 |
| YOUR EARLY MORNING CALL, SIR |
 |
| MY HOTEL IN THE HILLS |
 |
| MATT, ME AND JAMES SITTING OUT THE STORM |
 |
| WATERLOGGED ON THE CHEVIOT |
 |
| WHITLEY PIKE |
 |
| PRETTY BELLINGHAM |
Friday 14 August,
and I was awoken from my slumber by the loud mooing of a curious herd of cattle
who had surrounded my tent. I am getting used to this sort of thing, so we all
minded our own businesses as I dismantled the tent and packed my rucksack.
The Cheviot Hills
are at the northern end of the Pennine Way trail, so by mid-morning I was
steadily and laboriously climbing my way into them. The day was cooler and
there was light rain. I knew that the weather was expected to deteriorate
further, so I had donned my waterproofs right from the start.
My initial destination was a 601 metre hill called The Schil. As I came over its summit the wind strengthened dramatically. Its severity was growing steadily, so when I arrived at Auchope Mountain Refuge Hut roughly a mile and a half south of The Schil, I decided to take shelter in it. Shortly after, three mountain bikers, Tony, John and Luke, joined me to get similar respite from the penetrating wind and repair Luke's bike. By then it was late afternoon. The bikers were destined for Kirk Yetholm and they still had ample time to fight their way through the buffeting gale to get there before the light failed, so they rode on. Walking south, however, I would need about 9 hours to get safely down from the exposed hills. This meant that I would inevitably become stranded at height in the dark - not a wise idea in a howling gale when erecting a tent on my own might prove impossible. The only sensible choice was to stay in the Refuge Hut overnight and proceed in the morning when, hopefully, the wind will have blown itself out. Fortunately I'd brought sufficient food for supper and breakfast, and Tony had given me an additional half litre of water before he cycled off.
My initial destination was a 601 metre hill called The Schil. As I came over its summit the wind strengthened dramatically. Its severity was growing steadily, so when I arrived at Auchope Mountain Refuge Hut roughly a mile and a half south of The Schil, I decided to take shelter in it. Shortly after, three mountain bikers, Tony, John and Luke, joined me to get similar respite from the penetrating wind and repair Luke's bike. By then it was late afternoon. The bikers were destined for Kirk Yetholm and they still had ample time to fight their way through the buffeting gale to get there before the light failed, so they rode on. Walking south, however, I would need about 9 hours to get safely down from the exposed hills. This meant that I would inevitably become stranded at height in the dark - not a wise idea in a howling gale when erecting a tent on my own might prove impossible. The only sensible choice was to stay in the Refuge Hut overnight and proceed in the morning when, hopefully, the wind will have blown itself out. Fortunately I'd brought sufficient food for supper and breakfast, and Tony had given me an additional half litre of water before he cycled off.
A young lady, a teacher, properly equipped for hill walking, also stopped briefly at the refuge before opting to proceed to Kirk Yetholm. Then, at around 7.30pm, Newcastle University post-graduates Matt and James turned up. They were in a similar situation to me, so all three of us ended up spending the night in the wind buffeted Refuge Hut.
It was still
raining next morning and the wind, though diminished, was still strong.
However, the night spent protected in the Refuge Hut had restored my spirit. I
now had over 12 hours of daylight ahead of me, so I dressed myself in all my
warm and waterproof clothing and set forth with the intent of making Byrness by
early evening. Along the way I made a detour to the 813 metre high Cheviot, the
highest mountain in Northumberland, and found myself chatting to Pete.
Similarly drenched, he had arrived at the summit at the same time but from a
different direction.
The weather
improved throughout the day, making the walk all the more pleasant. Byrness is
small, but I had been informed that I could get a meal at the local Youth
Hostel. When I got there all the rooms were booked, but I was able to pitch my
tent in the garden. As for the meal, I had bangers and mash and it was
excellent. There was plenty to chat about with the other Hostel guests, who
were mostly walkers.
Next morning I made myself a good breakfast then headed off to Bellingham (pronounced Bellinjum). The weather was mixed and the going very, very boggy at times, but otherwise the day was relatively uneventful. The best views were nearest the end of the walk, but by then my aching feet had diminished my ability to appreciate them. I was due another rest day so I had booked two nights at the Lyndale Guest House in Bellingham just before leaving Byrness. I arrived at about 6.00pm to be greeted by friendly hosts Ken and Joy. Joy prepared a pot of coffee for me while I removed my boots. I think I'm going to like it here.
Next morning I made myself a good breakfast then headed off to Bellingham (pronounced Bellinjum). The weather was mixed and the going very, very boggy at times, but otherwise the day was relatively uneventful. The best views were nearest the end of the walk, but by then my aching feet had diminished my ability to appreciate them. I was due another rest day so I had booked two nights at the Lyndale Guest House in Bellingham just before leaving Byrness. I arrived at about 6.00pm to be greeted by friendly hosts Ken and Joy. Joy prepared a pot of coffee for me while I removed my boots. I think I'm going to like it here.