The Pennine Way // day 14 // Greg's Hut - Alston

The Pennine Way, day 14.
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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The Pennine Way // day 13 // High Cup Nick - Greg's Hut

The Pennine Way, day 13.
Distance: 22.1km (311.3km), time spent: 8:58.
Weather: Cloudy.

Rising on the horizon today is maybe the most anticipated of all the fells along the Pennine Way, Cross Fell. This is the highest point on the trail and is also the holder of the records for extreme weather in England. Tales of woe and dare surrounds the fell, but most of the year it is fog that surrounds it. As is what surrounds my tent when I look out in the morning, reminding me of the morning after my first day on the way.

Fog fills the valley of High Cup Nick in the morning.

When the fog eventually withdraws, it creates a magical morning. First, it retreats nearly all the way down to the lowlands below, leaving High Cup Nick wide open. Then it slowly returns and regains ground all the way back up to the brink of High Cup Nick again, filling the symmetrical scar with clouds, with strands of vapours flowing over the edge. And I could watch it all from my breakfast spot. Finished eating, the whole valley is hidden by the clouds. As I leave on the northern rim of the valley, the clouds begins to disperse, little by little revealing the wonderful scenery hidden from view again.

When I left, the fog was dispersing, revealing the valley below.

It takes time to say farewell to Nick, walking on top of the side of it on the first part down towards Dufton. According to my guidebook, the Pennine Way used to go closer to the edge on a paved path called Narrowgate. Now the path has taken a different turn and been diverted further away from the scar. Did the path become too narrow to walk on? Whatever the reason is for the rerouting, I take my chance on the Narrowgate, straying but a little from the Pennine Way. I do not regret it, it being a wonderful little path, where parts of the paved path has lost out to vegetation.

Goodbye to Nick.

Narrowgate.

Most walkers not carrying a tent will head down towards Dufton to find accommodation. On the other hand, if you look at the map, you will see that if you head in a north-west direction from the High Cup, you can go straight to the Pennine Way and rejoin it again as it comes up from Dufton. That, I do fear, will however impose a rather cumbersome walk across boggy moorland, and there is also those English rules of where you can go and not can go. I do not wander off the Pennine Way this time, dutifully following its course through grassy slopes above limestone bedrock.

Dufton Pike.

Without the view of the Lake District far back in the distance, the most striking feature on the way down is the conical shape of Dufton Pike. The Pennine Way heads straight towards it, then veer off and follows a track with drystone walls on both sides. The walk down is all so very British. Earlier today I had met a couple of fell runners (is it not what they call them here?), on the road I meet an woman who had driven them here. Quite interestingly, she is making business on driving fell runners to their starting points and picking them up afterwards at their endpoints. She will drive around the North Pennines Area of Outstanding Beauty and pick them up, then drive them to Middleton-in-Teesdale. She offers me a lift down to Dufton, but confirming at the same time that I probably would not do that.

Descent to Dufton.

Dufton is a pleasant little place at the foot of the fells. There are places in the world that lives underneath the shadows of mountains with weather and conditions that threatens their very existence, but I doubt that could be said of Dufton, even with Cross Fell above it. It does not stop me for looking expectantly up at the fells, wondering how it will be up there. At the moment it is peace and quiet, they are all visible from down here, Cross Fell and Great Dun Fell with its white radome ball.

The walker posing in Dufton, ready to take on the fells.

I have a long break at the pleasant Post Box Pantry, stuffing myself with food and drinks, soon having company by the fell runners taxi driver. I overhear a walking group talking about their plan for today. The main goal of their walk is the Dufton Pike, and I can hear one explaining that the only legal way up is from the side facing the Pennine Way coming down from High Cup Nick. Those English rules again.

A sparse alley of trees after having left Dufton.

Time has come to head back into the British wilderness again, the fells awaits. After Dufton, the Pennine Way goes almost straight up towards what is described as the highest, most remote and exposed part of the trail. Without a tent or anything suitable for spending the night at the remote bothy of Greg's Hut, this part of the Pennine Way will usally be the hardest stage, forcing the hikers to either go to Carrigil with its limited accommodation or all the way to Alston. The short story is, it is a long walk.

