UK Archives - Nadine Walks

Day 12 on the Pennine Way: Alston to Greenhead, 16.5 miles

April 11, 2019

(July 2018) Day 12 on the Pennine Way took me from Alston to Greenhead, and overall the walking was straightforward and uncomplicated. It had been a few days since I could say that (field wanderings, a missed dinner, a drained cellphone, exhausted legs, hill/mountain climbing, no coffee), and so I was looking forward to this stage.

I think, however, I need to add a note about the weather. If you’ve been following along, you may have noticed that I’ve written- “It was another day of blue skies and sunshine”- in nearly every post. If I didn’t write it, the photos have shown you how great the weather was during my walk.

And, you guessed it, my 12th day was no different and the weather was perfect. So when I say that this stage was straightforward and uncomplicated, it’s especially easy for me to say that because of the weather. A fellow Pennine Way walker is posting photos from his trek over on Instagram; he walked in the fall and I think he walked at least half of his trek in the rain. He had 8 days in a row of soggy boots! He just posted some photos from the same stage I’m writing about today, saying that he walked through what is the wettest and boggiest section of the entire Pennine Way, at first trying to walk with plastic bags wrapped over his shoes, then forsaking the bags and just tramping through the mud and water and soaking his boots clean through.

I look at his photos and I remember what the same walk was like for me. I, too, walked through the fields that are known as being the ‘wettest section of the way’. What do I remember from this section? I only remember focusing on navigation and looking for signposts. Maybe I walked through a small puddle? Maybe one? But I doubt it.

The Pennine Way wasn’t an easy walk, it was the most difficult one I’ve done so far. Sometimes I wonder if I would have loved it as much as I did if I hadn’t had such nice weather. I remember how miserable so much of that first day was, my only day of rain: how difficult it was to navigate and keep to the trail, how cold my hands were, how wet my socks and shoes became. As I’ve been trying to churn out these posts, it’s meant that I’ve immersed myself in memories from my walk, and it’s so easy to long to be back on the trail, it makes me want to plan another walk in the UK. And I’m sure I will, but I also need to always remember that the beauty of my experience had a lot to do with the weather.

Okay, enough rambling, back to Day 12!

The weather was good, yes, but my last few days had been difficult and so I took an easy alternate path for the first 6 miles of the day and it was the best decision I could have made. The South Tyne Trail follows an old railroad track and runs roughly parallel to the Pennine Way. But where the Pennine Way climbs up and down little hills, traverses farms and is constantly taking you through a series of gates and stiles, the South Tyne Trail is totally flat and straight and stile free. Stile free! Plus, there’s no need to even worry about navigation or looking for the next marker or constantly checking maps to make sure you’re on the right track. It was free and easy walking, the kind where you can just let your mind wander and cruise along easily and happily.

And cruise along I did. I had sort of missed this kind of walking, and I was grateful for the break. Now, purists would probably shun the South Tyne Trail (or at least choose to stick to the Pennine Way) and once, there would have been a time where I would have made that choice. But in my 5 years of long-distance walking, I’ve learned a few things. And one of them is this: if there’s a much easier path that is running parallel to a more difficult (yet official) path, take the easy one. (I feel like there’s a life lesson in here somewhere…)

So I walked for about 6-miles on the South Tyne Trail, moving quickly and easily and happily. I took a slight detour to see about a snack or a cup of coffee at the Kirkstyle Inn (well-worth a visit, my guidebook told me) but I came up short and the Inn was closed (I think just for the day, so future Pennine Way walkers should try their luck). I didn’t mind too much- the morning had been easy and I was still full from my breakfast at the B&B in Alston, so I continued on.

I moved away from the South Tyne Trail and back onto the Pennine Way, immediately climbing out of the valley and walking through fields and fells, marsh grass growing high around me. I continued on through farmland, then reached Blenkinsopp Common, the fabled “wettest and boggiest” section of the Pennine Way. My guidebook also told me that navigation would be nearly impossible here, the path disappearing into the grass and heather, but just to look for the fenceline and follow it north. At first I couldn’t even see a fence but I eventually spotted it, far off in the distance. I headed towards it, picking my way through the moors, hoping I wouldn’t sink into a bog. My fears were unfounded; there were no bogs to be had, and the path was mostly dry.

