Semi slackpack?

Time away of late has been limited. With rumours of summer coming in, it was time to make amends. With the Cheviots just up the road from me and a bus pass, the choice was obvious.
Folks, I must offer a warning, the Cheviots are going to be appearing on a regular basis on these blog pages.
By a variety of buses, I arrived in Wooler early afternoon. It was mild, the sun was shining and I was keen not to be wasting time. Following footpaths and bridleways my footsteps led me over to Carey Bridge. Amazingly I was in shorts and tee shirt, first time this year.

Roughly speaking, I had a tentative outline of a plan. However, there was no rigid itinerary, no fixed route, no particular place I had to be.

The Carey Burn look interesting. There was a marker indicating a footpath. A check of the map, there was nothing marked in the way of a path. A well defined path led me upwards through the narrow valley, it was delightful place. Meeting an elderly couple heading down, we stopped and chatted for a few moments. They mentioned a waterfall higher up but had been unable to reach it, finding the path a little too difficult for them. Once again, nothing indicated on the map, a serious omission by the O.S. people?

There certainly was a waterfall, not a large one but very nicely proportioned, with deep pools and rushing channels.

Following the path higher, I had an idea where it would lead to. That though would wait until the morning. With no rush, it was an easy decision to spend a little time in this pleasant little valley. Dense swathes of bracken made finding a place to camp slightly difficult. There where several places I had passed though and I back tracked a short way to a grassy ledge that proved to be ideally tent sized.

Such simple pleasures in being able to sit outside the tent, a gentle breeze keeping the midges at bay, boots off and a brew of tea on the go.
Following the path upward the following morning, it led to precisely where I suspected it to go. Joining the bridleway that comes directly up from Wooler common. This leads on past Luckenarks and on to Broadstruther.

Here possibly I made an error? Rather than stay with the main tourist route up and over Broadhope Hill, on over Scald Hill and up to the Cheviot, I opted for a more obscure path that led around the back of Broadhope and on to a path that came up from Goldscleugh. In actual fact, that leads on to a forestry track. At first I lost the path a few times. It disappeared in deep heather and bog. However, I knew there was a path that followed a fence line. After a bout of heather bashing and bog hopping I gained the fence and indeed the path was where I knew it would be.

. My aim now was to follow the track that swings around the head of the valley. Following it. an old section of the track, now a rough heathery affair, swings left and upwards, climbing toward the Cheviot ridge.
 A good halfway up and suddenly I hit a brick wall. One moment I was moving slowly but fairly steady, the next I just came to a standstill. This was most frustrating. The day being hot, I had deliberately paid attention to my fluid levels, had been feeling ok up to that point.
Taking on more fluids and a bite to eat, I eased back in the heather and rested for a good half hour. Starting off again, it quickly became apparent that I was finding it hard going. Coming on to a lower ridge, I could see the old track contouring across and up to the cairn on the ridge line. Part of me really wanted to push on. Why though? What was there to gain? It may have been doable, however, it would have been an awful struggle. In the end I opted out. Some may think I was being a wuss, but I had nothing to prove. Instead I picked my way around the hill to where the main path rises steeply upwards. It looked a mess, a scar on the landscape. Two figures could be seen toiling upwards. Instead I turned and headed over to Scald Hill. A peruse of the map saw me heading down toward Langleeford Hope. Once a shepherds cottage, now holiday lets.

My intention now was to try and head up the valley and camp.  It was way above Harthope Linn that I found a spot for the tent. Bracken is not the best of stuff to camp on. It took a bit of time but I eventually settled for a small grassy area where the tent fitted in snuggly.

With the tent up, I actually snoozed for a while. Unfortunately the breeze that had been blowing up the valley died away. This brought the midges out. A  bite of supper and a cuppa was followed by a retreat to the tent.
Rain in the early hours pattered softly on the flysheet. By morning it was dry once more, but much cooler and overcast. The rest of the day was spent pottering. Returning to the tent early afternoon the temperature had  noticeably dropped, it was much colder.

By mid afternoon the cloudbase  was cloaking the tops of the surrounding hills. A small group of folk heading down told me they had had to don extra layers higher up and that the fog had meant navigation interesting?

Early evening saw the cloud base descending further with rain now sweeping up the valley.
It remained wet all night. A bout of what is becoming a normal problem for me, meant I got wet and very cold twice during the night hours.

Thick, grey cloud covered all like a shroud the following morning. It was not raining, as such, just a cloying wetness. There was only one option, put the kettle on and have a brew!
The folk I had spoken to the previous day had told me that the forecast was for it to clear by the afternoon. It was an easy call and the morning was spent snoozing, reading and drinking tea. Amazingly things actually did start to clear by late morning. By the afternoon I was heading down the valley. A delightful walk with no rush to be anywhere. My intention originally had been to camp but I really wanted a hot shower. Thus it was I made for Wooler and the youth hostel.