...and the fells awaits.

First, though, I have to negotiate through another kind of bog, the one left behind by cows. Looking away from the smelly and squelchy manure, the walk is quite enjoyable. When you usually walks through a treeless landscape, it is gratifying to spend some time with trees adorning your way. Far from being a forest, and the trees do not linger very long either, soon giving way to the open landscape and the awaiting moorland hills above.

Looking back at the Vale of Eden below.

With the Vale of Eden and its flat approach to the Lake District behind me, I take to the fells, on a gravel track slowly losing its way to vegetation. With all that I have read about this part of the Pennine Way, the air is full of anticipation. Rain is also starting to fill the air, but thankfully it does not last very long. The truth about this not being the best place for good weather in England settles in, as the sky above is far from being cheerful at the moment. Should that break the mood of this walk? Definitely not. As I progress upwards, the view gets progressively better, Knock Pike gets progressively smaller, and I walk on a good nice path for once. And on the horizon, there is a beacon appearing.

Knock Old Man.

Once you reach the top, you face the highest of all the peaks and fells of the Pennine Way. Sort of the backbone of the trail. Greeting you welcome is the stout square cairn Knock Old Man. It does not mark the top of Knock Fell itself, but it do mark the the spot where the firm path leaves way for the moorland and fells ahead. First out, just short away from Knock Old Man, is Knock Fell itself, at 794m. Then Great Dun Fell follows at 848m, with its huge golfball clearly visible, and at last lies Cross Fell, 893m.

Light shining on the white radome at the top of Great Dun Fell, with Cross Fell behind.

I had suspected the surface through the moorland to be wetter, but it is drier than I had anticipated. Even where the route has to cross over water on the usual slabs of stone. When it comes to the path, it is not difficult to understand the difficulty walkers have when crossing over here in heavy fog. As soon as you leave any of the flagstone paths, the path diminishes. Looking to my left, I can see the Vale of Eden below with its settlements, but on my right the view is that of a much more emptier landscape.

The Pennine Way to Great Dun Fell.

The wind is chillier up here, I walk with my wind jacket wrapped around me. I can see the water of the Cow Green Reservoir in the distance, wondering if there are any Pennine Wayfarers walking below that. Maybe Henry and Ana is walking there right now, they would be heading for Dufton today. As for other people up here, I have only sheep for company, there is even a punk sheep (all in pink). The Pennine Way ventures for a short time out on the highest road in England, which leads up to the weather and aircraft monitoring station at the top of Great Dun Fell (but that also could be used as an easy way to get down from the trail if the weather should be foul). Apparently there are over 200 days here that can boast being misty. Today is thankfully not one of them. I like it up here, even with the strange anomaly of the radome ball.

The sheep and the ball.

There it is, Cross Fell itself, with Little Dun Fell before it.

On Cross Fell things changes. The sky is darker, but there is light to be seen in the horizon, sunrays are escaping beyond the Vale of Eden. A thin and tall cairn, looking as it is about to topple over, stands as a guard on the approach to the top. Dreaming of blue sky over Cross Fell might be just that, a dream, but the view I get from the top is better than that dream (although it could quickly change into a nightmare). Over Lake District in the horizon, the sun is making a gig in the sky again. Walking towards the top of Cross Fell it becomes clear that there would be no path to walk on in mist, it will disappear. I reach the summit easily and sit down at the cross-shelter for a rest, looking at the lightshow from the Lake District, but I am not alone at the highest point of the Pennine Way. Even in the wind, the summit is full of annoying midges. I feel cold and eaten up, so I do not stay for long.

The tall and slender cairn at Cross Fell, watching over the walk back towards Great Dun Fell.