I think the highlight of my afternoon was finding a Pennine Way marker in these fields: my guidebooks says, “Chufty badge for navigation if you find this” and when I did I let out a small cheer. I didn’t cross paths with another walker for the entire day, I was alone with my thoughts and my footsteps for miles and miles and so sometimes, finding a marker in an otherwise endless field of green feels rather exciting.

After another few hours I arrived in Greenhead, the Pennine Way having just overlapped with Hadrian’s Wall Path. I was excited about the next day’s walk- I’d get to walk about 7-miles along Hadrian’s Wall (some of the best part!), and ever since I walked the route in the spring of 2017, I’d been eager to go back.

In Greenhead I’d booked a bed at the hostel, which is in a converted Methodist chapel, and as usual I had the room all to myself. Just as I was thinking that my Pennine Way had turned into a very solo trip (despite having made several friends within the first few days), I ran into the Dutchman- Luke (or Luuk?)- at dinner! The Greenhead Hotel was just about the only place around for food, and there were a few other walkers there as well. Luke and I ate together and talked about our experiences along the way, and it felt really good to be able to share my experience with someone else. It felt like a long time since I’d said goodbye to David back in Horton-in-Ribblesdale, and while I’d had some nice encounters with locals, I hadn’t really met or talked to another walker like me. I’d resigned myself to a very solo and isolated walk until the end, so having that meal with Luke was an unexpected treat. We talked about the next day’s stage and he told me he was breaking what I would be doing in one day into two, so I knew that I wouldn’t see him again. But this is something I love so much about these long-distance walks: the chance to have a drink or a meal with a stranger who quickly turns into a friend, for the shared camaraderie, the understanding, the ease of it all.

Then back to my bunk in the hostel, under the covers, a chapter of Jane Eyre and then lights out, already dreaming about the next day’s walk along Hadrian’s Wall.

Previous Post: Day 11 on the Pennine Way

Next Post: Day 13 on the Pennine Way

Day 10 on the Pennine Way: Holwick to Dufton, 17-miles

March 31, 2019

(I had a little trouble with my website last week, so in case you missed my recap of Day 9 where I found myself lost in a field for an hour or two, here it is!)

I woke up around 5:00am in the camping barn in Holwick. I hadn’t set an alarm because the battery on my phone was low, really low. There was no electricity in the barn and so I’d powered down my phone the night before, hoping to save what little battery I had, in order to take a few photos the next day.

The bright sun woke me up, and despite the early hour, I decided to get out of bed and start the day. I moved slowly through the morning tasks: brushing my teeth, loading my pack, eating breakfast. My food situation was not ideal, but still okay- I’d eaten my bread the night before but still had a granola bar and banana for breakfast, and I hoped it would be enough to keep me going until my lunch of cheese and tortillas and an apple and another granola bar. I had a few other snacks as well, but the day’s route was isolated and wouldn’t pass by any pubs or restaurants or stores.

There was no good way to make coffee, but I tried anyway- dissolving a packet of instant coffee into some hot water, shaking it up and gulping it down. It was bad, but I think it got at least a little caffeine into my system, which I suppose is better than nothing?

I left early, before 6:00am, and I was glad to be moving on. The camping barn was adequate but after my misadventures of the night before, I was ready for a new day.

But within about 20 minutes of walking I realized that my body was tired. It was a particular kind of tired, and not the kind that I could shake after warming up my feet and my legs. It was a drained kind of tired, and later I would wonder if it had anything to do with not eating enough the night before. In normal life, a dinner of quinoa and bread wouldn’t be a lot but it would be enough. Maybe I wouldn’t be satisfied, maybe I would be tired the next day but it wouldn’t really affect me too much. But when hiking day after day, on an often strenuous route no less, my body was burning through the calories and needed the right kind of nutrition.

