Short day today at 8 miles since yesterday stretched longer than planned, and that makes a current total of 657 miles walked so far. It also marks the end of my 5th part of the journey to the tip of Scotland at John O’ Groats. Plus, for extra fun ticking off boxes, it completes the entire Pennine Way from start to finish, considered by most to be a pretty arduous trek. And that it was, mainly because it is very boggy and the terrain is uneven and varies greatly from large boulders, to chunky rocks, to slippery gravel, including wide streams to ford, logs to cross, fences to climb, cows to avoid, roads to navigate with oncoming traffic, lots of ascents and descents, and pubs to locate to rest my weary body for the night - I felt a little like I was doing a weird form of parkour (minus the flips and flying through the air). And again, as Kimberly joined me for the South West Coast Path and Rachel on the Offa’s Dyke Path, I am endlessly grateful and humbled that Bill managed to arrange his schedule to join me for three weeks of this tough part. I am walking far, but I could not be doing this without the help of a HUGE village. Those who have joined me, and so many who also write to me or call with words of encouragement and questions really help to keep me engaged and focused on the positive. Some are new friends I’ve met on the journey, and there are more friends from all walks of my life who are with me on this walk sharing their love and endorsement. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Before I get to today’s adventure, I need to loop back to a few things I forgot to include. I realized I hadn’t included the photo from my backpacking meal that would probably expire after I will 😆
Also, some folks have mentioned that they like the videos I sometimes post, that they help to visualize the trail more than static photos can. I took one yesterday of walking down the final steep hill to the hut where we pitched our tent. I managed to hold the camera in one hand and my walking sticks in the other and maneuver down a less steep part. When it became a little too slippy, the camera had to be put away, but you get a general idea of the immense nature of the Cheviot mountains. I didn’t have sufficient cell phone signal from the tent to upload it last night. https://m.youtube.com/shorts/-1I_3ktx9Hs?ra=m
It was cold last night, down to 39 degrees. It rained off and on, but no wind or thunder & lightening. I dreamed wildly, the most fantastic and fabulous I’ve had in a great while. My body was a little sore, and I always get claustrophobic in tents; not my favorite places to snooze in, but it was a dry, cozy and safe place to take shelter. Gratitude. It also made it easy to get up and out early; we were off by 6:30 am heading towards Kirk Yetholm. I had an apple and granola bar as I walked for breakfast, and every twenty minutes or so stripped off layers as the sun continued to rise above the hilltops and warm up the morning air. There were a a few ups of 400 feet or so I had to climb, but mostly the path was descending quickly. Of course there were bogs, and thankfully stepping stones for much of them. Of course we lost the path at times and had to wiggle cross country to find it again. I scared a nest of grouse and deeply hope the chicks who scattered into the air were able to find their parents again. But sheesh, come on - their nest so close to a national trail must be getting disturbed at least a few times a day. I’m guessing they’ll be okay. Much of the trail was along an old cart path so it was wide, and even grassy in places! This opposed to the usual narrow track that barely fits the width of one footstep in the eroding peaty earth.
The highlight was turning a corner to find a beautiful valley with an ancient woodland being maintained and replanted. I think these hillsides were covered in trees at one point way, way back in history. Bronze Age folks deforested much of Britain 3000 years ago; all these traditional moorlands and fells really aren’t so original, if one can believe information signs spread around. Anyway, this valley was beautiful and I found an immediate sense of ataraxia. Unbelievably there was even a little bench with a place to rest my feet placed right in front of an old stone cottage. We stopped to finish our breakfast with salami and cheese, sheep grazing under oak trees to my left, lambs coming closer with curiousity to the front. Green, blue, warmth, sunshine, food, birdsong, rest, stillness, tranquility.
We eventually roused ourselves from this delight because we knew more rain was heading our way. The path continued easily, past farms as we neared the town, and horses and cows in pastures joined the fields of sheep. Cleverly a farmer had built the most stylish of stiles for us to climb. There were artsy looking hay bales wrapped up, and a super cool 4-horned Jacob sheep munching away on some grass.
Sadly, one of the farms had probably 100 ewes and their lambs crowded together in a small pen; this is the time of the year the bucolic nature of sheep in the fields changes when the lambs are separated from their mothers. They are headed for the slaughterhouse by August, and the cycle will start again for the ewes to have new babies next spring. A few days ago we passed a small pen holding just lambs and their plaintive high pitched mewing broke my heart. Such is the business on a farm.
We did get caught in a sudden rain shower, which turned to hail. Things change fast around here! In keeping with that changeability, the sun came out again just before we came to Kirk Yetholm, the official end of the Pennine Way, and we took the obligatory photo at the pub. We were too early for it to be open, so we continued onto its neighbor over the river, Town Yetholm, and our hotel on the village green. Not much here, but it is a very pretty place and has cute street crossing reminders. And, our room has a bathtub to soak aching muscles. Bliss.