A mixed few days, well worth getting away though.

A few more photos, enjoy.

Suggestions

Something I have noticed in my wanderings around the hills is the increasing amount of tissues, toilet paper and even worse, human excrement scattered far and wide. Often this mess is half heartedly covered with a loose rock or a few stones, paper and worse poking out from the edges. Apart from the fact it is unsightly, it is also unhygienic.
Now, I am sure the majority of backpackers are responsible folk and take appropriate measures. However, despite probably preaching to the converted, there are few items every person who walks in the countryside, and here I include those out just for a days walking. A small stuff sack or similar, in it a supply of toilet paper. It need not be a complete loo roll. Andrex sell 'On The Go' toilet tissue, sheets of tissue with no cardboard tube. They can be picked up in larger chemists. Also Coghlan's sell a similar item, obtainable from many outdoor shops. A small trowel, it does not need to be anything fancy or large. All that is required is that it is suitable for digging a small cat hole. A small bottle of hand gel for reasons of hygiene. Some backpackers also carry a lighter to burn toilet tissue. Have your toilet bag to hand as well. it is no good down the bottom of the rucksack.
Possibly stating the obvious, choose a place away from areas frequented by people, also, well away from water sources. Ladies, other items must be carried out. Always have a spare polythene bag to hand.
The golden rule is, leave no trace. Something I may add here. As someone who has had long term health problems for a fair while now, when wild camping, I now prepare and dig a cat hole well away from the tent when setting up camp. It is handier than stumbling around in the middle of the night in bad weather conditions, frantically trying to find somewhere to go by head torch. Just remember where you dug your scrape. If you do have to get up in the night, check in the morning that indeed everything is as it ought to be.
As I have said, the majority of backpackers abide by these unwritten codes of behaviour. However, we must all act responsibly.
We still have giardia and such like parasites, free water in the hills. In some countries even the remotest areas have polluted water.
As I say, just a few suggestions..

Simonside hills.

Mike had placed the Simonside Hills on his list a while back. The aim for the walk was  to be a reccy for a guided walk in the near future. From a distance the ridge line appeared a tad foreboding. However, the ascent upwards was a gradual plod, predominantly on a paved path. This extent of path paved over indicates the popularity of the area.

An undulating meander led us over to Simonside itself.

The rocky outcrops along the ridge offered many hidden features. One could spend many hours exploring the multitude of nooks and crannys.

 A pause for lunch and then a steep descent on loose, stony ground Gone now was the stone flagged paving. A well defined path through the heather led us past Ravens Haugh and on to the stone enclosed trig point of Tosson Hill. Another wee break, how glad I was that I had carried an extra couple of bars of chocolate!
A rough, narrow path, in places boggy, some areas churned by tractors and all terrain vehicles. These where grouse moors and large patches of heather had been recently burned, giving a patchwork appearance to the landscape. Joining a bridleway just below Whitefield Hill, our route now lay through large areas of forestry, some of it cleared. What a mess left behind though, all the brash timber just left lying. Surely it could be chipped and used for wood fired boilers or something?
Forestry tracks led us on past Chartners to Fallowlees. Here we joined St Oswald's Way. More paths and tracks through  forestry. A roe deer bounding away at our approach. Once again entering open moorland, we pressed on past Spylaw and finally descended back to the car park.

 It had been a long day. Mike has estimated it at around thirteen miles. Once he has done the calculations I will update on that.
A fantastic day's walking, the weather remained dry but I must admit to being wearied.

Wind blown around Ingram

The hills around Ingram in Northumberland are not particularly large hills. However, they do offer open, rolling moorland with sweeping vistas that can be a delight to view.
A suicidal red squirrel gave us a momentary fright. It appeared hopping across a cattle grid in front of us. Mike stopped the car to allow the squirrel to pass, instead it headed under the the car. Fortunately it suffered no harm and passed on its way.
A strong wind was blowing down the valley, the strength of it becoming apparent when Mike opened the car door and almost had it torn from his grasp.

An initial steep climb and then a steady plod brought us to Hartside hill. Ancient settlements nearby marked by the grass covered crumbling ruins of old walls. Old forts and ancient settlements abound in this area.
The head on buffeting wind meant we did not linger long and we descended down toward the river Breamish to find a sheltered spot for a bite of lunch. Following the river upstream we headed for a bridge. Unfortunately the said bridge was over an adjoining stream. Boots off, trousers rolled up we eased in to the water. Pale legs standing out against the peat coloured water. The current, strong, the water knee high. We safely made it to the other side, albeit with cold feet. Even Lucky took to the water with equanimity.

