28 April 2013: 42km. Started 05:30. Arrived 18:15.
My alarm was set for 04:30 and I was instantly out of bed and getting dressed. The boots in the drying room were labelled with names. In my haste and at this early time I still almost managed to take the wrong pair. Food for breakfast was all laid out ready to eat. The three university friends appeared one by one, the last just as I was pulling on boots and gaiters ready to leave.
I walked down to the main road, where there were no cars in sight. There was a short distance to cover on the road before taking the path through a field. The sheep were still lying asleep in the shelter of hedges at the sides of the field. They looked surprised to be woken so early – it was Sunday too! There was a steep climb through some woodland and finally a scramble on to the open moor, where it immediately seemed very windy.
There were notices about an army range and there was a balancing act between keeping to the perimeter of the range and the risk of being swallowed by the bog.
There was a route choice and I opted for the slightly shorter route, omitting the Roman remains. It was raining by then so I was in full waterproofs. Shortly after that point, I was overtaken by the three men. I had a short snack break sitting on a pile of flag stones. Soon after that, I arrived at the first shelter (nine miles from Byrness) as the three men were leaving. I enjoyed my first lunch and wrote in the visitor book. As I left, the shepherd with his dog arrived on a quad bike, checking the hut as well as monitoring his sheep.
The path was a mix of boggy areas, flagstoned paths and board walks. The rain stopped but it was still windy. At the track crossing called “The Street” there were a few other people and then as I climbed the next hill I saw two fell runners. Soon after that, a stile wobbled as I climbed over and I got a big painful bruise on my thigh as all my weight landed on a wire.
In Windy Gyle and Clennel Street area, I met some people out for a day walk from Kirk Yetholm – who thought I might have time to climb The Cheviot. An incongruous sign – “no motor vehicles April-October” – I don’t know how they would have got here to start with.
After that point, the path became more tricky. There was a band of snow, broken board walks and piles of flagstones waiting to be laid. In the interim, there was no protection from the bog. The difficult underfoot conditions slowed me considerably. I stopped and sat in a hollow in the ground to eat my second lunch. In addition to the bog under my feet, there was a strong wind blowing me the wrong way. Hence arriving at the turn off for The Cheviot, I opted not to make the ascent up a path that was likely to be in a poor state of repair, boggy underfoot and it looked even more windy and exposed.
I struggled on along the main path. Ironically in places the flagstones designed eventually to be laid and to improve the path lay in piles on top of the board walks which were therefore even more damaged as well as being obstructed.
I arrived at Hen Hole Hut at 14:30 – only eight miles (13km) to go. I had my third lunch and completed an entry in the visitors’ book as a storm broke outside. A stroke of luck to be sheltering and then when I left after thirty minutes it was sunny.
I decided to follow the low level option signed near Black Hag. The weather was poor and I was getting slower. Paddy Dillon’s guide states that the lower route was previously the main route until it became eroded, but is now in good condition. It is just as far, but I hoped it would be less exposed.
Eventually I was pleased to reach the road – journey nearly over. I was a little perturbed by the loose cattle but they seemed uninterested in walkers.
I was nearly there and I saw a lady with a barrow who tried to entice me to stay in her “Singing Donkeys” hostel. However I had a room booked at The Border Hotel. I arrived exhausted but it was a busy moment for Margaret the landlady who was dealing with the arrival of a coach party. Peter from the previous night at Byrness was already installed and as he had done the walk in two sections he had actually arrived long before. He saw my predicament being too tired to get anyone’s attention and alerted Margaret who immediately ushered me round to where I could remove my wet and smelly boots.
Great room – with a bath! Dinner had to be 19:45 after the coach party had gone. I had a very deep and warm bath – realising that an ice bath would be better for my muscles, but I was in the mood to celebrate with a moment of luxury. The Pennine Way was completed. Of course it would be back to business the next day as I had a bigger project to tackle.
I discovered that Peter and the group of three had all done the same as me, omitting The Cheviot and also using the lower path.
I joined Peter’s celebration to eat my meal. Friends from his village had travelled from near Chesterfield to celebrate his Pennine Way completion and they had decided to stay the night. Good company and a good meal, so it was rather late by the time I went back to my room, where I fell asleep trying to write postcards.
Where's Kathryn? 