Greenhead to Alston – I hurt myself today

A good night’s kip. The breakfast at the Greenhead pub lived up to expectation. Fantastic. I took my time, revisiting the breakfast bar and finishing the very big teapot. The forecast was bloody awful, but the sun was out and it was dry. It stayed dry, against the odds, until late on in the walk. This was the 17 mile walk.

A relatively straight trail; and the Way went forever on. 

The worrying feature of today was walking through herds of cows and hoping I wasn’t splitting a cow from its calf. They can get a bit lively if you do. There were bulls in there too and energetic young bullocks. Face forward, uncovered by my hood so they know I’m human. Vaguely. Eyes down to the ground, but keeping a sideways glance for any adverse movement which would herald the spoiling of my shorts. I would rather walk the plank. And I did!

This is cattle and sheep farming land. Sheep in the higher pastures and cattle lower down. I spotted a bull, alone in a huge field, which the Way passed through. On the other side of the wall were cows and calves. I jumped over the wall to avoid the bull and the farmer came over a hill on his quad bike and spotted me. He drove over and I said that I’d jumped over because his bull scared me. He said ‘It’s a cow, and the bull is over here with his cows.’ I felt a bit foolish. But this is what happened to the last bloke who wasn’t careful with cattle.

And just down the road this fat wasterd was eyeing me up. Waiting to pounce. 

Some of the barns were very old, built with rock that looked like it might have been pinched from Hadrian’s Wall.

The Way cut over the hills and started winding up the side of the South Tyne valley. The weather was still holding good and the sun was out intermittently. So much that at the end of the day my baldy head was sore a bit on top.

A delightful stream came down the hillside and it was a lovely view.

I reached Slaggyford and started out on the South Tyne trail along the rail track, meeting the PW at Alston four miles down the pitch. I’d heard that the views from the trail were great so I deserted the PW for a while.

It was true. The views were delightful.

My feet were soaked from the usual dunking in peat bogs early on in the walk and were blistering quite badly by now. The last three miles of this 17 mile door to door walk were excruciating and I hobbled into Alston station like a geriatric wasterd.

Tonight was a B&B called Highfield, run by Celia and Catherine. Celia is the elderly matriarch who was a member of the Northumberland Climbing Club and met her husband there. His ice axe is mounted on the wall. Serious climbers. Now she is a lovely old lady who greeted me with tea and warm scones. Delightful. I showered and hobbled down to the Victoria Inn, where the chefs are two Muslim Bangladeshi lads, had a couple of beers and a Special Jal Frezi. One of the best curries I’ve had in my life. These lads come up to Alston every day from Newcastle to cook in the Victoria and go back each night. Dressed in their normal Bangladeshi gear they look incongruous in Alston but everyone in the village loves them. England is…… alive and well and living in the South Tyne valley. I limped so badly back to the B&B that a motorist who was driving in the opposite direction stopped and gave me a lift. England is………

Night night.