Or, who knows, maybe the Pennine Way had just tired me out, and I was having an off day. In any case, my weariness persisted the entire day. Just about every single step felt like a great effort and it was probably one of the most difficult days of walking I’ve had yet. This was also the sort of day where the mental challenge became almost as difficult as the physical challenge: I had to work hard to keep my mind focused, to not overwhelm myself thinking about all the miles I still had to walk, to not stress over the challenging sections ahead.

Because this day’s stage, from Holwick to Dufton, wasn’t going to be easy. It’s one of the more popular stages of the Pennine Way because it passes several great spots: three big waterfalls- Low Force, High Force, Cauldron Snout- then a long, slow ascent up to High Cup Nick, one of the most iconic images of the Way. And I had a great day for it, too, another day of blue skies and sunshine, but almost from the get-go I couldn’t enjoy it. As I walked, all I could think about was sitting down. I fantasized about a food truck appearing in the distance. I pictured a bed with fluffy blankets and lots of pillows.

I wasn’t enjoying the walking, and I also couldn’t whip out my phone every few minutes to take photos, because the battery was almost dead. Every time I reached a waterfall I’d pull out my phone, turn it on, take a photo and then turn it back off. And then I’d keep walking, moving slowly, my head down, counting steps, trying to distract myself from how tired I felt.

One of my worst parts of the entire Pennine Way came in the approach to Cauldron Snout. It was a flat section of the route that ran along the River Tees, but the path was through what felt like a small boulder field clinging to the side of the river bank. This section took me forever- I had to watch every footstep so carefully, picking and choosing where to take my next step, needing to climb up and over rocks, watching my balance. I nearly stepped on a dead sheep (this is probably way too much information, but it just felt like either a bad omen or else more proof that the day was not a good one), and when I finally reached the end of the boulders I had to scramble up a rocky wall alongside the raging waterfall of Cauldron Snout. I climbed up the rocks mostly on my hands and knees and when I reached the top I stopped for a long break, relieved that I’d made it. The scramble wasn’t dangerous or even too difficult (I thought the scrambling section up Pen-y-Ghent was harder), but I was bone-tired and scrambling makes me nervous even on a good day.

Walking through boulders towards Cauldron Snout, Pennine Way

Raging water of Cauldron Snout, Pennine Way

From here it was a lot more walking until I would reach High Cup Nick, a geological formation that’s kind of hard to describe. It’s a valley, a chasm, an enormous chunk scooped out of the earth and the Pennine Way takes you right up to the edge. To get there, I had to walk through moors, up Rasp Hill, through the long and open valley of Maize Beck. Along the way I met two old men, both shirtless, coming from the opposite direction. They stopped me to comment about the weather, and one of them, gesturing to the clear blue skies, said, “Ahh, but you’re so lucky!”

And despite how difficult the day’s walk had been, I had to agree. I was lucky to get to do this. I was lucky that the weather had been so beautiful, that- aside from my first day– navigation had been easy, lucky that the ground wasn’t boggy, lucky that my socks and shoes could stay dry. I was lucky that my mishaps so far had been small, lucky that it was only fatigue that I had to walk through, and not something much worse.

High Cup Nick was, indeed, beautiful, and the few photos I was able to take on my now nearly charge-less phone don’t do the landscape justice. If there is ever time for a wide-angle lens, it would be here. But it’s not about the photos, is it? It was about my ability to sit at the rim, peel off my shoes and socks, lean back on my pack and lift my face up to the sun. It was about a good chunk of cheese and a crisp apple, chocolate that hadn’t yet melted. There was a large school group off to my right, the kids must have been between 8 and 10 years old and I watched them, how they listened to their leaders talk about how the valley was formed, how they smiled and laughed, how they dutifully went off into the bushes for a bathroom break before continuing their trek.

High Cup Nick, Day 10 on the Pennine Way

A couple other hikers drifted in and out, but after the school group left I had the view mostly to myself. And then I carried on, and although my body was tired, the walking from here on out wasn’t too bad- just four more miles until I reached Dufton, all downhill.

