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Last week I escaped the city for the hills, heard the curlew's call, and watch clouds scud across moody #Northumberland skies. I packed my bag and walked from Belford to Haltwhistle down the spine of @NlandNP taking only photos & leaving no trace. A taste of my adventure follows:
Day 1) Belford to Wooler:
After lighting candles in St Mary's church for departed friends, I followed St Cuthbert's Way with views over Lindisfarne. Fields were ripe with crops; verges drooped with foxgloves; a yellowhammer sang languorously in a Hawthorne.
After lighting candles in St Mary's church for departed friends, I followed St Cuthbert's Way with views over Lindisfarne. Fields were ripe with crops; verges drooped with foxgloves; a yellowhammer sang languorously in a Hawthorne.
Day 1 cont)
I crushed miles of wild chamomile underfoot and it's eponymous smell mingled with the rich scent of high-summer countryside that I craved. Hares scarpered along the tracks. I stumbled down to Cuddy's cave and was delighted by this hidden, engraved, gem.
I crushed miles of wild chamomile underfoot and it's eponymous smell mingled with the rich scent of high-summer countryside that I craved. Hares scarpered along the tracks. I stumbled down to Cuddy's cave and was delighted by this hidden, engraved, gem.
Day 2) Wooler to Hen Hole:
Today felt more like autumn, than summer, and perhaps that encouraged a Red Squirrel to search for nuts in the pine forest. The path broke out onto miles of moor where I contemplated the burnt heather, plump grouse and searched unsuccessfully for adder.
Today felt more like autumn, than summer, and perhaps that encouraged a Red Squirrel to search for nuts in the pine forest. The path broke out onto miles of moor where I contemplated the burnt heather, plump grouse and searched unsuccessfully for adder.
Day 2) cont:
Below the twin-peaked, Yeavering Bell, I dropped my pack and sped up to the summit like a helium balloon cut from its tether. I admired the stone ramparts of the prehistoric hill fort. A cloud on the horizon resembled an atomic detonation as it dumped its load.
Below the twin-peaked, Yeavering Bell, I dropped my pack and sped up to the summit like a helium balloon cut from its tether. I admired the stone ramparts of the prehistoric hill fort. A cloud on the horizon resembled an atomic detonation as it dumped its load.
Day 2) cont:
After a wet afternoon, I arrived at my Shangri-La for the night, the head of the College Valley, and was greeted by a hint of a rainbow above the craggy Hen Hole that I would investigate the following morning.
After a wet afternoon, I arrived at my Shangri-La for the night, the head of the College Valley, and was greeted by a hint of a rainbow above the craggy Hen Hole that I would investigate the following morning.
Day 3) Hen Hole to Mountain Hut:
The route up Hen Hole was recommended by @MrRichardC and was a trip highlight: the cascade of waterfalls and pools resembled the Lake District; wild flowers adorned the banks. I briefly submersed myself in a pool of liquid nitrogen.
The route up Hen Hole was recommended by @MrRichardC and was a trip highlight: the cascade of waterfalls and pools resembled the Lake District; wild flowers adorned the banks. I briefly submersed myself in a pool of liquid nitrogen.
Day 3) cont:
I warmed up climbing to the Boarder Ridge where I was greeted by a pair of Golden Plover in full breeding plumage: they pottered about the grassland like metallic automatons, peeping, guarding their nest. I trod carefully.
I warmed up climbing to the Boarder Ridge where I was greeted by a pair of Golden Plover in full breeding plumage: they pottered about the grassland like metallic automatons, peeping, guarding their nest. I trod carefully.
Day 3) cont:
Flagstones paved the way to the highest point in Northumberland where I took a rubbing of The Cheviot's trig bracket set in it's whitewashed pillar 'S1560'. The path continued along a ridge to the Mountain Hut: some stones where etched like contours on a relief map.
Flagstones paved the way to the highest point in Northumberland where I took a rubbing of The Cheviot's trig bracket set in it's whitewashed pillar 'S1560'. The path continued along a ridge to the Mountain Hut: some stones where etched like contours on a relief map.
Day 3) cont:
Lamb Hill Mountain Hut was a welcome break. I read the comments in the visitors' book and on the walls. Apparently, Bare Grills & Pork Chops stayed in 2019. I cooked dinner and slept until 6am, when I woken by sheep on the veranda. The hut even had WiFi.
Lamb Hill Mountain Hut was a welcome break. I read the comments in the visitors' book and on the walls. Apparently, Bare Grills & Pork Chops stayed in 2019. I cooked dinner and slept until 6am, when I woken by sheep on the veranda. The hut even had WiFi.
