18 // Bellingham - Cottonshopeburnfoot

The Pennine Way, day 18.
Distance: 22.9km (430.3km), time spent: 6:50.
Weather: Overcast, some sun, some rain.

A late start today, I have to buy provisions for the upcoming last days of the walk. As to where I will go, I do not know. The Forest View Inn in Byrness was fully booked and it appeared that there were no spaces left for tents there either. Which for me, either means staying at the campsite in Cottonshopeburnfoot just before Byrness, or venturing some further up into the Cheviots to find a place to camp there. The infamous time again.

The Village Bakery in Bellingham.

Breakfast and provisioning done, I am ready to go again. In my backpack I now carry with me a new selection of easy cooking food, alongside some chocolate and candy for energy (and if anything should go wrong, I still have the Kendal Mint Cake). And to my great joy, my camera has returned to the living again, a good and warm night did it good.

The road to Blakelaw Farm, The Pennine Way goes into the field to the upper left of the farm towards the cluster of trees seen at the top of the hill above.

I wonder how the Hareshaw Linn now flows over the cliffs as I walk past the turnoff to the waterfall, the weather is more favorable in terms of walking, but not in favor of a frothing spectacle. Blue is the color of the sky, although I can see clouds approaching. The Pennine Way will today be back to its sparse landscape with only a few scattered farms to be seen, but first I have to cope with the hard surface of the road out of Bellingham and up to the first farm, Blakelaw Farm. The path goes straight through the farmyard, where a large group of dogs comes running at me. Fortunately they are friendly and just runs playfully around me before the farmer calls them away.

A signpost beyond Blakelaw, with Bellingham below.

Leaving the farm, The Pennine Way throws me out on a large field with ill-defined paths. From the field, I can look down upon Bellingham and beyond the moorland I walked over yesterday in the rain. Directly below me, I can see the trees hiding the valley containing Hareshaw Linn and Hareshaw Burn. More gates, more wooden posts to show the way and more open land. I get to the junction where there is an alternative route cutting more straight towards the farm of Hareshaw House. The alternative is really not an alternative and I stay on the vague main path. The path is at its most visible when it is wet.

A Pennine Way signpost that has seen better days.

Hareshaw Farm is actually the last settlement that I will get to until close to Byrness at Cottonshopeburnfoot. Just past the farm there is a ruined farm building and afterwards a peregrine falcon circles above my head. Rising in the horizon is another bleak moorland. The Pennine Way crosses a quiet road and then heads up into the heathery slopes of Deer Play, but the deers must be playing somewhere else at the moment.

A fence to a remote area.

This is the best part of the walk so far on this day, with the path winding up into the moors. Most of the vegetation around is heather, all coppery-dark-brownish in color. Above, the sky is thickening with clouds, but they do not appear to contain any rain. And behind me I can see Gil and Sid coming closer with every step, I guess my mood of walking today is of a leisurely one. Or maybe I am preparing myself for the inevitable fact that I will reach the end of the trail in a few days, prolonging the walk.

The path to Deer Play, through brownish heather.

On a blustery day, I believe this could be a hard days walk. That said, a lot of the Pennine Way could be that on such days. There are no shelter from strong winds up here and you will be bearing the full front of it. It is not blustery today, but there is some wind to be counted for, it is a refreshing walk. Sid is catching up with me and we are walking together a little while, before his speed gets the better of me. Gil is still behind me, which looks like the walking pattern of those two, with Sid pushing ahead and then wait for Gil to catch up.

Colors and shade on the hills of the Pennine Way.

Ahead in the distance I can probably see The Cheviots. I pass over Whitley Pike with its small cairns and signposts, the terrain onward is more undulating. We catch up on the three older people that I also saw at Greenhead. At a fence where the path crosses a tiny road, I sit down for lunch together with Sid and Gil.

Sid pushing ahead towards Deer Play.

Above the road lies Padon Hill, but the Pennine Way does not cross over the actual summit, it can be seen from the path to the right. And what I see leaves me but no choice than to walk up to it. Of course, it is just my usual curiosity in action. Standing on the summit is a solid cairn, referred to as a pepperpot cairn by Cicerone (or more closely Paddy Dillon), built in the 1920s. The name given is Padon Hill, but it got its name after Alexander Peden. To avoid being persecuted in the 17th century, the Scottish Covenanter preached in remote areas and the legend regarding this hill is that worshippers was required to bring one stone with them to build a cairn. That old cairn is now rebuilt as the one standing stout here with view of the Cheviots.

View of The Cheviots in the distance.

