Captain's Log

Greg's Hut

Yesterday had been a tough 20 mile day with over 900 metres of ascent (see the Captain’s Log, Lonely Road To Greg’s Hut). I stayed overnight in Greg’s Hut, just 200m of vertical ascent below Cross Fell's summit. The night in the bothy had the advantage that I didn’t have to pack up a wet tent and I was underway a little after 07:00 am. It was yet another cracking day too, with blue skies and a chilly wind. Cloud inversions drifted in and out of the surrounding valleys. I filled up my water bottles from a nearby waterfall. 

Today’s walk was going to be another tough one with around 18 miles walking and another 900+ metres of ascent. I’d start with a climb to the summit of Cross Fell. At 890 metres, it is the highest point on the Pennine Way. From there I’d follow an undulating ridge line past the radar station on Great Dun Fell. I’d then drop down into the Eden Valley and hopefully fill my stomach with some goodies from the café in Dufton. The afternoon would see me climbing back up to the hilltops again to see the classic glacial valley of High Cup Nick. I’d then follow Maize Beck eastwards until tackling a tricky scramble down the side of the waterfall Cauldron Snout. I would wildcamp at a secluded spot at its bottom.   

I reached the start of the climb up to the Cross Fell plateau. I felt keen to get to the top and see the world from the highest point on the Pennine Way. 

Cross Fell

It didn’t actually take that long to get up to Cross Fell's plateau. Rather than head for the summit, I wandered westwards instead, in order to get a view of the Eden Valley. The view from the plateau perimeter was extensive and stunning. There was a low cloud inversion in the valley. On the horizon I could see the serrated skyline of the Lake District mountains. After soaking it all in, I headed towards the summit. Mist drifted across the plateau like smoke on a battlefield. There was a huge stone cross shelter on the summit. Given its size, there were actually very few seats. There again, I’ve been up here several times and never met anybody else, so maybe you don't need more. Large cairns led me to the southeast. Six or seven miles in the distance, I could see Cow Green Reservoir, near to where my camp would be for tonight. The Pennine Way could have headed directly for it without hardly any ascent, but for some reason the trail designers decided that it would be far better for the walkers to add 12 miles to the journey by visiting the village of Dufton first . This also added about 700 metres of descent and ascent. To be fair, they did this for a good reason. The section from Alston to Middleton-in-Teesdale is very remote and would be very difficult to tackle in 1 day. Routing the trail through Dufton allows walkers to stay there at its B&Bs or campsite and break this long section into two. 

Dun Fells

I followed a couple of tall cairns off Cross Fell’s summit and met up with some slabs. These led me over the lump of Little Dun Fell and then up to the top of the bigger lump, Great Dun Fell. There’s a mysterious radar station on its summit. It has a large ‘golf ball’ radar and two smaller ‘mushroom’ ones. Although, I’m no expert; the ‘mushroom’ ones may well be loos for the employees. I always thought the radar station was  military based, but Wikipedia reckons that it is operated by National Air Traffic Services. That probably explains why there’s only a poorly maintained wire fence around the site and that I didn’t suddenly find myself in Guantanamo Bay, when I started taking photos of it. The previous time I was here, a sheep had caught its horns in the mesh fence and had died in an upright position, hanging there like some grotesque puppet. There was no sign of its remains now, not even any bones. There’s a single track road up to the site, but the Pennine Way prefers to head southwards, away from it. The trail followed some slabs which then disappeared. The track then became rather sketchy as the mist drifted in again. There were a few dispersed cairns (or curricks as they are labelled on the OS map) which confused the situation. Eventually I made my way to the largest one known as Knock Old Man. This was a marker for the start of the long descent to Dufton.  

Dufton Double Dutch

I’d Googled to make sure that the cafe would be open today in Dufton (the last time I was there, it was shut). I didn’t want to enter the village trailing saliva behind me, only to find it was closed. It was a wonderful descent down to Dufton with that wonderful view over the Eden Valley before me. I made good progress with only two encounters with NoBos that delayed my progress. These were two pairs of Dutch walkers about 20 minutes apart. They were all in the same party and their plan for the day was to head to Greg’s Hut for the night. They eventually wanted to walk to Kirk Yetholm, but their boat back to Holland left Newcastle in 5 day’s time. It seemed clear to me that they wouldn’t reach the end of the Pennine Way in time and I warned them that it would probably be more difficult to get to Newcastle, the further north that they walked. I suggested that they might want to consider heading eastwards on the Hadrian’s Wall Path when the Pennine Way intersected with it. This would get them directly to Newcastle and in time for their boat too. They seemed interested in the idea. They told me that today was King’s Day in Holland. It was the equivalent to a UK  Bank Holiday, although there were also street parties ‘...where much beer is drunk.’
‘Wouldn’t you rather be back home today?’ I asked.
‘Nah, we prefer to be here.'      