Once more we headed uphill toward Chesters. This time with the wind behind us.

Our way on led us past more ancient dwellings and forts. Upwards to Cochrane Pike and then back down, over Ewe Hill and on to Brough Law.  An impressive tumble of stones where once stood an ancient fort.
A very good day and many thanks to Mike.

An amble to Amble

Actually it was a rather fast paced sort of amble! The weather forecast was for rain in the afternoon and so I was tabbing a fairly quick step.

My overall aim for the walk along Druridge Bay was mainly to get miles back in to my legs.
Buses to Cresswell are very limited, in fact only one in the morning. Thus it was mid morning when I set out from the village. Dog walkers were already out in fair sized numbers. Times I was jumped on by wet, soggy pooches, five. Times I was approached at speed by friendly hounds, numerous. A dash to the loo at the visitor centre, a sandwich and drink break and then on to Amble. Reaching the town just as the rain began to fall.
Overall mileage was in the region of eight and half miles.

A wee wander

Mike, (northernpies.blogspot.co.uk) with his intrepid hound, Lucky, had set out to walk Wainwright's Coast to Coast route. Graciously, Mike had invited me to walk with him on his last day. Thus it was that on the Thursday afternoon I was sitting at Grosmont, home of North Yorkshire Moors Railway.  In my rucksack, a few doggy treats and a bag of dog food.
While waiting for Mike and Lucky, I watched with interest the crowds, the majority gents, many of them obviously avid train spotters. One moment there would be the general milling about of folk. Suddenly the mood changed. In a fervid frenzy of excitement, people began to rush up and down the platform. A steam train was approaching and all and sundry vied competitively for the best position to snap that special shot. Honestly, I swear that the crescendo of clicking cameras almost drowned out the noise of the approaching loco!

When the dogged duo arrived, we adjourned to the local tea garden, (note, dogs welcome!) where we supped a goodly brew of tea and indulged in cake and scones.
Our way out of the village was uphill and how. Cardiac hill we named it. Upwards, steeply upwards it climbed, seemingly for ever up. The idea of a defibrillator at the top for poor, struggling hikers was strongly muted. By footpaths and bridleways we wound our way over to toward the village of Little Beck. Our goal was a farmhouse that catered for coast to coasters and  how! Intake Farm is something special. The lady who greeted us with a cheery smile and hand shake, immediately made us welcome. Our pitch was on the farm lawn, all neatly mown. As we pitched our tents we were presented with a tray containing a large pot of tea and slices of homemade cake.

Friday morning was dry and bright. Our way on led us through a delightful forest walk, complete with waterfall and a tea garden. Yes, we did indeed indulge in a pot of tea.
The weather was warm and Mike's trail fitness was obvious as was my lack of. Also,you may notice, he has lost weight. Changes in my meds have mucked me about of late.

Our onward way led along footpaths, road and bridleways. The scenery was lovely and varied.

 We arrived at the camp site mid afternoon. After setting up tents and having a brew, we wandered on down to Robin Hoods Bay. Thus completed Mike and Lucky's Coast to Coast walk. A wonderful achievement and I suggest you pop over to Mike's blog to read of his and the pooches adventures along the way. If you are feeling generous, may I suggest a wee donation to the charity Mike is supporting. Mind, I will point out this was an unsponsored walk, the suggestion of a donation is solely mine. .

A few more photos, a varied selection, not all of this trip.

Woodland wander

Mike had proposed a walk that would see another top or two bagged. However, the best laid plan of mice and men! On the day allocated the weather was not good, heavy rain put a damper on things. Thus we delayed our start and also changed to another, easier option.
Our easier meander took us to Thrunton Wood. Lunch was had sitting in the car watching thick mist drifting across the countryside while heavy rain drummed on the roof. As things happen on occasion, we set off in waterproofs with the rain now reduced to a mizzle and even that began to clear away. Following little red markers indicating our route proved interesting. One pointed to a vague path entering fairly dense wood and undergrowth.

 We found a wee hill top but it certainly did not seem the one we wanted. Much consulting of maps, a couple of checks on the compass and a stravaig through quite dense woodland saw us emerging by a circuitous deviation on to Castle Hill. Very old woodland with gnarled and ancient trees in abundance.

We both agreed it would be an excellent bivi spot, one with atmosphere?

Mike maybe described as a covert tree hugger?

 Lucky is a little bemused.

Our way now led us steeply upwards, meandering around rocky outcrops. We found  Macartneys Cave. This was a strange cave and obviously man made. Tool marks on the walls indicated that at one time something had been mined there.

Troglodyte and hound in residence?

A wander along Callaly crag in brightening weather, offered fine views. Following the track along Thrunton Crag led us back to the car. A fine wee bimble.