Descending from the pepperpot cairn I arrive at what is described in the guidebook as possibly the worst stretch of walking on the whole of Pennine Way. I am preparing myself for a hard slog up the hill on a path in deep mud, but apart from the trees having fallen across the path, the climb is uneventful. It was actually wetter at the bottom before the climb.

The pepperpot cairn at Padon Hill.

Then the first signs of rain arrives when I am at the top of the hill, not lasting very long. The Pennine Way path turns into a well-defined track of a different color than the vegetation around, kind of resembling the yellow brick road of earlier, only narrower. I think I was supposed to be walking in the woods of north now, but I am only walking on the edge of the forest, with a view of the Cheviots on the other.

The path actually goes under the trees.

The next view of the Pennine Way is a sad one, as the trail enters a part of the woods where heavy forestry has been at play. It looks like a wasteland. A landscape that would not be out of order in games such as Stalker or Fallout, or similar movies, like The Road. The world I am looking over is grey, with a razed ground. In the distance are grey clouds ladden with rain moving over the landscape. I just wait to hear the sounds of falling trees nearby, there are several of them lying next to the path.

Looking back towards Padon Hill.

From the wasteland, the track heads into a proper forest. The feeling here is quite different. Everything is arranged and sorted, looking planted in line, no trees at random (almost). The long and winding road through it. On this section I had completely forgotten about the guidebook warning about the Pennine Way leaving the forest track and heading into the bush next to it on an overgrown and disappearing path, so I follow the waymarks and find myself in the midst of wildly growing vegetation. The three other Pennine Wayfarers also took the path, but we are all soon making our ways back to the forest track. As the guidebook informed me that most people did.

The winding path on Brownrigg Head.

The other hikers are from Australia. A long way from home and after travelling around in Europe, they are here in England for the Pennine Way. We walk together after our escape from the bush, stopping now and then for taking on and off our rain gear. The weather is slightly schizophrenic.

Wasteland.

Byrness and the Forest View Inn is the usual last stop before the hikers tackle the 45km to Kirk Yetholm through the Northumberland National Park. The Forest View Inn also offer a pick-up service for hikers not wanting to do the whole walk in one day and/or does not have the equipment to camp out. The Australians are going there. No place for me there, although I wonder if it is all due to a misunderstanding. When we walk past Cottonshopeburnfoot, I say farewell to the fellow wayfarers and head over to check out the campsite.

Disappearing Pennine Way.

As I have written earlier, I am not overly fond of campsites, I feel confined in them. Then again, the two previous ones that I stayed on earlier on the walk was not bad. The Squirrel Woods campsite was good as I felt it was for hikers, the other one in Hardraw was primary good because I was almost the only person there. This one looks like the usual campsite, but they do have some tiny wooden cabins. The price to stay in one of those however, is 40 quid, which is way too much. The best thing would probably be to push on and look for a campsite in the hills above Byrness, but I am too content to continue, I go for a space for my tent for 8 quid. Cottonshopeburnfoot is by the way the longest placename on The Pennine Way.

The forest track through Redesdale Forest.

Good thing is, the area for the hikers tents are in a flat field just outside the campsite with all its mobile and immobile campervans. Bad thing is the abundance of midges here too. Second good thing is, Sid and Gil are at the same campsite. I had believed they also was going to the Forest View Inn. They have booked one of the wooden cabins, or pods as the manager called them. What they got for the cash was a floor, roof over their head, heating and electrical sockets. The shower at the campsite is like a sauna.

Walking with the Australian Pennine Wayfarers next to the River Rede.

I spend the evening together with Sid and Gil, who are really good company. Sid is from Chester and Gil from Liverpool. I had not brought any coffee with me, so I am grateful that they offer me some of theirs. The pod also provides some shelter when it starts to rain, still going on and off. Sid is aiming to go all the way to Kirk Yetholm tomorrow, starting early and with a light pack. Gil will meet him there with all the rest of the baggage, as his family will come and pick him up.

My tent at the campingsite in Cottonshopeburnfoot.

When it is time, I return to my tent, which is now covered with small drops of water. I am the only one camping in the field, although I am not alone here either, I share it with a lot of midges. I have made up my plan for the two last days, based on the abysmal weather report. A storm with gale winds is heading my way. Walking all the way might probably be the best thing to do, but I am not really interesting in suddenly make a stress of my hike just because of some bad weather. I have coped with awful weather before. Today was a medium interesting day on the hike, another sort of intermediate stage. Not a bad walk, but good thing that I had a nice evening.

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