Dufton is a small hamlet, not much more than a few streets, a restaurant, a corner shop and post office, a youth hostel (completely booked) and a camping caravan park. I walked through the village and before figuring out my campsite for the night, I made a stop at Post Box Pantry, the little corner shop. I walked inside, then had no idea what I wanted. Do you ever have those moments when you’re just so tired that you can’t make basic decisions? I looked at the food on the shelves, I looked at the small menu, and then I ordered a strawberry milkshake. But the milkshake wasn’t really a milkshake, not the kind with ice cream anyway, and I was handing a large glass of pink milk and so I took it outside to drink it on a bench in the sun.

There was a Dutchman sitting at the next table who was also walking the Pennine Way. “I couldn’t find a bed in this village,” he told me, “So I’m staying a few miles away and the owners of the B&B are picking me up.”

This had been my dilemma, too, when I’d been making reservations. There were no beds available at the only Inn or in the hostel, and so I’d settled on a campsite. But now hearing that being shuttled out of Dufton and back in had been an option, I realized that maybe I hadn’t needed to bring along a tent at all. But before I could sink further into these thoughts, the Dutchman introduced yet another stress.

“Look where we need to go tomorrow,” he pointed. “It’s going to be a really, really hard stage.”

Far off in the distance, way above the village and into the mountains was a round, white radar station. It was jut a pinprick on the horizon and tomorrow, I would have to walk up there, and then I would have to keep going. I couldn’t imagine having the energy.

I pushed those thoughts away, too, telling myself that I’d worry about that tomorrow. So I finished my strawberry milk, said goodbye to the Dutchman, hoisted up my heavy pack and headed off to my campsite. Once there, I found a sign that said I needed to call a number to check-in. My phone was dead (and I didn’t have an international calling plan or a local SIM card so I wouldn’t have been able to call if I tried!), but there was an address listed on the sign so I set back out.

I arrived at a house with a fenced in yard, so I let myself in though the gate but stopped short when I heard loud, angry grunting coming from a small enclosure. I waited, and then a huge black pig appeared, and can pigs ever be aggressive animals? Because this one did not seem happy to see me. And why in the world was I standing in someone’s yard, in a showdown with a pig? Things were getting stranger and stranger.

But I was in the right place and a man came out and took me back over to the campsite, showing me where I could set up my tent. It wasn’t the most ideal situation- I was on a patch of grass in the middle of a circle of camper vans, where people were parked on holiday. There were no other tents and for the life of me I can’t figure out where other Pennine Way walkers stay in this village. Maybe there weren’t other walkers that day, maybe they’d taken up all the rooms in the Inn.

I mentioned that I was planning to have dinner at the pub that evening, and once again, I got a concerned look and the manager asked if I’d made a reservation. “You might not be able to get dinner,” he told me, “you really need a reservation and at this point they’ll be all booked up. But go over anyway and ask at the bar. You might have to wait until every else is served, but if you ask nicely they might be able to make you something.”

My heart sank. I needed dinner that night, I couldn’t face the possibility of another difficult day on not enough calories. The corner shop had already closed so there wasn’t the possibility of buying food items there at this point (note to self: stock up when you have the chance!!), and so the restaurant was my only option. This is something that I wished my guidebook had pointed out. Maybe I was supposed to have known that I needed to make reservations at restaurants (and not at pubs?), but there was no mention of this in my guide and I assumed that as long as I showed up at the right hour, I would be able to order some food. But this was now the second night in a row where I was running into problems!

After I showered and washed my clothes and set up my tent, I went over to the restaurant. It was around 6:00pm, and I went to the bar and asked about the possibility of food. The response was along the same lines of what the owner of the caravan park had given me, and once again, the barmaid looked at me a little sternly, showing no sympathy. But I persisted, asking if there was any way she could ask the chef if he could fit one more meal in. She disappeared into the kitchen, the came back a few minutes later.