From Cross Fell, the path is even more vague. And when it is not vague, it is very wet, forcing me to take several strange detours. Reaching a track with the reassuring name of Corpse Road, I have firmer footing underneath. Below me, the roof of my destination comes in view behind a pile of slag. Greg's Hut is a remote bothy situated at about 700m on the north slopes of Cross Fell. Originally a mining shop, which was a building used to lodge the miners who lived and worked in the mines here, it is now a very basic hut that can be used as a shelter by walkers. From the moment I read about the hut, I knew that I wanted to stay there.

The cross-shelter at Cross Fell.

No matter how basic the hut is, I am happy to arrive. Inside there are two rooms (not counting the small entrance room). The first room is the biggest one and also the most empty looking, no tables and several plastic chairs lined up next to the walls. Tibetan prayer flags hangs in the roof and there is a plaque in honour of John Gregory, a famous British mountaineer. The inner room is where I settle in. Here there is a large flat sleeping platform where I can put out my sleeping matress and bag on, and a fireplace with enough space for my stove.

Light over Lake District, seen from Cross Fell.

Having arrived, I would not mind seeing the fog seeping down from the fell and enshroud the hut in mist and mystery. It would make a better adventure of it, but it does not. Instead the sky turns on a more reddish glow as the evening progresses. I make small outside visits to look at the evening sky and scenery, slightly cold in the wind outside, from the windows there is a warm light from the candles I have lit inside. No on else arrives.

Inside Greg's Hut, notice the plaster sprinkled on the chairs.

I make my dinner on my stove, no extraordinary dish there, plain noodles with additional ham. A cup of tea and then relaxing with a book that keeps the weight up (actually Walking Home by Simon Armitage). I also read in the guestbook, tales of woe and dare, of getting lost on Cross Fell in mist. What I read makes me wanna make a fire in the fireplace, but there are no firewood here and I do not bother going out to look for some. Besides, it is not that cold inside either. I am having a nice evening.

Greg's Hut.

From High Cup Nick to Greg's Hut, from one highlight to another, crossing over some others of the Pennine Way on the way. A good day so to say, even if I cannot add any tale of woe or dare to the guestbook.

Evening at Greg's Hut.

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The Pennine Way // day 12 // Middleton-in-Teesdale - High Cup Nick

The Pennine Way, day 12.
Distance: 29.1km (289.2km), time spent: 9:16.
Weather: Alternating between less and more overcast.

The Pennine Way has its share of geological wonders and today I would come to one of them, which also happens to be one of the definite highlights of the whole trail too. Long before I decided to hike the Pennine Way, I heard words and rumours of High Cup Nick. To that extent that I had made up my mind to camp there, no matter how far or short I would have to walk on that day. As it turned out, I would have to walk about 30k from Middleton-in-Teesdale to get there, or stop on the way.

Walking through Teesdale after Middleton.

Henry and Ana will only go to Langdon Beck today and stay at the youth hostel there, that means a shorter day than I have in front of me, so I leave Middleton-in-Teesdale earlier than them. We shared a good breakfast at Belvedere Bed & Breakfast first though. Only going to Langdon Beck on this stretch of the Pennine Way is not a bad idea, despite being a short stage at only 14k. Teesdale, according to many, has a lot to offer to keep you occupied during the day. For my own part, I will not have the time to see it all, but hope to see the best parts of this dale. May the force be with me.

Grassy path makes for a pleasant surface.

The walk through Teesdale is almost all about following the River Tees upwards to the first destination of the day. If the walkers are weary from the previous days, the start of this day is a boon, being a gentle stroll through mostly fields and farmland. Path going through clustered trees and over green meadows, with only whispers of what to come.

The Wynch Bridge.

Low Force.

The previous two days of rain caused some troubles in the Yorkshire Dales, with the collapsed bridge in Grinton the main centre of the unfolding events. Now the same rain are causing troubles along this part of the Pennine Way too. Although it could only be called a minor problem, the rain causes creeks to overflow and barring the passage over them. On the other side of one, I meet the cadets again, they had taken a long detour around to find a place to cross. I put on the bath shoes that I use for the evenings and just waded across the water.