Day 4) Mountain Hut to Padon Hill:
Short of water, I dropped down to Richard's Cleugh, and employed the technique of scooping water out of the stream/bog into a bag, before filtering it into bottles (thanks to @KeithFoskett for that tip in his book #TheLastEnglishman #PCT).
Short of water, I dropped down to Richard's Cleugh, and employed the technique of scooping water out of the stream/bog into a bag, before filtering it into bottles (thanks to @KeithFoskett for that tip in his book #TheLastEnglishman #PCT).
Day 4) cont:
Skirting the edge of an MOD Firing Range, I stopped to splash my face in a peaty puddle and was enchanted by the pond life: an encrusted caddisfly larva eating a tiny bug; black beetles swimming laps; and water boatmen surfing the meniscus.
Skirting the edge of an MOD Firing Range, I stopped to splash my face in a peaty puddle and was enchanted by the pond life: an encrusted caddisfly larva eating a tiny bug; black beetles swimming laps; and water boatmen surfing the meniscus.
Day 4) cont:
Views of the Catcleugh Reservoir were spoilt by the gross remains of a BBQ and soggy clothing. Despite the extra weight on a middle-aged back and virus concerns, I bagged it up and took it down to Byrness.
Views of the Catcleugh Reservoir were spoilt by the gross remains of a BBQ and soggy clothing. Despite the extra weight on a middle-aged back and virus concerns, I bagged it up and took it down to Byrness.
Bryness and the River Rede were an ecological delight, contrasting with the relatively barren moors. A profusion of orchids, meadow sweet and ragged robin graced a meadow behind a church. A Buzzard shadowed me for half-a-mile, hopping from tree to tree, mewing like a cat.
I stopped at picnic spot for lunch: a bench and table major luxuries on a hike. I studied the next stage of my route towards Bellingham before taking a proper swim in the relatively mild waters of the Rede.
It was an easy walk on forestry paths to Padon Hill north of Bellingham with it's distinctive conical monument. This was a superb viewpoint and felt like the centre of Northumberland with views north to the Cheviots, west to the Simonside Hills, and south to the North Pennines.
I slept for a few hours by a crag south of Padon Hill where a Peregrine hunted. It lashed it down and I was grateful for my @orgear Stargazer Bivy and @rab_equipment poncho tarp that kept the rain off. Also a shout to @seatosummitgear for the comfy, ultra light insulated mat.
Day 5) Padon Hill to Greenlee Lough
This was a day of rain-sun-rain-sun, dozens of stiles, feeling dog-tired, taking gear on & off, angry cattle diverting me off-course, and a bare-foot river crossing. I stopped briefly to admire a gorge at Warks Burn and promised to return.
This was a day of rain-sun-rain-sun, dozens of stiles, feeling dog-tired, taking gear on & off, angry cattle diverting me off-course, and a bare-foot river crossing. I stopped briefly to admire a gorge at Warks Burn and promised to return.
Day 5) cont:
Late that afternoon I got back into my stride and blasted through miles of boggy paths in another forest. The end was in sight, and I getting a boot-full-of-bog no longer mattered. I built up a head of steam emerging like a startled yeti to sunset over the Whin Sill.
Late that afternoon I got back into my stride and blasted through miles of boggy paths in another forest. The end was in sight, and I getting a boot-full-of-bog no longer mattered. I built up a head of steam emerging like a startled yeti to sunset over the Whin Sill.
Day 6) Greenlee Lough to Haltwhistle:
Rather that heading directly up onto Hadrian's Wall I took a path to the north of Greenlee Lough so that I could admire the 'defensive' Whin Sill from a distance and was rewarded with beautiful sunrise views.
Rather that heading directly up onto Hadrian's Wall I took a path to the north of Greenlee Lough so that I could admire the 'defensive' Whin Sill from a distance and was rewarded with beautiful sunrise views.
From the top of the highest point on #HadriansWall I watched a pair of buzzards circling over a patchwork of farmsteads to the north, the sun was on back, and I felt epic as I contemplated my journey south through Northumberland.
If you have read this far, you may also enjoy the view behind me to the east. Light from the rising sun shimmered in the trio of Crag, Broomlee and Greenlee Loughs, setting them off like a string of diamonds in a necklace of the Whin Sill.
From here it was all downhill into Haltwhistle and a train home, but I had a final delightful discovery: the atmospheric Haltwhistle Burn that winds down from the Wall all the way to the town and contains hints of an industrial past.
I want to end by thanking the rangers at @NlandNP for maintaining the Mountain Huts and facilities in the park over the last 3 months, and encourage people to visit glorious Northumberland responsibly.
Postscript: It is a melancholy moment after a trip when all your kit is washed and dried and packed back into to the loft next to the Christmas decorations. Until the next time Bertie. :-/