“You can sit at one of these tables,” she pointed to a section of the restaurant in front of the bar. “You might have to wait awhile but the chef said he’d make you something.”

Nearly two hours and a couple of beers later, a piping hot meal was placed down on my table. I ate every single scrap and then left a very generous tip that I hoped would make its way to the chef.

The sun was beginning to set as I arrived back at the caravan park, but the golden light was still pouring onto my tent and the inside was toasty, and warm. I snuggled deep into my sleeping bag, my belly finally full, listening as children and dogs ran together in wild glee, watching their shadows dance across the walls of my tent, watching as the light dimmed and faded to darkness.

Previous Post: Day 9 on the Pennine Way

Next Post: Day 11 on the Pennine Way

Day 9 on the Pennine Way; Tan Hill Inn to Holwick, 20+ miles

March 25, 2019

Day 9 on the Pennine Way started with another full English breakfast in the dining room of the Tan Hill Inn. Actually, it started with something better.

Have I mentioned my little trick when it comes to breakfasting on the Pennine Way? When I stayed in a bunkhouse or B&B that served breakfast, I’d make a note of the starting time and always arrived at least 5 minutes early. Often I was the first one there, and the tables were set and the cooks were in the kitchen. Within moments I’d have a hot cup of coffee and my breakfast ordered placed, the food being cooked up quickly. I could have a good but fast breakfast and be out the door before others had even tucked into their eggs.

But on this morning, in Tan Hill, I experienced a little coffee magic. The owner or manager of the Inn, who I’d seen milling around the night before, came over to my table.

“Good morning,” he smiled at me. “Coffee, or tea, or…, ” he paused. “Maybe a cappuccino?”

Now I’m not sure if I got the cappuccino offer was because I was early, or because he offers cappuccinos to everyone (I didn’t hear him offer one to anyone else, but I could have been mistaken), or who knows, maybe he was being extra friendly and trying to flirt by offering me good coffee (and if so, he was on the right track).

In any case, you better believe I ordered the cappuccino and the coffee was strong and milky and GOOD. I think I said this in my last post but I’ll repeat it one more time here- if you’re planning a walk on the Pennine Way and are interested in staying in the Tan Hill Inn (Britain’s highest pub and all-around cool and isolated place), consider booking a bed in one of the bunk rooms. I lucked out and had the room to myself, but even if you have to share it’s a good deal. The beds are basic but comfortable, you get a towel (a towel!) and use of a bathroom with a shower and a tub. Breakfast is included in the price and if you’re lucky and smile at the cute owner, you might just get yourself a cappuccino too.

But back to business, I had walking to do. I finished breakfast, laced up my shoes, and headed back out into the wide open countryside.

As usual, it was another blue sky day with full sunshine. The walk out of Tan Hill through Sleightholme Moor can be boggy (and probably IS boggy 99% of the time), but aside from a couple slightly wet sections, the walking was dry and not too difficult. In foggy conditions I imagine it would be really difficult to follow the path; even on a clear day, it was hard to keep track of the faint trace of a path through the tall grass. My guidebook recommended keeping an eye out for the white posts that dotted the landscape, and this is how I followed the path out of Tan Hill: scanning the open field for a marker somewhere far in the distance and when I found it, I’d head there, then start scanning for another.

The walking went on and on, and I remember it being mostly pleasant and not too strenuous. After a few hours I reached a milestone: I was halfway through the Pennine Way! Just a little past the halfway point I stopped by a small hut; there aren’t a lot of these on the route, but when the weather is bad I can imagine that being able to stop and rest and get out of the rain would be most welcome. I only stayed for a few minutes, taking time to read some of the notes left on the walls. The one pictured below caught my eye; what an incredible way to honor a 50th birthday! And those words- “Enjoy the freedom”- echoed in my head as I continued to walk and walk down the trail. The freedom to walk under trees and through meadows and along the reservoirs, the freedom to kick off my shoes or drink deeply from my bottle of water, the freedom to walk as fast or as slow as I wanted or needed.