Further on, I am surprised to meet Sophie and Roxanne again. I had not expected to see them again, given my short days to Gargrave and Malham, and zero day over Pen-y-Ghent. They are walking with a friend of Sophie's family, who will walk with them for a couple of days. When I meet them the trail has moved closer to the River Tees.

Carved insect in stone.

And it is the flowing water of the river that carries the sound of the first sight-to-see of today. Low Force, a waterfall that by its name implies that it will be followed by something bigger. Or at least taller than 5.5m, which is the height of this one. Next to the waterfall is the Wynch Bridge. This is the first suspension bridge in England, initially raised in 1741 and hung there over the Tees until it collapsed in 1802. Following a series of repairs, the current bridge dates back to 1830. Walking over the bridge is not the Pennine Way, but it is recommended to get a nice view of the waterfall falling over several rock-steps. You will probably not be alone at this place (or the next).

What the first part of the day was like, walking next to or near the River Tees.

Bidding farewell to Low Force to seek its bigger brother, the scenery becomes increasingly more 'wild', leaving the feeling of walking in a park or cultivated land behind. Vegetation reaches more over the path, unusual, as most of the paths the Pennine Way takes goes over open landscape. A somewhat welcome change of tune, though I know that it cannot really be called properly wilderness.

High Force.

As with Low Force, it is the sound that gives it away, only this time even louder. First unsure how far I had to go, it becomes suddenly very clear (and loud). Just before I arrive, another familiar face appear, another hiker that I met at the Tan Hill Inn. Although he had had his share of bad weather and decided to rent a car and seek out the sights along the way that way instead. Maybe we would meet again later, but I doubt it.

Above the frothing mass of High Force, looking back at the viewpoint I stood on earlier.

High Force is unsurprisingly definitely taller than its predecessor, rising to 21m. It gives out a bigger roar too. The best view of the waterfall is from a lookout point just off the Pennine Way. Formed where the Tees crosses the hard layer of igneous rock called the Whin Sill, it consists of nothing but three various types of rock, whinstone (dolerite), carboniferous sandstone and carboniferous limestone. You should not walk away from this sight as fast as the water pours over the rock. Standing at the top of the waterfall looking down at the seething mass of water is also really cool.

Gnarled trees at Bracken Rigg.

Another waterfall, this time coming down from the west, and more scarce vegetation follows on the path after High Force. You could be mislead being in a wild and desolate area, if it was not for the huge and ugly quarry towering like a festering scar on the other side of the river. The only torn in the side on an otherwise lovely walk. Dispersed farms are seen in this scarcely populated valley.

At Langdon Beck.

To go ahead with my plan, I need to fill up with water, but it is totally quiet and no one at the first alternative, Sayer Hill Farm, which offer basic riverside camping according to the guidebook. Unsuccessful, I have to walk up to the youth hostel instead, acquiring some additional meters. Not open there yet, but they let me fill up my camelbak and use one of the benches outside to prepare lunch. This is where Henry and Ana will go to and unless I meet them on the way back to the Pennine Way, I will not be seeing them until later maybe.

Widdy Bank.

From Langdon Beck it is another change of scenery. Having arrived up from the vegetated scenery next to the River Tees, the future ahead is that without trees. It looks barren, with green ridges rising up from an alpine landscape. Except that it is not, it only appear so. That is the strange feeling of hiking here in England, everything is so barren and devoid of trees that you feel you are walking high up in an alpine meadow scenery. Only that I am barely at 400m above sea level. The wind gives away the low altitude, it does not smell the same as higher up. Asking about why there are no trees, I got the answer that long time ago they cut down everything. Sending the sheep out, they ensured that every new sapling was eaten before any tree could root. My initial thought was that it was the soil here that proved too difficult for trees to survive.

Part of the walk beneath Falcon Clints went on boardwalks.

Boardwalks continued between Falcon Clints and Cauldron Snaut, The Pennine Way later passes by the farm building at the back.