It was about 4.5 miles from Knock Old Man to the main street of Dufton. I managed to cover it in under 2 hours though. Maybe it was the thought of some food.

Post Box Pantry

I ordered a veggie breakfast and coffee at the Post Box Pantry. I hummed and haared over a choice of cake, but eventually went for the lemon drizzle. As I made my contactless payment the woman next to me in the queue said that she’d have one of the huge slabs of Parkin that I'd be eyeing up.
‘We can do that with custard if you want," said the fellow behind the counter.
‘Bloody hell, I would have chosen that if I’d known’ I thought. It was too late now since I’d paid. I guess I could always go back for afters.     

I sat at a patio table in front of the cafe. ‘Parkin’ woman and her partner sat at the table next to me. We started chatting and they said that rain was forecast this afternoon. That seemed unbelievable since the sky was now azure blue with cotton wool clouds. She started talking about the radar station on Great Dunn Fell, which we could just see as a tiny white ball on the distant mountain top. I told her that I’d walked past it earlier this morning. She gave me a look of such disbelief that I showed her a closeup picture of the site on my camera. I’m still not sure she believed me.     

I devoured the excellent veggie breakfast, lemon cake and coffee. I thought about ordering some Parkin and custard, but doubted whether I’d be able to lift myself off the seat if I did. I settled for another coffee instead. The Post Box Pantry turned out to be an essential fuel stop. 

High Cup Nick

I followed the Pennine Way out of Dufton and came across an honesty box at Bow Hall. The day was heating up and so I bought a lemonade.  A construction company’s pickup truck had parked at the point where the tarmac road turned to stones. Two workmen got out and launched a drone. I’m not sure what they were doing but the drone followed me up the track. Drones make me feel uneasy. Maybe it’s those videos of explosive drones chasing Russian soldiers that have spooked me. As I got higher, dark clouds started to drift over the hills ahead. The day got dusk dark. The worst of the black clouds scudded southwards, but the following lighter ones held the rain. For the first time along the Pennine Way I put my waterproofs on. They remained on for the rest of the day. The Pennine Way now went along the north rim of the spectacular glacial valley known as High Cup Nick. The view from its head at the eastern end was dramatic. One can just imagine the valley full to its brim with ice.    

Maize Beck

I headed eastwards and met up with Maize Beck. This was a bit of a turning point. I’d been walking through the watershed of the River Tyne for the last 3 days. I was now heading into the watershed of the River Tees, an indication that I was indeed making some progress southwards. I followed Maize Beck eastwards. There were notices on the other size of the beck indicating that it was a Military Firing Range. I couldn’t actually hear any shooting; maybe they were having a day off. The track was a bit boggy, especially with the rain. Eventually it met up with a stone road and started a gradual descent along the valley. The rain stopped and I spent 5 minutes taking my waterproofs off. As soon as I started walking, the rain started. I spent 5 minutes putting my waterproofs back on. I wouldn’t fall for that trick again; the waterproofs remained on. The odd rainbow materialised for a few seconds and then disappeared. I came to the remote farm of Birkdale and just beyond it I heard a sound that was very odd. It was a bit of a warble and then a hiss that was repeated again and again. I looked over a stone wall into a field and saw a black grouse displaying his white tail feathers. I found the hissing sound he was making quite unusual; I’d never heard one make that sound before. There were no other grouse around and so I don’t think it was lekking, but presumably this was its mating call. After watching this unusual performance for a while I eventually left him to his quest for a mate. 

Cauldron Snout

I reached Cow Green Reservoir, the body of water that I’d seen from the summit of Cross Fell early this morning. It was now approaching 6 pm; it had been a long day. You can’t actually see the reservoir from the Pennine Way although you can see the dam holding all the water back. A large amount of water was being released from the reservoir and this formed an impressive waterfall known as Cauldron Snout. The Pennine Way followed the waterfall downhill via a bit of a scramble. The route wouldn’t be difficult with a small rucksack, but it was awkward with a large one. There were a couple of places where I had to take the rucksack off, scramble down and then drag my pack down from above. It was really a case of taking it slow and steady. I reached the bottom of the waterfall and a flat secluded area opened up that was ideal for wildcamping. The water from Cauldron Snout joined that of Maize Beck and headed off eastwards. That would be my path for tomorrow.    

I pitched my tent, brewed a tea and ate some food, just before the light faded. It had been another long and tough day in the office. The views from Cross Fell and High Cup Nick had been stunning though. I didn’t even object to the 10 mile, 700 metre descent/ascent diversion to Dufton either. That veggie breakfast and lemon cake had been well worth the effort. It was a shame I missed out on the parkin and custard though; maybe I should have asked them to do it as a packup. Tomorrow, I only had a flattish 12 mile day with a hotel at the end of it. That sounded very much like a rest day to me.