7 more miles to go, and on tired but content legs I walked into the very charming village of Middleton-in-Teesdale. I wouldn’t be staying here; my reservation was in a bunkhouse another 3-miles down the path, but I stopped in the village to look around and buy some snacks for the next day.

I was feeling happy. It had been an all-around good day on the Pennine Way. The sun was shining and I was smiling and even though I was tired, I felt good as I walked away from the village and onwards to my bunkhouse.

Everything was going fine as I continued to congratulate myself on a walk well done when, all at once, things took a turn.

My reservation was for Low Way Farm Camping Barn, and my guidebook’s very basic, hand-drawn map showed the location of the barn to be in the middle of a field. There was a faint, dotted line on the map, veering off from the Pennine Way and straight towards the camping barn and so I assumed I would be looking for some sort of path. I walked up, I walked down, I walked back and I walked forth, over the same stiles and stone steps and through the same gates several times. I could see a few buildings in the field, so I headed towards one, making my own path through the tall and rough grass.

I arrived at the first stone building, circled around it a few times, peered in windows and shook on the locked doors. There was no one around and there didn’t seem to be much going on in the building, either, but I thought that perhaps this could be my camping barn. I wasn’t sure. I scratched my head, considered the expanse of green field, and continued walking. Back to the the path of the Pennine Way, up and down and back and forth, through the fields again to try another building, with no luck.

So then I set off further into the fields, attempting to reach a road that was running parallel to the Pennine Way. I went up and over hills, to climb over fences I had to navigate around barbed wire, I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going but I could hear an occasional car drive by so I knew I was close to the road.

And once I arrived at the road, I easily found the pub where I planned to have dinner later that night. It’s not that I’d been lost at any point, it’s just that I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where my camping barn was! I headed towards the pub to ask for help but before I could get inside, a white van pulled up beside me, the window rolling down.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice called out. “You’re not Nadine, are you?”

This was the owner of the camping barn, and she’d come to find me. I suspect that a farmer must have seen me wandering cluelessly around the fields and sent out the SOS on my behalf. Who knows. I was just grateful to have a key in my hand and easy directions to my accommodations. I followed a gravel path and arrived at one of the stone buildings I’d been convinced couldn’t have been the camping barn. From outside the building I could look across the field and see exactly where I’d been traipsing up and down, hopelessly confused. I think my wanderings cost me nearly 2 additional hours of walking- you should have seen the things that came out of my shoes! The owner of the barn had warned me that the pub might stop serving food around 7:30, so I showered as fast as I could and then raced back out again: up the gravel path, over the hill, down the road where I arrived, breathlessly, at the pub.

I checked the time on my phone. 7:18pm. “Perfect,” I breathed to myself. I went inside, up to the bar, and was promptly informed that the kitchen had stopped serving food.

I’m not sure what I said, though I probably asked if they were sure that no food was being served. I didn’t want to beg but I certainly pleaded, explaining that I was walking the Pennine Way and that it had been a very long day. The woman behind the bar didn’t seem to care, she just shrugged and said I could order a beer.

I sat at a table, watched as another couple were served heaping plates of hot and delicious-looking food, drank my beer quickly and then headed back out: down the road, onto the gravel path, over the little hill, past the sheep in the field, into my camping barn.

How many miles did I end up walking that day? A lot. Over 20. I was alone in the camping barn, and feeling very alone in general that night. I opened my pack of emergency quinoa, tore off a hunk of bread that was supposed to be breakfast the next morning, and sat glumly on a bench, eating my simple dinner.

I had enough food, I’d found where I needed to be, I had a bed to sleep in and my body was tired but feeling fine. All of this was true, all of it was important, but I still felt kind of defeated.

But the light in the fields was golden, and little sheep wandered up to my door, sometimes peering inside. I still had a couple ginger cookies left and so I ate them and read more of Jane Eyre, I read in the dimming light until I could no longer see the words on the page.

Previous Post: Day 8 on the Pennine Way

Next Post: Day 10 on the Pennine Way