Escaping the bull in the middle of a field, the route heads into a narrowing valley. Here the River Tees are fanned more out, broader, wilder and undeniable shallower than before. A group of fishermen are positioned next to the river, hoping for a catch (and a subsequent release). Walking slowly ahead of me is the old hiker I passed by on my second day, he is more talkative this time, today hoping to reach Dufton. The Falcon Clints are a set of boulders the path crosses over, difficult to walk on. And all of a sudden I do not find the walk interesting, feel tired of it. I reckon I must suffer from some form of weariness from the previous days. A counter reaction to something.

For it does not last long, the cascading flow and howl of Cauldron Snout sees to that. Here the Tees has been squeezed together by narrow rocks, forming an angry mass of water, which the trail follows next to on a slightly steep path. Wisps of water sometimes takes to the air, possibly being what wakes me up from my gloom. All the water is coming from the Cow Green Reservoir, but the hikers never see that lake unless they veer off the path.

Cauldron Snout.

There is still a lot of distance to cover for me, at least 10k I believe, with the Pennine Way now entering a more solitary and remote scenery. The gloom has gone from my mind, maybe retreated to the hills around. For the surrounding hills consists of what is described as the bleakest, boggiest and most forbidding moorlands in England. The worst thing is, with that description there is something in me wanting to go there. To see it for myself, but the experience would probably not be what I believe it to be.

Looking down towards Falcon Clints and the River Tees.

With the receding view of the River Tees snaking its way past the Falcon Clints, I walk past a very remote farm (Birkdale), remains of mines and next to a military firing range. Long before the Tees entirely disappeared out of view, I could still see the old hiker moving closer to Cauldron Snout. Sun is shining overhead, small creeks flows down from the hills, some of them dry (even now). I sit down for a break, with moorlands all around me.

At Rasp Hill, looking back where I came from, the remote farm of Birkdale is seen.

Horses, cows and sheep are grazing all around me as I walk next to Maize Beck, following the slowly sinking sun in the horizon. I realize that I might have forgotten something about my plan for today, arriving late at High Cup Nick probably means that a part of it will be in shade. There is also this question if all the animals moving around will make it difficult to find a place for my tent.

High Cup Nick.

The dolerite cliffs of High Cup Nick, with Murton Fell above.

Arriving at High Cup Nick makes me forget all about that. This is a sight to behold. At first the incised valley looks like a drop in the ground, then upon close hand the valley reveals itself. Spreading out in front of me is a wonderful symmetrical landscape feature. Looking almost like a giant has sliced out a huge part of the hills and cliffs using an ice cream spoon, or maybe a cup. The Whin Sill is also to blame for the forming of this dolerite geological feature. This is one of the moments on the Pennine Way that I had looked the most forward to. Shadows are creeping down the right hand side of the valley, but the view meets all that I had expected from it.

Sunset over a sheep (maybe called Nick), High Cup Nick and Dufton Fell.

Finding a place for my tent is though not that easy. The best spots are undeniably just on the brink of the valley, but that means almost directly on the path, I would like to camp more discreetly. Unfortunately, the ground otherwise is uneven and full of animal droppings. I spend some time finding a good enough to pitch my tent, a little away from the precipice of High Cup. Strangely enough, after a walk almost in quiet air all the time, the wind got in a hurry when I arrived here.

Evening over High Cup Nick.

Falling down into the symmetrical crevice is the small creek of High Cup Gill Beck, with not much of a waterflow to speak of at the moment. The best place to find shelter from the wind is below the dolerite cliffs. It is not a bad place in terms of view too, looking directly out towards the valley. Here I sit down to prepare my dinner and afternoon, later on my evening tea. As I am not much of a cook, the view is definitely better than my dinner.

High Cup of tea Nick.

I did not see the older hiker again, so I hope that he passed by here while I was busy with my tent. A wonderfully exciting day on the Pennine Way and I know that tomorrow will be another exciting one. Good times on the trail now.

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